#there’s more comparisons I could realize if I thought hard enough but I’m not trying to make a point/argument this is just personal views

[no1ryomafan]

Meg Moment Ramble

So I’m a person who has the slowest realization about the most mundane and obvious things in life, especially stuff correlated to myself. One thing I’ve been rotating a lot recently is how interconnected a persons interests are to one another, regardless how different some interests are or if a person really isn’t deep into a past interest anymore compared to current. A persons “taste” generally forms from stuff we are exposed to at a young age, figuring out what we strongly resonate with and if we want more of that thing. This is especially obvious with autistic people, like myself, as we form intense fixations on things. We are more inclined to get into things similar to each other to feed into a special interest, but sometimes we can have interests that are completely different from each other yet have some shared similarity.

For me I was reflecting how funny it was that as a child, Pokemon was my primary special interest, but I have since grown out of it and Getter is seemingly my new permanent special interest to replace it. (After a few years of struggling to find what I was gonna fixated on heavily after I became less attached to Pokemon) On a surface level, I feel these two share no similarities whatsoever. Stuff like me having a Mega Man fixation before I got into Getter feels more connected due to “robots” but than I though about it more and realized while completely unintentional, my childhood series and current fixation share a few small connections.

One thing I remembered with Getter is the factor of people fighting in giant robots was never a turn off for me. I was someone who didn’t even know the Mecha genre existed-which I know is embarrassing but I’ll save that for another time-but I never heavily consumed Shonuen anime. Pokémon, while I consumed every form of content of it that existed, practically all of its fights are NOT fought by humans, it’s all the creatures themselves being commanded by their trainers. Getter-and most mecha’s-in a strange way follow that formula almost, as the robots DO the fighting, but the human pilots are the one in control of moving their robots. It’s not human to human combat and while I’m okay with that idea, my brain has realized it has enjoyed more the concept of non human creature’s fighting.

Pokémon also made me realized I just enjoy stories with non humans but there’s still HUMANS within it, so I was probably destined to like robot media, even if I never had much exposure as a child. The idea of two different species having conflicts fascinated me, even if something as simple as Pokémon never really addressed something deep like this. Also in a strange way for me Getter has a childhood aesthetic even in its later iterations. Perhaps because with Toei it was originally marketed for children, but the OVAS feel like a more mature version that grew up with the audience that watched the original series. Still something that can be enjoyed with Toei knowledge-as I hardly watched it myself-but even something as “edgy” as Armageddon radiates the spirit of the old series with how referenced filled it is. It’s something a kid could in theory watch if it weren’t for all the gore, but it keeps the fun action paced battles and cool robot designs that would any kids eyes would light up at.

I honestly feel if I somehow found Getter early-whether in a timeline Toei getter actually got fully dubbed and brought over but still aired as a old cartoon on networks or I randomly found clips of one of the ovas on YouTube-even if I was too young to experience it, I would be enthralled by it. Maybe I do just think this way because current fixation, but this realization dawned on me and yeah, my taste really checks out at the end of the day.

[munsonson]

Blurb

Sunshine!Reader x Eddie Angst

She finds him eventually, leaned up against his locker with something crinkled in his hands. His hair, unkempt as it always was, drowned him in its essence, hiding his face from her. She smiles, running up to him with her familiar smile.

“Hey, Eds,” she greets, “did you want to go to that milkshake place after all?”

He doesn’t answer. In fact, he doesn’t move at all. Her eyebrows knit together in concern. She hesitantly brings up a hand to tap him on the shoulder.

“Eds? Hey, you okay?” she asks.

He looks up at her at last. He’s smiling, too, but there’s something strange about it. It was like he was forcing it. Those dimples that she always admired weren’t there. His eyes were still brown, but they didn’t crinkle at the ends. He crumples the paper in his hands even more.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

It startles her when he uses her actual name instead of ‘princess’. She decides not to question it.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you trying to hard to be my friend?”

She was confused. “Huh?”

“Why are you trying so hard to be my friend?”

She was sure he was upset now, if his tone was any indication. He couldn’t possible be angry with her, could he? Did she do something wrong? Did Jonathan tip him off that she was going to ask him out tonight? Maybe she was overstepping her boundaries.

“Um, well I…I don’t really understand the question. I thought we were friends,” she says at last. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Now he was balling up the paper and he actually tossed it at her. It hits her forehead unceremoniously before falling to her feet. It was such a silly moment she nearly laughed. But he wasn’t. He was still forcing a smile.

“You know what I think? I think it’s time we put everything out on the table, really…examine what’s been going on here, you know?” he said. “See, I’ve made it pretty alarmingly clear that most people tend to avoid me, to the point I’m essentially Moses parting the goddam sea of jocks, cheerleaders, and even the burnouts. But for some reason…you won’t budge.”

She tilts her head. “Because I’m your friend.”

“No, it’s because I’m your charity case.” Eddie sneers. He’s not smiling anymore. “It all makes sense, I guess. Can’t find any friends outside of the pervy photographer, so you run off to take your chance with the freak, the super senior.”

“Hey,” she says, offended now. “Please don’t talk about Jonathan like that. And I don’t think you’re a freak, Eddie, what are you talking about?”

“Do you not see the people you surround yourself with?” he asks, incredulous. “Jonathan Byers, the alleged murderer turned non murderer who likes to take pictures of naked unaware chicks. And myself, who’s too stupid for graduation and too stupid to realize he’s been wasting his time on someone who wants to wipe the notion of witchy bitch off her back she’ll find two objectively worse guys just to feel better about herself.”

She had tears gathering in her eyes.

“Why are you saying all of this, Eddie? What is wrong with you?” she asks. Her voice cracks.

“Because I’m done with people using me. Alright? So do me a favor, come next year, put me in your rearview mirror. Just leave me alone,” he snaps, brushing by her.

She watches him. Her heart felt sore and heavy, her stomach nauseated and prepared to empty itself from how upset she was. Did Eddie really think she’d only befriended him to make herself look better by comparison? How could he do that? How could he throw what Jonathan did in her face? She’d told him that in confidence, not for him to weaponize it against her.

She fell into the lockers, the echoing slam not enough to deafen the sounds of her cries as she slid down onto the tiled floor. What could she do now? Should she tell Jonathan what happened, ask what she should do next?

She spots the tiny crumpled piece of paper beside her and picks it up. He’d been reading this when she approached.

Unraveling it and trying her best to smooth out the page, she reads it over. Startled, she quickly rereads it again.

It was for the parent or guardian of Eddie, explaining he’d have to repeat this term over again. He wasn’t graduating. That was why he was so upset.

Despite the words and insults he threw at her, she was still tempted to find him again and hug him. This was clearly what had him so depressed, not her. He was just letting his anger out. Even if that wasn’t right, she found it easier to forgive him now.

But she didn’t want to make him more mad. If avoiding her next year made him feel better about the whole ordeal, she’d oblige him.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Gonna need a nando x reader one shot where reader gets insanely jealous maybe she over hears her cousin she doesn’t like very much talking about nando but reader and nando aren’t together at this point I don’t know you make the plot up just want angst and fluff to end again please 🙏

"More Than Enough"

It was another one of those family gatherings where you felt like a pawn in the game of comparison and judgment. You'd known your relatives your whole life, but their words and looks always made you feel small, insignificant—like you never quite measured up to their expectations.

Most of the time, you learned to tune them out. But tonight, with Fernando Alonso present, it was harder than ever to do so.From a young age, your family had made you feel like you were always on the outside.

Your cousin Isabella, with her perfect, airbrushed life, was a constant reminder that you were never good enough in their eyes. She was everything they wanted you to be—outgoing, confident, always polished. And you? Well, you were quieter. You preferred books over parties, simple joys over social status. In your family’s eyes, you were invisible, a wallflower.And then there was Fernando.

He wasn’t a stranger to you. You and Nando had been friends for years, but in the last few months, something between you had changed. There had been stolen glances, moments where his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary.

He would brush your arm by accident, but the way his touch lingered made your heart flutter. You weren’t sure if he felt the same, but you had started to see him in a new light. It was terrifying. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he knew how much you cared for him.

What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he drifted away, and you lost the one constant thing in your life?Tonight, you had tried your best to avoid the reality of your emotions, burying them deep inside, but it was hard when you kept stealing glances at Nando across the room. His laughter, his infectious smile, the way his eyes seemed to search for yours in the crowd—it was all too much to ignore.

Every time you saw him, it felt like your heart skipped a beat. But you were scared, scared that these feelings would destroy your friendship.The tension between you and your family had always been palpable. Your parents, though not overtly cruel, would always make remarks that cut deep. You were never good enough in their eyes—your grades, your career choices, your social life—it was never up to their standards. And every time you left a family gathering, you felt worse about yourself than when you arrived.But Isabella? She was different.

She was everything your family praised. And when it came to Fernando? She made no secret of the fact that she thought she was the only one worthy of him.You had overheard her before, making passive-aggressive comments about your friendship with Nando. Tonight was no different.

You were in the kitchen, trying to escape the chaos of your family, when you heard Isabella’s voice from the living room.

You froze, your hands stilling as you tried to listen."Did you see Fernando today?" Isabella was saying, her tone too sweet for comfort. "He’s just… gorgeous, isn’t he? So perfect. And I’m sure he could have anyone.

But you know, some people don't even know how to show interest."

Your heart twisted painfully, a pang of jealousy you hadn’t realized was growing inside you suddenly bursting to the surface. You stood still, your body frozen, and listened to her laugh, the sound of it like nails on a chalkboard.

"And," she continued with a casual air, "I bet if I tried, I could take him away from her, don’t you think?"Your chest tightened at her words. Her—she meant you.

She always did.

You felt your hands tremble with frustration and hurt, but you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had struck a nerve.

You had to hold it together.You’d never told Fernando how you felt. You never would, not after everything your family had made you believe about yourself. You weren’t worthy of someone like him. Not with someone like Isabella around.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Your family’s loud chatter filled the room, but your mind was elsewhere—on the words that still echoed in your mind and on Fernando, who seemed to be a constant presence, even when he wasn’t right in front of you.

Every time you caught his eye, he would smile softly, and every time your gaze drifted to him, his eyes would linger just a moment too long.

You couldn’t figure it out—was it just friendly affection, or was there something more?Your heart ached, torn between wanting to tell him how you felt and the fear that it would ruin everything.

Finally, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed space. You slipped out the back door of the house and into the cool night air, hoping to breathe away the suffocating feeling that seemed to surround you. You stood there, staring out into the darkness, trying to push back the tears that were threatening to spill.

That’s when you heard footsteps behind you."Y/N?"You turned around, startled to see Fernando standing there, his eyes full of concern.

"What’s wrong? You look upset."You tried to smile, but it came out weak

"It’s nothing, Nando. Just… family stuff."

You waved it off, hoping he wouldn’t press further.But Nando wasn’t one to let things go so easily, especially when it came to you. He stepped closer, his hand gently brushing your arm.

"Talk to me," he said softly.

"What’s really going on?"The floodgates opened, and you found yourself spilling everything to him—everything about your family, your cousin, your insecurities.

You told him about how Isabella had always made you feel inferior, how your family’s constant criticism made you feel worthless.

You looked at Nando, expecting him to pull away, to let you go, but instead, he pulled you into his arms.“Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You are so much more than enough. I don’t care about Isabella, I don’t care about your family. You are perfect just the way you are.”Your heart shattered with relief as you felt the warmth of his embrace, his words washing over you like a balm.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes with so much tenderness that you felt your knees weaken. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “I’ve always admired you, more than anyone. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel small. Especially her.”

For a moment, you just stood there, stunned, taking in the softness in his eyes. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to hear those words, how much you needed him to say them.“I… I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nando,” you whispered, your voice trembling.“You’ll never have to find out,” he promised, his hand gently caressing your cheek.

There was a long, charged silence before Nando stepped back, his eyes now filled with a different intensity. “I don’t care if anyone else sees it, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and purposeful.

“But I care about you. I’ve cared about you for a long time. And I want everyone to know it.”

Before you could even process what he meant, he reached for your hand and led you back inside, where the rest of your family was still gathered.

Isabella’s sharp gaze immediately found you both, but she couldn’t have known what was coming.Nando stood in the center of the room, pulling you gently to stand beside him.

All eyes were on you as he turned to face you, his grip on your hand tightening.“I know we’ve been friends for a long time,” he said, his voice clear and unwavering. “But I can’t hide it anymore. Y/N, you mean more to me than anyone else. Will you be mine? Will you be my girlfriend?”

The room fell silent as everyone’s eyes snapped to you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were in a dream. But then Nando’s lips found yours in a soft, reassuring kiss, and you couldn’t have cared less about what anyone else thought.You kissed him back, your heart pounding with happiness and relief as the weight of everything you had been carrying melted away.When the kiss broke, Nando kept you close, his forehead resting against yours.

“You are more than enough,” he whispered. “Don’t ever forget that.”Isabella, who had been standing in the corner with a shocked expression, opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out, Fernando’s voice cut through the tension.“And as for you,” he said, his tone suddenly cold and firm, “if you ever think you can come between me and the person I care about again, I suggest you think twice. Y/N is my choice. Always.”

Your heart swelled with love, and you knew, in that moment, that you were finally seen. Finally, enough.As the evening continued, you could feel the eyes of your family on you.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Because you were exactly where you belonged—in Fernando’s arms, with his love, and knowing that, finally, you were enough.

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 4/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: Only a few more chapters to go (I think, but we're both lost on how long this series will be.) Thank you guys for reading and as always, thank you for the love and support!

____________

Chapter 4:

Y/N's POV

It wasn’t him. It was 100% me. I did this to myself. I built a wall so quickly around him because I didn’t want to like the man behind my misery. 

My teammates knew enough about my backstory to think they had an idea of my reason for joining SHIELD: helping the little guy because, at one point, you were the little guy—the manipulated guy—the one who no one saved, so you had to save yourself—and now anyone else who can’t do it for themselves. 

Yet, there were so many other things I kept for myself, and things files couldn’t tell you. No files existed of them, and I’m glad because I didn’t want the pity. 

James Buchanan Barnes was the reason behind my abuse. Not personally, but my abuser was obsessed with his accomplishments under the German and Russian terrorist organizations and wanted to make a female, more skilled, discrete, and sleeker version of the Winter Soldier. 

Who fucking didn’t, right? God, every goddamn evil bastard on this godforsaken shit show of a planet wants to remake something that was a once in a lifetime kind of thing and crack more than a few eggs to get to that point. Selfish asshole…

Being constantly compared to him and then beaten for not hitting the unreachable mark of the man I was ‘of no comparison to’ after years of trying to hit that standard, and then being asked to be on a team with him? A lot of emotions hit me like a train when I got that news. 

Will I amount to being the trained spy and agent I am for Shield with him by my side? Will he make me look like a completely pointless addition to the team? After five years of already working with the Avengers and then learning who the Winter Solider was? Steve’s best friend and probably the only person he could relate to in their journey? All the way to having to work with him… The change-up was instantaneous, where I would have begged for baby steps. 

Then again, when has the world made it easy for me?

So yes. I was an ass and kept him further than arm's length away to stay safe from learning that he was a good guy when I wasn’t ready to like him yet. I had a lot of trauma I never thought I’d have to work through with the infamous man himself, and that irritation and annoyance just continued when he finally matched my energy, and we never strayed from that relationship until… now.

And here he was, genuinely asking what HE did wrong when I was the reason for our enemies’ plot line. 

“Bucky, I don’t think I can talk about this right now,” I breathed out slowly, feeling the tears prick in my eyes.

It had been a minute since I cried and felt this vulnerable, and I couldn’t seem to stop it. I think subconsciously, I didn’t want to stop it, but my mind was begging my body to hold out until he was out of the room. 

“Y/N, if I did something to you, I didn’t realize-” 

“You wouldn’t have known,” I whisper, not trusting my voice to stay steady, but also not wanting to put anymore of the blame on him from here on out. 

He wasn’t a bad guy.

He had proved himself time and time again to be a really good guy. Even when he broke and decided he hated me back, he still had his moments when he put it aside and showed chivalry. I admired him for it even when I ignored the admiration. 

Makes it hard to fully hate a guy who made sure ladies weren’t opening any doors for themselves. Or a man who remembered Morgan’s birthday and bought her an ice cream cake before stealing Steve’s shield to sled down a hill her dad told her not to. Or a man you treat like absolute shit 99% of the time, and he still checks on you when you have nightmares, and he grabs water and an ice pack and helps you even out your breathing before waiting for you to go back to sleep. 

I didn’t ask him for the help, and he never mentioned the handful of times he fell into the routine of soothing me back to sleep. Never brought it up, never made me feel like I owed him, and never hinted at remembering such kindness. 

But now?

“You wouldn’t have known why it started this way to begin with. And you likely won’t,” I sigh, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth before turning around; a lot more put together, even if it was just a mask I had learned to put on most of my life. 

“I don’t understand,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at my disposition. 

“I don’t expect you to, but maybe we should go to sleep and talk about it later. It’s getting late, and you have to go to your ‘job’ tomorrow,” I say with hand quotes. “We have to keep the ruse going.” 

“A few hours of sleep doesn’t affect me,” Bucky shook his head, and I could see him itching to put his hands back on me, but he held back. “Please. I need to know what the hell I did.” 

“Again, Bucky,” I say sternly this time, all emotion I’m struggling to keep at bay shoved down. “You are not at fault, and tomorrow I’ll talk to you, but for now, I need to sleep on it.”

He read my face for lies, and I kept it neutral. I wasn’t going to break here. Now was not the time. I needed space to think about how I was going to approach this after so long of avoiding it and being put on the spot wasn’t going to work for me. 

“Ok,” he said, softer than I think I ever heard him talk. His eyes were soft and sensitive, and I didn’t know how I felt about it…

He turned and walked out of my room, gently shutting the door behind him and turning off the overhead light he had originally flashed on. 

I didn’t instantly head straight to bed. I stared at the doorway in the dark, seeing the faint silhouette of the barrier between us. He was still on the other side, and I could hear his heart rate higher than normal.

This was affecting him more than I thought it would. Why was he so worried about what I thought of him? He didn’t seem bothered by my disinterest in the past. Or at least I didn’t figure he did. 

____________________

When I woke up, Bucky was already gone. His truck, normally in the driveway, was missing, and I knew he had taken off for our mission report. 

Thankful, I took the time to make my coffee, sit on the front porch, and watch the neighborhood take on its morning routine. 

People were on runs with their family dogs, moms were doing their morning walks with strollers, some neighbors were out already tending to their gardens, and everything suburban seemed to be on track. 

Towards the end of my cup, I notice Mrs. Bauer coming back from her jog she must have taken earlier than the others. 

“Oh, hello, neighbor!” she shouted when she spotted me, uniformly checking our house like her head was on a swivel if she heard a pen drop in it. 

Still in her jog, she sashayed over to my lawn, and I mumbled, “Here we go,” smiling at her as she followed the sidewalk to our steps. 

“How are you doing today, Bethanne?” I grin standing from my patio chair and going down the steps to meet her at the bottom of the flight. “Is there a run club I didn’t know about? You’re the 10th person I’ve seen getting a head start on their steps for the day.” 

She laughed and waved a hand at me before taking an earbud out, pausing her music on her watch, and placing her hands on her hips as she looked up at me. 

“There is actually a mommy and me walking club on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Depending on the weather, of course, but who knows,” she grinned up at me. “Maybe you can be joining it sooner than you thought.”

“Maybe not as soon as you think,” I laughed, holding my mug tighter with both hands so I wouldn’t strangle her instead and leaning on the banister. “We wanted at least a year in the house by ourselves before we add another set of feet to the chaos,” I scrunch my nose and add, “but I’m excited for the day Beau and I have a mini-version of us running around here.” 

“Speaking of Beau,” she grins, looking to the driveway. “Where is he today? He’s usually home with you most of the time, right?”

“Oh, it was time for him to get back to work. He took off for a few weeks to get moved in and spend time with me before we had to get back to the real world,” I answer as planned. 

“That’s right. I think I remember you guys talking about that at the first block party,” she nodded, watching me carefully for slip-ups. “Can you believe it’s only been two weeks of you guys here? I feel like you two have been a part of the community for at least a year.” 

“You’re sweet,” I gush convincingly and look out to the neighborhood for effect. “You guys have really taken us in as your family, and you don’t know how much I appreciate it. We appreciate it,” I correct and look off in the distance like I’m thinking of my sweet, doting husband when, in reality, I was thinking of the day this mission was over and I could carry on with my normal life. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned this. Beau isn’t one to really talk about it, but his family life wasn’t the best. They’ve practically been strangers since he turned 18.” 

“Oh, is that so?” She inched up, feeding on the new (fake) information. 

I nod. “When we started dating, my family took him in as his own- well, I only had my dad around for most of my life, but they got along really well. He passed three years ago,” I give a tight-lipped look as I look down at my feet in sadness. “They developed a bond, which wasn’t hard considering who my dad was. He was the best, though we might be biased in thinking that. Taught Beau how to do a lot of things dads are supposed to teach their sons. Well,” I sniffle for added effect. “Anyway, we’re kinda on our own now. No extended family we’re close with, and with my dad’s passing, it’s really just us. So when I say we’re grateful for y’all’s hospitality, I mean it.”

She seemed to buy it, as much as an undercover convict could, and smiled kindly up at me before placing a hand on my arm. 

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re just lucky you two are some of the good ones. You’d be surprised who’s come in and hasn’t made the cut. Lawns in disarray, unfriendly attitudes, and you know the list,” she winks and rolls her shoulders back before stretching in her spot. “Speaking of being lovely neighbors, how would you and Beau feel about a dinner at our house? Reggie and I have been talking about having you over for quite some time now, and I think we can finally host.” Before I could ask, she stopped me and explained. “Kitchen renovation. It was, and still is, a pain in my ass, but it should be doable for a small dinner.”

“That sounds lovely,” I beam as much as I could act. It was the perfect next step, and the bait had been taken, but a part of me wanted to settle things with Bucky in our personal dispute before we put on our masks for the two main perpetrators. “Let me check with him and see what his schedule will look like now. He’s getting some new orders today, and some things are changing in the company. We’ll know more tonight. But we will for sure make it work.” 

___________

After Bethanne told me some useless neighborhood gossip, she excused herself, and I went back inside to get ready for the day and consider how I would approach Bucky on our issue. 

I knew it was time to be truthful, even if I dreaded it. Bucky had proven time and time again that he wasn’t the enemy, and I needed to deal with my issues. I was tired of wasting energy on hatred and anger, and these last two weeks proved that Bucky wasn’t the one who should have been receiving the blunt force end of my trauma. 

I had until four in the evening to come up with an idea of how I wanted to go about it, but I had stress cleaned instead and couldn’t come up with a non-terrifying way to approach this life-changing conversation.

Finally, I found it best we get dinner in the town over (as not to have any peaking eyes or eavesdropping ears as we dive into my life story I hadn’t indulged to near anyone before), and I would talk to Bucky there. However, plans changed when Bucky came home. 

From my spot in the kitchen, I heard him shout in his domesticated voice across the street, “No, that sounds perfect! We’d love to!” The door opened just as he finished his sentence, and his voice became clearer. 

I moved around the island and slowly walked toward the door to get a view of who he was talking to, and I noticed Bethanne at her mailbox waving to Bucky. 

I furrowed my eyebrows at the obvious commitment he put us in, and after he waved back, he shut the door behind him, looking at me, and dropped the act quickly. 

“What did you just agree to?” I asked, nodding my head behind him. 

He looked me up and down, and I almost forgot I had picked a new, semi-fancier sundress for our “surprise anniversary dinner” (at least the front I was trying to put on for getting out of town without too much suspicion).

(Make whatever color you please or change it in your mind if you want! I'm choosing to pick it as a darker red.)

“You look nice,” he says as his eyes trail back up to my own, and I swear I see him take a gulp. 

“What did you agree to?” I asked again, focused more on what he had decided for us regarding Bethanne. 

His previous shocked face faded away, and he rolled his eyes slightly before throwing his work bag to the side.

“Bethanne invited us to dinner. I said yes because we need to build a relationship with them,” he replied stoically, as if my question was dumb and pointless. 

I just stared at him and let my “personal vendetta” look rest on my face. He studied me and had the decency to shrink ever so slightly. 

“What?”

“What happened to discussing things first?” I said in an eerily calm voice. 

“I didn’t think accepting dinner at a home we’ve been trying to get inside of for the last two weeks is something we’d have to discuss.” And now he straightens up, throwing his empty arms to the side. 

A few seconds later, I yelled, “You dipshit!” in a muffled grunt, keeping my voice down as much as I could handle and balling my fists in anger. 

His eyebrows shoot up and he huffs with his chest puffed out as he marches to me. I see the intent in his eyes, and I start walking away towards the opposite room closest, needing a minute not to lose my shit, and if I have to look into his stupid azure eyes like he wants to read everything passing through my mind, I’ll break.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls, and I shoot him a look over my shoulder as I shift my pace and head down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Y/N, stop being a stubborn ass and-”

“Unless you want a heel thrown at your head, and you’re welcome for being civil about this, I suggest you leave me alone,” I shout behind me, turn sharply to the left, and go to my room. 

“I don’t even know what THIS is! You looked at me like you wanted to kill me when I walked in, and I haven’t even talked to you today besides updates about work,” he said just as I slammed the door in his face. “Oh, real mature. Shut the door like an adolescent. Wait, I forgot. You are one…” He mumbles the last part and I hear him lean on the door.

Instantly, I whip the door open, and he doesn’t have time to predict his next move. He falls flat on his back on the wood floors of my room, only padded by a thin oriental rug I made Tony buy me. 

He’s winded from the fall and clutches his chest as I bend down next to him and say, “I said. Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.” I stare at him for a second, solidifying my threat. I stand to walk out and only give him a glance as I pass the doorway. 

_____________

Bucky’s POV:

I left her the fuck alone. 

I may have been royally pissed (that is a blatant ass understatement), but something about the look in Y/N’s eyes told me not to push unless I wanted to wake up with my head no longer attached to my body. 

I was too scared to leave her room in fear I’d run into her when she wasn’t ready and risk taking the chances of the guillotine earlier, so I sat on her bed and tried to rack my brain to where I slipped up to cause whatever the hell I walked in to…

I knew almost instantly and realized what a stupid, simple mistake it was. Bethanne asking me to dinner set her off, I knew. But her comment about talking with each other before making decisions told me my mistake. 

Something happened I didn’t know of, and I may have just fucked whatever it was up. As for what it is? No goddamn clue. But using context clues and just basic reading of the body language, Y/N had already made a plan, and I likely threw it out the window.

I heard footsteps before I could think further, and Y/N appeared in the doorway, taking a deep breath. She would have convinced me she was going to be civil if it wasn’t for her history, but I was curious to see which lane she chose. 

“One thing before I bite my tongue,” she says in almost a whisper, like she’s trying to keep her frustrations at bay. “You make me want to shave my head like Britney Spears in 2007 80% of the time. This moment was almost a tipping point for that kind of outcome...” She lets out a long breath like she passed the test of keeping it together. 

Surprisingly, a lot more tame than I was expecting. 

“Glad you got that out of your system. Now, please tell me what the hell happened?” I asked, keeping my guard up in case she resorted to her typical insults and fury. 

“Oh, now you want to communicate,” she mocks and walks to the bed, harshly sitting next to me but leaving a copious amount of space between us. 

I let it slide because I know she’s fighting bigger demons, like the urge to insult me, until I personally dig my own grave and say goodbye to my cruel reality. 

“Bethanne was goading us,” she answers, thankfully getting right to the point. “Something about her proposition seemed off, and I wanted to clear some things up with you before we jumped on the offer.”

I nodded my head, seeing that my instantaneous reply wasn’t thought out. That was on me, yes, but she also reacted extremely dramatically, expressing an odd feeling about the interaction instead of hard proof. 

“What did she ask, and what was off about it?” I question, trying to stay mission based because something seemed off still.

“It wasn’t what it was but how she was asking. Something in her tone and the way she was looking at our house and me. Like she was trying to take in detail after detail up close. Checking for cracks in the foundation,” she answers and turns to me just slightly. “She also said her kitchen was under renovation, and something felt off about it.” 

“The vibes about our neighbor getting a kitchen renovation made you knock the wind out of me when you opened your door?” I asked before I could think, but I didn’t budge, my furrowed eyebrows aimed at her. 

She matches my glare and turns her body fully to me. 

“It seemed like an excuse,” she answers slowly. 

“To what? Host a dinner? That’s kind of the opposite effect. Who would want to host a dinner when you have kitchen renovations? It means they trust us if they’re willing to let us see a house that’s not perfect like the front they put on.” 

"That’s what you get from it, but I think they just planted a little seed of their own.” 

“What do you even mean?”

“Kitchen Reno? That’s an excuse to say, ‘Oh, Charlotte, I can’t cook the chicken pot pie I was going to make for you two because our new oven hasn’t been delivered and installed yet. You know? Because we have the kitchen under renovation? I completely forgot,’” She acted in a convincing Bethanne impersonation and then quickly turned back to serious. 

“You got that from a kitchen reno comment?” I deadpanned after a minute. 

“I got that from understanding women masterminds who know how to manipulate a situation. I am that woman, so I think I can read them pretty well,” she says confidently back. 

Touché.

“And what if you’re wrong?” Her bitchface grew at my question. 

“First off, I’m not. Second off, even if I was wrong, we are supposed to consult each other about accepting invitations into the house of our suspect enemies,” she ran a hand through her hair, which I notice now looks styled differently. Did she curl it or have it blown out? And yes, I know what a blowout is. I have women friends and coworkers.

Yeah… I was in the wrong here, and that’s on me. I wasn’t thinking. I also had a long day snooping around for more information about this whole operation, but it isn’t necessarily an excuse… It’s not like  I haven’t worked on a case like this in the past. I mean, minus being fictitiously married to a coworker. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, and she gives me a weird look. “What?”

“I wasn’t expecting an apology,” she says, standing slowly and straightening her dress. 

“I know when to accept I made a mistake,” I shrug and stand as well. 

She studies my face like there's a retort that’s going to follow, but I just stare at her silently, communicating that I’m set on my apology. 

“Ok…” she drags out, watching me as she steps toward the door. “Well, I guess we need to get ready for tonight. Considering we have dinner. With our neighbors. And we need to set up bugs if possible.”

“Guess so,” I nod, crossing my arms. 

She stops suddenly and looks at me with a look of realization. “You’re in my room.” She steps to the side, leaving room for me to leave, and avoids eye contact. 

She’s still acting weird, but I need to change and get my head in the game for tonight, so I walk out with a subtle head nod as I leave.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki @learisa @bxckybxrnes24 @lillianacristina @selella @heletsmelovehim

[thelovehypothesis]

Sunsets with you

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Requested- lost my old account so this is basically me reposting my old stuff

Summary: Everyone else’s opinions on your and Harry’s relationship get in your head, but you’re it for Harry and he won’t have it any other way.

a/n’s: pretty sloppy but smwt enjoyable, please sendin request!

You’re well aware that you’re living the dream of many, being Harry’s girlfriend is something many dream of and somehow here you are, 4 years into a relationship with the man of your dreams.

Even though you were “living the dream” this said dream can with backlash, 4 years of trying to have a private (as possible with some fail) relationship, and some how media always had article to share on your relationship, fans had comments and haters hate to spread.

Truthfully it never got any easier for you to have the public eye on you, even though Harry always tried to help with sweet nothing and telling you to just full on ignore it, it was hard one click lead to another and you ended up engulfed in people opinions about you and your relationship.

Having said that, tour had been taking a toll on your relationship, you being “left” behind in London with harry signing his heart out around the world just gave your mind to much time to click and overthink, and most articles and post you read were full on rumors questioning your fidelity and his, and well you two trusted each other and had been through so many scandals that you knew better that to even bat a thought a those articles. It was rather the article criticizing you: your job, looks, intentions, family; that’s were you’d overthink your value in the relationship.

And so you started to distance yourself from him, not picking up his phone calls ever time he would call, texting him back less often and giving him shorter replies.

So when he came back for a short break, his grown worry from your uninterested self on having a proper conversation with him immediately unleashed a fight, well more so of an argument.

“We’ve been through this! You have to stop reading the comment and articles. They know one shit about us!”

“H-how can I. Im sorry but all they say is true! You’re this big pop star traveling all around the world with this huge successful career, while I’m stuck here working a 9 to 5!”

Silence

Being truthful Harry and you hardly fought but we you did it some how always lead to moments like this. You looking at each other with pleading eyes, hoping the other would just listen.

“I-I-I don’t know what you want me to say y/n”

“I don’t need you to say anything. I need you to listen, and to finally realize that I’m not-not enough for you H.

You need someone that can travel with you, and that can take on the public eye and-and that’s not me-“

“stop”

You could see the tear drops forming in Harrys eyes, even though yours are already flooded.

“Harry-“

“No. No. Yo-You don’t get to say those things. Not now not ever”

He starts stepping closer, cupping your face with his hand making you look at him.

“y/n listen please… just listen.

You are the most amazing human being I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, I know you better than anyone so I get to tell you that-that the comparison you’re making isn’t fair. You’re working on achieving your dreams, and you not that far away, and we are still so young, and somehow everyday you prove yourself to everyone around you, there is no doubt in the world that you’re the most talented person out there. I on the other had just got a head start and-and without you I-I wouldn’t be here, you’re my muse, my everything”

Sobbing, full on sobbing. How could this god of a human possibly believe in you this much knowing first hand how tough the world is.

“Harry I-I just can do it anymore-

I feel so small sometimes and I don’t want to be a burden to you”

“God y/n”

Harry lets you go.

He goes upstairs, and that’s the last indicator you needed to know that Harry can grow so much more if you just let him go, so you follow him, to say goodbye and sorry one more time.

When you got to you shared bedroom, you saw him walking out of the closet, eyes immediately meeting.

“I still hadn’t planned it out so far but I guess the time found it’s self”

Harry steps closer to you and takes your hand in his. Now in your hand, is a small velvet box.

Tears on the edge of both your eyes, but for a different reason now.

‘Just stop your crying, it’ll be alright’

“You’re it for me. And no matter how many times I have to reassure you of it, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. “

‘So please stop your crying baby it’s the sign of the times

runaway with me, to a world that only you and me’

“Harry- are you sure of what your doing” your voice trembling more that thought possible.

A scoff leaves his mouth.

“I’m sure. I want this. All of it. The big house on top of the hill, the four children running around screaming, the wedding, the dog, all of it.

So y/n y/l/n would you do me the honor of marrying me and living the rest of life together?”

He said now on one knee.

He sees right through you, he knows you could never stop living him even if you tried to, you two find home in each other.

So without an other thought, you rapidly nod your head and kneel down to be able to kiss Harry.

The kiss you shared was full of the unspoken sorry’s each of you feel needs to be said, the new promises that come with this new stage your relationship, just love, the immense love you two share.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much more.”

And there you were in your sweet tender moment, not a worry in mind, hearts beating in sync and lovesick eyes that gazed at each other.

After a few more moments Harry broke the silence.

“I love you so much that if you want me to scream it from the rooftops I will, if you need me to reassure you of your worth every day I will. I will do anything if it makes you happy.”

“I love you so much. Thank you for loving me as much”

“Forever.”

He’d already slipped the ring on your finger sealing this moment forever.

-The end

Lots of love, Em!

[in1-nutshell]

Here I go! So when I first saw tfp Ultra Magnus, the more I looked at him, the more I thought that his helem/head(?) Looked like a bat, specifically a vampire bat. So I was wondering if I could get a human Buddy, realizing this and voicing their thoughts to Bulkhead, Wheeljack, OP, and maybe Bee or Rachet? I could imagine Miko catching wind of this and start randomly calling Magnus Batman...

I didn't see the formation until I took a careful look at Magnus... I LOVE IT! If I look too hard now, that's going to be the only thing I see!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy and Miko having a conversation about 'Magnus Batman' with Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Optimus Prime, and Bumblebee

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFP

It was such an innocent question that turned into a spiral rabbit hole.

Miko had brought up the bat looking formation on Ultra Magnus’s helm.

Buddy tried to defend Magnus, but the more they looked at the Commander the more they saw the figure.

This started a look out for any weird looking shapes on the Bots and Cons.

The two just had to get an opinion about these findings from some of the bots.

Bulkhead

“Bulkhead!”--Miko

“Yes? What do you guys need?”--Bulkhead

“What do you think about Magnus Batman?”--Buddy

“…What?”—Bulkhead

He is confused when Buddy and Miko ask him the question.

Bulkhead doesn’t know what to think, he doesn’t even know what a bat is!

The next day Buddy and Miko come to the base with a power point ready and a bulletin board covered in yarn and photos ready.

He is touched that they would go through so much to try and get him to understand, even more in Miko for putting some work into a presentation.

After some explanation, Bulkhead can see it.

But only if he thinks about it hard enough.

On the occasion that Bulkhead is looking at Magnus for a long period of time, he might chuckle a bit thinking about the exchange.

Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and Ultra Magnuus in a debriefing.

Bulkhead spacing out a bit staring at Ultra Magnus’s helm.

“…Hehehe…”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead?”—Wheeljack

“Nothing!”—Bulkhead

“…”--Wreckers

“… All right, moving on.”—Ultra Magnus

Wheeljack

“Wheeljack over here!”--Miko

“Miko, Buddy, something going on?”--Wheeljack

“What do you think about Batman Magnus?”--Miko

“What?”--Wheeljack

Buddy and Miko pulling up the power point and board.

“I’m glad you asked.”—Buddy

Wheeljack is just as confused as Bulkhead, If not more since he hasn’t been on Earth that long.

He honestly thinks that there was some bot out there named ‘Batman Magnus’.

Wheeljack is a bit more enthusiastic to hear what Buddy and Miko have to say. If Buddy can make Miko create a presentation about something like this it, it has to be worth it.

Is mentally making notes about the comparisons.

Wheeljack can’t think about Magnus helm the same way now.

In a way it’s a good thing.

Not so much for Magnus as Wheeljack refuses to tell him why he’s laughing.

Ultra Magnus walking by.

Wheeljack, on his 15th Batman joke, making a fake salute.

“Commander Batman.”--Wheeljack

Miko and Buddy dying of laughter in the background.

“Wheeljack—”--Magnus

“Batman.”--Wheeljack

“Wheeljack—”--Magnus

“Yes Batman Magnus? What can I—”--Wheeljack

“The children are turning red!”--Magnus

Buddy and Miko on the ground red in the face with tears running down their faces.

Wheeljack grabbing Miko while Magnus grabs Buddy.

“Someone get Ratchet!”—Wheeljack

Optimus Prime

“Optimus, can you come here for a second?”--Buddy

“Yes? What seems to be the problem?”--Optimus

“Do you have time to hear a quick presentation? Please?”--Buddy

“What is the presentation about?”--Optimus

Miko pulling up the Power point and boards.

“What is this ‘Batman’? And what does he have to do with Ultra Magnus?”--Optimus

“Sit back Prime. We are about to blow you away!”—Miko

Optimus listens intently to Miko and Buddy’s presentation.

He does find the comparison a bit humorous.

But also sees the children have an admiration to Ultra Magnus to having given a nickname referring to a widely popular Earth hero.

He doesn’t treat Magnus differently after the presentation.

Considers telling Magnus that the children to do look up to him though.

Ultra Magnus working late on a file.

“You should get some rest Ultra Magnus.”--Optimus

“These files need to be checked on again, sir. We can’t afford mistakes in the labeling.”--Magnus

“I don’t think the children would like to see you not at your 100% tomorrow.”--Optimus

“…”--Magnus

“Ultra Magnus?”--Optimus

“All right… I’ll go recharge.”--Magnus

“Good. You are not a bat Ultra Magnus, you can not stay up all night.”--Optimus

“…What’s a bat?”--Magnus

Bumblebee

“Bumblebee! You got a second?”--Buddy

“Beep beep bep bop (Sure! What’s up?)”--Bumblebee

“What are your opinions on Batman Magnus?”--Miko

“Beep bop boop (What does Batman have to do with Magnus?)”--Bumblebee

“We’re glad you asked. Miko, get the board.”--Buddy

“Beep bop (Get what?)”—Bumblebee

Bumblebee loves hearing the presentation.

It’s so much better than the mission debriefs he is used to hearing.

He laughs when the comparisons are made.

Like Bulkhead, if he stares at Magnus’s helm for too long, he is going to start laughing.

He might start bat puns if he has the opportunity.

Magnus scolding Wheeljack again.

Bumblebee, on his 20th bat pun, points to the two arguing.

“Beep bop beep bep (Bat’s life isn’t it?)”--Bumblebee

Magnus and Wheeljack stop arguing after hearing Buddy and Miko start laughing hard.

“Oh no…”--Magnus

“Not again… Kid don’t—”--Wheeljack

“Beep bop boop (Sorry but I’m bat to the bone)”--Bumblebee

Harsh wheezing intensifies.

“…”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee picks them both up and turns to Magnus and Wheeljack.

“Beep bop boop! (Where’s Ratchet!)”--Bumblebee

[emfleaa]

My horrible, no good, very bad, terrible, awful Mold!Ethan design (or his mutation if he’d had one)

clearly heavily influenced by the cleric beast from Bloodborne.

but I do actually have my reasons alongside the fact that I simply think the aesthetic fits well.

Deer/Antlers/Head

To me, Ethan Winters is best signified as a stag; a deer. The cleric beast, while not being completely ‘deer focused’, does have notable traits.

Deer are often thought of as shy, meek, weak prey animals due to their herbivore nature. Though certainly that can be the case, other times it is not. Deer are powerful creatures, quick and nimble. Antlers grown by deer can be strong enough to puncture the body or even cause interlocking, resulting in the eventual starvation of the other male (as well as possible decapitation).

Deer can be dangerous despite their initial appearance. A deer's kick can generate an estimated 700 psi. In comparison, a human punch can generate around 200 psi. They can easily break bone, knock a person down or cause internal bleeding through striking someone.

Ethan is often a character seen as weak or lesser than other Resident Evil protagonists, which I think is quite ridiculous. Drawing the parallel of deer and Ethan being seen as meek is an easy gap to bridge. But both are powerhouses in reality. Ethan is an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, injuries or not. More often than not, he is injuried in some form during gameplay.

Deer, even being hit by a car can still kill a man by kicking him to death through the windshield. (If it survives the initial impact of course.)

His antlers, and by extension head, would be made up of a hard material- possibly bone like. Perfect for ramming, skewering and protection.

Fur, claws, fangs, Skin

As for the fur aspect, I’m going to explain that using headcanon power/kind of canonical shit.

HGT or Horizontal Gene Transfer is the movement of genetic material between organisms other than the ‘vertical’ transmission of DNA from parent to offspring(reproduction).

HGT is present within the games and it is quite literally why Ethan is still Ethan after he is made up from the mold. Miranda uses it as well, disguising as Mia, and even Marguerite Baker ended up as a chimera of various insect genomes intersecting with her own.

All this to say, I believe the fur would come from lycans. But how?? How, dear god, is that even possible if lycans are the result of cadou experiments, emfleaa??? This is where things get more headcanony if they weren’t already. The cadou parasite changes one’s body, altering them heavily or not so unheavily. We know that lycans were the result of the cadou not taking properly to villagers, yet they are still a result of the cadou itself! As for how the DNA would be transferred onto Ethan, my explanation is extremely simple that it’s frankly stupid but apt, in my eyes.

He got his fucking fingers bitten off.

Now, I’m not saying the bite ‘infected’ Ethan, because clearly it didn’t. But for the sake of my little mold critter, I do think some lycan dna was taken in by the mold making up Ethan as a sort of reserve. Probably through the absorption of the lycans saliva through the wound.

And hence, the fur, the claws, the sharp teeth.

The skin, as I could try to depict it, wouldn’t actually be skin. It would more so be like the texture of the Molded from RE7, made up of pulsing mold.

Bloodborne

Bloodborne is so fucking amazing and personally one part sticks out to me and really makes me think of Ethan.

Djura, the retired hunter in Old Yharnam says, “There’s nothing more horrific than a hunt. In case you’ve failed to realize… the things you hunt, they’re not beasts. They’re people.”

I personally believe this sentiment fits Ethan so goddamn well. Especially if he were to mutate at all, into a beast, a monster. He’s still a person, somewhere deep down (probably).

But how or why would he mutate at all?

BLAAARRGHHH if you’re here for non-headcanon explorations into this topic this is where you can check out because I AM NOT GOING TO CLAIM I AM AN ETHAN WINTERS EXPERT. NOR RESIDENT EVIL. I AM SIMPLY A FAN WHO LIKES THIS WHITE BOY.

I truly believe Ethan Winters wouldn’t mutate unless under extreme emotional distress. I don’t believe that extreme physical distress would trigger a mutation within him, as he’s unfortunately fairly used to extreme physical distress. (Hand cut off, leg cut off, hand cut off again, impaled so many times, thrown around like a ragdoll, etc.)

Because of this mutation during extreme emotional states, I think his mutation would be a bit different from the usual “IM KILLING YOU. IM KILLING YOU. I DONT CARE WHATEVER THE FUCK ELSE IS GOING ON, I AM KILLING THAT GUY RIGHT THERE” mutation. I do think Ethan is capable of reacting violently, no doubt. I think he would lash out and create problems, but I don’t think he would actively seek them. To me, Ethan is the best example of the human will to survive.

I believe his mutation would prioritize survival over anything else. Doing whatever he needs to do to survive, no matter the cost, while staying safe.

I think on the chart of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, Mold!Ethan would simply want the basic needs. While Ethan himself would want all of them, as is human nature.

Mold!Ethan would not seek violence, unless provoked I believe. (Which would probably happen anyways considering the conditions needed for this mutation to arise to begin with.)

What’s with the eyes/red marks?

On the topic of his eyes, you’re probably thinking, uh, where the fuck are they or why are they closed. Both great questions. My answers?

His eyes are on his face, they’re pretty massive. I imagine that he’d have them closed most of the time, as seeing through such large eyes would be incredibly overwhelming, possibly painful. Once more, I believe he’d only open them out of necessity, or extreme distress.

He’s got those big bulgy eyes like a dog or a rat boggling. (Eye colors were inspired by Jack Baker’s mutated form in the boathouse.)

The red marks along the skin are scarring; I just made them red as a sort of undertone glow that some mutations in the series have. I tried to depict most of his more severe/memorable injuries through the scars left behind, including the exclusion of his two eaten fingers.

Okay that was a lot. Anything else?

yeah uhhh here’s molded Ethan freakin out I imagine him to be like one of those really nervous shaky chihuahuas despite being incredibly tall if he stood up straight (though he quite feasibly can’t, he wouldn’t be able to support his weight)

there’s a whole bunch of shit else but that simply delves into my headcanons of Ethan himself, and idk about exploring them too much here haha, I’m already nervous enough as is with my silly ideas

if you read this far you can smoke a fat one with mold!ethan my thanks to you

[ave09]

If reqs are still open (cool if they aren't you can just ignore me) can I get a Jay Gatsby x reader where reader comes from a poor background but doesn't know Jay also comes from one and is kind of embarrassed about her status in comparison to his/worries he'll end up wanting someone richer?

”say it again”

jerjordan!jay gatsby x female!reader

note: more jay requests i beg i love these 😔

his touch toyed with her fingertips, the only sound being their gentle breaths. she was leaning against his chest, the sheets loosely covering them, simply allowing the couple to indulge in this quiet moment.

he gently took her wrist, his thumb brushing over the pulse, feeling the soft thrum of her heart beneath, keeping him grounded, lost in this perfect moment. a grain of in the sands of time that he never wished to forget. 

and while he found himself in pure bliss, her own mind was in turmoil. every night with jay was… perfect. it always was. the feelings he brought out in her were unlike anything she’d ever experienced. 

during the bliss, her mind was clouded with thoughts of him. there was truly no way to overthink when such a man was hovering over her, whispering lovely words to her. he consumed her body and soul, her only thought of jay gatsby. 

and yet it was the aftermath, in the quiet intimate moments that caused her mind to wander. 

why her? why was she spending her nights entangled in his sheets with him? why was she the one chosen to sidle by him at his parties? why was she chosen to be cared for by him? she was a simple girl, he’d met her in a flower shop for heaven’s sake! not exactly the most romantic of places, especially considering it was simply her family’s shop, not some big extravagant boutique that all the rich women resided in.

so why her? he could do better, not that she wished him too, but he could. 

“your thinking is rather loud, petal.” the low grumble of his voice sent a wave through her. “i believe i was being quiet.” she replied gently.   he hummed, pecking the side of her head. “what thoughts are filling that pretty head of yours? thoughts of me, perhaps?” his tone was teasing, bringing a soft smile to her lips. 

“i’m always thinking of you.” she felt his fingers toying with her mused hair, leaning into his touch. “you plague my every thought, jay.” 

“as do you, flower.”

and there it was again, that doubt. she trusted him, her trust in him weighing far more than anything, but that voice would always try and convince her… that she wasn’t enough.

“petal?” he noted the shift, the change, his dark brows furrowing. “darling, what is it?”

“why me?” the words came faster than she intended. he tilted his head curiously. “why you?” 

“jay, you are the richest man in new york. women flirt with you constantly, and yet-“

“you’re the one in my bed, darling.” 

“jay-“

“you do realize that i was a poor man myself?” the words surprised her. despite the relationship being new, it was a surprise to hear. “pardon?” she knew it had taken him a bit to build up his status, but never had she realized he started out… so low.

“mhm. just a boy, penniless. i wasn’t born into all this, i worked for it.” he began, “it was a process, long and hard, and here i am. a mansion, all the money i could ever need.. the most gorgeous girl.” he hummed, pecking at her neck. she giggled softly as he continued, “but that, my petal, is a story for another day.. just know.. your status does not define your worth. you are worth all the goodness in the world.”

a small smile graced her lips. “you truly think so..?” 

he nodded, “i know so. and i will continue to prove it to you until my dying day…” he trailed off, meeting her gaze. 

“my darling flower, i want to spend all of eternity giving you the love you should’ve always received.”

she felt her chest tighten, eyes widening slightly. “love?” she echoed. 

he found himself nodding. “love. yes. is that too soon?” 

“too soon..?” her voice was so soft. so gentle. 

“i love you dearly, my flower.” he whispered, pecking at her neck gently. “i love you more than life itself. and i will continue to love you.” 

“oh jay..”

“if it is too soon, i do not wish you to be forced to say it, but i cannot contain it any longer. i love you.”

“i love you,” she shot back, so gently, but so sincerely. she meant it, she truly did. from the bottom of her heart, she truly loved jay gatsby. 

“yes?”

“yes.. yes i do.”

his lips found hers, kissing them gently, “say it again petal,” he had to hear it, the words he’d been wanting to hear for so very long.

“i love you.”

the words would be engraved in his soul for he could now devote his life to truly and wholeheartedly loving her.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

What initially made you fancy Scarebat as a pairing?

oh my, that’s such an enchanting question, as it is brain wrecking. i honestly struggle to put my thoughts into proper words. it feel like it’s too little an’ too much at the same time.

but ah, you can say, that my very first brush with them as a ship happened years an’ years back, when a kid me was sitting in front of a TV, waiting for BTAS eps to air. essentially, they are the ship that i carried with me for the majority of my life, without ever realizing it. when i was a kid, terms like shipping an’ any meaningful ways of interacting with my fav fiction, wasn't smth that i could comprehend or really be into in any grand sense. back then, i was noticeably obsessed with their shared eps, a tad more than with some others. an’ i also was obsessed with this scene. looking back at it, this reaction made a lot of sense. it’s almost like falling in love with the thing at first sight, while having zero understanding as to why. 

there are many things, that make scarebat a very 1:1 ship for me. but i think what got my attention at first was the general feeling of their overall dynamic. i adore horror / mindfuckery-coded stuff, always had, an’ i adore how horror in general can be intertwined with allegories to deeper things, esp when it comes to love / obsession / connection, that you can only form / obtain while enduring smth *mutually* terrifying. i love intensity in fiction, some sort of conflict that cannot be just talked over.

bruce's an' jon's personalities play into this bit so well. almost too well, like this was crafted for oddballs like me, who crave confined, one-to-one dynamics the most. an' what i mean by this, is that they’re both fairly isolated, emotionally closed off people. one of them cannot keep most of his connections for long *bruce*, the other one is borderline incapable of doing it *jon*. but regardless of the differences behind the reasoning of them being left stranded, they are stuck in the same situation.

bruce’s public persona can only fool someone for so long, bc as soon as they want to know him a bit closer, things get complicated. one of problems, that most bruces face is that his approach to relationships an’ intimacy, makes it seem like no person could ever be good enough for him to open up. or it feels like this would take too much time, that no one seems to be willing to waste. an’ i’m not saying that there should be clear-cut acceptance of everything or instant clicking understanding, no. what i’m saying is that knowing bruce, truly knowing him means putting an ungodly an’ enormous effort into it, an’ it’s fair that most people won’t feel like doing it. bruce's mental an' emotional barriers are high. so unless someone is ready to climb them for years, an' forgive his inability to react to thing in the way they want / he needs to, there is just no way to ever get on the other side. an' in meantime, the reward for their hard work might not be enough to sustain them. eventually, it might look like that barrier is just going on forever.

in comparison, jon's situation is different, even if it results in the same thing. but where bruce is liked just enough for people to attempt an’ get close to him, no one ever bothered to know jonathan. no one was really understanding him, or trying to. he’s neither easy nor appealing to approach. he’s not charming. he’s not kind. he might have been a fairly harmless, humble lad in his youth, but he’s not humble about his current situation as adult at all. if anything, he’s unpleasant an’ often confrontative about it. ill-fittingly arrogant even. most of the time, viewed by others either as a sore loser or irredeemable monster. jon is used to people simply assuming things about him, without even talking to him first. so depending on his mood / state of mind, he reacts to it accordingly. he's also paranoid an' his main knee-jerk reactions are often violent or a bit too extra. this would seem like a waste of time to even try to know such a person, wouldn't it? esp if he bares his teeth more often, than he tries to be polite in return.

him an' bruce are actually very similar when it comes to their distrust of others. crane might get into monologues about how the others wronged him, bc he kinda knows that most people who he tells this to would either not care at all or die at his hands. there isn't any actualy exposure happening. just him venting. bruce has alfred, so he does tell him certain things, usually when he has no idea what to do or wants a second opinion on smth. but neither of those situations is the same as actually showing off your belly so to speak.

both batman an' scarecrow don't have a very healthy outlook on trust, vulnerability and' intimacy. i mean, jon has no idea what the last one is even, an' he had only bad expirience with the first two. so his view on it is ever worse. more warped. which makes a perfect reasoning why he often literally crowbars his way into batman's brain, kicking at his mental walls, an' getting past them that way, regardless if bruce wants it or not. an’ while jonathan does it with all of his victims, it doesn’t mean that it’s personal for him. oftentimes, he’s more focused on pleasure he gets from it vs what the person actually sees in terms of learning about them. their fear might be interesting to him, they themselves are not so much. that’s until batman. until time pass, an' they exposed to each other in certain ways for like 20 times. the sheer fact that they can only be fully vulnerable, when they hallucinating an' exposed to ft, with no one around to haunt them, but each other is pretty telling.

i love how their differences coexist very neatly with their similarities an' how their respective issues *a disorder in jon's case* only add to it. esp since it's not like just anybody would work for jon. he doesn't want just anybody. an' bruce had a lot of experiences with various people, be it sexual or romantic, but he needs an anti-social wacko to be his keeper, bc no one else would wish for his everything, due to who he is, rather than what they think he are. an' jon needs someone with that insane amount of belief in him, that won't write him off as a mere creep like everyone else did.

certain things can heavily depend on specific aus, or versions of them, but overall, the way they are confined in that psychological, emotional bubble is very bewitching for me. it’s like holding one of those glass balls an’ see what happens within it once you give it a shake. 

in general, scarebat is a rare kind of ship where everything works so nicely. their personalities, motivations, parallels that they have, along with differences that they use to fuel one another. man, even their designs an’ appearances *inside the costume or outside of it* collaborate amazingly into overarching story that can be told.

[saffronesque]

Dittany and Desperation

Chapter Three

Hermione finally roused from her slumber in the late afternoon.

When Dean and her flooed back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione walked straight up the stairs, ignoring the onslaught of questions and fawning from the others, and fell straight into bed. This time, she finally got the sleep she needed.

Luna was sitting on her bed, reading, when she acknowledged Hermione.

“Oh, hi Hermione. You look much better now. Though you could probably use a shower,” she said.

“Thanks Luna. How’s your leg?”, she responded to Luna’s honesty.

“Fabulous! We are lucky that Dean has a natural talent for healing,” Luna added.

“Yes we are. And I’m lucky because you came back for me. Thank you,” Hermione said.

Luna had a sort of loyalty that stood in place of the Gryffindor bravery that Hermione was used to. She didn’t need bravery to save her friends. Luna wasn’t scared of anything as long as she was with people she loved. She noticed things, despite her aloof nature. She noticed Hermione.

“You had my back too. It’s a pity Ron couldn’t cover for you. He seemed very sorry and said he didn’t realize you had disappeared,” Luna hummed.

“Oh, I bet,” Hermione replied knowingly.

Hermione didn’t have a clue of what she would say to him. Ron always seemed to forget about her. Hermione couldn’t blame him. He had so many family members to worry about in the Order. Of course, her, Harry, and Ron were still friends, but everything was different.

Hermione suspected the loss of a romantic relationship had also fractured his concern for her. During the battle of Hogwarts, he covered for her more than he had for anybody. 

When she left later that year to pursue curse breaking, he called her selfish and that was that. 

Still, trying to put into words the pang of disappointment she felt at his carelessness was nearly impossible. Every time she tried to talk about it, the words tasted like sand and she shut her mouth before she could start. She didn’t want anybody to think she necessarily needed him to protect her. She just wanted them to understand how lonely it felt. 

Hermione quietly exited the bedroom and peered into the closest bathroom, finding it empty. She locked the door and started the hot water. The room filled with steam as she looked over her figure in the mirror. She was still in the same clothes as earlier. She pulled them off and grabbed her toothbrush.

There was much more blood and grime on her body than Hermione remembered. She spit into the sink and took off her bra to remove the gauze that had been taped on earlier. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to keep the wounds covered, but she needed a shower desperately. The gauze was splotched with yellow and brown. The wound looked angry. 

She pulled her hair out of the braid that Dean had done that morning.She didn’t hate her appearance. But she didn’t like it either. It was an afterthought.

Before coming back to England, Hermione found pleasure in keeping up her appearance. She did her hair differently, looked strong and healthy, and even wore makeup occasionally. 

She didn’t feel feminine any longer. She just felt like a vessel. 

She was still in decent enough shape. She had to be, if she was going to fight. But stress, anxiety, and exhaustion weakened her. Hermione told herself it didn’t matter.

She could still laugh with her friends. She could still work hard and do good things. Even if she was a bit gray and worn out. 

Hermione had thought that the scar Bellatrix gave her at Malfoy Manor would be the worst one she would don. It paled in comparison to the most recent one. In fact, it paled to many of Hermione’s other scars. She used to think they showed her dedication. Gaining a scar after a curse breaking mission was like a badge of honor. It felt more like a failure now.

Hermione charmed the wound to repel water before stepping into the hot water. She washed quickly, watching the water swirl until it was clear and all of the filth washed away. 

Her thoughts inevitably wandered to the morning’s events. Padma and Poppy were dead. This loss was not only detrimental to the war, but devastating to the Order. Poppy Pomfrey had known the Order and all of the younger members since they were children. Padma was a close friend to all of them. Her stomach hurt thinking about it. 

She would have to face the Order and recount what had happened.

She would be glad to leave Saint Mungo’s out of the story. 

What happened at Saint Mungo’s felt distant. Hermione wondered if she’d ever have to go back. She hoped not. Maybe she could talk to Dean about it later.

She was surprised that Malfoy was so clinical. It was a healer’s job, but Malfoy had past affiliations and grievances with most everybody involved in the uprising, including the Order. 

Fate was funny.

She wondered if Malfoy became a healer as a form of repentance. Maybe he thought that healing people would balance the scales. Whatever it was, Hermione was curious. Which conflicted with her desire to never see him again. 

Hermione stepped out of the shower and dried off, quickly dressing the wound and slipping on the clean clothes she brought with her. She charmed her hair to dry and walked down the stairs, down the hall, and into the large living room of the home. 

Dean was sprawled across the Loveseat, with Luna sitting on the floor at the foot of it. Harry, Ginny, George, Tonks, Neville, and Seamus were playing a game of exploding snap. There was music softly playing and several other members were sitting by the fire with drinks. They all looked solemn. Parvati and Ron were nowhere to be seen. Mrs.Weasley looked up from her knitting at Hermione.

“Hermione dear!” She said brightly, standing up and ushering Hermione to sit on the chair next to her, “Come sit.”

The others noticed her appearance and turned towards her. Harry grinned and abandoned his game to move closer.

“Where’s Ron?” she asked. She couldn’t help it.

“Oh never mind him,” started Mrs. Weasley, “how are you feeling, dear?”

Hermione huffed and tried pulling her knees up to her chest, but winced in pain.

“I’m fine. The healer said I have a concussion. The hex has been healed but there’s a big mangled scar that’s going to take a while to heal,” she gave a weak smile, “nothing time won’t fix,” she concluded. She would leave Malfoy’s name out of the discussion.

Mrs.Weasley frowned.

“Luna told us what happened, sort of, but not all of it,” Seamus chimed.

Hermione wanted to tell them, but not everybody was present. She thought that at the very least, Kingsley or Remus should be there so she could tell the story once and be over with it.

“Is everybody coming for dinner?” she asked, instead.

Harry seemed to understand, “Yes, Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Bill, and Fleur will be arriving soon.”

“Alright,” Hermione nodded, “I’ll tell you all after dinner, when everybody is here.”

The eagerness dropped from some of their faces. Other’s continued to look concerned. 

The Order was not good at, ironically, maintaining order. 

Harry handed her a drink as everybody went back to their musings. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip, “You know, I looked at everybody this morning and thought to myself that everybody looked in need of a drink,” she laughed, “You especially, Harry.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up before furrowing.

“Hermione-” he paused, sighing, “you have no idea how shitty it is to see all of my best friends going on a mission while I have to stay cooped up. To have Snape, Kingsley, and Remus be against me. And to do what? Train the others? Wring my hands until they burn? It’s not right.”

Hermione didn’t want Harry to be so anxious and miserable, but she understood Remus and Kingsley’s reasons. Most of the Order members understood. Harry was the largest target in the order still. He was one of the best fighters, but they had enough fighters that it was silly to put him in harm’s way. 

“Now look, you’re injured, Luna and a few others were hurt as well,” Harry paused, lowering his voice to a mumble, “and Padma and Poppy are dead.”

Hermione’s hand scrambled from the arm of the chair to grasp Harry’s

“Harry,” she said seriously, “Even if you were there, they wouldn’t have made it back with us,” she stopped to think.

“Time is the enemy and nobility is the Order’s greatest weakness. I know you don’t like it, but that’s why I snuck out to the pub before waiting on a decision. We waste so much time trying to make decisions that shouldn’t be hard,” she said. She wanted to tell Harry to stop being so noble, but it wouldn’t matter.

She briefly thought of the young Death Eaters at the pub. They weren’t clearly Death Eaters to everybody else there, but the way they sat and laughed was a dead giveaway to Hermione. They emanated dark magic, their dark robes were soaked in it. Hermione's stomach had twisted, letting them speak to her crudely.

She continued, speaking slowly, “You are not to blame for their deaths. Harry, we got there too late. The Order needs to start making quicker and harsher decisions. That is why I did what I did. Besides, if you had come, you and Ron would have been paired. I’m not sure that it would have changed anything for me.”

She took a drink. Harry looked completely hopeless, but Hermione couldn’t sugar coat it. Not to him. 

“We could have killed the Lestrange’s, Hermione. I could have protected you. I could have protected the others.”

“You don’t know that. It was chaos. Even then, what if something happened to you?” she retorted.

“I’m sick of being put first. You and the others put yourselves on the line first, every time. What happened to change that? At the battle of Hogwarts, I fought right beside everybody.”

“We thought it was the end. We were confident. And Naive. You, me, and Ron were the only ones who knew about the horcruxes. Of course we were on the front lines,” Hermione told him.

She could tell Mrs.Weasley was listening to their conversation. Her knitting had slowed.

Hermione often thought about the battle of Hogwarts. They were so sure all it would take was destroying the horcruxes. They had destroyed the diadem and the cup. The trio had left the room of requirement in a haze of fiendfyre and were thrusted into battle. Harry used the connection to track Nagini and Voldemort and could see Snape with them in the shrieking shack.

By the time they got to the shack, it was empty. When they returned to the battle, they realized the Death Eater’s were retreating, and soon enough, the battle was over with no party victorious. 

The Ministry held as many trials as they could for the Death Eaters that had not gone into hiding. This included Lucius Malfoy, who was found in France with Narcissa and Draco. They had fled immediately after Draco had left the room of requirement. Draco was placed on probation for two years and Lucius was placed in Azkaban indefinitely. After a year of no sightings of Voldemort, the Ministry brushed it off and continued business as usual. Half of the wizarding world suspected he hadn’t been defeated in totality. 

Years later, Severus showed up at Kingsley’s door after being presumed dead. It was a miracle he was able to convince the Order that he was still loyal to Dumbledore’s cause and the Order of The Phoenix. He told them that he wasn’t able to risk leaving the Dark Lord’s side so soon after the battle. Voldemort made him work tirelessly to restore his strength. Though Severus was kept at arm’s length from many of Voldemort’s plans, he was able to confirm their suspicions and begin informing them as much as possible as the attacks persisted. 

Hermione would never forget the feeling of defeat after the battle of Hogwarts.

Harry and Ron still went after their ambitions of becoming aurors, and Hermione left them, visiting seldom on holidays and breaks. All of them left their careers when Severus showed up. Harry and Ron thought about staying at the Ministry as aurors, but the Ministry hardly cared to task them with anything pertaining to the attacks. They pushed and pushed, but gave in, realizing it was a lost cause.

The Daily Prophet often published articles guessing at what the Golden Trio was up to. Most of the time, Rita Skeeter or another writer would make up stories that they were all overcome with grief and too heartbroken to continue living normal lives with normal careers. 

Hermione looked down at Harry, sipping her drink. He rested his head against her knee, looking into the fire. 

By the time everybody had arrived for Dinner, Hermione’s head was pounding. The drink helped, but she left her glass empty and instead, took a pain potion before joining everybody at the table. She chose to sit near the darkest end of the room. The light didn’t help.

The dinner was mostly quiet. It seemed like a polite precursor for a meeting to address that day’s events. Hermione wondered what the point of eating dinner even was. 

They were all thinking of Padma and Poppy.

She hadn’t eaten all day, but could only manage a few bites of what she was served. 

She could feel Remus’s eyes trained on her and tried to ignore him, deciding she really did want another drink after all.

Kingsley sighed, “It’s no use to pretend everything is alright, so might as well get on with discussion,” he said, breaking the silence, “We are all saddened by the losses we suffered today. Molly kindly offered to hold a memorial service this Saturday.”

Everybody nodded. Nobody spoke until Angelina finally engaged.

“That will be nice. I can help arrange it, Molly.”

“That being said, we need to address the events of this morning,” Remus said boldly.

Hermione shrunk into her chair.

“First of all, we must be more strict with any field work such as foraging. Padma and Poppy were in a very dangerous area when they went out last week. Second of all, we need to work on our dueling protocols. Kingsley told me all hell broke loose and all strategy flew out the window once the wards were tripped,” Remus added.

“Yea, how about those wards?” said Ginny, “I think there needs to be better training on protocol for rescues and detection magic. My brother seems to have forgotten himself.”

“Ginny!” Mrs.Weasley hissed.

“Yes, we will review that all tomorrow morning at training. Hermione,” Kingsley said, turning to look at her, “will you tell us what happened from your point of view?”

Hermione resignedly sat up to tell her side of the events. She explained discovering Padma and Poppy after Ron set off the wards. She explained the initial skirmishes in the house and being attacked by Rodolphus to save Parvati. She told them how Ron was nowhere to be found after she melted the ground, killing several Death Eaters. She explained that Luna came back to help her, even though she was injured too. And finally, she told the story of when Bellatrix attacked them.

“I didn’t see her at the house. I mean, there were so many people, but I know I would have noticed her. I know she would have chosen to attack me before anybody else. She came running from the hill and was firing spells at us, weakening us further. We could hardly move while trying to carry Parvati. Then I hit my head hard. I couldn’t really see, but I got up and Luna had been petrified,” Hermione paused.

“Bellatrix shot me with the hex and I fell back again. She made her way to me and pushed me into the ground with her foot on my chest,” she winced, remembering, “I was almost delirious but I remember she said something about me attacking her husband. Said she would take me to The Dark Lord to see him in his “restored glory”. I was able to unpetrify Luna without her noticing. Soon enough, Luna was able to apparate us. Bellatrix tried to hold onto me, but she couldn’t,” she finished, looking at several of her friends' faces.

Harry was gripping the table with wrought tension.

“You know, it’s strange,” Remus chuckled darkly, “It seems the Lestrange’s always play with their food too much before they can kill it.”

Hermione felt her face go cold and her features drop. She wanted to leave, badly, and regretted telling everybody the story all at the same time. The audience was making her dizzy and uncomfortable.

“None of them were masked,” she said. It was a statement rather than a question.

“Yes,” Kingsley said, “We believe it’s on purpose. The less affiliation they can have with the Death Eater regime, the better. They want the Ministry to keep ignoring what’s been occurring. We suspect they are trying to infiltrate the Ministry.”

“You can’t be serious?” Harry said.

Harry always had a habit of asking redundant questions to show his exasperation. 

“Yes,” replied Remus, “but they have yet to show themselves. As of right now, we believe they haven’t made it that far.”

The conversation quieted and everybody left the kitchen, save for Kingsley and Remus who held Hermione back.

This day was never going to end.

“Ron said you had a vial of blood on you to take down the wards?’ Remus lifted his brow in suspicion.

Hermione had lots of things they didn’t know she had. They didn’t know just how lucky they were to have an ex-curse breaker in their arsenal. 

“Yes. Are you going to penalize me for it? We wouldn’t have gotten in without it.” She said with a look of disdain.

“No. Do you care to tell us how you got a vial of blood from a purebred wizard?” Asked Kingsley.

“Not really. But since you asked so nicely, I got it in Slovenia during my studies. I didn’t hurt anybody to get it, if that’s what you are really asking,” she said, squinting to look up at the men, “It was given to me.”

“How are your injuries?” Remus clipped. 

“Fine. But I’m in a lot of pain. I’d like to go to sleep now,” she tried to brush past the men, but Kingsley lightly gripped her shoulder. 

She flinched, but turned back with her hands on her hips.

“Ron’s been dealt with,” he stated.

Hermione shrugged him off and turned to go up to bed.

Despite the bedroom being unoccupied and dark, Hermione tossed and turned in a fugue state. She jolted herself up and threw back the covers. She could hear chatter echoing from the stairway. Sleeping most of the day wasn’t the issue. The issue was that her skull felt like it was going to crack and shatter. The pain potion hardly worked. 

She stood and peeked out the doorway to a clock which showed that it had been almost two hours since dinner. From the sounds coming from below, she figured that people were getting tired and most of the guests had left. Hermione needed something to help ease her pain or distract her. 

Creeping downstairs, she saw that Ron was sitting in the living room. She opted to investigate the kitchen instead of joining whoever else was with Ron.

Dean and Luna were sitting at the table, sipping on butterbeers and listening to records. Dean slid a butterbeer over to Hermione as she sat next to them.

“Thanks. I can’t sleep”, she explained.

“Insomnia?” Luna asked.

“No. My head,” Hermione answered, looking at Dean.

“The potion didn’t help?” he asked.

“It did, but not for long. When I woke up in time for dinner I had to take a pain potion. Obviously that didn’t do much.”

Dean looked thoughtful and reclined in his chair.

“Did you go see Draco?” Luna asked pleasantly.

Hermione’s eyes went wide and she glanced at Dean for an explanation. He gave nothing away.

“Yes… have you-” she paused, lowering her voice and leaning in, “have you seen him too?”

“Oh, yes! I went with Dean to Saint Mungo’s a few times,” Luna answered, “He’s very professional,” she added, giggling.

Dean spoke before Hermione could, “Not many people know that he’s healed several of our members. I would have told you if I knew you wouldn't have rejected me taking you to him. I’m sorry, but he’s the only option we have right now.”

Dean looked sympathetic, but Hermione still wasn’t understanding the whole picture. She felt like something was missing. What was Malfoy getting in return?

Hermione tried to think logically, though there was nothing logical to her thoughts when it pertained to Malfoy. 

“Dean, I know you said you trust him, but why? Do Kingsley and Remus?” she asked.

“Well… it’s like Luna said. He’s professional. He doesn’t care about anything besides healing. He has no allegiances, especially to the Ministry. And the Dark Lord. But we know that- we’re not seventeen anymore. No reasonable person in Draco’s shoes would have any loyalty to the Dark Lord. Besides, he specializes in healing hexes, curses, and dark magic. I can’t think of anybody else we could risk trusting.”

“How did this even start?” Hermione asked.

Dean took a deep breath.

“It was by chance. The first time was when Poppy and Padma had to be quarantined for black cat flu. Me and Luna were tasked with gathering some things from the black market in Diagon. We ended up stealing some potions supplies from this man and we weren’t careful enough. He got me with some hex we didn’t recognize. There was no time to ask Kingsley or Remus what to do or to even find them. We couldn’t risk going to Padma and Poppy. So, we apparted to Saint Mungos and Draco was the first person we saw. He looked at us like we were crazy and rushed us into a room before anybody saw us,” Dean looked over at Luna.

“I think he felt like he owed us. Especially when he saw me. Remember when I was in the dungeons at the manor right before the battle? He was the only person I saw besides Ollivander and the elves,” Luna said wistfully, “He used to bring us water.”

Hermione thought about everything she could remember of Malfoy when they were in school. He wasn’t a monster, that much was clear. But Hermione felt a sort of sick jealousy that he was allowed to pursue his career all while ignoring the current events.

“He made it clear that he didn’t need to know why I got the injury, just what happened to cause it. He didn’t ask any questions about us,” Dean stated, “It was rather strange to see him as a healer at first. Now, I realize it makes sense that he would be good at it. Except for his bedside manner. He’s still rather cold,” Dean chuckled.

“Hmm” Hermione mused, “And he… did he… say you could come back? Or anything about the Ministry or the attacks? Or the Order?”

“He said he would always do his job,” Dean answered.

“No he didn’t,” Luna interjected. “He said, “I’m not a child anymore, Thomas. I don't care about whatever mess you are all still a part of, and I certainly don’t give a shit what the Ministry thinks.”!” Luna said, looking proud of herself.

“Same thing in Malfoy-speak,” Dean mumbled. 

Hermione gulped down the last of the butterbeer and watched as Dean got up to flip the record. When she set her glass down, Ron was approaching awkwardly. Luna got up and walked to Dean as Hermione followed Ron’s figure with her eyes.

“C’mon Dean, I think we should go see Ginny and Angelina.”

Dean looked confused until he saw Ron, and followed Luna up the stairs. 

“Hi,” Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione raised her eyebrow.

“Hi? That’s all you have to say to me?”

“‘Mione,” he pleaded, “don’t be like that, you know what I mean.”

“No… I don’t Ronald,” Hermione scoffed, “I have no idea what you mean when you say ‘hi’,” she said sarcastically.

Her arms were crossed and she looked at him with flat eyes. His face was red and he looked tired.

“Just… sit down,” she said, sighing.

Yet again, she was being slid a drink from across the table. She didn’t touch it. She wouldn’t accept his peace offering until he explained himself.

“What… are you okay? I mean, I know you were injured and all but will you be okay?” Ron asked, “Nobody will tell me what happened. They said I need to ask you,” he told her, gulping.

“Well my head really fucking hurts and my flesh was half burnt off by a hex but yeah, I’ll live,” she confessed.

She really didn’t need to be so brutally honest with him, in fact she knew it would have been easier to be nicer to him. Hermione already felt weakened by the day, and she couldn’t stand being a pushover any longer. 

“Shit. I’m sorry. I really don’t know what happened. There was this group of Death Eater’s ganging up on me and I freaked out because I couldn’t see George anywhere and I panicked after seeing Padma and Poppy,” he looked at her, “I just ran for it.”

“Yes, well it seems like you do know what happened.”

Ron looked at her sadly, with defeat.

“Look Ron, I get it, okay? I just wish that as my dueling partner you would at least remember to try and stay by my side. I mean, after you tripped the wards you didn’t even try to stay next to me. And I had to carry Parvati on my own after we exited the house. Besides the fact that you tripped the wards like a dumbass, I just don’t want to feel like a last thought anymore. Luna was the only one who remembered me.”

Hermione could feel tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She hated this. She hated this so much. 

Ron stared at Hermione, thinking of something to say, with his mouth open.

“You’re not a last thought Hermione,” Ron tried.

“Yeah? Well the fracture in my skull and the giant wound on my side really make me feel like a last thought. Next time, just ask Kingsley for a different partner if this is going to happen again,” she spat.

Ron’s face was red and scrunched up. He looked wounded. For a moment Hermione thought that he looked as if he was going to speak, but he saw something behind Hermione and shrunk into the chair with relief. 

Hermione whipped around to see Severus in the doorway looking quizzical. She heard Ron’s chair squeak against the floor and felt the air against her face as he swished past, gladly leaving.

“Lover’s quarrel…?” Severus inquired, drawing out the syllables.

Hermione scoffed, “Hardly.”

He looked suspiciously at her, but didn’t pry.

“What are you doing here tonight?” she asked him, crossing her arms.

“Well, it would seem that in light of recent events, I am the one assuming responsibility for healing potions.”

Hermione was amused with his natural use of unnaturally proper English. 

“So, you’re here to brew?”

Severus dropped his hands from being clasped in front of his body and walked to stand against the side of the counter across from Hermione.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “Shacklebolt and Lupin haven’t wasted time by waiting to ask me.”

“Grief is a privilege,” Hermione hummed in acknowledgement.

Snape focused his eyes on her.

“Mm… yes. They know the other Order members expect them to wait in addressing the lack of healing skills and supplies, now. We are not privileged with the time they other’s think they have to ignore our duties and wait in mourning.” 

“Well, Remus and Kingsley are usually right, unfortunately” Hermione said, sadly.

“Unfortunately,” he stated.

Severus started pulling supplies out of the cabinet above. Hermione watched and drank the whiskey Ron had offered her, now that he was out of sight to see her drinking his olive branch.

Severus placed multiple cauldrons on the work top and brought ingredients to the table that Hermione was sitting at. He started to prepare the ingredients and Hermione zoned out, looking sideways at the peeling wallpaper. 

“Drinking will only slow your healing process, Miss Granger. Surely you know this.”

Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed the rest of it, imagining it was a purple flame sliding down her throat and into her belly. She knew he was right, obviously. He knew that she knew he was right. He must have been saying it to scold her, she thought.

“Had no idea,” she replied in a dull voice. 

“Yes, I’m sure Draco forgot to mention it as a part of your healing regime.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Severus. He was focused on moving herbs into the cauldrons, not looking at her.

“No. He did not.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that he would know. He almost always knew what Kingsley and Remus knew. But Hermione didn’t know why they would bother to tell Severus.  

“Pity. Then again, nobody seems to bother. Everybody always assumes you know exactly what to do… “brightest witch of her age”,” he said.

“Whatever that means,” Hermione toyed, ““the brightest witch of her age” hasn’t anything to show for it.”

Severus paused and looked at her through the hair hanging in front of her eyes. 

“Is that how you see it?” he said, sounding less like a question and more like a fact.

He pushed up from the table and stopped working to face her.

“Don’t you?” she asked.

“My opinion does not matter,” he said.

“Then mine doesn’t either,” she countered.

“My, my. You are much like him,” he said, shaking his head.

“Like who?”

“My Godson. Though I’m sure you detest it.” He answered.

“That’s abhorrent!” she said looking confused.

“Yes, like I said.”

Hermione sat, arms still crossed in front of her.

“When was the last time you even saw him, Severus?” She asked, trying to refute his claims.

“You know the answer to that, Hermione,” he said.

She did know. It was the same time that she had seen him last as well, until she had to go to Saint Mungos.

Hermione thought about a response to Severus but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t undermine her stance. 

“And is he the same as you remember?” Severus asked her.

“Can’t say,” she quipped.

“Do tell,” he said, beginning to stir a potion with an amused look on his face.

Hermione scowled.

“Well, he didn’t say much so I don’t know. He was a professional.” 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Severus said.

He was right. Hermione didn’t think he was the same.

“Well it has been eight years,” Hermione added.

“Yes it has. And you never knew him outside of him being your nemesis,” Severus pointed out.

“No, I suppose I didn’t,” she agreed.

“But you still hold a grudge,” he guessed.

Hermione sighed.

“Yes, I suppose I do. But you can imagine why. He was the first person to hate me because I was muggle born and he was cruel up until the last moment,” she explained.

“And not identifying you, Harry, and Ron, at the manor to Bellatrix and the other’s was cruel?”

Hermione paused for a moment. It was not cruelty. Maybe it was cowardice?

“That is why you are like him, Hermione. You are stubborn,” he concluded.

“And you think he still feels the same about me?” 

“I don’t think you ever knew how he felt about you,” Severus offered.

“He made it abundantly clear by calling me a mudblood and taunting me whenever he got the chance!” Hermione protested.

“That was insecurity. That was what his father taught him. He was a spoiled brat, but make no mistake that he was also ignorantly believing everything he was spoon fed by his father and those around him.”

“Sure, I know that. But you can’t excuse him,” she said.

“I’m simply trying to explain that you may not need to hate him as much as you do. He is smart. Now that he is freed of his father and the Dark Lord, I have no doubt he has changed. If not much, then at least on his own terms,” Severus said.

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione asked.

“You are likely going to have another injury that Dean can not heal, and I am merely curious.”

“Alright. Well, I hope you are right,” she said.

She really did hope that he had changed. She did not want him to be nice, but she wanted him to be tolerable. She was almost as righteous as she used to be.

[willow-and-morel]

Visions Through Orpiment Eyes

Chapter 3: What The Fuck Wednesday

TW: blood, lot of blood, panic, angst, etc....

MY TENSES ARE NOT PROPER 😭 its a good thing writing is a very very side hobby im so sorry for the writers reading this wondering wtf is this guy doing

it was the gt brain rot, makes me think i can create any form of content possible ;3

Jasper

It was a bit hard to stay up and concentrate on walking. Although the wounds were not life threatening, they ached- I was also somewhat worried about the small creature sitting on my neck. If I fell they would surely be hurt more than I would be.

What are they anyways?

Are there more of them?

As I was pondering these questions, I finally saw the small stream ahead as well as the water-plants growing around the landscape. It was a relatively flat section where the water flowed, allowing water to seep into the surrounding area and avidly fertilizing those sections.

“Is this the place?”

I asked, trying to keep my voice low. I had realized after they mentioned it that my voice was probably very loud to them. Although I could slightly feel them move in the crease of my neck they were so light that it was easy to forget they were there. As I neared the creek I stooped down, letting my knee sit in the patch of plants. I held my hand up to where the creature was and let them descend to my curved palm. I was going to set them down onto the ground, but the area was mostly mushy, covered in water, or plant roots. I set them on my knee instead.

“If you mash the plants into a pulp and spread them on the wounded areas it should help.”

They pointed towards the water plants stemming up from the muddy creek bed. I nodded and gathered a bushel or so of the plants. The creature opted to slide off of my knee and onto a nearby plant. Somehow they managed to stay on it as it swayed under their weight. I stood up once they got off.

“So… what’s your name?” I asked, and walked closer to where the water was. They turned around to look at me as I moved and answered in what seemed like a yell, although it was fairly quiet in comparison to the bubbling brook,

“It’s Fawn.”

I nodded and as I approached the creek I (with some difficulty) pulled my blood stained shirt off. I held my breath slightly as the cloth slid against some of the wounds. I finally managed to yank the shirt off and dipped it into the clear water of the stream.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fawn

I saw the giant start to take his blood-stained shirt off and winced at the sight of his wounds. They were ghastly- to say the least. Even the monumental collection of plant matter he had with him may not be enough to cover the gashes. I walked around him and ascended the pile of plants to avoid getting swept into the water. He had not noticed that I had joined him, and was still attempting to get some of the blood out of his shirt.

“You’re going to need to rinse the wounds off first, and start to pulverize the plants on one of the flat rocks.” I yelled to him, to make sure I was heard over the sound of the brooke.

He used the blood stained shirt to attempt to wipe the wounds on his back clean, but it didn’t go especially well considering he was unable to reach most of the wounds. He winced at the pain and I sighed.

I’m going to have to help clean these. There’s no way he can disinfect those by himself.

I felt the hairs on my neck lift, and goosebumps start to form on my arms. The thought of having to assist a creature that could squelch the life out of me like a bug was horrifying. I was already busy with trying to keep my body from trembling at just the sight of him. It was a lucky pull that he wasn't purposefully violent.

“You can't reach those, can you?” I asked, just to confirm.

“No, not well at least.” He grumbled, his voice was louder again and the sound easily cut over the sound of the brooke.

“Lay on your stomach, on one of the rocks, I can help. But, you owe me.” I pointed to a rock that I would be able to quickly climb on to. He nodded in response and grabbed the pile of plants, and me. The action might have seemed like not much of a deal to him but it swept me off my feet and left me lying on top of the pile of plant matter as he walked. I still wasn't used to the sensation of tree-like legs moving underneath me. It left my heart rate spiked and with my nerves already shot; I really wasn't having it.

As he set the pile down and layed down onto the rock I gave the giant a look, “Did no one tell you it's rude to pick people up without asking?”

His face flushed red, and he babbled a response as he laid down, “Sorry- I, didn't mean any disrespect? This all is just… new? Please tell me if I do anything wrong.”

I gave him a curious look at the fact he actually apologized.

Humans don’t usually do that, right?

I reduced a huff and started grabbing plants, then I realized I would have to climb up his side in order to apply the plants. Instead, we managed to resolve the problem by moving the pile of plants where Jasper would still reach them with one arm and then I was able to climb on his back using the side of his arm as a ramp.

I covered my mouth to try and suppress the gagging sensation in my throat. The wounds looked horrible- on top of that, they were magnified multiple times from him being so goddamn big. There was one major gash down his shoulder blade and into his mid-back. It looked like it needed stitches from how wide it was, but there was nothing around to use as thread for him. I made a mental note to make some rope- or thread- for him and stitch the wound. It would just reopen if there was nothing to keep it in place.

“Can I hand you some of the plants?” He asked, making me tremble slightly as I remembered I was standing on a conscious and sentient being. I managed to respond with a stifled yes, but I wasn't prepared to move out of the way when he lifted his arm, subsequently turning his shoulder blade into a slide. He yelped as I fell onto and clambered off his wound, tracking sticky blood on my clothes and onto his skin. I could feel his skin literally twitch when I fell into the wound.

He made sharp inhales followed by a slow hissing noise. I could feel as his back rose and fell, and his heart rate was pounding in my brain.

It was so, so, loud.

He groaned laying his head face first onto the cool rock, his heart rate was starting to drop again but mine wasn't. I was there, sitting atop a human, with my heart ready to fly out of my chest. Now his blood was on me along with the blood still on my father’s tool belt. I tried to slow my breathing but it just wasn't enough.

I was covered in blood,

not even my own.

I couldn't get the image of my father's tool belt on the forest floor covered in his blood.

Why was there so much blood?

My eyes started to water. My stomach was already in knots but this just made it flip. I couldn't breathe straight without my breath catching and hiccuping as I cried.

My Dad, Is on the fucking bottom of his shoe.

Like a bug.

Am I really that insignificant?

Am I so stupid as to TRUST the thing that killed him?

Won’t he think I'm just a toy? A bug in his way-? -And won’t he kill me once he thinks I'm not useful?

He tried to say something but I couldn't hear what it was, I could just feel the vibrations of his voice through his back. I held my legs to my chest and sobbed, I usually didn't worry about being “tiny” before

but this- ?

this just me feel so fucking minuscule.

I finally heard him when he spoke again,

“Fawn? Fawn? Are you ok? What's going on?”

He paused and seemed to hear my sobs. He sighed, “Is it the blood? I’m sorry- If it might make you feel any better, I-I’m not that great with blood either.”

I was still hiccuping with my head in my knees,

“Come here, well- to my face I mean, just- it's easier to help if I can see you.”

I was already trembling, scared out of my wits, and he wanted me to come… closer? I sighed shakily and got up, my pants covered in his blood.

Maybe if he kills me I can see Father again.

I wandered up his shoulder, tracking bloody footprints on his skin. I jumped off his shoulder and came around his head to stare him straight in the eyes. He had his cheek resting on the rock with his head sideways. I only stood a couple inches from his nose. I could feel him exhale and inhale in rhythmic motion. I could see the details of his eyes, each one bigger than my head. Seeing them focus on me and me in my entirety made my blood freeze. I could see every single detail in his face, his irises were hazel, with tinges of green, yellow and blue. I didn't know that someone could have that much detail in just their eyes. It was unsettling. It was more than unsettling, it was horrifying. The scales were not in my favor.

Fuck it, what's he going to do to me? Kill me? That would be more of a blessing.

I walked towards one of his eyes, and pointed centimeters away from his pupil.

“You killed my dad.”

I watched him retract, he blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just thought you should know.” I added, shrugging.

Nothing you can do can hurt me more than that.

[quibbs126]

I was just drawing this concept, I’m still not sure if I want to do much with it

So basically, it’s been an idea semi percolating in my head to make another kid for Menos and Velvet. Specifically, this came from the fact that I’ve noted that Menos’ kids look so little like him, so the idea was to make one that just looks like a smaller Menos. The genes just came in at full force. But then later, when I made the post about forgetting that Ceres is half human, I realized that I should probably add in some non Demon features too

I only made him yesterday because I was bored at work, and I couldn’t think of what else to draw. And I thought he turned out pretty good, so I translated him into digital drawings

I would show you the original picture, but it was drawn exclusively in pencil, and it’s on a darker cardboard sheet, so it’s practically impossible to capture on photo. I just really liked how the pencil sketch came out (my manager came in during my break and sharpened my pencil, so it was darker and less blunt), and I didn’t want to potentially ruin it with my somewhat shaky pen, and I had bright light so I didn’t realize it wouldn’t show with a darker lighting

It also kind of screwed me over when I was trying to translate into the digital sketch (that would be the top left), since it was night time, and I only had my lamp light. So it looks weird, but I had the basic appearance down, and I could refine it now, which is what I did on the top right

But yeah, I guess we talk about design things

So his hair style mostly comes from one of Velvet’s concept hairs, and I thought it works as an in between for Velvet and Menos

But I do wonder if it looks too different from Velvet’s final hair, and if I couldn’t have came up with something more unique for him. But moving on

The non Demon features I decided on are him not having horns, as well as having shorter ears than Demons, though they’re still pointed. Also I had the pink nose originally, but I took it out to make it less similar. I also wanted to give him black sclera, but make his eyes blue like his mom. Though I made it brighter because the regular color didn’t feel right

I also wanted to give him the bicolor, but I’m still working on what his secondary color should be. I asked on Discord, and the pink he has in the top right was what we settled on, but Velvet has pink secondary hair color already, so I debated going back to the dark blue, which is what I did on the bottom. I still don’t know which I should stick to honestly

I’m also not sure if I should give him glasses or not. I think it looks fine, I just haven’t decided on it. He does for now though, and I made it a different shape from Velvet’s as well

Overall, I think he succeeds at looking like Menos while not being a complete clone. I was drawing him, and I think he’s like a softer Menos

But I also wonder if I’m playing it too safe

With the kids in Evoland 2, while I may say that Reno and Ceres don’t look like their dad, I think the designs really succeed in having them look similar to their parents, but while being very much distinct. They are not copies of their parents, they’re their own people

Ceres I think is an excellent example of that. You can tell who her parents are by her design if you look hard enough, but she’s different enough that she looks her own person. It may be in part to aid in the twist about her heritage, but the final product really does exemplify this

And it’s like, by comparison, I feel like I’m not doing enough, like he looks too similar, too obvious who his parents are, and that I’m not being creative enough

Maybe I'm being too harsh on myself, considering the point of this character is that he's supposed to look super similar to his dad, but I feel like I'm not doing enough

It also doesn't really help that I don't know what to do with his character. I have an idea of him being more book smart, and/or he deals more in politics than any sort of fighting, but I feel like maybe it's still too similar to Velvet or something. Like he should be something entirely unique, but I don't know what

And by proxy, this goes for his outfit. I can't really make an outfit without knowing the general idea of the character (at least most times), so I don't know what'd be good there. I just slapped something together on the bottom left

I know this character likely wouldn't feasibly ever exist (I mean, maybe he could, and he was born right before Ceres was taken or something, but it's unlikely still). In my head, he'd exist in some alternate timeline where we had another ending after the canon ending, where we destroy the Project, the timeline no longer loops, and everyone can go home or something, with Velvet and Menos getting together and living in Demonia with their kids (still unsure if they'd be going to the Past or Present, since Fina and Kuro would be going to the Present). Also, the Ceres we know died, but she was born again in this new ending and doesn't get kidnapped. So, like, this kid would in context be the 3rd kid of Menos, 2nd kid of Velvet's, and a prince in Demonia, or what remains of the country as Menos tries to rebuild it, and his life is mostly normal outside of that

I also really don't know what to name him. Maybe I give him a Roman god name like his sister? Or make it a Greek god maybe? Or a mythical king like his dad and grandpa? I'm not sure. A concept in my head is maybe he's named after his grandpa, being Arthus II, but that feels uncreative

Note as I'm finishing this, the name Janus popped into my head. Maybe that could work?

Hmm, I don't really know what else to say honestly. I think I had other points, but I don't know how to work them in

I guess the point of this was, here's this concept I've been working on, I want to show off completed work but also I don't really know what I'm doing with it

He probably needs more refining in his character, but I don't really have ideas to work with either. It'll be a struggle, and that's if I choose to continue with him

[desultory-novice]

These comments seemed to deviate a bit from my “villainous Magolor” post where I discovered them but they also inspired me, so I’ll go with it and deviate some more on the topic of the “villainous friends”...

Now, personally, I've never seen the Mage Sisters as all that heroic. I mean, I adore them. I don't doubt for a second they're part of the good guys "now" but heroic? They're still wearing their evil cult (cough) "religious" uniforms! I imagine all three of them still lean a little hard on the "murder is okay!" side of things.

They helped because they had a reason to help. But are they still going to have “goat sacrifice Tuesdays” for a while? ...Possibly! (It could just be me, but I do think it's hilarious when the entire Jamba gang continue to be blatant worshippers of a dark god while chilling with the rest of the cast.)

I do think that this topic is nearing the core of why my feelings on Magolor have been in flux since DX. I’m happy for him to have a redemption arc, but I really don’t want to see him de-fanged...? I never did write that translation comparison post, but I’m endlessly thankful to the English translation for the “I just want to hear everyone scream...” :pause: “...with laughter!” exchange because it at least shows that Magolor has an unusually grim sense of humor, as opposed to him being a wholly innocent victim of the Crown. 

(Obviously, he did what he did in RtDL. No one’s questioning that. They wouldn’t name a song “Atone for One’s Misdeeds” otherwise. But I am concerned about the implications that the Crown was manipulating him from the moment he landed on Halcandra. Manager Magolor is fun and all, and while I don’t want to have a “Magolor is still the bad guy lol” Kirby Light Novel situation, I hope the sussy wizard stays somewhat sussy down the line.)

Anyway, the long and short of it is my love of gray morality characters is why I fell in love with so many of them and why I try to write all the former-antagonistic Dream Friends as still being in possession of a few villain traits. I really don't want to see anyone "brainwashed into being good" or must-always-be-on-their-best-behavior now. I want to see these flawed individuals make nice but flawed, characterful decisions.

I want the three Mage Sisters to occasionally each say really messed up things in a blithe way without realizing why said thing is weird. I want Susie to think she can solve most things in life by throwing enough money and science at them. I want Taranza to openly white-knight his beloved tyrant queen and naively blink his eight eyes over the awful things he did in her name. 

I want Magolor to engage in shady business practices with a smile and a wink, walking away while counting his cash. I want Dark Meta Knight to whole-heartedly believe murder is a "reasonable" option to most everyday situations. I want Daroach to casually purloin the cast's possessions when they're not specifically watching him, just because he can. I want Marx to break into loud hysterical laughter when someone trips and falls or breaks a plate.

The Dream Friends might as well be 10 different colored Waddle Dees if we expected them to all act good and peaceful and harmless all the time.

-

I just wanted to say though, @icedragonlizard​, I don’t know what kind of convos are going on outside my own little space on the internet, but I think people really aren’t as upset or /neg about Susie as they used to be.

There are maybe a few holdouts out there - I wouldn’t know as I don’t really go searching - but you’ll most likely never change those peoples’ minds and its best just to ignore them while shoring up a space for yourself where people aren’t attacking your blorbos just to get a reaction out of you or to spew unhappiness everywhere.

Here, have this “Deal With It” Susie w/ shades!

(PS: I recently learned I had been drawing both Susie and Taranza quite off-model! Her helmet actually goes down way longer than I thought, less of a “headband” and more like a metal boudoir cap. And Taranza’s lowest set of hands start at the middle of his body and go up toward his head. I thought I remembered them as starting at his waist and going down instead. Oops!)

[t0wardthesun]

Why I won't subscribe myself to any outside ideology, worldview, or school of thought (for too long)

When I was younger, I went looking for a blanket approach.

I was operating from the conditioning that told me I had to "win at life", and if I only found the best belief system, and did whatever it required of me, I'd come out on top.

I went searching for the meaning of life like a cheat code because I thought if I could "show the world" how capable I was, by mastering what I considered the "best" human game, I'd feel less like a failure.

The lie was “if I’m not doing more/being better than everyone else I’ll never get to have cool experiences and I'll get left behind.”

(This is bullshit)

This is back when I also thought others were the purveyor of my abilities - and teachers, pastors and parents decided how capable I was, rather than knowing and valuing my Self from within (this still feels like a stretch some days).

In my mid-twenties I came to a fork in the road.

Actually, it was more like a brick wall... and when Life saw me trying to scale it with my bare hands, build a ladder out of my own bones and sit at the base with my head banging against it for weeks... it threw me a lifeline.

I began to see things more clearly. I knew I had to stop what I was doing and choose authenticity over success (or at least what looked like success to the outside world) until I could hold my true self properly.

(If you want to find your authentic voice, you've gotta unravel the conditioning that says your authentic voice isn't good enough or valuable, otherwise you'll keep beating yourself up when you get close to expressing it or ignoring it completely in favor of yet another performance).

I went inward and worked on my inner dialogue - my relationship with myself - and built a foundation that couldn't be shaken... I found (and lost and found again) the core of me and am learning how to live from there.

This meant - less showing up on social media, less creating distractions out of thin air, and basically six years of de-conditioning the beliefs that said I had to be anything other than exactly who I am.

Letting go of this way of operating - unhooking from the paradigm of comparison and success/failure - meant giving up the yard stick I'd used to measure myself. I had to stop comparing myself to spiritual teachers, "successful" solopreneurs, social media influencers, and all the people I'd perceived had "won at life".

Because truthfully, no-one has won at life. No-one has "made it". There's no such thing and Life isn't like that. It's not a win/lose game, race, or a competition.

The deeper I've gone, the more I've realized I - and women as a whole - are more complex, nuanced and utterly original than any kind of worldview - no matter how expansive or progressive - can account for.

And as tempting as it is to believe I can find the holy grail and solve all my problems with one religion or way of thinking about or looking at the world, if I just try hard enough, or give up enough, it's not real.

It's scary to feel like you don't belong anywhere, until you realise by the same logic, you also belong everywhere.

Now, subscribing (which ironically means to "contract") to anything outside of myself for too long feels like a squeeze, and not the good kind.

It feels like a denial of all that I am, the infinite, irrepressible and undefinable.

At the end of the day, I deserve more than a surface level quick fix, that promises eternal salvation and offers nothing more than a momentary relief. I deserve the tools to actually understand and be myself, utilize all I have to offer and make the most out of this journey, not just a ladder to climb, a ruler to measure myself or box of someone else's making to fit myself in.

.

There's a psychology that comes with "success" as the world defines it. It means you're constantly either chasing a carrot or being whipped by a stick (sometimes both). It's usually born out of a sense of powerlessness or inadequacy - constantly seeking a supply that needs to get bigger and bigger. It's an addiction in its own right.

Growth is different. Heart-led living is different. It still starts with the same feelings (and the acknowledgement you can't escape them) ...powerlessness, inadequacy, fear... but instead of being motivated away from them, you allow yourself to sit with, unravel and be unraveled by them. The tool - the symbol, metaphor, sacred text, methodology - is just a tool. And instead of it getting pedestaled and a exalted as an idol, it’s just something you use until you no longer need it.

In a society that's continually programming us to be someone other than who we are - telling us we're wrong and not enough and need to "do better" - the only way to stay intact and aware of our own completeness is to learn how to be ourselves and stay true to that - no matter what.

Taking up our own space and living in our own lane is an ongoing process. It's less about living by others' expectations, and more about creating an internal culture that is natural to you, an environment you can thrive in.

Mine is made up of a combination of all the things I've learnt on the journey so far... which is why I can't begrudge myself the places I've been and the paths I've walked... church... personal development... network marketing... even spirituality... it's all a part of the walk home.

Right now... the tool I'm using is singing. It's connecting me deeper, but I'm not confusing it with who I am, or abandoning myself in order to chase or worship it.  

You don't need to chase carrots or beat yourself up with sticks.

(They're not real)

Take them all away and be brave enough to accept what you're left with.

It's good enough.

@t0wardthesun​ @jaeschaefer

[061801]

I really want to write out how I feel about this whole situation but it’s extremely hard because I don’t even understand. It’s confusing because he’s an ex who gave me an extremely hard time. I carry a lot of pain and anger because I put down every single wall I had for him to make me build an even bigger one. He cheated on me, gave me pills/drugs, took my prescription drugs, stole valuable things from me, spit in my face literally, made me do things because he knew he could threaten to leave me if I didn’t do them and I’d be sad, lied about random shit that didn’t even matter. Looking back I don’t even understand how I got so hooked. I was young and naive that’s really the only explanation. I had no family, no friends, no money. I literally had nothing. This guy who I viewed as a tough guy started calling me pretty and asked for my number and choosing to hangout with me instead of his friends. I fell so hard idk why but I gave it my all as if we were going to be forever. Part of me is super embarrassed because he would cheat on me and I would literally cry and take him back every single time because I just wanted to be with him. I hoped that maybe if he cheated on me enough one day he’ll get bored and realize I’m the one for him. I guess I could say I enjoyed watching him absolutely torment everybody around him (cuz he just loved pushing buttons like that) and then having him desire me and wanna kiss me and have sex. I felt like a special girl for a little bit. I remember being super shy with him too like I couldn’t even open my mouth cuz I didn’t know what to say. So he basically talked the whole time and I would just turn red and blush so much. I quickly realized though that I was just another girl to him. Up until a few years ago when we reconnected for the 100000th time, he had 2 other girlfriends besides me and he told me he missed how much I loved him and no girl ever cared about him like I did and I didn’t deserve how he treated me and I was so excited because I thought he came to his senses and wanted to be with me. Fast forward January of this year, I found out he does the same thing to at least 2 other girls. It didn’t take me very long to realize he still had eyes for any other pretty girl that walked by but for some reason I thought I was still at least that girl that took care of him. No apparently not. I wasn’t actually ever special at all. I just basically convinced myself I was and believed everything he said. That’s another difficult part about this; just because he wasn’t my boyfriend, doesn’t mean he was a bad person. Therefore I’m being extremely selfish and I know it. But seeing all the exes and the posts about him and how close he was to them literally fuels a fire in my heart that I could never explain to anyone. Seeing them have access to him the way I did makes me feel like I’ve had something ripped away from me. The only way I could try to compare it is like having a child and the child likes his step mom more and doesn’t give a fuck about you and the fact that you literally gave birth to him. That’s not even a fair comparison because a child is way more significant than a boyfriend or girlfriend but I was so infatuated with the idea of being in love with him I can’t explain another way. I feel like he was MINE and I just wasn’t able to keep him to myself. So a part of my depression about this is because I’ll never get to see where his life goes, I’ll never get to see if he eventually reaches out to me again. I’ll never get an apology. At the same time I don’t ever have to see him get married and have kids with someone else. Towards the end of us talking I just felt defeated like this is never going to work. The drugs took over. But no matter how I felt, when I saw his name; my body just does something different. My heart beats fast, my stomach drops, it’s not just a name or a person. It’s the name of someone I held on a pedestal. Nobody will ever understand the love I had for him

[pivotbitches]

There’s so much going on. Thankfully, my one granddad is out of the hospital and looks so much better and sounds better and is walking better. But then last night my other granddad had some sort of episode with his hallucinations and he was yelling and accusing my grandma of things and knocking stuff off the table. My dad took him to the ER last night and he left against doc orders this morning but has been sleeping since then. I’m scared for my grandma. I hope it doesn’t happen again.

To add to that pain, KD called me. I don’t realize it was him at first. I forgot his voice. As soon as he said his name my heart dropped. And the more he kept talking the lower is got. He’s a full on alcoholic now. I hate how far gone he’s gotten with it. I hate that he’s blaming it on me breaking up with him. We only dated for a couple of months and I just, I want to ask how could it have affected him that much but I also understand because of Trey. I wonder if talking to Trey would give me that same understanding that I got from this conversation.

I’ve been judging KD so much because he still tries to contact me after all this time, but now I kind of see why. I wish I could’ve been more vulnerable and brave enough to explain what was happening in my head, to show my emotions more so that it wasn’t eating at him this whole time. I know I tried to and he was just stuck at the time. He thought I still loved Trey, even just thinking that makes my heart hurt.

It’s also weird that we remember things differently. KD said that I pushed him into the relationship, that he wanted to take things slow and I was pushing it. I didn’t remember that. To me it just happened naturally. I remember he came over the first night, the sex was good or good enough but it was kind of awkward socially. I think he went home pretty quick but then we started texting. And then it was like he was here almost every night and we actually had some chemistry. But he would also have weed or vodka or something and it would strike a nerve for me. It felt like I was back with Trey but only the bad part of Trey stood out and then over took the good of KD. Like it was all I could see. Trying to deal with that by myself was really hard. Like I don’t know if I told anybody about what was happening in my head, the comparisons it was making.

Then KD tried to give me his chain. We were waiting for our shakes at sonic and he handed it over for me to keep. I felt so panicked. Here I was having these thought about how they’re the same and how something bad, something earth shattering, was going to happen if I got too close, and KD is trying to give me his chain. A symbol of permanence. A symbol that I would be in a catastrophic situation on repeat forever as long as I was with him. I tried to play it off like I didn’t want to lose it or something and immediately his mood changed. I had broken his heart. I didn’t realize. He tried to play it off and said something that kind of hurt me but I don’t remember what. Then we drove back to his house in pretty much silence. After that, really before that, I had made my decision to end things. And honestly it was about me. I was already spiraling. I was in such a bad place ever since Trey really, and then I could tell it was getting worse again. But after KD I started therapy. That is why he was in my life. Not really even because of him but because of me. I needed and need to work on stuff. I still push people away when they get close. Idk why I do it. I really wish he could be sober though. I want to help him. But I’m afraid it’ll tear me down too.