#to show me and the world your incredible courage in the face of evil

[oldguardleatherdog]

let me start by saying, I'm okay to agree to disagree on this, and I respect you greatly as my queer elder. I hesitate to even send this because I don't think this cause is worth dogpiling (and not even the fun way) on anyone against and , like , I will continue to follow and admire you as a mutual who has been through a lot of the hell that I'm going through right now and got to a place I want to someday be. (for context, I am currently housing & food insecure and am trying to live in a queer-accepting city)

Posting will never be praxis, you are my brother in arms no matter what you call trump or cops or whatever. There are some fat liberation blogs that take issue with calling cops "pigs" for a lot of the reasons I bristle at calling Trump a fatass, and like, if someone is actively fighting cops who can and will actively hurt me and my found family, I don't care what names they shout while doing it. So I see where you are coming from and I'm glad you fight for me. I fight for us too, in what little ways I can while I keep me and my found family afloat. I do better work in the community just by existing around people as a living breathing transgender than I could do in a million posts on this website.

I do think that this is a valuable conversation to have, though, even though you are completely right that this is a trivial thing and not at all the bigger, more real issue at hand. I think it's still important, on online platforms such as this, to talk about how we refer to the other people on this planet.

Think about why you didn't call Trump a "retard". You certainly could have, it doesn't *not* apply to some of his behavior. I know people of our generations once used that word a lot, and we don't anymore. Why and when did we change that? I honestly don't remember. For me, my aunt was medically classified as "retarded" and she was the best person I'd ever met, so I decided that word shouldn't mean bad things. The first time I ever hit someone was over them using that word in a derogative way. it wasn't about "mental illness positivity" it was about humanizing the people that word has been used against - people who have been stigmatized and oppressed with that word.

Right now, hopefully, the same thing is happening to the word "obese". Fat people are less likely to be hired, granted loans or secure housing. they can be kicked out of airplanes and fired from their jobs because of their body size. There have been laws proposed to take fat children away from their parents and "treatments" proposed to wire children's jaws shut and starve them to make them thinner. They are often medically mistreated and misdiagnosed. I once went to a doctor with an ear infection and instead of antibiotics, he prescribed me *bariatric surgery.* I have been refused transgender top-surgery because of my BMI, which keeps me at a passively higher risk for self-injury and worse.

I do not care about body positivity. Honestly, between being fat, trans, and poor, I'm at a point where I've given up on ever feeling good about my body again. All I care about is getting jobs and meds and keeping a roof over my family's head and food on our table. Normalizing the idea that fat is a bad thing that anyone can change continues that stigma. When you use Fat as an insult, you are saying fat=bad. Fat is a neutral thing that some bodies can be, like short or tall or lean. The revolution needs to be intersectional, and body size is another axis of oppression that needs to be acknowledged, just like sexuality, gender, race, class, disability, etc.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for hearing me out. I'm sorry that others are just performatively parroting the same things over and over. Civility is bullshit, and if you still want to use body shaming as one of the ways you fight against bigotry, it doesn't really matter to me. Just as long as you acknowledge anti-fat bias as part of that bigotry too.

Thank you for writing and sharing your life experiences with me, and for your solidarity as well. You're striving to make your way as part of a despised minority in a world that's turned unspeakably harsh toward you in an aggressively mean way seemingly overnight, and I admire you for the life you have lived, for your courage and perseverance during this difficult time where resources are scant and your housing and food security is uncertain at best.

(FWIW, after I was bombed out of my Lower Manhattan home on September 11th, my income went from six figures down to nothing overnight, and I was homeless and destitute for years. Twenty years ago, I was where you are now, and I can tell you that what you're enduring today will not last forever, that there is light and hope and blessing in your future, that you're not as alone as you might think, that you must never give up.)

What more can I do to make the point that "fat" has nothing to do with this? As I've said, I grew up obese, and it wasn't until I enlisted in the Army at age 17 that I was able to free myself from my violent and abusive family and unlock the potential of the body that had been hidden under layers of fat and shame all my life. I know that my path is not for everybody, that many others are not so fortunate, and I ceased long ago to think that fat equals bad or lack of character or any other pejorative attitude that society has attached to it for generations. I hope I've made that clear and that you take my word as truth.

I am not saying "let's fat-shame Donald Trump to make him feel bad." I am saying that I'm deeply troubled by the LGBTQ+ community prioritizing hurt feelings over the very real damage that's being done to us right now all over the country by Trump, his minions, his proxies, and his cult of bloodthirsty followers and worshippers. Trump's accomplices in Congress and state legislatures and Moms For Liberty are taking over school boards all over the country, banning books and emptying library shelves and harassing teachers and librarians to the point where they're being run out of town, where the State of Missouri has defunded its entire public library system rather than follow a court order to restore books banned just for featuring LGBTQ+ characters.

DeSantis and Abbott have put in place policies that are unspeakably brutal, that are forcing trans people in Florida to slowly and brutally revert to their pre-transition state, that have given health care providers in Florida the right to deny treatment to you and me and all LGBTQ+ people because we are gay, lesbian, non-binary, trans... but God forbid we should call Trump mean names!

We've seen what happens when we buy into the "when they go low, we go high" fantasy pipe dream. This is not the way the world works, it has never been, and we need to put this loser idea in the trash bin where it belongs once and for all.

We're being attacked and harmed in unspeakable ways that are happening now. This is not theoretical or hypothetical. It's happening to us, to those we love, this minute and every minute of every day. And worse is in the pipeline - they're writing laws that will place us under virtual house arrest, that will regulate where we're allowed to go in our own cities and towns, when we're allowed to be seen in public, when and where we can shop, how we're allowed to dress, even what we're allowed to say and SING, for Christ's sake!

And I'm supposed to be concerned about some minuscule hypothetical percentage of my own people being OFFENDED because I'm somehow being insensitive and violating some trivial picayune social justice warrior philosophy, because there's a possibility of some fragile flower taking it personally, and that I should shut my mouth and let the MAGA nutjobs run roughshod over us? Oh, come let Daddy kiss it! while our brothers and sisters are suffering in real time. Sickening.

Anyone who has a problem with my stance doesn't have to follow me or emulate my proven effective tactics as an activist with 37 years of successfully defending our rights under my belt if they're so dainty and delicate and easily bruised. Everyone else that sees this for the strawman bullshit it is, get ready to hit the streets with bullhorns and whistles once again. We've got work to do.

Your arguments are strong and well-reasoned, and I accept and acknowledge everything you're saying. We can disagree on this, certainly, and still work together to turn back the progress that the MAGAs are making, restore our rights, and protect ourselves and each other. But that will require the snowflake contingent among us to get their collective head out of their collective ass, stop whining, and get with the damn program. Calling me names and telling me I'm being a bad gay activist is a waste of time and energy that should be spent fighting the fascists and the haters who are out to kill us.

And to you, my friend and fellow traveler with a radiantly beautiful soul and spirit, I urge you to hang in there, to keep the faith, to keep caring about life, to work with me to secure our own future and the future of our kind. I send to you my very best wishes, energy, and prayers that you will find your way to a place of health, security, stability, and love for yourself and for this precious community to whom we've both dedicated our lives, who mean the world to us.

Yours In Service, Animal J. Smith

[thereaderinsertlady]

Umm, I got a request for Questtober...

Maybe a readerxKing K. Rool (It's been too long since I've seen you do him!!!) where K. Rool shows off to reader that he's brave or something... 👻

:0 incredibly true- it has been a while since I've done anything for him! Here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy this short fic!

King K. Rool x Reader - The Great Evil

There’s a bug.

It wasn’t abnormal for there to be bugs in the castle, but this situation was different– there was a bug. In your room. On your bed. 

And maybe you wouldn’t normally freak out about some bug that can be easily squished, but it was big and mean looking.

You eyed the unwelcome visitor with a mix of disgust and trepidation. It wasn't just any bug; it was a formidable opponent in the world of creepy crawlies. Its presence on your bed was an affront to your sense of personal space and sanity. 

Before it made its appearance, your day was completely normal. You had finished everything you needed to get done in a timely manner, and you had nothing better to do with your time. However, when you came to your room to relax, you quickly spotted the menace. 

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that you were bigger and smarter than this bug. You could handle it. You grabbed a tissue from the nearby nightstand, your fingers trembling slightly. Slowly and cautiously, you approached the intruder.

As you got closer, you could see the details of its menacing form– sharp, angular mandibles, bristling legs, and a glossy exoskeleton that seemed impenetrable. It twitched slightly, as if sensing your approach.

“Don’t you do it,” you hissed at the thing, wishing it would erase itself from existence. You weren’t even sure what it was. It could be a roach. It could be an alien from a different world. You didn’t know. 

Summoning all your courage, you positioned the tissue with precision, ready to strike. The bug remained still, perhaps unaware of the impending threat.

With a swift, determined motion, you moved to squish it–

Only for it to fly.

You screamed, stumbling a few steps back as it became airborne. It buzzed loudly, as if it was angry, before settling on the wall nearby.

“What the hell is going on in here?” King K. Rool stepped into the room, seeming annoyed. He has been in a bad mood all day– which is mainly why you haven’t gotten him to handle the intruder. 

“There’s a bug,” you whined, pointing towards it.

…He squinted at you like you were stupid, his short tail swaying. “A bug.”

“...Yes…”

King K. Rool raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the gravity of the situation. “Deal with it yourself,” he grumbled, turning to leave.

You couldn't believe it. Here you were, facing a monstrous bug on your own, and the King couldn't be bothered. “Please help me kill it,” you begged. “I seriously can’t do it on my own.”

“You’re gunna let a bug beat you?”

You gave him your strongest set of puppy eyes. “Pretty please?”

…He eventually groaned, walking past you before promptly grabbing the bug with his bare claws, and. Eating it. Whole.

You stared in disbelief, unsure if what you saw was real. 

“There. Gone. No more bug.” He rolled his good eye. 

You blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. King K. Rool had disposed of the bug in the most unexpected and, frankly, unsettling way possible.

"Uh... thank you," you managed to stammer out, both amazed and disturbed.

He gave a gruff nod, seemingly unphased by the whole ordeal. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Bugs are nothing."

You couldn't help but shudder at the nonchalant manner in which he handled the situation. “Suuure, if you’re so sure. Um.” You rubbed your face, trying to reset your emotions. 

“Yes? Any other bugs I have to murder while I’m here?”

You pouted. “Hopefully not… um, I was just wondering what you had been doing before you came in here.”

King K. Rool gave you a sideways glance, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation. "None of your business, really. Just tending to my Kingly duties as usual."

“Ah-huh.” You crossed your arms, feeling brave and… a little sassy, too. “I bet you weren’t doing anything at all.”

He bristled at that statement, unable to hide it in time. “Again,” he pressed, “What I was doing is none of your business, little thing.”

“Hmm… so, does that mean we can’t go get something to eat together?” You gave him a cheeky smile. He usually was served his own Kingly meal or whatever, but you also knew he couldn’t refuse something to eat.

King K. Rool regarded you with a mix of irritation and surprise. It was clear he hadn't expected your invitation and it seemed to momentarily catch him off guard.

“Well?” You tilted your head, wondering if he’d refuse after all. You and him were… sort of a thing, but nothing too serious quite yet. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Why should I go eat something with you?” 

“Why shouldn’t you?” You shrugged casually. “Besides, I’ve got to reward you somehow after killing that bug for me.”

He took a while to consider it, seemingly weighing the pros and cons in his head. Being seen so close to you was embarrassing for him– especially since neither you nor him have announced anything relationship wise, so it took him a decent amount of time to make a decision. 

…After a long pause, he grumbled, "Fine. But don't think this makes us pals or anything– I'm doing it because I could use a decent meal, not because I want your company."

“Of course, of course.” You knew he was very much a tsundere, often saying the opposite of what he means deep down– you knew he enjoyed being around you. “Lead the way?”

He scoffed, his tail flicking against the floor. He turned and made his way back out into the hall, and you followed shortly after. 

As you both walked through the castle halls, you couldn't help but feel a sense of victory. You had managed to coax King K. Rool into spending some quality time with you in a semi-public area– other than him killing the bug for you– even if it was just for a meal. It was a small step, but it felt like progress.

[fallen-savior-mmz]

Fallen Savior Chapter 3;

As long as he's safe...-

X stood by Zero’s capsule, watching him as he slept.

The last conflict he had had with Omega left him needing longer repairs than normal, and their opponent would not wait for Zero to recover.

X knew what he had to do, but now being faced with the task at hand, he was having trouble finding the courage to do so.

“Axl, I’m sorry to ask you to do this.” X started, still looking down at his sleeping husband, his new armor looking so different than he was used to, yet still somehow fitting. 

Even with almost an entirely new body, he was still Zero.

“But you need to take Zero and run. You have an hour, gather everything you need, anything you absolutely have to take with you. You can’t stay here, and neither can he.” X finally looked to Axl, the young hunter staring in shock at him.

“X, are you crazy? Omega will kill you, and if he doesn’t, the Dark Elf will. You can’t stay here by yourself!” Axl exclaimed, incredibility written all over his face.

“There’s a chance that the Dark Elf could possess me, and use me to destroy everything. Zero is the only one who could stop me at that point, and I won’t be responsible for everyone’s deaths like that. Yours included.” he turned to face the reploid that he called family.

“I can buy you and Zero time to get away, to hide so Zero can repair himself, and so you can repair yourself too. But you have to leave now Axl, find somewhere remote, somewhere far away. You can’t tell me where you go, they could use me to find you. Leave here and save yourselves.” X finished, his heart breaking with every word.

Axl put a hand to his head, trying desperately to think of a way out of leaving, “X, I can’t leave you here, you’ll die! There’s gotta be another way, when Zero wakes up we can-” 

“AXL, THERE’S NO TIME!” X’s shout startled the young hunter, staring wide eyed at his father figure.

With a shaky breath, he walked forward, hugging Axl against his body.

“Axl, I’m not commanding you to do this. I’m not asking as your mentor, your leader, your father. Nothing like that. I’m asking you as your friend. Please, take Zero and hide, don’t return until it’s safe.” X stepped back, looking into the young reploid’s eyes.

Axl’s eyes watered, but he nodded, stepping towards Zero’s capsule to begin getting it loaded onto a transport for them.

X turned to leave, unable to watch the two people he cared about most in the world get sent away.

“X, what about you?” Axl called after him, his voice uneven as if he was trying to keep from crying.

X straightened his back, pulling himself together before turning to look at Axl one last time.

“As long as you both are safe, I’ll be fine.” he spoke with conviction, willing to do anything to ensure their safety.

As long as he’s safe.

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

X cried out as he slammed into the ground, his armor sparking and melting where Omega’s plasma saber had sliced him.

The reploid with his husband’s face grinned wildly, holding his hands out to each side.

“X, why can’t you see what I’m doing? I’m trying to save you! Every single being on this planet is capable of sin and evil, you all cause pain and suffering!” Omega spun around, facing the setting sun.

X tried sitting up, his body protesting as he did. He just had to keep Omega monologuing long enough for his self repair to kick in, give him time to escape.

“If I kill everyone, no one can hurt anymore! You won’t hurt anymore X, I can free you!” he looked back at his opponent, his face split with a smile of pure glee.

“I AM THIS WORLD’S SAVIOR, X, I AM YOUR SAVIOR! I AM THE MESSIAH! LET ME SHOW YOU A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD I HAVE ENVISIONED!” Omega called out to the sky, his head tipped back as he laughed.

The Dark Elf revealed herself above him, spreading her “wings” and opening her eyes.

X watched in horror as she opened her mouth, her scream piercing through his head. Everything felt like it was on fire, the pain so great that he thought for sure it would kill him.

He didn’t know when he had lost consciousness, merely realizing it when he finally opened his eyes.

Omega and the Dark Elf were gone, X was laying on his side in the dirt and rubble of whatever city this had used to be. It was well past midnight at this point, judging by how dark it was.

With a groan, X sat up, unsurprised to find his body protesting any movement at all.

“Alia? Are you there? I need a status report, where did Omega go?” the android pulled himself to his feet, his head throbbing from residual pain.

He trudged forward, not heading in any particular direction. He just needed some shelter, to get himself repaired a bit while he waited for evac.

X waited for a response, but was met with silence.

“Alia? Come in Alia, I need help.”

Nothing.

Panic began to rise in his chest, Alia was always there when he called!

“Maverick Hunter HQ, please respond, I need assistance.”

Silence.

X shuddered, his panic getting harder and harder to push down.

“....X….come in X…”

A voice came over his comm, not Alia, or a voice he recognized, but a voice nonetheless.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here, please, I need a report, what’s going on?” X was almost breathless with relief, leaning against some shattered remains of a wall.

“X? Oh thank god, we need help! Omega did something, we’re getting reports of mass casualties!” the mystery navigator sounded tearful, their voice breaking over the radio.

“W...what do you mean mass casualties…?” X’s words shook, panic taking hold of him again.

This couldn’t be happening. 

Omega’s words rang out to him, letting X see a glimpse of his world.

Was this what that meant?

“Hunter casualties are at ninety five percent, they’re all gone, they’re all dead! The commander, all the navigators, everyone’s dead! We’re getting reports of civilian casualties too, the numbers won’t stop going up! Reploids everywhere are dead!” the voice broke down, sobbing as they exclaimed their horror.

X fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

Dead?

Everyone?

Where was Signas? Or Alia?

Did this person really say all navigators?

“What’s the percentage of casualties all together…” X whispered, unable to make himself louder.

There was silence over the line for a moment as whoever else was there gathered themselves as much as they could.

“Reploid casualties en masse are at eighty-seven percent, they’re still going up.” The voice was small, clearly just barely holding themselves together.

“X...what do we do?” the voice asked.

X didn’t answer. How could he? What could he say? 

“X….please….”

Axl....Zero...did they make it out? Were they okay? Nothing felt real, it had to all be a lie. Omega and the Dark Elf couldn’t have killed that many people remotely...could they?

In one agonizing moment, X realized that not only could they, but they did. Everyone was dead, they were all gone. Alia, Layer, Palette, Signas, Douglas, Axl…

Zero.

X fell forward and screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore.

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

Was that a dream...or a memory? He couldn’t be sure. All he could feel was the pain of the memory as he floated in some void of awareness.

X drifted in and out of consciousness, hyper aware of the pain his body was experiencing in the moments of lucidity before blacking out again

He could feel someone touching him, something that made his mind recoil in disgust and rage. He didn’t want anyone to touch him, never again.

X really couldn’t do anything about that however, his body refusing to move. He supposed he would have to handle it once he could move again.

If he could move again. This might be the last time he was even alive enough to care. 

Only time would tell.

He drifted back out of consciousness.

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

“Damn...that kid looks rough, is he the one you pulled out of the ocean?”

A voice woke X this time, his pain receptors flaring up to remind him that he still was very much NOT okay.

“Yeah, he is, and I’d show a little respect, Doigt, that’s no kid. That’s Mega Man X.”

Another voice, this one much closer. He must be the one touching X, another fact he was being made unfortunately aware of.

“Holy shit...that beaten up reploid is X? What about the one we saw makin’ that announcement this morning? Was that not X?”

The first voice, Doigt, sounded astonished. X wondered what he looked like right now to make them not recognize him.

“Cerveau...what does this mean? What are you going to do?”

A female voice this time, she sounded so solemn. 

X wanted to say something, to move, to do anything.

He wanted Zero.

“Z...ze…” his voice was hoarse, words not forming properly. It seemed that the beginning of his husband’s name would be all he could manage, as his mind faded into blackness again.

He didn’t hear his rescuers' responses.

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

X’s eyes blinked open slowly when he woke this time, adjusting to the light directly above him. He didn’t feel as immediately panicked as he had when he woke on Weil’s lab table, but the fear was still there.

He turned his head as carefully as he could manage, trying to gauge his surroundings in case he needed to make another run for it.

He was met with a reploid’s face looking back at him, having the appearance of a middle aged human.

X grimaced for a moment, trying to get the pain in his head to dampen for a moment so he could attempt a conversation with this person.

“Well, good morning to you too.” the man huffed, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you...doing to me…?” X’s voice was scratchy, either from trauma or misuse, he didn’t know.

“Saving your life, trying to put your organs back where they belong.” the man spoke, a note of sympathy lacing his voice.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone was trying to strip you for parts, and while you were still alive.”

X winced, sucking in a sharp breath at the memory of Weil’s hands pulling him apart. The memory felt too fresh in his mind still.

“Hey, shit I’m sorry, that wasn’t very smart of me. Look, my name is Cerveau. I’m an engineer from the lower districts of Neo Arcadia.” The reploid, Cerveau, drew the conversation away from X’s memories, bringing him back to the present.

“It’s fine. Just don’t touch me anymore. I don't want to be touched.” X mumbled, his face still tight from the phantom feeling of being opened up.

“Right, how am I supposed to repair you from here on then? You may be the legendary Mega Man X, but you aren’t immortal, and right now you’re a mess.” Cerveau snorted, looking X up and down.

X pulled a face, not particularly enjoying this conversation.

“I don’t want you repairing me, I want to be left alone. Go away.” X knew he was acting immature, but something in him really didn’t care. He was tired of being nice when he was uncomfortable.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. I don’t care who you are, Rocinolle and I can’t just let you walk around half dead. You need repairs.” the reploid reached for his tools, clearly ready to get started repairing X again.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I mean it.” X seethed, glaring at Cerveau.

“Look, I’m not real fond of you right now either. Your policies on mavericks and what classifies a maverick got some of my friends killed. A lot of reploids really don't care whether you live or die lately, but…” Cerveau trailed off, looking away from X for a moment.

“I can’t in good conscience let someone die when they’re clearly in need of help. So shut up and let me repair you.” He reached again for his tools, but gave pause when he saw X’s face.

“What do you mean by my policies on maverickism… ” X’s eyes were wide as he looked at the engineer, mind racing.

He hadn’t put any rules or legislation into place on Mavericks, he hadn’t done anything like that in over a century, not since the Maverick Hunters were still around.

Something wasn’t adding up, and X had a nagging feeling he knew who was behind it.

“Any reploid found participating in suspicious behavior was to be brought in for questioning and possible retirement under suspicion of maverickism. It’s been happening for a few years now, but it’s been steadily getting...worse…” Cerveau hesitated, watching X’s face morph from confusion to horror to sickened realization.

“Oh my god, you didn’t know did you...you had no idea this was happening…” The reploid sat back, his tools falling from his hands.

X turned to face the ceiling again, tears falling from his eyes,

“I’m such a fucking fool. This was happening right under my nose, and I was so wrapped up in my own pity, I didn’t even notice.” X hiccuped, his body pulsing in pain from the seal and Weil’s tampering.

Both reploids sat in silence, stewing in their own thoughts. Cerveau was the one to break the unpleasant void they had found themselves in.

“Well shit, there goes my justified anger. Guess we’re all fools then.” Cerveau chuckled darkly, moving to stand up again.

“If you won’t let me repair you, let me at least get the tools you need to do it yourself. I tried to patch out whatever virus that was that's tearing up your code, but nothing would work. I just patched the firewall that was messed with instead.” He explained, walking around the room and gathering various tools and pieces of metals.

“Whatever that thing is, it’s nasty. I’m sure you can feel it breaking you down. It’s gonna keep doing that until it either rewrites your code entirely, or kills you. It’s going to cause you a lot of physical pain, but I can help you fix th-” 

“No. I can’t mess with it more than you already have. I’m the only thing keeping her at bay. I’ll survive until I can get the original code back.” X interrupted Cerveau, sitting up and reaching for a soldering iron.

“You idiot, did you not hear what I just said? It’s going to kill you, after putting you through hell and back. Is that what you want?” The engineer grumbled, pushing the equipment closer to X and turning it on.

“Yeah, I heard you, I just don’t give a damn right now. I just need to focus on getting back to the sanctum and fixing all of this.” X grunted, beginning to solder down the wires in his arm, one that had been shredded by the grenade. The wounds looked so old, hadn’t they just happened a day ago?

“How long has it been since you found me in the ocean?” X asked, wincing as the metal and wires began fusing. It wasn’t the first time he had done this, but considering the amount of pain he had been through recently, and the Dark Elf’s influence still harassing his code, he really didn’t find himself caring too much about the sting of heat and metal.

“It’s been about seven months, I honestly thought we were going to lose you there for a while.” Cerveau faced away from X, searching for something.

X paused, processing the absurd amount of time. Seven months? Had he really been gone for so long?

“I’ve...been gone seven months? And no one’s noticed my absence?” He turned to face Cerveau, his mind racing.

In all that time, the Dark Elf’s seal remained closed, how had Weil not busted it open at this point?

“They have a very convincing body double for you, X.” The man shook his head, his own world view being thrown.

“That bastard...I hate him.” X’s voice was dripping with venom, anger flowing through him. Weil truly was something else, and X wasn’t sure how much damage he had let the man get away with at this point.

“We’ll worry about that later. Since you won’t let me help fix you, and I’m guessing you won’t let Rocinolle help either, the least I can do is craft up some new armor for you. You can’t be walking around naked like that.” Cerveau stood, walking towards the door.

“Don’t make it white...I hate white.” X called after the engineer, earning himself a chuckle.

“What, should I make it red? Like the legendary reploid, Zero?” Cerveau called back, looking over his shoulder. X felt his whole body tense up, his husband’s name something he couldn’t say out loud.

“Don’t. Don’t say his name.” X’s voice was barely above a whisper, his hand clenched tightly around the soldering tool.

“Make it blue...I like blue. I miss it…” he wouldn’t look at the engineer. Tears dripped down his cheeks, landing onto his bare lap.

“You got it, blue it is. Your hair is really long too, do you want Rocinolle to cut it for you?” Cerveau’s voice was soft, clearly taking the hint that Zero was a big no-no subject to X.

“No, I want it to stay long. Thank you though.” X reply was final, willing his tears to stop so he didn’t make more of a fool of himself

Cerveau said nothing as he left the room, closing the door to his lab with a quiet click.

X put his tools down, reaching up with his one functioning arm and wiped his tears away.

I swear, I won’t let you make me cry over you anymore Zero. I will not cry over the past anymore.

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Dim electronic lights hummed and crackled overhead, the energy crisis becoming more and more dire everyday. The spartan lab turned personal quarters felt cold and unappealing, dirty silvers and muted greys covering most of the room. The only splash of color was the former leader of Neo Arcadia.

X rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the pain there. It had been a while since the last flare up, the Dark Elf continually finding ways past his firewalls.

He hoped that nothing would happen today, their last few missions going a little rougher than he had intended.

Cerveau and Rocinolle had done a fine job creating new armor for him, his chest covered in a deep blue vest with an X on the front. His greaves and gauntlet-like armor had been replaced from that irritating white to rolling deep indigo. 

X was grateful that his helmet had once again survived the changing of armors, only slightly changed to remove the wings that Neo Arcadia had put there. He had made it a point as well to let his hair stay down, the long black locks drifting down between his shoulders. His bangs were so long that they fell from the front of the helmet, falling over his nose and peeking out from the sides of his face.

It felt right, donning blue armor again and letting his hair fall where HE wanted it to.

He stood, looking around the room. 

Maybe it was silly, for an ancient hero like X to have formed a resistance group against the people he was supposed to lead, but Neo Arcadia had forced his hand.

After months of recovering, gathering supplies and rescuing humans and reploids alike, he now had a safe haven for anyone fleeing from Weil and Neo Arcadia’s tyrannical ways. X’s departure from the city had opened the floodgates for even stricter and crueler rules against Reploids, to the point now where even some humans had begun to question the shady behavior.

X shook his head. There wasn’t really anything he could do to change that right now, his main concern was getting people out and getting them the help they needed.

Cerveau had begrudgingly become somewhat of a field medic, assisting Rocinolle in keeping any refugees healthy and in working order. Doigt...helped when he could, X found him more useful in helping run supplies through the base than at Rocinolle’s side. He was a fine budding engineer however, and definitely helped keep Cerveau from drowning in projects, X being his constant headache.

X regretted letting some reploids pick up weapons, but they needed to defend themselves, especially on rescue missions and raids. Young men like Colbor and Milan helped him with missions. It made him sick letting them fight.

He used that anger he felt as fuel to push through the pain of the Dark Elf and his still-healing body, determined to save as many people from his mistakes as possible.

With a huff, and an adjustment of his vest, X retrieved his buster from the table of his room.

He strode briskly through the hallways, lights flickering and the smell of dust filling his nose. Few reploids scurried around, attending to their own tasks to keep the Resistance base in working order. The single elevator in the middle of the base led out to the surface and below to the engine room.

X selected the latter, letting the mechanism lower him deeper into the base. If he wanted to, he could slide down the walls of the elevator shaft, letting the boosters in his legs help him descend faster like he did when he was younger. The thought instead left his legs aching, grumbling to himself that he was too old for that kind of crap.

The elevator stopped with a metallic groan, the doors opening with a squeal. X sighed, he supposed he’d have to look at that and make sure the damn thing wouldn’t fall apart with some unfortunate reploid still inside. 

He strode through the engine room, looking over the supplies, doing last checks before their mission. A young woman walked up to him, her long brown hair pulled back by a red headband.

“Master X, I have the latest information from the scouts, the refugee targets are three reploids, one child repoloid and a human girl.” The woman spoke, reading out from a small datapad in her hands. 

“What? A human girl? Why would a human be with a group of reploids to be executed?” X faced the woman, his brows knit in confusion.

“I don’t know, she was seen holding the little reploid girl, and she appeared to be trying to protect the other reploids. One of the Four Guardians apprehended her, according to reports.” She shrugged, looking distraught at the mention of the Guardians.

“Thank you Rouge, I appreciate the reports. I’ll be heading out soon.” X watched her leave with a dip of her head and a look of gratitude on her face, wincing at the subtle spike in pain in his body.

“And when you return, I’m taking another look at your back, Master X.” A voice chided behind him.

“Cerveau, I’m really not in the mood to hear you lecture me about this again.” X grimaced, turning to face the man as he walked out of his lab, Doigt trailing behind.

“Regardless of whether you’re in the mood or not, Old Man, you are still healing, and pushing yourself like this will only get you killed. After this mission, we’re looking at your back again.” Cerveau crossed his arms, the only one in the entire base brave enough to talk to X like that.

Probably because he had basically brought him back from the dead.

X sneered lightly at being called ‘Old Man’, but let it slide.

“I’ll get to my back when I damn well please, Cerveau. And if it kills me, then good, maybe then I can rest for a while without someone breathing down my goddamned neck all the time.” The android sassed back, turning and walking back towards the elevator.

He could vaguely hear Cerveau insult him before the door closed, Doigt waving goodbye and smiling sheepishly next to the engineer’s angry shouts.

X knew Cerveau was right, but he couldn’t really stop to care about himself now. There were too many innocents suffering because of his mistakes, and he would fix them even if it put him in the ground.

The elevator rode up the shaft, taking him to the Trans-Server room. When it opened, X made a note in his head again to make sure to look at it at some point when he got back and moved away from it.

Milan, the ever faithful young man, jumped up from his spot on the floor, the other reploids following suit, when they saw X step out.

“Commander X! We’re ready to deploy, Joan already gave me our report.” Milan trailed behind X, going over their own details of the mission they had received. 

X was reminded momentarily of Tria, walking him through their patrol route before being murdered in cold-blood in front of his eyes. That wasn’t a fun thought to have before starting another mission.

“Thank you Milan. I want you and your squad to deploy first. I’ll follow behind and get to the captives. Keep them busy.” X spoke, his buster humming as he prepared it for battle. He didn’t look Milan in the eyes as he gave him his orders, best to keep him at arm's length.

Milan nodded, signalling to his other squadmates to head through the Trans-Server. He watched them as one by one they deployed into Neo Arcadia’s holding cells, ready to engage with his city as ‘terrorists’. 

Once all of the reploids disappeared, X stepped forward, readying his buster. With a sigh, his boosters in his legs hummed to life, ready to dash immediately as he arrived.

“Transfer!”

A beam of light struck the android, and in a split second, he was gone.

[rainbowsky]

(1/2) This might be off-topic or offensive (feel free not to answer), but could you explain what being proud of your sexuality is to you? In the sense of being personally proud? I get how queer people want to make others understand they exist and they love and function just like anybody else etc.I'm on the demisexual scale (attracted to both males but females but had limited relationship experience due to rarely being really interested in others) and I can't say I'm proud.

(2/2)Because it's just the way I am, nothing to be ashamed of, but nothing to be proud of either. I know I want to let the whole world know I'm in love when I am but I don't feel "proud" reagrdless of gender. Just want to know what it can mean.

This is in reference to a previous post.

Maybe you're fairly young, or else maybe not from a western nation? Most queer people who grew up embroiled in the fight for queer rights have a pretty strong relationship with the concept of Pride.

A lot of us have grown up being taught that being queer is deeply shameful and even evil. Something to keep hidden at all cost. To the degree that often people grappling with their queerness would be driven to extremes such as suicide, or consenting to dangerous or harmful 'therapies' or 'interventions'. Anything to escape the horrible fate of being queer.

The Pride movement developed in defiance to those attitudes. These were incredibly brave people who - in the face of all of this shame and hate - had the courage to show Pride in who they are, and to do so in a really public way. It was an extremely powerful, intense thing to step out into the light and say, "I'm out, I'm PROUD, get used to it!"

That's the type of rallying cry early Pride marches had. They weren't parties, they were protests. They didn't have the 'Santa Parade' sort of vibe that you'd bring your family to, like a lot of today's Pride parades have. There was an element of risk. For a lot of people back then, marching in a Pride parade meant coming out publicly for the first time.

Although some people took the opportunity to show up in drag and hold hands with their lover, many people were trying to present themselves as 'normal' and 'non-threatening'. The idea of wearing a neon g-string or some buttless chaps and grinding up against other men to the rhythm of loud music (not that there's anything wrong with that! 😏)would have been utterly shocking back then. It was hard enough for people to not be physically attacked looking like an average citizen, walking down the street in a group and declaring oneself to be queer.

Those marches weren't accompanied by cheers, they were often accompanied by jeers and homophobic slurs and thrown garbage.

These days, depending on where one grows up, it's entirely possible for a young person to come out, be totally accepted and even championed by the people and institutions around them, and to view Pride parades as a fun annual party with the LGBTQ community. A lot of young people don't think about the history, or where it all came from.

That's not to say that Pride is irrelevant now, or that it could ever be irrelevant. We live in a heteronormative society. Queerphobia will likely be an issue for generations to come. People will likely continue to be taught to be ashamed of who they are, and to 'fear their dark secret ever being discovered'.

It's also just a really healthy form of self-love, self-care and self-acceptance to take Pride in who we are.

When I was grappling with some of my darkest feelings about coming to terms with who I was, a friend asked me if I could find a way to be proud of who I was. It was a really jarring moment. Up until then, it would never have occurred to me to be proud of who I was. It was the exact opposite of how I felt.

His words inspired me to look at things in a different light, and to think about the positive side of being queer. There are so many positives, even if that's not always obvious. Even in regions and cultures where rights aren't fully assured.

Here are a few examples of benefits I see to being queer:

Approaching relationships in a truly egalatarian way, free from imposed gender roles and the inevitable power imbalances that come with them, is such a gift.

Having an identity that falls outside the norm is liberating on so many levels, and this makes it easier to step outside the norm in other areas; therefore liberating ourselves more and more from social expectations.

Accepting ourselves makes it easier to accept others, and brings a great, diverse community of amazing people into our lives.

Being able to separate ourselves from a lot of the hetero gender role expectations gives us an advantage in career and social situations, because we're not seen as a threat or a rival, and it's possible to avoid getting caught up in a lot of the social garbage that comes with heterosexual gender role expectations and norms.

We are often able to feel freer to dress and act however we want. People already expect us to be 'different'.

There are even benefits to dealing with the rejection and hate that often comes with being queer:

Being forced to self-reflect and do a lot of personal development, think hard about what sex, relationships, love and identity mean to us. Digging into these issues on a deep level can lead to huge growth in a person.

Being able to pick and choose who we consider family. The love, acceptance and support that comes from 'found family' is often stronger and more powerful than in 'happy' 'normal' families.

I'm sure I could list several other examples, but you get the idea.

Pride is a very personal thing to each individual. It means something different to everyone. I would encourage every queer person to take some time to reflect on what it means to them, and to think about the advantages that you feel come with your identity, and with being who you are.

We aren't always consciously aware of just how much baggage we have about our queerness, or of how many negative messages we've been given by others or by society at large. Pride can be a powerful way to turn all of that around, and to reclaim our identities in ways that give us strength and confidence.

And really, this could extend to any aspect of our selves that people try to shame or denigrate us for, or that we feel we need to hide from others. Fly your flag. Be you. Take Pride in who you are.

[idreamofplaid]

Healing

Summary: The life of a hunter is hard, loving a hunter may be harder, but love is greater than than all that.

Character: Dean x Reader; Sam mentioned

Word Count: 2196

A/N: Still fleshing out my Masterlist with another fic from my docs.

Dean walked into your room a tattered and bloody mess. You looked up from the book you had been pretending to read while you waited for him to return. It wasn’t easy loving a hunter. The fear was always there, the fear that this would be the time he didn’t come back. It lurked in the corners of your mind. It sat cold and icy in the pit of your stomach. It squeezed your heart when he was late and you hadn’t heard from him, squeezed it to the point you thought you couldn’t breathe.

Even covered in blood as he was, the sight of him sent relief flooding through you. A new fear replaced the former. He was home, but he was hurt. Where was his injury? How bad was it? Why was there so much blood? Your book fell from your hands, and you went to him. 

"Dean, what happened? You started peeling the layers off him. Jacket, plaid shirt, t-shirt. You removed every layer. His armor of plaid flannel hadn’t been enough. The scratches were all over his chest, shoulders, stomach, and arms. Some of them were deep, deeper than you had seen before, and you struggled with yourself to stay calm. You needed to take care of him.  

"Werewolves,” he told you through gritted teeth. “There was a pack of werewolves right in our backyard, and we missed it." He sat down heavily on the bed, and put his head in his hands. "We missed it, Y/N. How the hell did we miss it?”

"Dean, you can't take care of every single monster in the world. That’s not on you.” You understood his need to make things right, at least as many things as he could.   

“Some of these wounds are bad, honey. You're going to need stitches.” Internally, you breathed a sigh of relief. You could do that. Stitches would make it okay. He was safe.

You went to the sink to wet a cloth and came back to sit on the bed beside him. Carefully, you started to wash off the blood, beginning with his chest. You talked to him while you cleaned him up. He’d told you once that hearing your voice made the world right for him and made him forget about the pain.

“Where’s Sam? Does he look like you do?” Sam was okay. You knew that, or Dean wouldn’t have left him. Still, you needed to hear him say it. Sam was the brother you had always wanted, and you loved him; but you couldn’t bear to think of what it would do to Dean if anything happened to him.

You cleaned the blood from his anti possession tattoo while Dean gave you the update on Sam. “He went back to his room. He’s got some scratches, but not this many and not deep. I got in a pretty serious tangle with a mean werewolf.” Dean gave you a half hearted smile. He was trying not to let it show just how much it hurt, but you could tell from the way he was breathing. Dean always put on a brave face for you, and you never let on that you saw right through every one of them. 

After getting all the blood off, you headed for your duffle to grab the first aid kit. You brought it back and opened it on the bed next to him. This next part would sting. You poured alcohol onto some gauze and started dabbing the cloth on his wounds. Dean winced.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry." Your hand stilled for a minute, and you leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips. 

When you pulled away, Dean was genuinely smiling. “You know how to take my mind off anything, don’t you?”

You smiled back at him. “Well, I try.”

Gently, you resumed applying alcohol to his wounds. Dean put his hand on yours where you were lightly tapping the alcohol soaked gauze to the scratches on his torso and looked at you with those green eyes you had fallen in love with. You had seen them every shade of green from the palest jade to the deepest green of the evening sea. Tonight they were dark, like a forest at twilight, and they were troubled.  

"Y/N, I don't want to keep coming home to you this way. I don't want you sitting up waiting for me, worrying if I'm alive or dead. You deserve a better life than that." You saw him swallow, and the pain in his expression was worse than anything the werewolf had done to him.

You moved to his shoulder and kept right on cleansing his wounds. "Dean, I do worry about you; I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I don't want to see you get hurt, but I know it's part of what you do. It's part of who you are. You make the world safer; that's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I don't dwell on what could happen to you. Does it scare me? Of course it does, but I focus instead on knowing that you want me to be the one here to stitch you up when you’re done fighting whatever evil thing it is you had the courage to confront.”

A smile danced around the corners of your lips, turning them up. “And who says I was waiting for you because I was worried? Maybe I was waiting for you for another reason.”  He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and shook his head with a chuckle.

Dean cupped the side of your face in his hand and brushed his thumb over your cheek. "You really are perfect for me." 

You kissed him, slowly with just the right amount of tease and a promise of what was to come later. When the kiss ended, you held his eyes for a few seconds before turning your attention back to the task at hand. 

"Now, let me take care of these stitches." You selected the suture needle you wanted from the first aid kit and skillfully sewed up the gashes on his shoulder and side. You had done this more than you liked to think about, and practice made you good. It was one of the first things Dean had taught you, but you still hated it. You knew it had to hurt even when he didn't let it show, and his pain always hurt you too.  

You kissed every spot where you had placed stitches when you were done and told him. "Go get a shower then come to bed. If you aren't too tired, I'll show you why I was waiting up for you."

You took off your clothes and climbed under the sheets. Even if Dean was too tired for sex, you wanted to feel his naked body against yours. You needed to hold him close and feel his arms around you.

When he walked out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, you took a good, long look. It was still hard at times to believe this man was yours. His lips made you think of the dirtiest things. What he could do with those lips....  They made you think of the sweetest things too, like the things he whispered in your ear, or the way he sometimes kissed the tip of your nose.

"Drop the towel, Dean, and come here.” He was quick to do exactly what you said, and you marveled again at the strength and masculine beauty of his body. It felt even better than it looked when it was pressed against yours.

You welcomed him into your arms, and the  kiss you gave him was sweet and lingering with just enough of an invitation in it he could pursue it if he wanted to, and he did. He was on top of you pinning you to the mattress with his body, and his lips were claiming yours, needing yours.  

You threaded your fingers through his hair and gently bit his bottom lip. "I want you just the way you are Dean Winchester. Every single scar belongs to me. Every one of them. YOU belong to me. 

His erection twitched against your stomach. You had touched yourself while he was in the shower with his name on your lips, preparing yourself for him. Your body was more than ready to feel the sweet stretch of him inside you. 

You opened your legs for him, and he entered you slowly and smoothly. The feel of him, so perfectly joined to you this way had you dropping your head back against the pillow and biting your bottom lip. Dean moved with a slow and steady rhythm, increasing his speed gradually. As his thrusts got deeper and faster, your urge to scratch your nails down his back got stronger. You didn't, not tonight. There were already scratches on his back that you didn't put there. If you added your own scratches over them, it wouldn't be a pleasurable pain.  

You held onto the back of his neck instead, whispering his name and encouragement in his ear. Your orgasm was right on the brink of tearing through you, but you held back because you wanted to come with him. You knew it wouldn't be long; his thrusts had become erratic. Dean moaned your name loudly, and you felt the release of his hot seed inside you. That's when you let yourself go to fall over the edge with him.

Afterwards, he held you stroking his hand slowly up and down your back. "Y/N, do you ever think about having kids?" You listened, almost holding your breath; you hadn't expected this."I mean, is it something you want?" He turned his head so he could see you better.

You didn’t respond right away, weighing your answer. This subject had never come up before. "I've thought about it. Is it something you want, Dean?"

He was slow with his answer too and sighed before he spoke. "Yeah. I want kids. I probably think about it more than I should because I wouldn't be a very good father.”

You moved yourself on top of him, so you could look right down into his eyes. "Why do you say that, Dean?"

His hand had stopped moving on your back. All of his attention was focused on you, and the look in his eyes was heartbreaking. "I didn't have much of a role model in that department. I don't know how to be a father."

You ran your fingers through the hair above his temple. "Dean, you practically raised Sam. He's told me about it. You read to him. You put bandaids on his scrapes. You helped him with his homework.” Dean’s eyes had changed, the hard edge of pain in them softened by your words. “I could go on. You would be an amazing father. You’re great with kids. Not only would you be an incredible father, you're meant to be one."

Now, the look in his eyes was nothing short of wonder. “You really think that?”

“Yes, I do. You’re a natural.” You kissed him with a brush of your lips over his. Sometimes Dean understood physical affection in a way he didn’t accept words. 

He slowly opened his eyes after your mouth moved away from his. "Do you think that could work, having kids, living the way we do?” he asked. There was a touch of hope in his voice that you rarely heard there, but he still needed more reassurance. “I'm gone so much, and I would never want my kid to see me bloody the way you did tonight."

You told him what he needed to hear with the conviction of truly believing what you were saying to him. "Between you, me, and Sam someone would always be here to take care of the baby. We're a family. Families do that. And our child won't see you bloody. We can control things like that, Dean." 

The things you had told him were sinking in, and you gave him a little time before you took your pointer finger and started playing with his bottom lip. "Do you want to get me pregnant, Dean?"

"You mean like now?" You weren’t sure if he was surprised, scared, eager, or maybe all three.

You kissed along the scratches on his chest, wanting to replace all the pain he’d ever felt with something more gentle and more beautiful, something he deserved. "Well, I would have to stop taking birth control first, but yes pretty much now."

When you raised up to look at him, Dean put his hands on each side of your face, brought your lips down to his, and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N."

You loved him too. The complexity of who he was had brought a richness to your life and fulfilled you in a way you hadn’t imagined possible. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was something better. Real. You would happily spend your life healing his wounds, the ones on the outside and the ones that were harder to see.

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @peridottea91​ @emilyshurley​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @jules-1999​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @volleyballer519​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @sorenmarie87​ @lovealways-j​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @spnbaby-67​ @wayward-and-worn​ @asthesunwentdown​ @vulgar-library​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @petit

 Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ 

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Chapter 147 Review:  Toxic

Story: Preview to a catastrophe

I’m going to do something a little unusual.  Rather than give a summary of what happened, I’m going to save everything else that happens that for the meta and focus the story itself on just one thing.  Garou’s return.

For a guy of many many words, Garou here is wordless, a creature of instinct, rage, and an unstoppable desire to put down any hero he encounters. Social niceties be damned.

no, Fubuki, you don’t belong in this battle

Bomb realises very quickly that this isn’t going to be a fight that he can afford to not engage fully with.  He wastes no time unleashing his trademark long-range offensive move, although he’s no slouch in close- up fighting either.  I love how the panel below superimposes several snapshots in time in a single image, as if the cameraman hasn’t enough time to separate the action into individual frames. It sells the speed and fury of the fight better than many blurry images.  Also Murata is flexing on us with regards to his portrayal of fight choreography, he’s allowed. :)

For his own part, Garou flows effortlessly from conventional to unconventional in his fighting, bending improbably out of the way one moment, parrying in an orthodox manner the next.  Eventually the seeming balance between the two breaks inexorably in Garou’s favour, leaving Bomb marvelling at the former’s incredible evolution.

Nothing for it, there’s no choice but to kill Garou if possible. Bomb hides a hand behind his back as he readies his iron-cutting fist one last time.  It’s unfortunate that Garou has long since intuited how to do the same when he faced off against the Monster King, half a day ago ( I know, it’s been years for us), and does exactly the same, matching up timing and intensity perfectly with Bomb’s, thus cancelling it out.

Bang finally catches up to where the two are fighting to find his elder brother defeated.

Just as at the end of chapter 83, master and disciple face off.  But the atmosphere between the two could not be more different, and the stakes are about as high as they could possibly get.

What new awakening will come from the next fight?  Portents are dire.

Meta: Elsewhere

What doesn’t kill me has made a tactical mistake

For a story whose big schtick is that surviving what should have killed one makes one stronger,  it’s surprising the amount and variety of mileage it gets out of that idea.

Making light of the idea, we have Genos literally rocketing back to his feet and casually dusting himself off after being smashed into a hole in the ground by Black Sperm.  After being thrown into or through so many bits of masonry and earth, getting up with elan is nothing to him.  Damn, he’s become tough! Awesome.

On the opposite side, making dark of the idea, we have Fuhrer Ugly, whose strength of hatred and rage is such that he keeps continuously reforming despite being continually digested by Gums’ digestive fluids... and has turned that into a new ability, able to melt anyone who touches him, kill with his spit, and reform after being cut.  Terrifying.

And on the other other side, a perfect hypotenuse of awesome and terrifying, we have Garou.  He has disinterred himself from the remains of the Monster Association base and while apparently fighting more by instinct than reason, his moves reprise everything he’s learned to date through his life-and-death fights with incredible fluency.

And of course, there’s Tank Top Master whose tank top seems to have magically preserved his life.  I wonder what Fubuki has in mind for Pig God to do to help her help Tank Top Master.

Anyway, talking about serious injury...

Let’s talk about gore, baby

I’ve said before that I’m tired of all injuries accruing to either Genos or Zombieman and wanted some flesh-and-blood to be mangled.  I don’t take that back: share the pain, baby!

But even for my evil heart, hoo, the brutal suddenness with which Fuhrer Ugly ended Zambai’s life was yikes!  Heroes may never die, but those next to them have no such protection.  I’m sorry man.  You paid the highest price for supporting a hero.

Heroes may never die but that doesn’t mean they can’t suffer horribly.  If Tank Top Master being turned into a human patty wasn’t grisly enough, finding out that SuperAlloy’s famously resistant shine isn’t chemically resistant is enough to give one a shudder of horror/disgust:  his hands have been defleshed down to tendon and bone.

Never mind fear; it’s going to be a while before  SuperAlloy *can* fight at all. And with his chest being burned as well, I think that he will be lucky not to come away with disfiguring scars.  He might start wearing a shirt after this...

  ONE, have some mercy for your heroes or half of them will never work again. But not too much mercy, they’ve had it too easy for too long.

There’s more to help than rescue

If you’d told me that this day would see Genos earning the trust and respect of the heroes he has called the bitch and the witch respectively, and that feeling would be mutual, I’d have told you to stop fantasising.   I’ve spent enough words talking about the unexpected compassion he showed to Fubuki when the latter was beside herself with worry for her sister.

Tatsumaki has internalised the advice Blast gave her so thoroughly that she’s come to think herself as being beyond help.  But there’s more to help than haplessly accepting rescue.   Help can also be someone intervening only when you most need it, respecting that you can generally take care of yourself.  Help can be sharing the burden, enabling you to achieve more, more easily.  Help can be having your back so you can fight without fear of ambush.  All of these forms of help Genos has provided to Tatsumaki from the moment the battle pitched high into the sky.  And she’s had his back too.  Seeing her consciously acknowledge that and lean into it was an amazing gift I didn’t know I needed. 

from allies in name only to comrades-in-arms, what a fearsome pair!  Gambatte!

Of course it can get worse

The heroes’ situation seems to be getting worse and worse.  Their number is being whittled down to size: Tank Top Master is out for the count, Bang is tied up, Superalloy Darkshine is maimed, Atomic is out of his main weapon, Child Emperor is lost somewhere and Puri Puri is looking for him, Zombieman and Amai Mask are still pulling themselves together, and Tatsumaki and Genos are standing more by spite than strength. 

On the other hand, the monsters aren’t out of monster by any means.  There’s still lots of Black Sperm, Evil Natural Water is surely sloshing around somewhere,  Vomited Furher Ugly is a pungent threat, and Homeless Emperor is watching proceedings with an amused eye.  I called the monsters the sundew monsters for a reason -- they waste heroes by outlasting their efforts.

The standing heroes are going to need respite, or a diversion, or reinforcements pretty soon or they’re going to all die for real.   Preferably all three.  We’ll take two out of three.

Further notes:  The Cyborg is Listening

The first thing Kuseno says to Genos when the latter comes back after a bruising encounter with a monster is ‘are you alright?’  That we know.  The second thing has to be ‘did you bring me good data?’  Everything that happens to Genos, everything he touches, everything he sees, everything he hears, all that information is recorded for later recall and distillation into useable data.   We’ve been admiring how capable and tough this new upgrade has proven to be.  It’s all hard-won insights, built one on the other.    Does that mean I’m discounting what Genos does?  Hell no.  It’s his extreme courage and willingness to step into the most hopeless situations that has enabled this valuable data to be gathered in the first place.  And it’s his using these wonderful upgrades to push as hard as he can despite the risk that makes it worth Kuseno’s while to stay up late to craft them.  Now I’m super-interested in finding out what new insights the pair will glean from today’s fighting.

...polite engineer for ‘fuck you’

Sure, like many serious things in One-Punch Man, it initially appears as a gag,  but if you’ve not been paying attention to date, hear this: good data is like gold dust in this world.   And people will kill for it.   As we watch the dissipating contrails where Drive Knight was as he carries his precious samples home, don’t way you weren’t warned.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

I straight up check your profile daily for the southern raiders analysis you’re working on. 👀👀 where IS IT 😩

bRUH I am so excited to drop this analysis you have no idea (It’s creeping up to 22k+ I am gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyy). The only problem is that my TSR analysis and “Moon theory” are so incredibly hard to structure and articulate. I’m happy you’re so excited for it, though!!! Truly, it’s an honor. I’ll give you a taste of my madness and what’s to come, but be warned: it may be a bit hard to follow because TSR (from how I’ve come to understand it) is about the vagueness of beginnings, endings, and cycles, so there isn’t really a starting point for me to begin with. (So it may seem a tad bit like a ramble in some points that I haven’t fleshed out yet/am summarizing for this ask)

This analysis has me on trails like THIS brilliant nonsense, and I am 1000000000% here for it:

Roku: “The spirit's name is Koh, but he is very dangerous. They call him The Face Stealer.”

Katara: “We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.”...“That’s him. That’s the monster.”

Lion Turtle: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted and destroyed.”

Roku: “When you speak with him, you must be very careful to show no emotion at all. Not the slightest expression, or he will steal your face.”

Hama: “Congratulations, Katara. You’re a bloodbender.”

(If Katara had killed Yon Rha, she would be giving up her identity--her face. Not only would she have become a killer, but she would be killing what made her Katara)

Aang: “Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Forgive him--approach him for what he is, not the faces your memories or your heart are having him wear. See him for the pathetic man he is in that moment right in front of you.

Aang’s forgiveness is seeing someone for the sum of their parts. It’s judging them and seeing through into their very soul, just like the Firebending Masters saw through Zuko being the Crown Prince and Aang being the Avatar. That meant nothing to the Masters. What did matter to them was who the boys were right there, right then, right in front of them.

“Why should I hold a grudge against you for something you did in a past life? After all, you’re a different person, now. You’ve come to me with a new face.”

But anyways...

If I can give no other take-away from my analysis and moon theory, it’s that Yin and Yang are not two entities; they are three. I think the fandom’s misunderstanding of it may be why the discourse on TSR (and Aang, Katara, and Zuko) is so black and white (pun intended lol). 

“But Yin and Yang are obviously two things. Don’t you know the symbol?” I hear some people already saying.

Wrong, sir.

It has never been just Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang have never existed as just two things.

They are Yin and Yang and Wu Wei.

(Aunt Wu has her name for a reason, and she has the mark of the wise in her hair for a reason, too...AND she is at odds with Sokka in The Fortuneteller for a reason, too!!!...but that’s for the analysis😉)

Balance isn’t good triumphing over evil. Balance is good and evil. Balance is standing on the flow between two opposites--it’s the compliment that connects them. (The koi fish live in an oasis for a reason.)

I’ll explain what Wu Wei is later in the full analysis (like many things in here), but here’s some of my evidences and proofs for the “Yin Yang trio”:

The Tibetan “Wheel of Dharma”

(I’ll also explain the Wheel and Dharma and etc. later because it has everything to do with Koh and the moon) Long story short, the wheel and its spokes are representative of the 8 steps to enlightenment and the cycle of rebirth. 

Look at the hub of the wheel. It’s a swirl made of 3 parts.

It is also a white lotus

Here’s the colored version of the wheel (as an alter):

Recognize the colors?

BLUE, WHITE (or gold, depending), & RED

These are the “THREE TREASURES” OR JEWELS.

They symbolize DHARMA, BUDDHA, & SANGHA respectively. 

KATARA, AANG, & ZUKO

water, air, & fire

T H R E E

Bato: “Ice dodging is a ceremonial test of wisdom, bravery, and trust.

Bato: “The spirits of water bear witness to these marks...”

Why does Bato say spirit(s) plural? The Ocean and the Moon are only two spirits. The Ocean can’t be two things. Right?

WRONG

Yue: “The legends say the Moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

The Moon--singular. The Tides--plural (push and pull)

Lion Turtle: “In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements, but the energy within our senses.”

The moon pushing and pulling the tide is the moon bending the energy of its world. 

Katara finding balance between “being too weak to do it” or “strong enough not to” is her bending the energy within herself.

It’s two solutions written as a question but said as a statement.

Yue: “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves”

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ABOUT AANG AND ZUKO LEARNING FROM KATARA. Katara had already learned from Aang and Zuko all leading up to TSR. That was her studying. TSR was her test.

TSR is Zuko’s and Aang’s studying. Sozin’s Comet is their test.

Bato: “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same mark your father earned. For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us. And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe.”

Aang - Wise (”you’re pretty wise for a kid”)

Katara - Brave (the same mark her mother earned)

Zuko - Trusted (”I was the first person to trust you”)

Sokka - Bato ("I am to have no part in this--you pass or fail on your own.”)

Yin and Yang are nothing without their dance. The Avatar and the Firelord mean nothing if they don’t have a world to rebuild.

The valley means nothing if there isn’t anyone to live in it.

Fighting is useless if there isn’t someone to fight for, otherwise it is “selfish and stupid”

Katara had to have a reason to return from Yon Rha. She needed to have Aang waiting for her. If she didn’t have a reason to stay, then she wouldn’t have a reason to go.

To have a reason to sleep, a person has to have a reason to wake up.

Katara: “Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone; that it's all his responsibility.”

Hakoda: “Maybe that's his way of being brave.”

(Bato: “For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.”)

Katara: “It's not brave! It's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him! And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?!”

(It was, in fact, not easy for Aang to ‘do nothing’)

Katara: “I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry...and hurt.”

Hakoda: “I love you more than anything. You and your brother are my entire world. I thought about you every day when I was gone, and every night when I went to sleep, I would lie awake missing you so much it would ache.”

(AND YUE IS ONE OF THE ONES TO SAVE AANG IN THE OCEAN FOR A REASON)

Thinking and missing: a matter of mind (who) and heart (want). 

Iroh: “Who are you? And what do you want?”

Sokka: “We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most.”

Mai: “I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

BUT YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT THE MOON FOR A HOT SECOND???

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE MOON

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT 2 MOONS

OH

OH REALLY???

OH REALLY, ZUKO

A FEW HOURS YOU SAY?

THEN TELL ME, ZUKO

WHY IS THE SUN GOING UP

WHEN IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT A FEW HOURS LATER

AND KATARA IS SLEEPING SO YOU CAN’T TELL ME IT’S BECAUSE YOU RISE WITH THE SUN OTHERWISE SHE’D BE WIDE AWAKE DURING THE FULL MOON THAT SHE USES TO BLOODBEND NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES LATER

THIS, MY FRIENDS, IS A HARVEST MOON

WHICH IS THE LAST FULL MOON OF THE SUMMER 

(and looks off color when it rises/falls because of the angle of the rise/fall in the atmosphere...it’s normal once overhead)

AND SYMOLIZES HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF

“We’re going to find the MAN who took my mother from me.”

“That’s him. That’s the MONSTER.”

8 spokes on the wheel

Katara was 8 when Kya was killed

8 steps to enlightenment (the “Eightfold Path”)

8 phases of the moon

8 faces of Koh

“One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me! Be it 8 or 9 hundred years ago” (but time is an illusion, so hundreds mean nothing)

THE OTHER TWO MOONS THAT ARE CONSUMING MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT???:

1.) The WOLF MOON--the first full moon of the new year (a love between the wolf and the moon in the harshest winters...connection is kindof obvious lmao)

2.) THE THUNDER MOON

The Thunder Moon is the full moon of July. It is also known as the Buck Moon--for when young buck regrow their antlers.

Yue: “My hair turned white.”

Zuko: *cuts and re-grows his hair*

Aang: “I have hair?”

The Thunder Moon--the full moon of July--is also the beginning of a certain Buddhist holiday.

DHARMA DAY

WHICH CELEBRATES THE BEGINING OF BUDDHISM AND THE FIRST OF THE 8 STEPS (the first spoke of the Dharma Wheel) TOWARDS ENLIGHTENMENT

AVATAR IS ALL ABOUT CYCLES

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ALL ABOUT BREAKING THEM

I haven’t even touched Jung, Koh, Hinduism, and Buddhism yet

or the fact that Katara and Kya are the only characters in the entire series to wear moons on their clothing and that, together, they form an actual lunar phenomenon

or why the spirit oasis isn’t a complete circle

or the fact that this thing that Aang is told to chase is just like Whaletail Island:

or how important the Great Divide and the Solstice are

AND I’M JUST GETTING STARTED

BECAUSE EVERYTHING IN THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS--RIGHT DOWN TO THE SOUND DESIGN--IS ABSOLUTELY MONUMENTAL IN UNDERSTANDING THE SHOW, ITS MESSAGE, ENERGYBENDING, AND LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

TLDR: Idk how the heck I’m going to arrange or articulate this analysis because it is WILD. Be warned: There is literally no exact beginning and ending to this analysis because the whole point of Yin and Yang is that is has no beginning or ending (...kindof...), so you’ll have to bear with me once I’m done editing it into something that’s somewhat coherent.

These are just SOME of the things I’ve been able to answer with my moon theory and analysis of The Southern Raiders as it currently stands:

Why “letting go” isn’t really letting go (as we understand it...see: Aang’s confrontation with Koh)

Why Lake Laogai and the Spirit World are symbolically the same thing.

Zuko’s advice to the bullfrog is actually a summary of the show, energybending, the origin of bending, and the definition of Aang’s “forgiveness” I stg

Why “Sokka’s instincts” are the reason Katara yells at Sokka

Believe it or not, every time Katara mentions her mother, it is at specific times for specific reasons.

^^^same thing for the moon, lack of moon, moon positioning, etc.

Katara’s mother’s necklace is more important than we realize.

Who the faces of Koh are and WHY they are there.

The true meaning of Jet’s sacrifice.

Why Jet’s episode about the dam explains the entirety of TSR as it pertains to Katara (all the way down to the little girl who runs to get her doll after the dam breaks)

Why Katara actually DID forgive Yon Rha, and the fact that she doesn’t even know it is proof that she did

^^^^^Aang’s definition of forgiveness is completely misunderstood by the fandom, and the way he “forgives” is sososo much deeper than “moving on”, and it is DEFINATELY by no means “doing  nothing” or “excusing” past actions.

The importance of lightning, Zuko, Aang, and Katara.

The absolutely monumental and not nearly talked about importance of Jeong-Jeong like holy crap.

How Katara and Azula are just as much of a Yin and Yang as Zuko and Aang but not in the way we think they are

Why Koh has the Blue Spirit’s face

Why Koh DOESN’T have the Painted Lady’s face.

Who Ni-Ni from Katara’s campfire story in The Puppetmaster is 

How and why Iroh was able to learn firebending from the Masters even though he didn’t have a partner. 

How/Why Azula had her breakdown and why she saw her mother in the mirror

Why “Leaves from the Vine” and “Four Seasons” are the same song, explain Azula’s downfall, and explain the Yin and Yang of TSR.

Why Katara and Sokka are so often mistaken for parental figures.

Why Aang’s flashbacks to the Air Nomads are so important in understanding TSR.

Why Toph and Suki disappear after the campfire in TSR.

How Hakoda, Gyatso, and Kya are all connected.

Why it is so dang important that Azula shows up in the beginning of TSR.

The importance of the Spirit Oasis.

Energybending, healing with waterbending, Aang’s trauma, and Zuko’s scar.

Why Zuko gives Katara the exact opposite advise in TSR that he gave her in the catacombs. 

How everything could be predicted and read by the moon.

WHY YIN AND YANG ARE THREE THINGS AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THREE THINGS.

HOW ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF THIS TIES BACK TO THE MOON AND BUDDHIST BELIEFS--AND YEAH THE MOON AND BUDDHISM AND HINDUISM ARE MORE CONNECTED IN ATLA THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.

AND HOW IT LEADS INTO OUR MODERN UNDERSTANDING OF THE SELF--BECAUSE JUNG TOOK GREAT INFLUENCE IN HIS DEVELOPING THEORY OF THE CONSCIOUS AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS FROM THE HINDU/BUDDHIST RELIGIONS 

^^^^AND ALSO THE THEORY OF THE SHADOW AND THE PERSONA 

The ocean is a deep, dark, unknown place with a lot of hidden monsters (like Yon Rah). Katara needed a light to find her monster, but she also needed somewhere she could breathe when she came back up for air.

If she didn’t have both Zuko and Aang, Katara would have drowned. 

I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a thesis, and what I’ve said and listed here isn’t even all that I have.

btw This all does line up on the traditional Yin Yang symbol we know and see in the show, but I don’t have enough space here for that lmao. That’ll be in the analysis

I hope you enjoyed this little taste, my friend, because I need to sit down for a hot second before my brain leaks out of my ears. Sorry for the ramble. I promise the analysis isn’t like this lol. This is just me trying to summarize as best as I can. 

***Disclaimer: My points are always subject to change since I am still researching. These are the facts as I’ve found and applied them to the evidences I’ve noted from in the show. I’m always open for friendly discussion or any directions to better sources on Buddhism/Tao/Jung!***

[belit0]

Anonymous:

Soulmate anon here! Just wanted to ask, how would the Uchihas go about to asking out their s/o? -💌

Anon I can say that I love the trust you give me🖤 thank you so much for your support, really :) ✨😭 I’m so glad to have you around!

Indra

[I will situate him in the context before Ashura being elected as heir. I think that the Indra after his fight with his brother could not “ask” someone to go out with him, he was already too consumed by evil at that point in history ☹]

If there is anyone with little experience in talking about feelings… it would definitely be this boy. It’s all about control, power, composure, preparing to be a leader. Love issues? There is no time for that in his life. So, when he finds himself in the throes of understanding that that special person has managed to captivate him enough to invade his feelings, Indra doesn’t really know what to do. His cold, calculating and distant character prevents him from taking a romantic or sweet initiative, therefore he moves the matter to an environment where he feels in confidence with himself: to the middle of the mountain where he usually trains in solitude. The excuse for his s/o to join him? Pure strategic necessity as he explains, and the person will never hesitate before an order from Indra-Sama no matter how strange it may seem. When arriving at Indra’s private training camp, he will want to practice with his s/o to feel in his element. At the point he thinks is appropriate, he declares something like “We are official, I expect respect.”

Madara

Asking for permission? Asking for consent? What is that? This man definitely doesn’t know anything about it. If he has set his sights on someone, that person is automatically his. Madara doesn’t ask his s/o if wants to date him… no, his s/o is dating him since proving to be a worthy enough person to deserve his attention, even if that person is not even aware of it. Madara is a Yandere by nature. He will give some hints about his attraction to his s/o, but that person seems to be blind to the obvious. Angry at the lack of response to his advances, the final confrontation will inevitably come. Cornering his s/o in some situation, he informs "Enjoy the pleasure of being mine and stop running away from the evident”.

Izuna

The cheekiness of this Uchiha is out of this world. Certainly, he will have no problem in revealing his attraction, conquering people is his second talent, the first is to fight. Accustomed to the routine of having several different people in his bed during each week, his ability to navigate in front of his s/o is to melt. Of course, before culminating his plan with the important question, Izuna fires his entire arsenal at his s/o, looks that last longer than necessary when they cross each other, unnecessary friction if they’re in the same place, occasional letters clearly coming from him but without a signature. He is a natural born seducer, of course he knows how to attract someone without being conspicuously obvious. When his s/o shows the interest, he needs to see to make the determination and ask, Izuna acts. “What do you say, love? Do you want to try your luck with the better Uchiha? *Wink*”

Obito

[I will place Obito in a context where he never meets Maddy Daddy, so his innocence and warm personality remains intact until adulthood, no mean ObiTobi! But if you want Yandere content from any Uchiha let me know 😊]

The timidest of all the Uchihas. This man is a disaster when it comes to taking the reins and putting on the trousers. His infatuation with his s/o has been a secret since he began to feel the very first emotions, and he refuses to admit a word about it. He constantly imagines in his head what a life with the person he longs for so much would be like, but his shame prevents him from acting. Eventually, after much mentalization and personal work, Obito gathers the little courage he manages to find to face this situation. A bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he found in the shop, his best clothes and well perfumed, he heads for action. “Eto… I… um… you… DATEMEPLS”

Shisui

A profile very similar to Izuna’s, but with his feet on the ground and without as much confidence as the other Uchiha. Shisui knows he is attractive, his fan girl club confirms it, but he ignores this constantly because the village and the clan come first. Safe in his field, when he finds himself feeling things towards someone, he is happy. A light within the darkness of his life, better defined, that’s why he doesn’t hesitate and doesn’t delay in making it official. Having lost his immediate family, he likes to hold on tightly to what brings him joy. He casually confronts his s/o at some moment of the day, nothing special or romantic, as relaxed as Shisui himself. He trusts his feelings, and has no problem expressing what he feels with incredible simplicity, accompanied by a bright smile “Would you like to have a drink with me? My treat.”

Itachi

This Uchiha has a hard time coming to terms with his feelings. He shouldn’t think about such frivolous things when there are more important issues such as the village and containing the clan. But when he realizes that his feelings are not something he can fight against, Itachi is smart, and gives in to his heart. After a time of getting used to his own emotional mess, this man devises a foolproof strategy so as not to miss his target. He studies his s/o, knows its tastes and its preferences, knows that it loves and that it hates, knows which place prefers to eat and which it hates because the food does not appetite it. At the moment of executing his strategy, Itachi takes his s/o to a beautifully arranged dinner in that person’s favorite place, probably by candlelight, giving them a bouquet of red roses as soon as they sit down to eat. By the end of the evening, Itachi asks gently, confidently and calmly “Will you go out with me?”

[deimcs]

omggg congrats on your dad getting his vaccine!!

hmmm THOUGHTS ON THE COLONIAL ASSASSINS?

send me “thoughts on __”

for the kenway fest head here ♡

Roll Call time, in this particular group we have: Adéwalé, Mary, Achilles, Shay and Aveline!

When it comes to my man Adéwalé I’ll admit it’s been a hot minute since I replayed Freedom Cry (I plan too, as soon as I’m done with Valhalla dlc and Black Flag) but I’ll say that I love him, as I love every single protagonist in this saga. When I was younger this whole time period wasn’t my favorite, I think I was still mourning Ezio pretty deeply and the shift in the scenario was particularly tough for me ‘cause I obviously associate Italy with home and now I was being thrown in new game mechanics that didn’t make much sense and maps with english and american npcs everywhere. It sounded boring and I kept getting confused so I resented them for a time. But now that I’m older I can recognize that while other settings and games in general are more my taste, the character dynamics in this particular era were all incredible, so intertwined! 

Loved how Adéwalé acted as a very three dimensional character even while he was by Edward’s side, I still think his friendship was fundamental for him. Adéwalé often acts like the voice of conscience but he also deeply respected Edward, even when he was making a total fool of himself. That’s friendship babey. ♥ His own experience with slavery and liberation is powerful and inspiring. I’m just sad he ultimately had to fall by Shay’s blade. Again, loved how everything is connected but the thought still makes me sad.

Mary is just iconic. She’s the moment. She’s the legend. One of the most interesting historical figures we have seen so far. I absolutely love her interactions with Edward. I never shipped them honestly, they work so much better off as friends, the teasing, the cameradie, the genuine concern and frustration made them both so human! How she subtlety swerved him into giving the Assassin’s a chance. And advocated for them to give him one too. At one specific point in time she was literally the only person to believe in him when he was hitting rock bottom and that’s so important. Her whole story is cool  but that’s just who she was, a tragic ending for an incredibly bright character.

I have conflicting feelings towards Achilles. Didn’t know really what to think during AC3, kinda hated him during Rogue but that was the point right? To show a broken man, what kind of beast grief is, how it poison both the heart and the mind. It was clever of them to show someone like him among the Assassin’s ranks. Reminded us all that we’re not talking about good or evil, black or white. Everyone walks in between those grey lines and sometimes they fall. By the time he takes Connor in, he’s old and he’s burdened with too many regrets. I do believe he loved him and I hope he found peace in trying to atone what he did to Shay.

Shay was an enigma. Before playing Rogue for the first time I didn’t know what to expect. This game punches you in the gut and throws you face first in the mud. I can bet anything, no one would ever expect to like this man the way you end up liking him in the end. I need to replay Rogue too, to refresh my memory properly but holy shit, I’m so fond of him. You can actually feel what he feels during this entire ordeal and I can’t actually blame him for anything? His actions were more than justified, his whole world crumbled beneath his feet and he had to live with the knowledge all of this could have been prevented if not for the secrets his mentor and his friends purposefully kept from him. It’s a betrayal that goes deeper than factions, he was literally stripped of his identity and had to start anew. That took courage and that took strength. It pains me to remember he was the one to kill both Adéwalé and Arno’s father but at the same time, they really make it so impossible to hate him. What the Templars showed him was a distilled version of what he lost and was desperately trying to find again: belonging.

Aveline. Aveline my girl, my actual daughter, wonderful angel. I love her, pure and simple. She’s funny, she’s witty, she’s dedicated, she’s strong. I want 3 games with just her and Connor making the States an actual better place. She’s so independent and it’s sad to think that is because she lost her mother so young and her mentor seemed more bent to antagonize her than anything else. I love how resourceful she is, if one pays attention it’s easy to notice she’s almost always the one to come up with plans and strategies, that’s not an easy skill. The doubts she had towards the Brotherhood were just the result of something she couldn’t control, she deserved better than to be treated like a novice just because she refused to take anyone else’s word as a dogma. Her dedication to the slaves is commendable and she too, like Connor, like Adéwalé she is more than just a character. Their struggles will never be “just” personal. Finally, I’m obsessed with the last plot twist she pulls on Madelaine. When the credits first rolled my jaw dropped but then BAM, the power that she has, the intelligence, the international implication. Absolute legend. 

[innocent-malfoy-slut]

Protego Horribilis

Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!Reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Type: kinda fluff

Summary: You finally find Draco during the Battle of Hogwarts and you whatever you can to keep him by your side while fighting.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Reader (y/n), Lord Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Death Eaters 

Warning(s): mention of death (?)

An hour.  

Harry Potter had only on hour to show himself up in the Forbidden Forest, or else Voldemort would have started again the attack at the school.  

All the students rushed inside the castle and Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick managed to close the enormous, wooden-made gate as they saw nobody was still outside. The four tables in the Great Hall disappeared and wounded and those who had lost their lives during the battle could finally rest.  

You had only superficial wounds which were healed by Madame Pomfrey in less than a minute. Once she was done with you, you got out of the Great Hall and began wandering in the corridors of the castle. During the fight you had heard some rumours about the Slytherins being no more moving towards the Hog’s Head Inn through underground passages. And you also heard something that was completely strange to you: was Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts to save his friends?

You heard nobody as the repeatedly shouted at you not to go looking for him and, instead, prepare for the battle that was to come. But your will to talk with Draco was more than anybody else could ever understand.  

Although you were a Ravenclaw and he was a Slytherin, you two had slightly become friends during your fifth year and, during the sixth year, you had been his confident and somehow you had tried to drag him towards another direction, and maybe he wouldn’t have been forced by his parents to join Voldemort and his disciples.  

No one had ever saw the fear in his eyes. No one had ever assisted him while he was trying to find a way to come out from that situation without killing anybody. No one had ever given him the affection and the love he needed. No one had ever tried to understand him and his choices. Nevertheless, Draco’s life was all about hit or being hit, hard.  

And he never had the chance to choose. His parents had made that choice for him the moment he was born, not giving him what he deserved.  

At that moment you were more determined than ever to find him and, possibly, to make him switch side -fighting next to you.  

“The Room of Requirement burst into flames!” one of the Gryffindors came shouting in the Great Hall, he was followed by other two members of the same house and one of them definitely had been close to the fire.  

Professor McGonagall walked past behind you and stopped in front of them, she began asking a lot of questions about what they told they had witnessed. They were too far away from you to understand what they were saying but judging by how worried they seemed and by the gestures they were making, you got that it was more than a few things burned.  

You were about to get up and approach them, but all of a sudden, the entire hall silenced, and they only audible noises came from outside. You saw the Weasley’s family running towards the entrance and a moment after the entire school followed their steps.  

The moment you stepped outside the portal, you assisted to a terrible scene. Voldemort and all his devotees were walking down the Viaduct, which serve as a connection between the ground and the main entrance of the school. In the middle of them there was Hagrid, and he was carrying a lifeless body in his arms.  

“Harry Potter is dead!” his evil, despicable laugh followed the statement, as if it everything was a joke for him.  

Your hands soon reached your mouth and you had to lean yourself against the cold, stone-made wall to keep standing. Everything around you were silent; no one among the students dared to say a single word.  

Ginny’s lacerating scream was the last, painful blow. You collapsed on the floor and tears started spilling out from your eyes and you had to hold back the sobs shaking your entire body. You found your friend Luna next to you, holding out her hand towards you; you gladly took it and got on your feet as images of what was happening in front of you flashed before your eyes.  

Harry Potter was dead.  

The Chosen One. The one in which all the hopes of the Wizarding World were places had died at the hands of Voldemort.  

You hold to Luna, who was destroyed by the events just like you, and together you followed what happened next –though you couldn’t really concentrate. You listened as Lord Voldemort asked the students to join him in taking over the Wizarding World.

In the absolute silence you heard someone calling “Draco” and suddenly all your attention was focused on identifying the owner of that voice, and then you understood.

Right behind Lord Voldemort there were two people you had the displeasure of meeting before: Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. And it was exactly Malfoy Sr who was calling his son’s name.

He was looking into your direction.

You had a quick look around yourself and finally recognised a platinum head a few feet away from you. You left Luna’s hand and struggling you made your way towards the boy.

“Draco, come”, his mother’s voice wasn’t like you expected at all. She had quite a sweet tone and, if that hadn’t been such a bad situation, you would have thought about her tell goodnight stories to her only son.

Unfortunately, it seemed it had never happened.

You couldn’t see him in the face, but it didn’t seem like the boy was willing to move from his spot. You hurried up and stopped one step behind him.

No one said anything.

Draco looked around himself. Once again, he felt alone, although he was surrounded by his schoolmates. He was drastically brought back to reality when his grey, watery eyes met his father’s, who was impatient to have his son next to him among the lines of Death Eaters. He lowered his head and started walking towards him when he felt a warm, soft hand grabbing his wrist. He didn’t need to turn his head behind to know it was you the one holding him in place.

“Draco”, his father called again, but you were more determined than him to keep where he was.

“You’re better than him, Draco. You’re not your father”, you repeated him the same words you said to him the year before, when he confided to you that Voldemort had marked him.

All eyes were on the two of you. You spotted Professor McGonagall staring at your fingers wrapped around his wrist and kept doing It until someone talked.

“Draco”, it was the same despicable voice which had talked before, “Come here, boy”.

You tightened your grip around Draco’s wrist, preventing him from making a single move ahead, “Don’t”. If you had been given the chance to know the real Draco, you knew better than anyone else that he just needed someone to trust him, to love him, to care about him. He needed what his parents hadn’t been able to give him for seventeen years.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispered next to your ear as you placed yourself at his same height, “He will kill you. Let me go”.

“No”, you replied and took out your wand. You didn’t realise what your simple movement started: students, and professors as well, brought their wands out and held them proudly above their heads.

“Y/N, don’t-“ his words were cut short by a shining object dropping from the sky which landed in Neville’s hands.

As he lifted his hands, you saw the Sward of Gryffindor being held by Longbottom and after something incredible happened: Voldemort’s snake was ordered to attack the students and Neville, with all his courage, stepped forward and made a snapping movement and cut off its head. On the other end of the square the pale man moved as if he had been hit by something, or someone.

There was a moment of complete silence; no one knew exactly what was going to happen, but everybody was ready to fight Lord Voldemort and his disciples.

You kept your place next to Draco, who was no more willing to cross the yard and had took out his wand too. But you noticed he wasn’t holding it as if he was ready to fight, if anything it seemed like he held it in the most wrong way. Draco happened to be a brilliant student and you knew he couldn’t be making a huge mistake like that in the middle of a War; you comprehended he was up to something.

In fact, when in the general confusion, you hadn’t noticed a not dead and disarmed Harry running towards his friends, though you were closer than them. As soon as he gave a quick look at you still holding Draco’s wrist, the boy next to you shouted: “Potter!” and threw at him his wand.

Meanwhile Lord Voldemort hexed more than one Harry -failing every single time-, the remaining Death Eaters came fighting you and all your schoolmates. A hex was soon thrown at you and you shielded yourself and Draco with a simple “Protego Horribilis”, whispered to yourself.

“You’ll have to try harder to stop me, little mud-blood”, the man of who you couldn’t see the face said in a scornful tone.

You were about to reply him when your wand was taken from your hand and Draco appeared in front of you; he did a movement to cast a spell you had never seen before and hit powerfully the Death Eater who was ready to kill you both, “You’ll have to teach me that one”.

“Yeah, maybe when we aren’t being hexed from all directions”, the silver-headed boy made his eyes wander around you and stopped when he saw the perfect place where you could hide, “Don’t worry, we’ll keep fighting with the others” he reassured you with the smirk typical of him.

You followed him in crouching down and opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but then his lips crushed on yours and every thought of yours disappeared. You melted into the kiss since it was the first one you exchanged since almost a here, and you happily certified they were still soft and green apple tasting as the last time you savoured them.

Both your hands quickly found their way to his neck and gently wrapped around it, whereas one of his grabbed -not so gently- the back of your neck and the other one gripped firmly your waist. Neither of you made a move, you just sat down there, finally greeting after being far away for too much time. When you slightly opened your mouth and let his tongue met yours, a solo tear ran down your cheek, causing your kiss to taste salty for a brief moment.

Draco noticed the sudden change and pulled away from you, taking both his hands supporting your face, while he stroked his thumbs on your cheeks. “Why are you crying, darling?” he knew that once you were given the chance, you would have released all the pressure built up in the past few months; that was why he put on his characteristic half grin and gave you the most playful look he could.

You looked into his eyes, still red from holding back streams of tears before, and read fear, terror, but that was a spark you were familiar with: it was happiness. At that moment you couldn’t care less of the war going on around you, neither of your friends struggling to stay alive. You threw yourself towards him and held him tight against you as if you needed to be sure he wasn’t going anywhere else. You felt his arms being brought again around your hips and embraced you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

A long, piercing scream pulled the two of you apart, you stood up just in time to see both Alecto Carrow falling down the bridge -his brother soon following her- and when before there were them, Cho stood in complete disbelief. She slowly turned and met your gaze, as you smiled and throw a punch in the air happy for her.

“They need us inside, let’s go”, Draco’s fingers found their way to yours and he dragged you with him, towards the wooden-made portal of the school, “Are you ready?” he handed you back your wand and you gladly took it, getting in position before him.

“Don’t you dare going anywhere else. Stand behind me.”

“Always, my love.”

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[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.4)

Chapter Four: The Train Ride There

1k+ Words a lot of it is taken from the book but as always I added a lot of [Name] in to make it.... chaotic and slightly angsty

Still uses he/him pronouns for now and later addition of they pronouns will be announced before the chapter. Hope you Enjoy!!!

Last  //  Next

“What the actual hell- Ow, heck i meant heck.” [Name] choked out while rubbing the back of his head

“Mhm sure you did”

“Anyway you mean to tell me I have to run at a wall.”

“Yup”

“In a muggle train station”

“Yes”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Look, do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?”

“I mean I do but-”

“If you don’t you’ll only disappoint Harry” [Mother’s name] interrupted

[Name] hesitated before responding “I’m sure he’ll be fine he like defeated an evil lord as a baby of course he can run at a wall and make other friends”

“[Name] if you miss the train I’m not taking you to school myself”

And just as [Name] seemed like he’d be okay with that aspect (anything to not embarrass himself in public really) all his hopes were completely crushed

“And I’m not taking you back home to ride on the house elf express”

“Okay but if I die or embarass myself I’m gonna have to find a way to jinx you or something. Maybe i’ll tell that weird muggle mailman you find him cute and force you to flee the country”

“You wouldn’t”

“That’s what you think”

[Name] seemed to gather the courage of all his ancestors (may they rest in peace) and ran straight at the obvious death trap. He had a chosen one to meet after all. He closed his eyes right before impact only to have his senses assaulted by the sounds and sights of something completely unexpected

‘Wow' he whispered under his breath

“I told you so”

“Alright alright I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. But I mean you’re not exactly the most trustworthy. If I needed someone to help me cover up a crime maybe, but a prank that could end in bodily harm..”

[Mo. Name] pretended not to hear a word as she fussed over [Name], the train departing soon. She’s a mother, she couldn’t help it. After running down a long list of things [Name] should have (And did) pack in his trunk she gave a forehead kiss and pushed him off to the trains. As he got on she did the unthinkable.

“Bye baby!! Momma loves you. Tell Peeves I said Hi’

Yeah [Name] definitely wasn't gonna be popular now. At least… not in a good way. There’d be rumors around hogwarts. And he’d be in the center of them.

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

Harry sat alone in an empty compartment after all the hustle and bustle that came with parents seeing their children off for the first time. And could’ve sworn he had heard someone say something about being peeved. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red headed boy he had seen earlier came in.

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

“Hey, Ron”

The twins were back

“Listen we’re going down the middle of the train- Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then.”

“Bye” said Harry and Ron. the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

“Are you really Harry potter?” Ron blurted out

Harry went to nod but the compartment door slammed open once again

“Harry there you are. Thank God I found you.” [Name] gasped out “My mother totally embarrassed me as I was getting on the train screaming about someone named Peeves and she called me BABY. Anyway I’ve been trying to find you without drawing to much attention to you or myself.”

Harry had wondered how [Name] had said so much in one breath. He didn’t know [Name] to be particularly talkative. He of course had his moments when he’d stand up for someone but Harry had always seen name as a little bit of a worrier or an outsider like himself.

“Sorry." [Name] said almost as if he read Harry’s mind “It’s the nerves. I’m super glad that you’re not alone but I’m also jealous I didn’t get to you first.” [Name] continued as he moved to sit next to Harry.

“What were we talking about? Oh yeah he was asking about your chosen one status which is kind of cool and lame at the same time. Is that offensive?”

“Have you really got - you know?” He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. And surprisingly [Name] did too.

“Y’know as close as we are for two people who only met twice, I realized I haven’t gotten a good look at you Harry.” [Name] realized turning all of his attention on the resident Chosen One

Harry and [Name] stared at each other for a moment. [Name] was curious as to who the boy who lived really was and why he was drawn to him. It was like they were meant to meet up. At the Zoo, in Diagon Alley and now hopefully they would remain on the same path at Hogwarts too.

Harry on the other hand was staring at [Name] in appreciation. They were strangers, yet [Name] came to Harry’s rescue so naturally. Ron was to be a good friend to Harry, he’s sure of it, but it was different with [Name]. Their friendship wasn’t founded on titles, or reputations, or anything but mutual respect and destiny perhaps? If he were more naïve he might’ve attributed this feeling to a crush.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who-? Ron interrupted the staring contest

“Yes” said Harry “but I can’t remember it”

“Nothing?” Ron said eagerly.

“Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.

[Name] got incredibly bored of the topic, not really keen on discussing Voldemort’s attack on Harry so he began looking out the window like the main character. Only catching flashes of the conversation and adding his own commentary when appropriate. Apparently Ron had 5 brothers and a little bit of “a lot to live up to” but being friends with the chosen one was sure to give him some stories to tell..

[Name] didn’t interrupt with much about his family because he’d already talked about his embarrassing mother and there was nothing else to talk about but his incredibly large and empty house which would have made him a little uncomfortable and slightly awkward. Y’know since he was talking to an orphan and a poor kid with a huge family. How could either of them relate?

What he did however pay attention to was Harry’s bravery and generosity. Apparently he was only a little bit of an oblivious idiot. Sure he proudly said Voldemort’s name (a trend [Name] hoped to follow) but he was smart enough to realized in the wizarding world at least he was rich and could splurge a little bit on the less fortunate *ahem* Ron *ahem*

“Go on, have a pasty” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten.)

“What are these?” Harry asked Ron and [Name] holding up a pack of chocolate frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they/” He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him

“No” said Ron “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa”

“He has no idea what you’re talking about, look at his face” [Name] laughed out. Ron followed his line of sight and chuckled at Harry’s confused face as well.

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know - Chocolate frogs have cards inside them, you know to collect - famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

Both Harry and [Name] removed the cards from the chocolate frogs. Harry got Dumbledore which set his curiosity aflame once again. [Name] kept his a secret for dramatic effect of course. After answering his questions Ron asked for a chocolate frog as well only to get Morgana.

“Well Ron” [name] started “if you show me a trick, I’ll give you this” flipping over the card Ron’s eyes went wide at the sight of a Ptolemy card.

After a long conversation about the dangers of eating Bertie's ever flavored beans (which [name] would never even touch) Ron eventually worked up the courage to perform a spell when the toadless boy from earlier appeared, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wan in his hand.

‘Oh god.’ [name] said to himself as the girl’s thoughts assaulted him and drowned out the obvious awkward silence in the car ‘this girl may have redeeming qualities, or at least I’m hoping she does but she needs to get over herself’

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback

“Er- alright” he cleared his throat

“Sunshine daises, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow”

He waved his wand but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Said the girl. “Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but…

[Name] having heard most of this speech in his head already tried to tune her out and gave a snort at the end of her rambling when Harry and Ron looked at each other incredulously. Only a little offended when he heard Harry's comparison of Hermione to the nervous [Name] earlier

They all introduced themselves but Harry’s introduction led her on another tangent about him not looking himself up as if this was a common thing to do?? Then she asked what houses they thought they’d be in before leaving, taking the toadless boy with her. Poor Neville.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it”

“I doubt we’ll be in the same house Ron” [Name] realized “you’ll probably be in whatever house your brothers are in”

“Gryffindor” Ron spoke up

“Right, and Harry will probably be with you where as I’ll end up in Slytherin probably”

The car went silent a bit before [name] spoke up again “I know what you’re thinking. Literally. I never had a Ptolemy card. I only said that because I wanted to show off my powers as a legilimens. I can see into your mind basically and I made you see what I wanted you to see. Don’t worry though I won’t like brainwash you or anything. Wouldn’t want to be a typical Slytherin and end up a dark wizard.

[Name] got ready to flee the cart after that whole speech and he could tell Ron felt kind of guilty but [Name] couldn’t risk Harry hating him. He was going to the house that produced Voldemort after all. He rushed out of the cart as some blond entered probably because Hermione had spread the rumor about seeing the chosen one.

Before [Name] knew it he was facing his newest worst enemy. The sorting hat.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

3rd Person POV

It was Quirrell.

"I knew it!" (Y/n) gasps, her right hand tightening around her wand in her pocket.

Quirrell smiles. His face isn't twitching at all.

"Me," he says calmly, then his gaze fixes behind (Y/n) where Harry had just walked through the black flames. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you two here, Potter, (L/n)."

"But I though - Snape - "Harry stammers.

"Severus?" Quirrell laughs, and it isn't his usual quivering tremble either, but cold and sharp, making (Y/n) stand taller. "Yes, Severus does seem to type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an over grown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry can't take it in so he blurts, "Snape tried to kill (Y/n)!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill her. Your friend, Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with her. Another few seconds and I'd have got her off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save (L/n)."

"He was trying to save her?" Harry asks, bewildered.

"Of course," says Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really . . . he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular . . . and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you both tonight."

Quirrell snaps his fingers. Ropes spring out of thin air and wrap themselves tightly around (Y/n) and Harry.

(Y/n)'s arms were behind her so she pulls the knife carefully out of it's sheath and begins to saw quietly at the thick ropes. This turns out to be quite difficult considering the fact that her hands are bound.

"You're too nosy to live, (L/n)," Quirrell says. "Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew, you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?" (Y/n) asks, a note of surprise in her voice.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly," Quirrell complains. "Now, wait quietly, Potter, (L/n). I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realizes what is standing beside Quirrell. It is the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell mutters, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this . . . but he's in London . . . I'll be far away by the time he gets back."

All Harry can think of doing is to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest - " Harry blurts out.

"Yes," says Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side . . ."

(Y/n)'s breath hitches as she stabs herself in the hand with the knife.

Harry glances over at her and she tells him with her eyes to keep Quirrell distracted.

Quirrell comes back from behind the mirror and stares hungrily into it. "I see the Stone . . . I'm presenting it to my master . . . but where is it?"

Harry struggles against teh robes binding him, but they don't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention on the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," Harry says.

"Oh, he does," says Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with you father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead.

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing - I thought Snape was threatening you . . ."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flits across Quirrell's face. (Y/n) finally cuts herself free from the ropes, and for first time, she tries to shift.

(Y/n) had been working on becoming an Animagus for a couple months now, and this was the first time she tried to shift.

Harry stares at her in shock as she shifts into a large lioness. (Y/n) slinks into the shadows as Harry asks another question.

"You mean he was in the classroom with you?" Harry asks with a gasp.

"He is with me wherever I go," says Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was.There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. . . . Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivers suddenly."He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me . . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. . . ."

Quirrell's voice trails away. Harry is remembering his trip to Diagon Alley - how can he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell that very day and talked to him.

Quirrell curse under his breath.

"I don't understand . . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind is racing.What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thinks, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it — which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?

He tries to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes are too tight: he trips and almost falls over. (Y/n), still a lioness, darts over and steadies him before slinking back into the shadows. Quirrell ignores them.

He is still talking to himself, "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry and (Y/n)'s horror, a voice answers, and the voice seems to come from Quirrell himself. "Use the boy . . . Use the boy . . ."

"Yes - Potter - come here," Quirrell claps his hands once, and ropes binding Harry fall off. "Come here," Quirrell repeats. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walks towards him, keeping his eyes on (Y/n). I must lie, he thinks desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.

Quirrell moves close behind him. Harry breathes in the funny smell that seems to come from Quirrell's turban. He closes his eyes, steps in front of the mirror, and opens them again.

Harry sees his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiles at him. It puts it hand into its pocket and pulls out a blood-red stone. It winks and puts the Stone back int its pocket - and as it does so, Harry feels something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow - incredibly - he had gotten the Stone.

"Well?" asks Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry screws up his courage. "I see myself and (Y/n) shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invents. "We — we've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell curses again. "Get out of the way," he snaps.

As Harry moves aside, he feels the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?

(Y/n) slinks forward towards Harry, keeping her eyes on Quirrell.

They hadn't moved five paces before a high voice speaks, though Quirrell isn't moving his lips.

"He lies . . . He lies . . . Get the girl . . ."

(Y/n) quickly shifts back into herself, slipping her knife back into its sheath.

Quirrell claps his hands (Y/n) steps forward to stand in front of the mirror.

(Y/n) studies the surface, becoming bewildered when her reflection isn't hers anymore. She sees herself, Harry, Hermione and their parents, the Weasleys and a familiar figure standing behind them, (H/C) haired woman with emerald eyes.

"What do you see?" Quirrell snaps.

"I see my family," (Y/n) murmurs. "My parents, my sister, my friends."

Quirrell lets out a frustrated noise.

The high voice speaks again. "Let me speak to them . . . face-to-face . . ."

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell answers.

"I have strength enough . . . for this . . ."

(Y/n) and Harry feel as though the Devil's Snare had returned and it is rooting them to the spot. They couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, they watch as Quirrell reaches up and begins to unwrap his turban. The turban falls away. Quirrell's head looks strangely small without it.

Then, he turns, slowly, on the spot.

Harry and (Y/n) would have screamed, but they can't make a sound. Where there should have been the back of Quirrell's head, there is a face, the most terrible face (Y/n) had ever seen. It is chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter . . . (Y/n) (L/n) . . ." it whispers.

(Y/n) takes a step backwards in shock.

"See what I have become?" the face asks. "Mere shadow and vapor . . . I have form only when I can share another's body . . . but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds . . . Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks . . . (Y/n) saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in teh forest . . . and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own . . . Now . . . why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket, Harry?"

So he knows. The feeling sudden surges back into Harry's legs and he stumbles backwards.

"Don't be a fool," snarls the face. "Better save your own life and join me . . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents . . . They died begging me for mercy . . ."

"LIAR!" (Y/n) suddenly shouts, moving back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry.

Quirrell is walking backwards towards them, so that Voldemort can still see him. The evil face is now smiling.

"How touching . . ." it hisses. "I always value bravery . . . Yes, boy, girl, your parents were brave . . . I killed your father first Harry. He put up courageous fights . . . but your mothers needn't have died . . . They were trying to protect you two . . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want them to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" Harry yells.

Harry springs towards the flame door, but Voldemort screams "SEIZE THEM!" and the next second, (Y/n) feels Quirrell's hand close on her wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seers across (Y/n)'s scar; her neck feeling as though her head had been chopped off; she yells, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell lets go of her. The pain lessens and she screams at Harry to take the Stone and go.

Harry glances at his friend then sprints through the fire, the Sorcerer's Stone still in his pocket.

(Y/n) looks wildly around to see where Quirrell had gone, and sees him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers - they are blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HER!" shrieks Voldemort again and Quirrell lunges, knocking (Y/n) clean off her feet, landing on top of her, both hands around (Y/n)'s neck. (Y/n)'s scar is almost blinding her with pain, yet she can see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold her - my hands - my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning (Y/n) to the ground wit her knees, lets go of her neck and stares, bewildered, at his own palms - (Y/n) can see that they look burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill her, fool, and be done!" screech Voldemort.

Quirrell raises his hand to perform a deadly curse, but (Y/n), by instinct, reaches up and grabs Quirrell's face -

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolls off of her, his face blistering, too, and (Y/n) knows: Quirrell can't touch her bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain - her only chance is to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

(Y/n) jumps to her feet, catches Quirrell by the arm, and hangs on as tight as she can. Quirrell screams and tries to throw (Y/n) off - the pain in (Y/n) is building - she can't see - he can only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HER! KILL HER! KILL HER!" and other voices, maybe in (Y/n)'s own head, crying, "(Y/n)! (Y/n)!"

She feels Quirrell's arm wrenched from her grasp, knows all is lost, and falls into blackness, down . . . down . . . down . . .

Something gold is glinting above her. The Stitch! She tries to catch it, but her arms are too heavy.

She blinks. It isn't the Snitch at all. It is a pair of glasses. How strange.

She blinks again.

The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swims into view above her.

"Good afternoon, (Y/n)," says Dumbledore.

(Y/n) stares at him, the she remembers. "My friends! Are they okay!"

"(Y/n), please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out," Dumbledore says.

(Y/n) swallows and looks around her, then realizes that she's in the hospital wing. She is lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to her is a table piled high with what looks like half a candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," says Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in eh dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat." (Y/n) grins at the words. "No doubt they though it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?" (Y/n) asks.

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley, Mr. Harry Potter, and your sister will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"Sir, what happened to the Stone."

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to get it. Harry got it to me just before I reached the door. You were doing a very good job keeping Quirrell distracted."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London that it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you-"

"It was you?"

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him distracted from the Stone much longer."

"Not the Stone, you - the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" asks (Y/n) blankly. "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel -"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" says Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die." Dumbledore smiles at the look of amazement on (Y/n)'s face. "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, tot he well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all —the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

(Y/n) lies there, lost for words. Dumbledore hums a little and smiles at the ceiling.

"Sir?" asks (Y/n). "I've been thinking . . . Sir - even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who-"

Call him Voldemort, (Y/n). Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, (Y/n), he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share . . . not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, (Y/n), while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

(Y/n) nods, but stops quickly, because it makes his head hurt. Then she says, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me . . . things I want to know the truth about . . ."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighs. "Is it a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well . . . Voldemort said that he only killed mine and Harry's mothers because she tried to stop him from killing us. But why would he want to kill us in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighs very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day . . . put it form your mind for now, (Y/n). When you are older . . . I know you hate to hear this . . . when you are ready, you will know."

And (Y/n) knows it is to good to argue. "But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?" she asks.

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign . . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed,and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now becomes very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gives (Y/n) time to dry her eyes on the sheet.

"And sir, there's one more thing . . ."

"Just the one?"

"How did Harry get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes. . . . Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them —but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiles and pops the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he chokes and says, "Alas! Ear wax!" (Y/n) smiles.

Madam Pomfrey, is very strict, (Y/n) notes a little later that day.

"Just five minutes," (Y/n) pleads.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in . . ."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need to rest.

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey . . ."

"Oh, very well," she gives in. "But five minutes only."

And she lets Harry, Ron, and Hermione in.

"(Y/n)!"

Hermione looks ready to fling her arms around (Y/n), but (Y/n) is slightly glad that Hermione holds herself back as her head is still sore.

Hermione sits down beside (Y/n)'s knees, studying her sister's pale face.

"Oh, (Y/n), we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried -"

"The whole school's talking about it," says Ron. "What really happened?"

It is one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange than exiting than the wild rumors. (Y/n) and Harry - who adds somethings in as the story progresses - Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasp in all the right places, and when Harry and (Y/n) tell them about what is under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screams out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" asks Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? —'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," says Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero is.

"One good thing did come out of this whole situation though," (Y/n) murmurs with a grin. She glances around to see of Madam Pomfrey was watching, and then she shifts in to lioness quickly before shifting back.

"That's so cool," Hermione whispers excitedly, taking (Y/n)'s hand and squeezing it gently.

"So, what happened to the three of you?" asks (Y/n).

"Well, I got back all right," says Hermione. "I brought Ron around - Harry showed up during that process - and we were dashing up to the entrance hall - he already knew - he just said, '(Y/n)'s gone after him, hasn't she?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you two to do it?" asks Ron. "Sending you Harry's cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione explodes, "if he did - I mean to say - that's terrible - you two could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," says Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give us a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could. . . ."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," says Ron proudly and (Y/n) laughs. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you — but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustles over. "You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she says firmly.

After a good night's sleep, (Y/n) feels nearly back to normal, though Hermione had forced (Y/n) to put on her brace - like she needed it.

"I want to go the feast," she tells Madam Pomfrey as she straightens her many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she says sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be.

(Y/n) makes her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. She had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving her one last checkup, so the Great Hall is already full. It is decked out in Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covering the wall behind the High Table.

When (Y/n) walks in, there is a sudden hush, and then everybody starts talking loudly at once. She slips into a seat between Fred and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tries to ignore the fact that people are standing up to look at her.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrives moments later, the babble dying away. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore says cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping breaks out from the Slytherin table.Harry can see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It is a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room goes very still, the Slytherins' smiles fade a little.

"Ahem," says Dumbledore, clearing his throat. . "I have a few last-minute points to dish out.Let me see. Yes . . . "First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley . . ."

Ron goes purple in the face; he looks like a radish with a bad sunburn.

". . . for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House thirty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raise the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seem to quiver. Percy can be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last, there is silence again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger . . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House thirty points."

Hermione buries her face in her arms; (Y/n) suspected that she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table are beside themselves, they are eighty points up.

"Third - to Mr. Harry Potter . . ." continues Dumbledore. The room goes deadly silently. ". . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house forty-five points."

"Fourth - to Miss (Y/n) (L/n)," the room seems to go even quieter. ". . . for outstanding loyalty and the best potion made this year," (Y/n) flushes at the comment, "I award Gryffindor House fifty-five points."

The din is deafening. Those who can add up while yelling themselves hoarse know that Gryffindor how had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the House Cup - if only Dumbledore had given (Y/n) just one more point.

Dumbledore raises his hand and the room gradually falls silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," says Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud is the noise that erupts from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stand up to yell and cheer as Neville and (Y/n), white with shock, disappear under a pile of people hugging them. Neville had never won so much as a point from Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudges Ron in the ribs and points at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore calls over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration." He claps his hands. In an instant, the green hangings vanish and a towering Gryffindor lion takes its place. Snape is shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. When he catches (Y/n)'s eye, however, he gives her a small, genuine smile - shocking the others.

Harry had almost forgotten the exam results are still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron pass with good marks; (Y/n), of course, had the best grades of the first years, Hermione only behind from (Y/n)'s brilliant Potions grade. Even Neville scrapes through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but the had passed, too. It is a shame, but as Ron says, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes are empty, their trunks are packed, Neville's toad is found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes are handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," says Fred sadly.); Hagrid is there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sale across the lake; they are boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside becomes greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they speed past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station.

It takes a while for them go get off the platform. A wizened old guard is up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they don't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," says Ron, "all three of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," says Harry with a laugh, "I'll need something to look forward to."

People jostle them as they move forward towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them call:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, (L/n)!

"Still famous," says Ron, grinning at the two of them.

"I wasn't famous in the first place," (Y/n) says, waving her hand dismissively. "Nobody else knows."

"And not where I'm going, I promise you," adds Harry. He, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) pass through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!" It is Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she isn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squeals. "Look, Mum! I can see-"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point," Mrs. Weasley smiles down at them. "Busy year?"

"Very," says Harry.

"Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley," (Y/n) says and Mrs. Weasley smiles, as (Y/n) was wearing said sweater.

"Oh, it was nothing, dear," Mrs. Weasley answers.

"Ready, are you?"

It is Vernon Dursley, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him, stands Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry. (Y/n) raises an eyebrow at the man, Marvel's black and white form jumping onto her shoulder.

The others watched, amused, as the two have a sort of staring contest and Vernon finally backs down.

"You must be Harry's family!" says Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," says Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up boy, we haven't got all day." He walks away.

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," says Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," says Harry, and they are surprised at teh grin that is spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun withe Dudley this summer . . ." At the words, (Y/n) lets out a laugh.

Harry, smiling, grabs Hedwig's cage and his trunk, follows the Dursleys out to their car.

Someone places a hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder, and she looks up to see her parents standing there, along with a man with dark brown - almost black - hair, a clean shaven face, and dark brown eyes.

(Y/n) waves shyly to the man and he smiles back. "You must be (Y/n)?" he asks, and (Y/n) nods. "Would you minded if we talked?" he asks and (Y/n) looks over at her parents, who nod.

Mr. Granger takes (Y/n)'s trolley and (Y/n) gives Marvel a quick pat on the head before turning towards the man.

"I'm Tony," the man says, and (Y/n) shakes his offered hand. "I've heard from your parents that you're very smart."

(Y/n) flushes a little but nods in agreement.

"How would you like to pick up an internship with me," Tony says and (Y/n) considers it for a moment.

"Where?" she asks after a moment.

"Stark Industries."

Word Count: 5686 words.

So, yeah, it might be a little bit until my next chapter. It strays a little from the HP universe, but I hope that's okay with y'all.

See y'all soon!

Love y'all!

Kaitlynn 😍❤️

[buginateacup]

Soulmate Au (both parties have the same system for soulmate identification, and it does not involve blood or shared pain).

Good news! You got it! Also @quality-cringe suggested cookies so we got that too.

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They say the first time you share food with your soulmate it tastes like nothing you've ever eaten in your life. Some people say its like having a mouth full of popping candy, others say its like the best cake you've ever eaten. like the one you had when you were five that looked like a witch and everything was sugary deliciousness.

The one thing that everyone can agree on is that it always tastes sweet. 

Of course not everyone has the time or inclination to sit through an endless impossibility of meals in the hope that their date is their fated to be. So people started having little crackers set out on tables at restaurants or in the doorway of homes for the express purpose of finding out on first meeting if the person in front of them is their soulmate.

This has lead to a booming industry of meeting wafers and business cards made of edible paper. Its standard on meeting someone new to each pull out a wafer or card, break it in half, and give it to the other person. The wafers are tasteless little things but are as sweet as honey if the other half is between the lips of your soulmate.

Some people even have little unsweetened biscuits they bake at home (they say you have better luck if you make them yourself).

Communion of the souls, some lapsed catholic wiseass nicknamed it once and it stuck.

Its so ingrained in society that the first time Roxanne Ritchi is kidnapped by Megamind she's deeply confused as to why she feels hungry despite it being right after lunch.

Its actually the reason she doesn't scream the first time. She's so thrown by not being offered a broken cracker that she feels unsettled and confused for at least half the kidnapping before she figures it out and starts paying attention to the show.

Of course repetition breeds familiarity and after a few months he starts offering her coffee or a glass of water while they wait for the hero to show up and before you know it its been five years and they spend more time talking than he does fighting or threatening her. She's brought her lunch along a time or two when she was kidnapped on her way to spending her lunchbreak in the nearby park and they've definitely both eaten Minion's baking together so of course they aren't soulmates.

Even if you asked each of them and neither of them were able to pinpoint exactly when it was they confirmed this. Its been so long they have to have shared something.

Not everyone goes in for the whole Soulmate thing anyway. Some prefer hiking dates or just to not share food at all until it comes up naturally. Or just assuming that the possibility of a soulmate doesn’t mean you cant build a life and love with someone else.

Roxanne isn't in the world's greatest hurry to find her soulmate. If only because it will confirm once and for all that the feelings she has for a certain blue alien are never meant to be.

Its only a little crush. Just a forced proximity thing. Like a coworker you can objectively state is hot even if nothing is ever going to come of it because you are professional and this is a work environment and so what if he's brilliant and funny and incredibly handsome? Its not like he feels the same way about her.

Megamind knows for a fact his species had soulmates. He just assumed that being the only one left meant he wasn't going to find one on earth of all places. Its certainly not Miss Ritchi at any rate. Evil Gods how embarrassing that would have been, kidnapping the woman you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He does hope they might still be able to exchange emails occasionally after she finds her soulmate. He's been working up the courage to ask her about exchanging addresses some day.

He's only a little bit madly in love with her. He's sure he'll get over it if when she finds her soulmate. Until then he'll just enjoy what little of her company he can.

The eighty first time they meet, after years and years of kidnappings, she tells him that the hero is off fighting wildfires interstate and is probably going to be a while. His shoulders slump and he asks if she'd like a cup of coffee while they wait and she offers some of the biscuits her coworker had just brought back as a souvenir from Japan that she had in her bag.

And there they sit, her in her chair, he in his. Discussing the weather and the life-cycle of the giant cuttlefish and everything in between as they drink coffee and eat matcha butter cookies.

They both reach for the last biscuit at the same time and Megamind pulls his hand back, "No it's yours," he waves and skids away on his chair to check on the status of the wildfires.

Roxanne snaps the last one in half and tosses it to him without thinking and he catches it without looking away from the screens, "So anyway, they all congregate in this place called Whyalla and-" she bites down on her half as he eats his.

And sweetness bursts on both of their tongues.

Really, after five years of kidnappings finding out a supervillain is your soulmate should have been more climactic.

"Oh." He says and turns to look at her in a mix of startled hope and fear.

"Oh." She echoes and licks the crumbs from her fingers because she's not quite sure what else to do.

"I guess I should untie you."

"I guess you should."

He makes short work of the ropes binding her waist and feet. She stretches and gets up and for a moment he thinks she's going to leave because she deserves better than this, better than him.

But she offers a hand to pull him to his feet and doesn't let go when he stands. Her hands are warm through the leather and she smells like coffee and sunshine.

"Um," she says smiling, and there is warmth and hope and impossibility blooming in both of their chests. "I hope you don't mind. But I'd really like to kiss you now."

"Mind?" He exclaims, "Mind! Miss Ritchi in what world would I ever mind kissing you, even if you weren't my soulmate!"

"You wanted to kiss me even if I wasn't your soulmate?" She asks, startled.

"Of course!"

"Oh," and she smiles again, "Good, me too." She lifts her hand to his cheek and guides him gently forward to press her lips to his. His mouth trembles against hers for a moment, and she realises he's laughing. Suddenly she's spinning in the air as he whirls her around with a shout and captures her lips again. She wraps her arms around his neck and she’s laughing too.

"I can't believe its you," he says in wonderment, drinking in the sight of her face like he's never really let himself look at her before.

Roxanne runs her hand over the curve of his skull and basks in his smile, delighting in the fact that of two whole planets entire galaxies apart they still managed to find one another and he's hers, hers, hers. "Me either," she says and kisses him again for good measure, "I just have one request,"

"Anything" he promises instantly.

"I think its time you started calling me Roxanne, don’t you?"

[crrpsebride]

the garde and the honoraries at hoGGY HOGGY HOGWARTS

nine and five as slytherin

slytherin house values ambition, leadership, self-preservation, cunning and resourcefulness. slytherins always find ways to employ their skills to their advantage, and can make the best of any situation. slytherins strive to be the best, and because of their ambition, they usually are. slytherin represents the element of water, and its house emblem is the snake.

notable characters: merlin, the malfoys, bellatrix lestrange, tom riddle

adam, ella and marina as ravenclaw

ravenclaw house values intelligence, knowledge, curiosity, creativity and wit. all ravenclaws possess a strong thirst for knowledge and a desire to explore and inquire. ravenclaws are highly individualistic and don’t succumb to peer pressure or do what the majority decides to unless they believe in it. ravenclaw represents the element of air, and its house emblem is the eagle.

notable characters: luna lovegood, cho chang, filius flitwick, rowena ravenclaw

sarah, sam and eight as hufflepuff

hufflepuff house values hard work, dedication, loyalty and fair play. hufflepuffs make some of the most loyal friends, and won’t back down from your side. they are also some of the most hardworking people - though they may not possess ravenclaws’ passion for learning, or slytherins’ ambition - but it always pays off. hufflepuffs are honest, and always feel a desire to tell the truth and behave as such. hufflepuff represents the element of earth, and its house emblem is the badger.

notable characters: cedric diggory, pomona sprout, newt scamander, nymphadora tonks

john and six as gryffindor

gryffindor house values bravery, daring, nerve and chivalry. gryffindors stand strong in the face of adversity, and show courage in everything they do. they tend to see the world split as good and bad, white and black, and do everything they can to protect the good and innocent. gryffindors aren’t afraid to put themselves in physical danger, and will do so to defend others. gryffindor represents the element of fire, and its house emblem is the lion.

notable characters: the golden trio (harry potter, hermione granger, ron weasley), the weasley family, the marauders (james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew), minerva mcgonagall

other opinions 

adam is a slytherclaw. full stop. he just gives off the sophisticated, intelligent energy that all of them possess

both nine and five’s second house is gryffindor, and six’s is slytherin

john is half-half gryffindor and hufflepuff (he has both qualities it just depends when they shine through) but i did put him in gryffindor because he’s got the main character disease

john would be a keeper for the gryffindor team, and six a chaser, and nine and five would be a beater for slytherin because they need their dose of beating the shit out of something (they’d hate each other but make a good team yk). eight would be a keeper too for hufflepuff and ella is DEFINITELY a seeker or a beater no in between

nine gives me INCREDIBLE sirius black vibes. like young sirius black they are the same‼ no i will not be taking constructive criticism on this!!

- and to tie into that, JOHN IS YOUNG REMUS LUPIN!! ALSO NOT TAKING CRITICISM!! the way he’s good when he wants to be and is overall the mother, but is batshit crazy when he’s with his friends

my friend (@picnicgrannyforpresident ) said six gives off BOOK ginny energy and i agree

also i think nine would have the same backstory as sirius, like his family tradition is being sorted into gryffindor (or ravenclaw maybe) but he got put in slytherin and they were sorta like “oh…” and he was like “no.” and hated slytherin and everyone in it at first </3 (also could be adam but... i wanted to save him from trauma on top of trauma on top of trauma)

sam gives me ron weasley vibes cause ignored best friend™ despite how loyal he is (DESPITE WHAT PEOPLE WITH COMMON SENSE HAVE TO SAY) 

on that note that does not mean i ship ginny weasley and her brother PLEASE 🤮🤮🤮  that’s so nasty i’m just saying that sam and six have the same energy and kind of character base as them both

adam would choose post-mortem studies as an elective in his third year (the study of ghosts) because… you know the irony. he would be the top of his class at everything except divination - he’d have the same problem as hermione and think it was bullshit and just quit the subject entirely

ella’s top classes would be astronomy and flying, and quidditch would be her secret passion and she’d refuse to try out until the captain saw her training with eight, nine, john, six and five and went “oh shit she’s good” (her mum was a well-known quidditch player in hogwarts for ravenclaw too). she’d try her best to hang out with all the older kids (let’s pretend adam is the same age as everyone else 😳 ) but ultimately she’d have to make friends in her year who would end up with her like this 🤞

nine’s top classes would be potions and dada (defense against the dark arts). at first he’d try and mess up his potions to piss off snape, but then he realised that he was actually pretty good at it, so he stopped and tried to do it properly. he was never top of the class, and not the teacher’s favourite but he did well and he was proud of it. his favourite dada teacher probs would have been lupin (who could blame him) and he thought he was pretty cool

sam would love history of magic classes in my opinion. like they’d be his favourite part of the week because he was a history buff and loved learning about what brought around everything in his time yk? he’d also be really good at dada and lupin would love him because he always tries his best no matter if he succeeds or not

MARINA my goddess her top subjects would be herbology and magic in art because she’s the artsy hipster 🙄  duh this is ms sea queen we’re talking about. she’d have a natural knack for plants and it would be one of her favourite things to do, just go and help out neville with his plants THEY’D BE BESTIES FOR SURE and ella would just sit in the corner munching on a treacle tart and be like “you guys are NERDS”

five’s top subject would be potions too for sure and him and nine would have like this unspoken rivalry and would constantly try and one-up each other. he’d also suck up to snape and become his favourite and rub it in nine’s face

john’s favourite subjects would be charms and transfiguration. i feel like he’d have a problem where he’d be shit at memorising spells but he’s got talent so his friends would help him memorise the words with flashcards and stuff so he’d be prepared and not fail every single one of his tests

SIX the baddie she is as soon as she got on a broom she was like “YEAH THIS IS MY JAM!! TURN IT UP!!” and she would practice every summer because she had very high standards for herself until she finally felt she was good enough. she’d try out and get in immediately and soon become captain (sike you thought i’d make john captain Y’ALL THOUGHT WRONG). she’d be one of the best chasers gryffindor had seen and she’d be one of mcgonagall’s favourites (close to harry potter on that pedestal he has set up)

sarah would love cooking with magic (yes that’s a subject) because we all know she’s practically strawberry shortcake. she’d excel at it and she’d also probably excel at charms too because we all know she’s got that talent 

EIGHT MY MAN would be the best in the year at transfiguration. like no, his parents were NOT good at it, no one in his family was, but here we are with him getting the top mark time and time agAIN! yes this ties into his shapeshifting legacy but still he’d be so good at it i just know as well as POTIONS. this man would love cooking up evil shit in a basement for hours on end and i know he wouldn’t be super at it but he’d try

nine would also be friends with the weasley twins and plan so much shit and take the fall with them. if he didn’t show up to quidditch practice, everyone would sigh and go “who wants to make a bet how long it takes him to break out of detention”

john and sarah would be prefects and so would sam <3 (ily sam)

marina would run for prefect and insist on adam running too but he’d be like “nah man no one knows me” and she would secretly hand out fliers and shit and be like “vote adamus for prefect! he’s smart and courageous and i know he’d die for his house” and at the assembly or wherever it’s announced he’d win the title and he’d be like 😳  and constantly try and make it up to marina because she knew he wanted to be one

john, sam, and six would be in the year between the golden trio and nine, marina, five, eight, sarah and adam would be in the same year as fred and george. ella would be in the same year as ginny too and you bet your ass they’d be the best of friends

okay that’s all i have so far but please reblog and tell me your opinions cause i’m DYING to hear them LMAIEJRHSFe

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Until  Forever - Sirius Black

After a while, I have finished this chapter - it’s small but cute; I think. Also, since I have been away for a long time, just comment below this if you want to be tagged! The next chapter will be out withing this week. As always, my English is a warning by itself!  MASTERLIST  Prologue | Mercury | Delicate | Blue | Running | Aftermath | Stardust | December | Nightfall | Revelations  | Friends

Chapter 12. Resolutions.

             Twenty-two years should be enough time to feel like she belonged and that there was a place of her own. But twenty-two years have not been enough for her, and she had resigned to think that maybe no amount of years will be enough. She could not, after all, force a home to happen.             Her definition of “home” had been blurred, lost even. Instead, “home” floated between the longing for an unnamed place and a stubborn determination to make this place a “home.” This was not to say that she had never felt at home here. She had. Not always though. Other days she was a foreigner here and everything outside her window begun to look strange and dissonant. It was a bit of a paradox. Home had never been geographical for her. It was everywhere and nowhere.            Waking up in the same room, same bed with him was beautiful and terrifying because it felt familiar and hit her close to heart. She had drifted off to sleep without realizing that Sirius was afraid to close his eyes – how could he?            His wounds were bleeding badly, just by looking at her but at the same time it felt as if roses were spilling their sweet water down his spine – a chilling sensation run through his veins. For some reason he wanted to think about her loudly. He had thought about how hungry leaves looked right before a storm – wanting to live but desperate to die within the swirling sensation of the tornado. She was a loud thought. He could try to think of anything else – cookies or how tender flowers were and then she became the only thought in his mind. She swelled up and blocked everything else out. She became the sun, the moon and the stars – and he had loathed the stars, even his name, thanks to his parents, but of course, she was poetry in motion just like the tattoo she now had. She felt as a ringing in his ears, all sweet in its siren, all fluid, all open ache. In the middle of movies, of conversations, of collecting his life, she simply slipped in between the cracks.

           And he was thinking about her again – but looking at her made his mind stop for one moment. He had nothing to be afraid of, even his house felt distant. He knew how incredibly wrong it was but the world had seized to exist.             And now it was her turn to notice him in his sweet serenity and glory – but she couldn’t for if she focused her thoughts solely on him, she would cave in and ignore all the signs telling her to stop, including her own mind. She felt him turning, waking up and pretended she was asleep again with hitched breath, something he did notice. He had never slept so peacefully in his life but he knew that the night was gone and their time was running out. He didn’t know what to do nor how to act around her this time. It felt vulnerable as a moment. The frozen sun softly illuminated the room and the tender stillness gently reminded him that she was out of his reach. He tried to pretend she was asleep; it would be so much easier for both of them. But it was fake and with her around he couldn’t fake anything anymore. She had gotten under his skin and the truth was he didn’t want her to leave.            She never was in one place and he had finally understood why; a soft lover hidden behind cold lies to keep everyone in a safe distance; a rose appearing as a thorn rather than the delicate blossom. There was something in her eyes, as she dared to look at him, that made him question the universe itself. She indolently stretched her limbs and his eyes followed her body. Her eyes met his and the tension was so thick, she could cut it with a knife. She smiled kindly. Trying not to be too blunt about the fact that they shared a bed and much more intimate thoughts the night before, she decided to say a simple good morning instead of prolonging the inevitable, hoping for the lesser evil...            She did try to say it but the words were caught on the back of her neck. She wanted to make it less awkward but once her mind started racing, she would shut down and not be able to function. Instead, Sirius was the one to break the ice. "Hello sleeping beauty. James and the guys are waiting for us. Maybe we should get going. Whenever you are ready" he reminded her. Not having to conceal her tattoos anymore mainly because Sirius and Remus already knew... allowed her to see that things could move forward. As she moved forward she did hoped that she could have the courage to do things differently, to be the kind of a person who took the risk, who led with her heart and showed up in her life with a ruthless dedication to learning and growing and enjoying the hell out of her moments here. She knew that she had to trust the part of herself that felt there was more out there for her that was easy to quiet when she was trying to live by the rules and the expectations of a world that has bred so much dissatisfaction and sadness. She never liked the rules anyway. She wanted to free herself from the boundaries that could hold her no longer.            “Sure… just give me an hour to pack a couple of things and grab a shower, okay?” she boldly asked him as she climbed down from her bed, trying to stop her eyes from catching Sirius’s staring. He had a wicked smile plastered on his lips but agreed with her nonetheless and leaving her be.                                       “I’ll be in the common room. One hour” he chimed cheerfully and walked out of her room as if nothing had happened. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a backpack, charmed it to fit all of her things and threw everything in – the dress, the shoes, a pair of pajamas, a pair of jeans, a comfy shirt, undergarments, a pair of flats and her makeup bag. She always liked to be prepared for everything. She didn't want to go but after a night with him, she found herself persuaded... And the thing was he hadn't even asked her.            After her shower, she got dressed in the simple pair of jeans and a sweater, threw her hair in a bun, grabbed her bag and went downstairs to find him. He was there just like he had promised her. Exactly an hour ago. He was sitting next to the fireplace which was burning brightly, eyes lost in an invisible horizon, absentmindedly rolling a cigarette, his mind traveling miles away in the speed of light. She could almost see his brain thinking and twisting and swirling around - what, she did not know.                Watching him completely unaware of her stare made her realized how vulnerable he was, how soft and tender... and broken. She shook her head trying to stop her mind from wandering around the same old thought and instead focused energy on the one thing she knew she was going to go... She didn’t dare think she would enjoy it.            She would be lying to herself and everyone else if she was to say that being here, in that particular moment, having met the people she met, enjoying something that everyone else could only read, having the chance to be in fictional world, was merely okay... It was terrifying. She didn't believe she would characterize and label it as scary exactly because it was so beautiful an innocent and raw. But it was terrifying, knowing how the story ended, knowing that Sirius would end up in Azkaban, knowing the James and Lily would die before they could reach twenty-two, knowing that Remus would end up believing that he was all alone - but most importantly knowing that she could not change a single detail.            Looking at him was like a war. It felt violent and without escape. A star bathed in blood, tormented by the demons of his own existence. Demons that had escaped the gates of hell, a place she knew rather well. Eyes like spilled Mercury, fists covered in Ares' bruises, mind ruled by Athena's strategy and Pluto's deception. She couldn't speak of his heart; she didn't know if it was sacrificed to Aphrodite or given willingly to Persephone. Sometimes he felt like Hades to her. Dark, soft, bruised, wickedly sinister, broken, desperate for love, incapable of forgiving himself. There was a sad smile forming on her lips... She knew him all too well.            She was looking at him the way she had been wishing for someone to look at her; like the sun wasn’t bright enough; like the moon wasn’t soft enough; like the stars weren’t there anymore. Maybe she was biased. Maybe his eyes were whispering long-forgotten tales to her soul.           “You have that strange look, I cannot decode” he told her as he turned to face her. She just smiled, not hiding behind thin lies.            “Such a plot twist, you are” she whispered as he approached her. Her answer took him by surprise. They were used to playing a game of hide and seek – but she didn’t want to hide any longer. Her eyes spoke a million truths; all those answer he was searching for.            “Who are you?” he faintly asked her, playing with a strand of her long hair.                            “I thought I knew” she admitted. She didn’t know who she was but she knew that she was no longer the same person.            “You fell from the sky and turned my life upside down” he told her with a hint of anger in his voice but she merely chuckled.            “How do you know your life wouldn't be better turned upside down?” she quoted a favorite abstract of hers. He was about to say something but suddenly he stopped. He thought about those words.            “We should go” she softly reminded him.

              James was the kindest person she had met. She remembered him being described as a bully – he had never been one. Maybe he was voicing his dislike in a bit of extravagant way but he never bullied anyone. Okay, yes. Severus had been an exception – when they were 13. Stupid kids, not knowing how to properly react. Who could hold that against him?            He had been the perfect gentleman, as he helped her with her bag and showed her to the guestroom. She hadn’t even thought about a room – but his house was a mansion, a small detail that the books didn’t mention. The room was twice as big as her old one, with an en-suite bathroom.            Seeing Remus, practically stumbling upon him once she left her room, felt like a punch to her chest. He was so tragically beautiful, she thought. Strange, how she could get attached to two different people. But then again, maybe they weren’t so different after all. She saw the questions burning in his eyes. She wanted to tell him everything but how could she justify her selfish actions?            “You came” he looked at her in an almost surprised way. She contemplated her options. Of course, he was surprised. Who would have the nerve or the audacity to face their ex on such a short amount of time? Trying to find the right words to say, she realized that she was still very much drawn to him. Shit.            “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I really am, Remus” she found herself apologizing but what for? He saw her shift and smiled warmly. Fuck those amber eyes.        “There is nothing to apologize for, love. Just some things to clarify” he led on. She knew that he had to be aware of everything, she just wished that he wouldn’t want answers. But, who wouldn’t?            She pushed the door of her temporary room open with her hip and showed him in. It would be as easy as breathing to be honest – and as difficult as suffocating underwater. He had every right to know, she thought. This was his story, his life…

              Remus had never been stupid – he observed everything and everyone from a safe distance. With her, it had been different from the very beginning. He knew she had secrets and big ones, for that matter, but never had he expected to be told that she was from another dimension – or as she had labelled it, another possibility.              She gave him time; time to get himself together, time to understand her words, time to accept that maybe she was indeed honest, time to connect every bit of information. He was the one who pushed her for answers. He had to be ready to accept them. Yet, everything she told him seemed like a made-up story but he couldn’t shake that damn feeling that she was telling the truth. She hadn’t changed the subject, she hadn’t avoided a single question, she had told him every little detail that would be impossible for her to know otherwise. And he knew that she was special, he was aware of that. He knew that she was different – but how could he imagine that she was from a distant future – from another place, entirely, one he was a character in a book?                His mind was screaming at him for a breather but he refused – he needed to ask more questions but at the same time he already knew the answers. He was battling a losing fight inside of him; betrayal and understanding. She had chosen to hide the fact that she knew about his life and his entire future, yet how could she reveal it to him? It was obvious to him that she acted the exact same way he would have. He understood now the side glances, the soft but sad smile that was always on her lips whenever she’d see him, the inevitable of it all and how doomed everything mush have seemed to her.              Remus had never been stupid – he observed everything and everyone from a safe distance. And then she had come along, shaking his very core, only to reveal something unfathomable. He noticed her eyes again, slowly regaining focus as he tried to gulp down every bit of information. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of his and he felt that maybe, just maybe, history wasn’t written in stone – maybe this once. She had that ability – to change his mind almost instantly, to make him question the principles of nature and life itself. And then a tiny little voice, told him that he wasn’t the only one being affected by her presence.   Afterall, if everything she had told him was true, his friend did need her, and quite frankly deserved her, a lot more. How wrong of him, to objectify her and think of her as a need. She was happily unaware of those last thoughts, he knew.                    “I don’t know how to process this – or rather, how to deal with this’ he truthfully told her and her smile told him that she was expecting that very answer. Absentmindedly, she squeezed his hand and didn’t let go.              “I don’t know how difficult it must be for you, I can only guess. Listen, I could have lied, and believe me, we both would have been in a better shape, but to you – it feels impossible. Lying doesn’t work on you. You already know. And that’s why, I think, you are going to deal with this, one way or another; because you already knew. I know that it’s a lot and I am so sorry. It’s your life, your path, your decision. You can either ask me to obliviate the shit out of you or you can keep it to yourself, or even discuss it with the others” she offered him exactly what he needed. Solace.                      He thought about it for a moment and he knew that the moment would turn into many sleepless nights. How could he ever say those things out loud? How could he accuse one of his best friends that he would kill another? But then again, how could he not? He simply nodded, fully aware of the huge weigh on his chest – and painfully aware of her lips, inches away.          

[zodiyack]

True Colors

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: Neil abusing Billy, vulnerable!Billy, soft!Billy, fluff, sexual references because we’re describing Billy here, swearing, lyrics

Song: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper (Cover Version by Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake)

Note: I don’t know if this has already been done, but I think of Billy when I hear this, so let’s go. | Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

You with the sad eyes. Don't be discouraged. Oh I realize, It's hard to take courage. In a world full of people, You can lose sight of it all. The darkness inside you, Can make you feel so small

Neil grunted, throwing Billy into the wall. Susan held her hands over Max’s eyes, protecting her from seeing her stepbrother and stepfather fight. Max knew it was happening, she knew what it sounded like. What it looked like. She’d seen a tear escape Billy’s eye after one before. Unfortunately, Billy bullied her for knowing what happened. He thought she pitted him. He thought she thought he was weak just like his dad did. And for Susan...well she didn’t do anything but watch with fear. She didn’t step in like a mother would. It made Billy agitated. His mother would’ve stopped Neil. 

His head hit his pillow and his eyes closed. Trying ever so hard to forget about the words his father spoke. Failing to free his mind from the insults and swears that poured out of his father’s mouth, he growled and turned over. His eyes opened and he decided to think of something else. California. His mother. Anything. He felt so weak. Just as weak as his father claimed he was. Tears escaped Billy’s eyes at the thought of everyone finding out his fears and insecurities. Would his mother find him weak? Of course she wouldn’t...but Billy didn’t know that.

Tommy and Carol were pretty much cackling after Billy shoved a freshman into a locker. He was mad, taking his anger out on another human being just like his father did. He wanted to prove to everyone that he wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t the pussy his dad accused him of being. No matter what happened or what he did, Billy still felt weak. The girls he brought home praised him, and he loved it. People at school brought his confidence back up when they cheered him on in fights. So, Billy did what Billy did best. He slept with random girls and brawled at school. Even if Neil broke his self esteem all over again, it was the only way he would get it the attention he wanted.

Show me a smile then, Don't be unhappy. Can't remember when, I last saw you laughing. This world makes you crazy, And you've taken all you can bear. Just, call me up, 'Cause I will always be there

There was one person that Billy could practically milk compliments from was his true best friend. Y/n L/n. She was always there for him in fights, awaiting his command or permission to join in. They shared laughs, hugs, happy tears while watching cheesy movies, and good memories. Even so, he never noticed it when she would avoid him every time where was a girl by his side. 

To be completely honest; no one noticed. She was basically invisible to everyone except for him. It wasn’t her fault, she really did try to make friends and get noticed by humanity. Billy only originally realized she existed because no one else did. What he didn’t know, was that the day that he started talking to her was the day her life officially started.

Bumping into people and stumbling over her own feet, y/n raced to get to class. She was five minutes late, she didn’t actually care- but her family did. It was crowded in the halls, as per usual, and that meant it would take longer to get to her class. ‘Why not ditch at this point.’ She agreed with her thoughts and sat down against the nearest wall, closing her eyes and drifting into wherever her imagination took her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing by herself?” Y/n’s head snapped to where the voice came from. A handsome blonde teen leaned against the opposite wall. He had a curly mullet, and his tight denim jeans were hugging his legs. Her eyes traveled up his body, glancing at his unbuttoned shirt, then at his half smirk.

“Me?” There was no possible way a man that gorgeous was talking to her. Y/n denied the very thought. No one talked to her. Not even Nancy, who everyone thought was an angel and a nice girl. His nod went against her theory, making her furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head. “Why? No one does.”

“Well why would that happen? Did you scare ‘em or somethin’?” 

She shook her head and looked down, sighing. “No. I’m just unnoticed here. The teachers don’t even know who I am half the time.”

“Well, I’ll be the first person to notice you. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“I know... I’m Y/n L/n.” The bell rang and startled Y/n. Billy chuckled and walked over to the young girl.

“See you around, Y/n L/n.”

And he did. After many days of getting to know each other, she approached him with the sweets she made in home ec. He didn’t know why, but it was different. No one really gave Billy Hargrove gifts. Why? He was Billy fucking Hargrove. Emphasis on the “fucking.” He didn’t do feelings. He did girls. He didn’t eat treats. He ate pussy. He didn’t accept gifts unless it was a girl’s virginity. So when the popular Hawkins King ate one of them and thanked her; it was a surprise for everyone.

She watched him fight. One day, she even threw a punch at a jock named Theo after he had given Billy a nasty cut. To say it amazed Billy would be an understatement. That shit was hot and the only people who witnessed it were Theo and Billy. Billy had a small crush on her for a bit. Alas, reality knocked on his door when he remembered that he only did girls and then left them. He couldn’t just do her and then continue being her best friend. He wasn’t that evil.

Little did he know, his point of not being evil wasn’t proved to Y/n. To her, it was so incredibly evil that he robbed her of being able to see an actual smile on his face, full of real joy and laughter. She knew the difference between fake and real happiness. All she wanted, was to see the genuine side of him. Not the Billy that could give a good fucking, not the Billy that would see his bloodied and bruised knuckles as his trophy, but the Billy that was somewhere deep down hidden under his many masks.

And I see your true colors, Shining through- I see your true colors, And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show; Your true colors, True colors are beautiful!

Billy clung to Y/n, crying into her shoulder as she rubbed his back. She didn’t know why he was crying, but she was there for him and she would always be. The friends didn’t move for a while. Even when it was almost midnight, they just sat there, Billy’s head resting on Y/n. She whispered soft positive things to him as she combed her fingers through his curls. It was nice, the two of them quiet, calm, and alone together.

You would probably guess that he did this often, seeing her reaction and how he would never cry in front of another person. But that, sadly, is nowhere near accurate. Even Y/n was surprised to see Billy knock at her door instead of her window, a small bruise on his cheek. She rushed him up to her room and took care of him. Neither of them had spoken a word since he showed up, the silence didn’t affect them though.

The teens never spoke about it. Billy showed up more and more, with bruises worse and worse. A normal best friend would ask what happened nonstop, but she was his best friend. And being his best friend meant that your relationship with him was not normal. It meant that you weren’t normal. It meant that you had a heart that could love someone like Billy Hargrove. And as a person with a heart like that, she took care of him and didn’t persist that he tell her what happened. She asked once and he told her he didn’t want to talk about it, so she stopped asking.

He appreciated the confidentiality she let him keep. Billy promised himself that one day, he’d prove himself not weak to her by telling her the truth of his life. He would let her see the true parts of him...when he was ready. And hopefully that was soon, because his hurt and suffering was affecting her. She loved him, and it brought her great pain to see the person she loved struggle.

The silence was soon broken by Billy. “Can I stay the night?”

Y/n winced at the sound of his voice being scratchy and full of sorrow. She was calm again after he sat up and grabbed her face with one hand, turning it towards his. “Of course, anytime Billy.”

I see your true colors, Shining through (true colors). I see your true colors; And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show. Your true colors, True colors are beautiful! Like a rainbow, Ooh ooh ooh, like a rainbow

“Y/n?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. 

It was the day after Billy stayed the night for the first time. They didn’t move from their position after he put his head back on her shoulder, Billy waking up as the sun rose in the blue sky outside Y/n’s window. He looked around, panicking inside as this was not his room. His memories of the night before came flooding into his head, of the silent moment he shared with his best friend. Of the thoughts that he had while they sat in tranquility. Today was the day he’d tell her.

Y/n and Billy’s eyes closed. Whispers of goodnight were not made, instead, the two fell back onto the bed. The night was calm as the stars danced in the night sky. Though they were unconscious, Billy and Y/n’s hands inched towards each others, intertwining with smiles on their faces.

When he was fully awake, Billy didn’t wake Y/n up. Instead he watched her for a moment. She slept peacefully, cuddling the pillow that replaced Billy’s body. A small smile was on her face, making a genuine one appear on Billy’s. He left the room, letting her sleep. The boy couldn’t cook if his life depended on it, but he gave it his all, bringing a tray with her favorite breakfast on it.

“While we’re on the topic of food, I could go for some y/f/r (your favorite restaurant). I really love y/f/b, it’s amazing! Have you ever had it?” The h/c girl was beaming with excitement. On the other hand, Billy was staring at the girl in front of them. “Oh. You’re not even listening. Why am I not surprised.”

“Huh? Yeah we can go to...”

“Y/f/r. Billy you’re obviously distracted right now. Are you alright?”

“Yes Y/n. I’m absolutely fine. I’m sorry, let’s just go, okay?”

“Okay...”

Rubbing her arm, he said her name softly. Her eyes fluttered open, taking Billy’s breath away. She glanced over to the food tray, looking back up at him with confusion. “You..remembered?” He nodded and set the tray down, giving her a kiss on her forehead. “I thought you weren’t paying attention that day.”

“I was. I just didn’t completely register it until now. I didn’t register a lot of things until last night...” Y/n tilted her head at his words. She took a sip of y/f/d, waiting for him to continue. Sitting down, he did so, “Those bruises are..from my dad. I’m a shit person, and I know it. I just refuse to admit it. I think I’m weak..but what makes me weak is letting everyone tell me that I am so much that I end up believing it.” He inhaled, looking at her and grabbing her hand that was resting on her lap. “But you- you help me. You do all these things and I was too caught up in false pride to see them... I need to say something, promise me that our friendship won’t change if I say it?”

Y/n nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I promise.”

“I love you Y/n L/n. I have for the longest time, I just was too blind and too much of an asshole to realize it.”

Billy waited for her response. This silence had the opposite feeling of last night’s. He was about to give in, say it was a joke, until she finally spoke up. “You’re not an asshole Billy. you showed your true self to me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. You told me the truth, and that takes a lot of strength. I love both of those things about you. And I love you more than them.”

True Colors - Cyndi Lauper / Anna Kendrick & Justin Timberlake