#and she’s bitter and angry and lonely. and she resents what she can’t have

[vitrines]

IS THERE DISCOURSE OVER ARG!SUNSHIP. no way. i think they’re evil and messed up and silly and toxic yuri and i love it like

[saabbi]

Regret part 9

Light in darkness

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: self-deprecation, imposter syndrome

word count: ~1.7k

notes: please remember that you are loved, and not just in the fic itself.

[previous] [next]

No words are needed to exchange. Zhongli must surely be curious, worried even, to find out what happened in Snezhnaya. But he remained quiet, pushing away the rampant thoughts running across his mind.

What’s most important isn’t digging out what happened, but that you’re alright and safe.

Zhongli doesn’t miss the pale complexion on you, making sure to swing by Bubu Pharmacy to ask Baizhu for some antiseptic cream and aspirin just in case you’re still feeling unwell.

He brought you to his residency, which is unsurprisingly close to the funeral parlour. A few sprouting flowers in the interior caught your eye, the blue distinguish colour resembles that of a jewel. It must be a good season for glazed lilies to grow and bloom.

“Would you like tea?” Zhongli turns his head to you, holding up a few cups.

“Yes, please.” He also takes out some cakes, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’re way too full for some tea snacks.

Zhongli is definitely inquisitive, his occasional glances and slight frown shows that he has much more to say apart from asking if you want tea and snacks.

But he didn’t ask you any questions, never pressuring you into telling him. He decided to wait until you feel ready to talk about it. For you, he can always wait.

You hold the cup in your palms, the warmth gradually spreading to your whole body.

“Zhongli,” you take a sip of the refreshing tea, making up your mind. “Can you ask Ganyu and Xiao to come? I… have something to tell you all.”

Zhongyi nervously nods with his heart thumping, not sure if he’s ready to hear what you have to tell them.

.

.

Silence fills the room, then your sharp inhales, the unsteady voice and shaking pupils as you begin to speak.

Your shaking voice, your spilling emotions, your trembling hands. The suffocating feeling in your heart and the bitterness in your throat. You keep on going, you can’t think straight, you feel light headed and exhausted, but you want to keep going. You want to tell them, the things you saw, the things you felt, the worthlessness eating you away.

Ganyu tugs your arm and hugs them tightly, Zhongli and Xiao each resting a hand on yours to remind you that they’re here. They let you keep going, even if you look like you’re in pain.

They listen in silence, allowing you to spill everything in the safe space. You stop for a second, hearing sniffles from the horned girl next to you.

Ganyu shakes her head, telling you that she’s okay, and that you can go on.

With trembling eyes and hoarse voice, you tell them, how you thought you would be okay even if the Tsarista didn’t need you anymore, thought it would be okay even if she throws you away. But you weren’t, your heart sunk to the bottom when she implied that you’re no longer needed, as if all the time you spent by her side as a faithful subordinate meant nothing to her.

You mentioned that you know the Tsarista is only interested in the power you possess, you repeatedly told yourself that if it’s what the Tsarista desires, you shall comply without any hard feelings, for you are her harbinger, her title-less twelfth harbinger.

So why did it hurt so much? Why did you feel something worse than physical pain? Like you were stabbed with thousand swords, mercilessly piercing you without a break, making you lose your breath and vision cloudy.

It felt like the world crumbled, blood rushing to your head and the sudden heaviness taking over your body.

Oh. In the midst of talking your own feelings out, you realised- you felt angry, desperate, hurt, betrayed.

You realised, that over the years, loyalty is not the only thing that sprouted. You always brushed it off, pretending like it never existed, but deep down, you felt angry.

Angry at the Tsarista for pulling you away from Liyue, angry at her for letting you go through terrible things, even if you can’t remember clearly what happened.

The mixture of admiration, loyalty, desperation and anger has always stuck within you whenever you see her cold yet graceful figure.

But you had nothing except her, so you clung onto your loyalty towards her and repressed other thoughts of her, ignoring the tingling senses and blindly telling yourself that you’re always loyal to the Tsarista.

Every single word that comes out, Zhongli takes them in all, even if it pricks his heart like thorns. He takes a deep breath and shuts shis eyes, he wants it to stop. But he knows he has to listen and share your burden.

He wants to listen, even if it hurts, lamenting for the times he couldn’t be there for you. But now, he could. And the least he could do is to listen to you.

In the past, Zhongli failed miserably as a guardian, but now he has the chance to be with the three of his beloved adepti once again. He’s the listener, he’ll always be willing to listen to you if you confide in him.

Zhongli takes one last gulp of his tea. He embraces the crushing pain in his heart and clasp your hand tightly.

You stutter and choke out some incomplete sentences in the process, words tying into knots, but it’s okay. There’s no need for you to rush, they have all the time and undivided attention for you to tell them whatever you want.

Your right hand feels like it’s about to be crushed, somehow. You glance over to the side and is met with another pair of amber eyes.

Glossy eyes filled with uncertainty, concern and shock. His mouth gaped open, unable to find words, so he chooses to hear instead of responding.

The way you described your journey in Snezhnaya feels lonely to him. Xiao is no stranger to the feeling of solitude, but your gaze feels far, far more lonelier than what Xiao has ever been through. He watched as unfathomable emotions swirl in your eyes, your gaze shifting every so often in trying to find the right words.

A part of him thinks that, perhaps he should’ve sought for you, or even just send a single letter millennia ago instead of pathetically dreaming in the Wangshu inn, then perhaps you wouldn’t have to always feel like you're all alone without anyone to rely on.

Xiao holds your other hand tightly. He doesn’t know how to show affection, but he hopes that this reassures you that you’re no longer alone.

Your lone narrative went on for minutes, then hours, until you lost track of time. You then mutter the last few sentences.

“I lost my powers, I don’t feel qualified to be an adeptus anymore, I-“ this part is harder to say than anything else. “I don’t know why I’m here, or anywhere anymore.”

“I feel like I…lost my purpose.” First was your abandonment from Zhongli, the bane of your misfortune. Then was the Tsarista, the one who broke you more than anything else. You feel lost in life, wandering without a purpose.

“I’m just a… nobody.”

Slam. The sudden impact on the table made you jump. You look up at Xiao who suddenly stood up and slammed his fists on the table with brute force.

His frown is deep, eyes burning with fury and looking at you with disbelief. He is livid.

“Don’t you dare say that one more time.”

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and tilt your head a bit. At first you thought he’s mad at the fact that you willingly let your powers be taken away from you, but that doesn’t seem to what he’s mad at.

“You are not worthless, not a nobody. I won’t forgive you even if you say that one more time, even if you said it yourself.”

Xiao clenches his fist tightly, glaring at you. He rarely gets mad at you, it makes you feel a bit guilty.

“Xiao’s right.” Ganyu joins in, her palms squeezing your arms with force making you turn to her. “Please do not say that, ever again. You mean everything to us, how could you- how could you say you’re worth nothing?”

Ganyu has a sorrowful look instead. You don’t know how to respond to them, you can’t figure out whether the present incompetent you means everything to them, or the you they once knew and adored.

You think of the latter one. After all, there’s nothing much on you that is actually worth something.

Zhongli seems to know what you’re thinking, as he slowly opens his mouth. “My child.”

“Nothing changes the fact that you’re an adeptus, one of us, with or without your adeptal powers.”

“No matter the past, present or future you, will always be the one we love.” His gaze firm and solemn, trying hard to convey his feelings to you.

“You don’t have to be perfect, it’s okay to be incomplete.” Zhongli stands up and treads towards you.

He stops next to you, bending down a bit before enveloping you into a tight hug. You stiffen up.

“Because no matter what, you are you, and nothing will ever change that. And the fact that we love you will always be true.”

Hic. You let out ugly voices from your throat, breaking into a ugly sob and staggered breathing.

The warmth warping you increases, with Ganyu and Xiao joining.

Zhongli soothes you by brushing your back softly, Ganyu patting your head and lightly ruffles your hair. Xiao appears to be quite awkward at first, but decides to rest your head on his chest and warp his arms around your head as you sob.

It’s so warm, so warm that it feels unreal. Words of affirmation and love is such a stranger to you, the words and actions they display makes your chest hurts.

Your heart tugs at you, but you know it’s not because you’re sad, it’s because you feel relieved, happy, and thankful.

You are loved. Even if you don’t realise it.

Love is not determined by how much one spends time with each other, nor will it diminish with time or distance.

Forgive does not mean forgetting. The past cannot be reverted. The resentful decisions Zhongli has made in the past remain embedded in history and cannot be undone.

However, it does not mean that relationships cannot be rebuilt. A step at a time, as long as you’re willing to, as long as you are here and with them, things can start over.

[previous] [next]

for extra info/drabbles on this series: #adeptus reader asks please feel free to send some asks as well :)

taglist [request to be added/removed in taglist, or send an ask] @deathkat657 @porcosslvt @ryuukero @cruelstring @pandaquick @lill0w0 @yoomi-omi @pidgeison @sugary03 @creatorofstars @zaythetic @calfigaman @schleepyflocci @elephantasmosgocomics @yaesflorist @keiq0 @heijeuxx @yamatosworld @yuuuumiiin @sangchu @stupefried @wouldyoulikesomepollen @candyqueen10 @moonbintang @hiqhkey @hanniejji @photoglassuwu @normalisthenewnorm @just-some-stars @dearalatus @chinchillinbb @scoupshushushu @toshiswifey @sweetstrawberrybabe @lifenotgod @kztura @daphnyehh @alatusorrow @svftbunnie @nemuri-fictions @hydroyaksha\

Please tell me if I missed any one of you!! if someone changed their username and that’s why I couldn’t tag you, please by all means send in an ask/ comment on the original post to let me know!

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Lily Evans and Severus Snape: Headcanons

So, I was asked in the ask about Sirius and Regulus what I thought about Snape and Lily. At this point people are probably going, “Oh that Carnivorous Muffin is just clearly a Snape stan who thinks he could never do anything wrong and anyone who was slightly mean to him is evil.” Shockingly, I’m actually not, I just happen to think sexual harassment and attempted murder are bad and probably worse than JKR intended (I do think she was trying to go the “boys will be boys” route versus “oh my god, they just dumped pigs blood on Carrie at the prom and then threw her at a starving vampire”)

So let’s start on Snape.

First, Snape did live an incredibly shitty life, with circumstances beyond his control, that did lead to many of his poorer choices. In no way am I saying that it was alright for Snape to have grown up in an impoverished, abusive, household and endured years of humiliation and torment at school. 

That said, I believe that we all, in some respects, are responsible for our actions and our decisions. Yes, even when we come from non-privileged backgrounds. Life is hard, some people will have it much easier than you, that doesn’t excuse you becoming a domestic terrorist or tormenting and terrifying your students, young children, so much so that an entire generation comes out with a loathing and incompetence in your subject.

I guess let’s start back on his friendship with Lily Evans. We get... a really weird perspective from Snape on that friendship. Time and her tragic death have warped it into this strange worship where I’m not sure the Lily Evans that exists in his mind and memory is the one that really was there. She’s this shining Madonna idol who he failed, actively betrayed, is very very hung up about it years later.

I suspect they weren’t as good of friends as either of them thought they were and it comes down to Snape’s resentment of his own upbringing and muggles. I believe Snape was very racist towards muggles, specifically, due to his father. It was his way of grappling with his home life and only fueled by being in Slytherin. Lily was probably, in his mind, always a golden exception to the rule (Lily is the token, gold standard, muggleborn where she’s pretty, brilliant, charming, etc.) That Severus himself was a halfblood clearly caused him some angst. What I’m getting at is that I believe throughout their entire friendship, especially when they got to Hogwarts, there was an unacknowledged undercurrent of intense racism that eventually boiled up with that one incident in Snape’s fifth year.

Calling her that, while he views it as a slip of the tongue that damned him for all time, I see it more as a Freudian Slip. That sort of thing doesn’t just slip out from nowhere, not at that age when they both knew exactly what that word meant, it simmers beneath the surface, and was ultimately what he thought of her. Later, she became the Madonna figure that he views her as today (ironically perhaps even less of a person than he viewed her as at the time).

That said I think a number of factors played into the young Snape becoming a Death Eater. One, becoming friends with Lucius/that crowd who were all being sucked into Tom’s influence. Two, having his terrible home life and all the implications of Snape resenting his own blood status as well as muggles and muggle borns at large. Three, the loss of friendship with Lily (now there’s nothing to hold him back anymore, he has no reason to preserve muggleborn life). Fourth, Dumbledore’s letting Sirius, James, and Remus entirely off the hook in the werewolf incident.

That last one, especially, I imagine cemented Snape’s utter hatred of ‘the light’ (don’t get me started on the stupidity of light/dark in Harry Potter but I guess I’ll use the term) and those that cater to muggleborns. They’re hypocrites of the highest order, Dumbledore claiming to defend the poor and non-nobility, when he goes and does the exact opposite (James is the next lord Potter, Sirius is still pureblooded even if disowned, Severus Snape is a dirt poor halfblood). 

So what I’m saying is I understand why Snape did become a Death Eater, I do not condone this action. Especially as, unlike Regulus, Snape never gets cold feet. He loves being a Death Eater at first, he’s living the dream, getting all the revenge he ever wanted and burning the stupid wizarding world to the ground as he scrambles for ways to climb in Tom Riddle’s graces. We don’t see any hint that he was wavering, thinking of the fact that beloved Lily might die in battle, perhaps at his hand, until the prophecy. 

Now, I’m a little kinder than some about the prophecy. We know Snape overhears the first portion of the prophecy in early 1980. He eagerly rushes to the dark lord, regales him with the prophecy in both a) aid to the cause and b) in the hopes of climbing in the ranks and gaining the dark lord’s notice. At this point, Lily Evans is pregnant, perhaps knows the gender, but has not given birth. Months later, when both Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter are born at the end of July, Snape realizes he has signed Lily Evans’ death warrant (because despite Dumbledore talking, I imagine Tom always planned to kill off both children, Pettigrew just happened to make things convenient for Tom to go to the Potters first).

With Lily’s death now so inevitable, and her blood on his own hands, Snape has his existential crisis, goes to Dumbledore who puts the Potters in hiding and becomes a double agent. Snape also pleads for Lily’s life with Tom and he puts in a minimal amount of effort to spare the woman. 

Then Lily dies anyway and now Snape lives in the bitter cynicism most commonly seen in characters from Game of Thrones. He’s Dumbledore’s agent and sort of a Dirty Harry character, getting to see all the nasty things that many of the other order members never have to deal with. He’s one of the more intelligent characters in the series, able to see the truth of the world he lives in, but he also doesn’t care enough to actually do anything about it. He’s a bitter, resentful, and angry protector of Harry Potter, choosing to hate a naive child for all the reminders of his own terrible life (both in Lily, for failing and betraying her, and in James his most hated rival and tormentor). He gleefully enables the favoritism of Slytherin (my god how he panders to Draco Malfoy) while tormenting poor Neville into terror (that Neville’s greatest 13 year old fear is Snape is very telling).

Basically by the time we get to him in canon Snape not only isn’t happy but I think he doesn’t want to be happy. He’s accustomed to his bitterness, his cynicism, his quiet rage and moves forward out of both resignation, guilt, and a sense of obligation to a woman’s ghost. The actions he takes in canon aren’t so much for Harry as they are for the memory of Lily Evans.

Even if Snape could be happy at that point, change his life or his purpose, I do not think he would. He’s a man who has given up on life.

Now, onto Lily Evans.

You probably think I’m going to rail on her to for the sheer hypocrisy and nerve of marrying James Potter. I’m actually not. Lily Evans is one of my favorite characters in the Harry Potter series and probably the one I’d label as the most moral (though that’s a very low bar in Harry Potter, the characters are almost all assholes, but even so Lily would still be very high on the list).

You know what, I’m just going to damn myself and sound like a crazy person. Lily Evans always reads to me as a more moral young female Tom Riddle.

What the hell? You undoubtedly ask but I’ll explain.

Lily, while having a far more stable homelife than Tom Riddle, also comes from a muggleborn background. She’s exceptionally brilliant, very good looking, and very charming with a lot of people who would call her friends but no one close. Lily, aside from Snape (and that’s debatable), has no friends.

If Lily had not been a Gryffindor, and were Dumbledore not a raging misogynist, his Tom Riddle bells likely would have been ringing with her.

“But wait, that can’t be right!”

Oh, yes it can. First, as I went into above with Snape and Lily, there was something deeply wrong with that friendship. I believe they both considered themselves best friends, didn’t see many of the warning flags, but ultimately we see the giant fissure when Snape lets loose the m-word. Given all of that, I would not label them having been true friends in the first place. Just the appearance of friends.

Otherwise, while it’s very easily to canonically point out James’ friends it’s incredibly difficult to do so with Lily. First, people hardly remember Lily. We get Dumbledore talking about her like she’s the Virgin Mary, saving her son with the power of her love. We get Snape’s weird Virgin Mary impressions of her. Otherwise, it’s pretty much just Slughorn. Everyone else remembers that she married James and that was great because JAMES WAS SO COOL and that she had very striking eyes and was “nice”. Lily is less than a ghost in Harry Potter canon (sadly Harry never really realizing it).

Also, unlike James who has Sirius, Remus, and Peter to point towards (that are very important characters in canon). Lily has no one. The godmother was Alice Longbottom, a woman many years older than Lily and James who probably liked Lily well enough but I can’t imagine was a close friend. In canon there’s an offhand mention of two girls named Mary and Marlene but we don’t see much of them/Severus was always cited as Lily’s closest friend. As for Lily’s sister, well we know they’re estranged. I think it’s very telling that Lily writes a letter to Sirius, James’ best friend and certainly not hers, telling him that James is pouting over his invisibilty cloak. It’s because there was no one else to write.

So Lily Evans is a brilliant girl, who everyone likes and is very charming, but has no friends and led a very lonely and short life.

Here’s where my slack towards Lily comes in.

When she dumps Snape I completely understand why she did so. Snape dropping that word wasn’t simply a mistake, a moment of infinite regret, but something that revealed what he truly thought of her and where she came from. Lily was absolutely right in walking away.

However, without Snape, her closest friend is suddenly gone and the world is cold. As graduation approaches I imagine Lily’s career options become clearer and clearer. While very talented and smart, Lily is a muggleborn, what job she does manage to get (thanks to the sheer nepotism of the wizarding world/lack of jobs) will likely be through Slughorn if she manages to get a job at all. The world is cold and it is cruel and no one seems to even notice.

Cue James Potter. I do believe, probably until seventh year, Lily loathed James, not simply because of the horrifying things he did to Severus (and I’m sure she knew very little of it, Snape hiding most of it from her out of pride and shame), but because he’s just a giant dick. He’d make flirting with her a kind of game and joke to be shared with Sirius, something to hold over Snape’s head, like she’s a prize to be one.

However, by seventh year the werewolf incident has happened, Snape’s retreated further and further into Death Eater recruit land and she’s cut him off, and for all my “James is a dick” I do imagine he calmed down a little. Now that Snape is no longer friends with Lily/after the whole almost murder incident I imagine they didn’t bully him nearly as much as they used to. Though yes, they probably still bullied him, but Lily probably doesn’t know that now that she’s lost contact with Snape. 

James is charming and very good looking. He seems a bit more mature than he used to be. Lily is desperately lonely, living in a world that rejects everything she is, and James seems like one of the few who does support her (that James is more of a ‘pretty fly for a white guy’ kind of support for muggleborns doesn’t hit until later). So Lily is charmed and makes the largest mistake of her life, she and James start dating.

Now, given their extreme youth as well as Lily’s pedigree (say what you like, I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Potter were thrilled that their son was dating a muggleborn) I imagine the wedding was a shot gun wedding and Lily got unintentionally pregnant. Yes, go ahead and throw fruit at me or call foul, I just can’t imagine they’d want a child that young while in the middle of a war while they’re part of an active resistance movement and only just out of Hogwarts.

Then things start snowballing downhill. Lily and James have just joined the resistance movement, Lily’s son is prophesied to defeat Voldemort, they strongly suspect one of James’ close friends is a spy, and they’re forced into hiding.

In hiding is where I imagine stress runs high and their marriage begins to fall apart. We know from Lily’s letter that James was routinely leaving hiding, using the cloak, so he could meet up with Sirius and Peter (I imagine Lupin’s on the out as they suspected he was the spy). While James might not realize what a big deal that was, I imagine Lily always did, and she begins to realize just what she’s gotten herself into but there’s no way out while in hiding.

Now we go really off the rails into headcanon territory in: what the hell is up with Harry Potter?

In my stories, I often choose the unwitting god route. Harry can’t die because he is a god, he becomes the master of death and always was the master of death. This is an answer, but it’s one that makes canon Harry a god and... I would not want canon Harry as a god. JKR and Dumbledore push the “Lily loved her child so much that it deflected death... multiple times” but this always felt... unsatisfying. Many parents love their children (fathers too, JKR, let’s not make this weird Virgin Mary thing) and yet Harry Potter alone in the history of mankind survives multiple times. 

Most likely, Lily pulled off some insane bullshit with absolutely no resources and minimal education AND EVERYONE IGNORES IT. We do know that Lily crafted the blood wards, wards stronger than anything Dumbledore himself can come up with/than Voldemort can break. Ones that protect Harry not only at home but away from it as it melts Voldemort for simply touching his skin. Lily pulled off the impossible in only a few months and did it right under everyone’s nose.

This makes her easily one of the most intelligent characters in Harry Potter. Probably beating out Dumbledore and maybe tying with Tom Riddle. And Dumbledore tells us, “Your Virgin Mary mother loved you so much, Harry, that it courses through your veins and lights those that would want to harm you on fire.”

So, that’s Lily for you.

Now, that said, I’m probably a bit biased and clearly very lenient with her marrying James. To be honest it took me years to figure out why the hell Lily would ever marry James after what happened with Severus and was always one of those weird canon things I never quite understood. He’s that good looking and charming, I guess, was my response.

The answer I now land on with some confidence was that the world is that cruel and bleak and Lily was utterly alone for two years.

By the way, a side note/plug, of all my stories while head canons do pop up here and there I think “October” is one where they tend to crop up more. It’s a vast AU of canon, but it gives an idea of what I think x character would do in y situation. 

[marrys-dream-world]

if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter one)

Read on AO3

Next

Summary: Ladybug had known being guardian wasn’t easy, but she wasn’t ready for the emotional and physical strain it would put her through. Or how isolated she would feel. Luckily for her, she has a partner she can trust for anything. Maybe it’s about time she shares her burdens.

(Alternatively: Ladybug starts relying on Chat Noir, learns she can do things their way and gets a boyfriend along the ride.)

Notes:  It's july! I'm still finishing up my ladrien june fic, but I can't help myself, I have each chaPter planned out and had to write it. I'll try to post a chapter per day and hope you guys enjoy it! Day 1: Older. @ladynoirjuly

“Hey, Chaton, what do you want to be when you’re older?”

Ladybug could see that her question startled her partner as his cat eyes widened as he turned to her. They were sitting on the edge of a rooftop together after a successful patrol together, the first since she became the guardian of the miraculous. The sun was starting to set and she still had tons of things to do, from homework to kwami-proofing her room to Kitty Section concert outfits. But everything felt faraway as she watched Chat Noir be illuminated by the sunset.

“Why, my lady?” He purred, after she recovered from the shock. “Weren’t you the one that said ‘Chat Noir, if you say anything that might compromise your identity again, I swear I’ll…’?”

Maybe months ago she would have thought it sounded bitter or resentful, after all, she was the one that insisted on secret identities. But Chat Noir’s smirk was teasing and his posture was relaxed, so her catastrophizing was kept at bay. 

“I don’t think knowing you’ll be, I don’t know, a doctor will let me find out who you are.” Ladybug said, trying to keep her tone light. From her partner’s frown, it didn’t work. 

“Hey, bugaboo, is everything okay?” He asked gently. 

She had heard girls at her school squeal about how attractive Chat Noir’s smoothness was, how they would swoon if a single flirt was thrown at them. Ladybug thought his devil may care attitude was more funny than attractive. What she could barely admit to herself, on quiet lonely nights when her crush on Adrien seemed hopeless, was that the softness he showed her in private made her heart beat faster than any pun he could send her way. 

“I think you already know the answer.” She said, bringing her knees close to her chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, maybe… I don’t really know, chaton.” Ladybug under his concerned eyes. It felt like they could see right through her, at times. “Being the guardian is… hard.”

“My lady…”

“I feel like I’m doing everything wrong, like I’m never going to live up to Master Fu.” She said, feeling a deep sense of loss. Chat Noir wouldn’t understand because they had never been close, but Master Fu had been her mentor and not having him to rely on made dread pool into her stomach. “He had been doing it for years and got discovered by Shadow Moth just because of me. How can I even hope to protect the miraculous box?”

“Hey, Master Fu learned to be a guardian at a time when there wasn’t a maniac trying to get the miraculous. And less than a year after working against someone, he had to give up guardianship!” He said, and she flinched back from how heated he was. “Look, bugaboo, I know how much you respect him, but I don't agree much. I trust you more as the guardian than I ever did him.”

“Chat Noir…” She started, touched by his trust in her. It never seemed to falter, no matter how she screwed up. “Thanks.”

“Can’t let you think you’re not good enough for anything, my lady, ‘cuz it’s simply not true.” He winked and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s just… I know  what I want to do when I’m older.” Ladybug said, resting her chin on her knees. “I have a dream that I work very hard on, but these days I don’t have the time to eat or sleep well. I’m scared that this is it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m scared that being the guardian is just gonna take all of me and swallow it whole. I’m scared I won’t be able to do the things I want to do.” She swallows back a sob. “I’m scared the only thing I'll be able to be when I’m older is the guardian.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I know how you feel.” Chat Noir said, way more serious than she had ever seen him. “The idea that you’ll never actually be what you want to be because you have too many responsibilities that you can’t escape.” 

“You do?” Ladybug asked. It was hard to imagine her carefree Chaton weighted down by anything.

His face held a mockery of a smile, too bittersweet. “Yeah, I do. I know there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you feel better, you have responsibilities that I can’t take from you. But what I can offer you is a helping paw: my lady, if you ever feel like this is too much, you can ask for help with anything.”

Chat Noir took one of her hands that was holding her knees together into a clawed one.

“You can trust me.” The real smile he gave her was brighter than the setting sun. 

But would he still say that if he knew?

Because he had offered her a helping hand before, trying to distract her with a movie and then offering a conversation. And she, so sure that could do everything alone, had to do everything alone, pushed him and her friends away until she had to deal with a whole gang of akumatized girls. Until she completely broke down and told Alya her deepest secret.

I told someone who I am. She wanted to tell him, wanted to know if betrayal would fill his eyes or worse, resignation. Ladybug would rather have Chat Noir being angry at her than sad. 

“My lady?” He said, after she was quiet a minute too long.

“Sorry, I spaced out.” She answered with a feeble smile. Coward. “Thanks for this, Chaton. I know that I can always count on you, I'll try to never forget it.”

“Make sure you do, bugaboo.” He never let go of her hand.

I’ll tell him next. She thought, squeezing his hand like he would disappear like words on the sand by the sea if she didn’t. I just want things to stay like this a little longer.

“And to answer your question, there is one thing I want to be when I’m older.”

“A house cat?”

“Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes, before turning his gaze to her again. It was adoring. “The one thing I want to be, even years from now, is by your side, my lady.”

Ladybug hoped he hadn’t said anything after. She couldn’t hear a sound over her pounding heart. 

[vsilas]

Trans Snape Week Day 1: Reflection

(I wrote this a while back, thinking about a depressed and closeted genderqueer Severus teaching and eventually becoming friends with the absolute treasure that is trans girl Luna Lovegood) 

When Luna Lovegood first arrives at Hogwarts, Severus has no idea what to make of her. She is so unflappable and confident and despite the way the world treats her she refuses to engage with its cruelty. Instead, she sees the wonder and beauty in absolutely everything, including Severus. This is understandably distressing for him. How can this lonely, bullied child not become terrible and bitter, all sharp edges and jaded eyes? What’s more, Luna is unwaveringly kind, not just to others but to herself. Severus is resentful without fully understanding why. He lashes out at her in class, but then she just looks at him with those big pale eyes like she can see the exact shape of his pain. That terrifies Severus. Whatever it is that’s reflected in her gaze is so unthinkable that he flinches away from her. He slams up his occlumency shields and tries ignoring the girl instead.

That strategy doesn’t really work with Luna, however, and eventually Severus gets to know her better through making her transition potions. He has to familiarize himself with a whole new area of magic and the process is both enlightening and deeply uncomfortable. Severus wonders if maybe this is what he wanted as a child, before Tobias’s sneers, and the Marauders’ taunts and Lily’s bemused laughter made it clear that femininity is not something he was allowed to desire like that. No, perhaps not this exactly, but something...

It’s no use wondering anyway. What Severus wants has never mattered. It can’t matter. There is no room in Severus’s life for anything other than a quiet self-loathing which allows him to keep doing Dumbledore’s bidding, and eventually return groveling into the clutches of the Dark Lord. No, there isn’t room in Severus’s life for anything vain or sweet or self-indulgent. 

At least until Miss Luna Lovegood waltzes into her first Potions class and forces Severus to confront the possibility of kindness.

In her second year, Luna becomes good friends with the Weasley girl after Ginny hexes some boys for throwing around slurs. Severus feels like he is losing his mind – the werewolf is back, Black is a murderer on the loose, Potter Jr is as insufferable as his father ever was, and there is a bullied little outcast being defended by a feisty redheaded Gryffindor. Everywhere he turns, the castle reflects his bitter past at him. He knows he can’t ever escape being that angry miserable boy who confirmed everybody’s worst thoughts about himself, not while he’s still here. His one hope is that Luna is simply too good to make the same mistakes he made. A wannabe Death Eater she is certainly not.

Luna is, however, a rather good hand at potions. She doesn’t have the same academic rigor as Severus but she is similarly intuitive in her experimentation. Every few months she turns up at Severus’s office hours with the most bizarre idea he’s ever heard and which, on second thought, might just work. As the years go by their conversations about potions and gender magic become something deeper. Oh, it’s still on those subjects, still strictly professional, but the words also hold promises of understanding and acceptance. Without so many words Luna tells Severus that he is not only deserving but also capable of happiness. Severus watches out for Luna and ensures that she gets the chance to live up to her potential. Luna never calls Severus “sir,” just “Professor.” Severus runs interference with the other staff, especially when Umbridge decides to get nasty. Luna sees Severus in a way that nobody has ever bothered to look before. Severus doesn’t push Luna away. 

Metamorphosis is a slow and painful process. Severus cannot jeopardize his work as a spy, but somewhere along the way, he begins to care whether he lives or dies at the end of the war. Throughout it all, and especially in that terrible year when Severus is headmaster, Luna Lovegood is the one person who never loses faith in him. That faith keeps him sane and keeps him hoping against all hope for a future beyond all this.

Things get ugly, but Severus comes out of the final battle alive. As the survivors of the war begin to pick up the pieces of the last few years, Severus begins to pick up the pieces of a lifetime. 

Three years later nobody knows what became of Professor Severus Snape or how to find him. Nobody is motivated to search very thoroughly. Harry Potter may have testified as to Severus’s innocence, but most people are only too happy to say “good riddance.”

Every weekend, Luna Lovegood apparates to a small house on the coast of Italy to visit an old friend. They walk along the beach, enjoying the sun and the feeling of the ocean breeze whipping their skirts around their ankles. Luna is happy to see that with every passing week her friend moves more loosely and their smiles, though still rare, come more easily. One day she will invite them to attend her and Ginny’s wedding, and they will graciously accept.

The future can be kinder than the past, despite time’s cyclical nature. All is well. 

💙 💖 🤍 💖 💙

@snapeloveposts​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.

Note: Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line. 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. Was it time?

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer. 

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. 

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued. 

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more. 

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror. 

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. He had sold his soul for what? It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers.

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him. 

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: ‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’. He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing. 

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions. 

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is my city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

Bitch! He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated. 

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return. 

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore. Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down. 

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away.

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. Would she already be gone? He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all. 

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that. 

But what was he doing? Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. What would he do from here? Follow her home and what? He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to. 

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. Well, if that’s what she wanted.

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty. 

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter. 

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do? He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.

[thedreadvampy]

look it's very simple most main cast tma characters (except possibly Basira and Sasha and MAYBE Tim) are reacting to not just supernatural trauma but clear, explicit childhood trauma and I think that's important to take into consideration.

Jon evidently came from a difficult place in the first place, and he was taught that he was an unwanted annoyance who'd derailed his grandma's life, that his intelligence was unpleasant, arrogant and inconvenient, and that the worst thing he could do was get in a grown-up's way. Of course he's bad at talking to people about his feelings. Of course he apologises for seemingly random things and tries to hide big problems and power through on his own. He had a really lonely childhood where he felt like an inconvenience, and now in adulthood it's deeply difficult to believe that anybody will help him and not hold it against him. Of course he comes across staid and aloof - he doesn't believe that anyone will like him if he isn't Doing Everything Right. It's so easy in that situation to worry so much about not being a burden that you freeze your friends out even as they can see you spiralling and you end up hurting them when in fact they'd be more than willing to offer help and get you out. It's why addiction is such an easy hole to fall in, because it feels like a way you can be self-sufficient and deal with your feelings without being a burden. Jon ISN'T a very closed off person naturally, he wants to reach out and be close to people, but he's been taught over and over (as many autistic children are) that he's too much, that he takes up too much space, that it's unfair for him to expect people to go out of their way to help him, so he boxes it away and shoves it down and turns to cigarettes, paranoia and denial in an attempt to manage the problem by himself. He's trying so hard to not be the Weird Kid, he's trying to play the part of what he thinks an archivist and a boss should be and blah his way through; he knows believing in weird shit opens the door to all sorts of stuff so he sticks his fingers in his ears and goes LALALA. he's deeply avoidant which ironically is why he often ends up diving in recklessly - it feels safe to only put yourself at risk (you who think you don't particularly matter, are unloved, and are an annoyance anyway) rather than wait and let others get involved and either judge you or get hurt. He didn't tell ANYONE that his encounter with Daisy had hurt him for SEVERAL YEARS because he didn't want to upset anyone. This speaks to me so much of a kid who growing up was always treated as underfoot, in the way, abnormal and with emotions and problems that weren't nearly as significant as the Important Grownup Things. I don't think anyone knew how to help 5 year old Jon with navigating his parents' deaths, and his grandmother's grief at losing her child probably made it very hard for them to connect whether or not she actually resented him the way he thinks she did. He was treated with bitterness and coldness his whole childhood, and he's never been given space to be angry about that because she was doing her best and dealing with a difficult situation, but it certainly left him with an expectation that trying to turn to anyone for emotional help and support will get you in trouble AND is unfair on them. Being with Martin, and indeed all his friendships and relationships, is hard to navigate when you've been taught for so long that exposing your vulnerability will get you yelled at or will upset people. You try to harden up and develop an exoskeleton but you're so chronically soft and in need of help and love so it spills out messy and you don't know how to take the walls down or build better ones up.

Martin's obvious, because his parental abuse is at the centre of his arc and is explicitly spelled out by Elias. He's so sure it's something he's done that's made his dad leave and his mum despise him, and he's hoping against desperate hope that if he can be Good Enough, little enough of a problem, helpful and invaluable, he can make up for whatever chronic flaw in his personality makes him unlovable. Of course he ISN'T unlovable, and none of his parent's treatment of him is his fault, but it's much safer to believe it's your fault and you can change it than it is to believe people who are meant to love you can just not hold up their end of the bargain for reasons totally outside your control. Much like with Jon, Martin has been taught to believe that he's a Problem - where Jon puts up walls and tries to be aggressively separate, Martin tries as hard as he can to prove himself Useful and Valuable while walling off an excess of humanity. Honestly though Martin's coping with it better than Jon throughout the series because he knows what it is and he's TRYING to push past the impulse to Not Be A Bother and actually let people love him. But he's still seeing the world through the lens of someone who's spent his whole life believing that the only way he'll deserve love is to become invaluable, to be useful, to be caring, to be needed, to be all give and no take, and that's not sustainable. And how much must it knock him back from trusting enough to ask for help when his boss (leave aside the love interest bit) talks about him like he's a buffoon and a waste of space however hard he's trying to be helpful and valuable, just like his mum has for years? Finding out that you matter enough to that person for him to risk his life to save you, and to really truly see you, goes a long way towards showing you that you're not always right to assume that people are lying when they say nice things about you and honest when they say cruel things about you - sometimes you are genuinely loved by people who ALSO see you as flawed. and while obviously after that the circumstances are very different I think we've seen Martin become more comfortable with his own tendency to acidity and sarcasm, anger and messy feelings, around not just Jon but in general (although also I can't talk about this without as usual observing how weird it is that people read Martin as sweet, servile and wimpy when he's consistently tough, sarcastic and brave AS WELL AS deeply lacking in confidence, afraid of conflict, emotionally giving, and terminally people-pleasing. He's right when he repeatedly says people underestimate him and don't see him - it's weird that the fandom is a big culprit of that)

Speaking of characters whose trauma responses are often overlooked, Melanie doesn't talk much about her pre-statement life but she's clear that it hasn't been good, and that other than her dad she's had nobody in the world she can trust. I am positive that her childhood was marked by parental abuse/neglect to at least a certain degree, because she was willing to kill her mum/let her die without much compunction (I THINK that's the implication of Elias' line about her mum's life insurance paying for her dad's care). To me (projecting), Melanie's fear of losing control of her own anger speaks to somebody who grew up in a volatile and probably physically violent home, and I suspect her mother was struggling to cope and lashing out at Melanie and her dad. (I also think that while it's unlikely to be made explicit because Jonny generally shies away from talking it writing about sexual abuse, that it's very probable that Melanie experienced adolescent sex abuse from some source and wasn't protected or supported. That's pure conjecture though based on how she acts.) I think she's definitely had issues with everyone in her family except her dad when it comes to her sexuality and that she's been largely estranged for a long time, and I think those are the kinds of things which, coupled with abuse and sidelining in adulthood, leave you with a lot of rage and nowhere to put it, and with a huge amount of difficulty trusting people. Undeniably, Melanie has been on the sharp end of other people's violent anger often enough to be really, really wary of ever giving her own anger free rein, or losing control of herself.

We don't know much about Daisy's childhood beyond what happened with Calvin (Pretty Damn Traumatic), but I think what I find interesting about Daisy is that she's definitely someone who, like many girls, struggled with that point in childhood where you're supposed to Stop Liking Boy (Fun) Things and Become A Girl. I think it's safe to say that Daisy was fairly subject to bullying and alienation in primary school, and I think people often overlook how badly that affects you your whole life. But also to be severely injured and traumatised, to tell people what happened, and to not be believed? That leaves marks. Marks that teach you that you can't trust that justice will be served, and you have to take the law into your own hands. I think there's also a lot of the Gendered Traumas happening around Daisy - she clearly has a conflicted relationship with femininity - but that's another post.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 19)

“Lucky girl.” Go-Hara rasps one day. “Lucky, lucky girl.” She tsks.

“How can you say that?” Azula asks. The very question is an absolute affront. One that sets her fire blazing to a degree she hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Because you had a chance.” She pauses and corrects herself. “You have a chance and you’re throwing it away.”

Azula furrows her brows and shakes her head, “You had it right the first time, I had a chance. My chance is gone.”  Twice over. It would seem that each time she has her fingers (very firmly) around something that will make her happy, someone comes to pry her fingers off of it. Or maybe she squeezes too tightly and shatters it herself.

The old woman tsks again. “You have a chance! You have a chance! You. Have. A. Chance!” Azula should be used to her turbulent moods by now, but this time the woman is acting rather infantile. She wonders if the disease has progressed, wonders if leprosy can even do such a thing to the mind.

“We should talk about something else.”

“You should stop playing in alleyways and make a life for yourself…”

“I already tried that.” Twice over.

Quick and deadly as a lightning strike, the woman’s mood shifts. She is very visibly enraged and Azula can’t understand why. She thinks that Go-Hara detects her confusion. “I don’t have a chance. I’d give anything to have one. But…” she holds up her knobby hands, “Every day in this decrepit town, I watch perfectly healthy folks waste what they have. Nobody wants to fight for anything anymore. They fail once or twice and they decide that there’s nothing to fight for.”

Azula opens her mouth. But Go-Hara rages on, her fury seems to build with every word and by the end of her raving her voice is raw and soft, “that’s because they don’t know what it’s like to truly be in a position where fighting isn’t an option.” She backpedals, “where it’s an option but it truly doesn’t matter how much fight you have in you, you’re punching at a breeze. And I just have to watch them give up, wishing that I had the chance to just throw my life away. I don’t even have a life to throw away.”

Her breathing is rugged.

There are a lot of things that Azula can say. Things that are better. Things that could calm the woman down or appease her. She picks the one thing that will do anything but. “Perhaps you’re the lucky one; you don’t have to fight to die like the rest of us.”

Go-Hara turns on her heel and storms away. She is startlingly fast, Azula chalks it up to pure hatred fueled adrenaline.

She doesn’t see the woman again for a very long time. It is so terribly lonely and the more she thinks about it, the more pleasant it seems to prove to Go-Hara, to herself, to everyone that she is ready to see herself out. Maybe that will drive home how little of a chance she knows she has. Or maybe there is no one to prove anything to. Likely Go-Hara has died like everyone else she gets close to. This time the note is a bitter one to end on.

She ventures into the forest that day and she comes back with a few sprigs of hemlock in her gloved hands. She finds that her usual spot is occupied. She counts the flowers in her hands, there is plenty of spare hemlock to offer the intruder.

“Where were you?”

“Picking flowers.” They fall to the alley floor.

Go-Hara eyes the hemlock at her feet, “bah! Some bouquet that is.”

“I thought that you died.”

She thinks that the woman is snarling. But it is often hard to tell with Go-Hara, especially these days. The woman’s worsening condition is beginning to limit her facial movement. “I am going to lose this fight.” She declares. “But I’m still fighting.” The resentment is back, possibly fuller than before. “You can win but you’ve stopped fighting.”

Azula swallows and waits for the woman to demand that she pick herself back up and resume the battle. Instead she gestures to the flowers. “Go on then. They’re right there, eat ‘em off’a the dirty ground.”

Azula folds her arms over her chest, torn between hatred and misery. Torn between wanting to do just that, if only to see how the woman would react, and wanting to kick the flowers away out of spite.

Instead she finds herself standing there. Now that it is happening, she wonders how it hasn’t happened sooner; she finds herself wondering about Hajime and Atsu in the Spirit World. She imagines herself standing there in a bubbling hot spring with bamboo that reaches gold-orange clouds. There is steam all around,enchanting as it crawls over black sand, and  curls around formations of long hardened magma. That is how she has always imagined the Spirit World. And Hajime and Atsu stand in the pool, Seukhyun and Caihong too. But they aren’t delighted to see her. And when Hajime embraces her it is mournful. He blames himself. He says that she shouldn’t be here. Ojihara is furious. Absolutely livid. Just like Go-Hara…

When she comes back to herself she finds that the real Go-Hara isn’t angry at all. Not anymore.

“I just want you to have a chance.” The woman mumbles. “I met a lot of people and a lot of them don’t deserve to live.”

She has always appreciated the woman’s bluntness.

“Why do you think that I do?”

The woman shrugs. “Sometimes you just get a feeling about a person.”

Azula doesn’t take the hemlock that night or the next. She doesn’t take it at all. Go-Hara doesn’t bring up matters of motivation again.

.oOo.

“Are you happy?” Azula asks one morning. A morning where things aren’t particularly good nor particularly bad. These are the honest days. The days when she truly knows how she feels within.

“Happy?” The woman grins as wide as her affliction will allow. “I’m downright joyful! I’ve gotten to see more sunsets than most people. I got to ride hippo-cows and lasso ostrich horses.”  Azula thinks that it is supposed to be the other way around, not that she knows much about ranches. “And I got to meet a princess before I died! They call me a dead woman walking, but I’ve lived more than the lot’a them!” Suddenly her laugh isn’t such a hideous sound. This is the Go-Hara whose company she enjoys.

“Sounds, fulfilling.” Azula nods.

“Aye, girl!” She nods. “You’re no lepper. You have a full life to live. I ain’t got much longer. Can you do a dying old woman a favor?”

“Depends on the favor.”

Go-Hara chuckles. “Can you live that full life for me? I can’t do it, can you?”

That morning she leaves a blanket in the alleyway, at the old woman’s feet. On an old scrap of paper she scawls a thank you. And with the rising sun as a backdrop, she heads for the vast grassland again.

That day she learns that sometimes the sick are less ill than the healthy.

.oOo.

She thinks about it more than she thought she would. It was just a little touch. A soft little brush. But she has learned that those smaller, simpler touches are often more profound than the bolder declarations. She absently touches her cheek where his hand had been. She can still feel phantom tingles.

It was only a playful gesture… Only a playful gesture and yet…

She hears a knock on her door and her heart quickens if only somewhat. Upon opening it, TyLee flounces into the room and flops onto the bed. Azula had forgotten that the woman liked to do that.

“I know that you don’t like baking, but Mai’s birthday is tomorrow…”

Azula had forgotten that too. Granted she has never really had time for birthdays.

“I was hoping that we could bake her something special. She doesn’t like the icing on the other cakes, it’s ‘too bright’. I think that it’s just fine though.”

“Sure, TyLee, I’ll help you bake.” Though she can’t promise that it will be any good. Hajime had tried time and time again to teach her to cook the things she harvested but the culinary arts are lost on her.

“Great!” TyLee bounces up once more. She takes Azula by the hand and drags her into the kitchen.

“Okay so I’ve already…”

“Made a huge mess.” Azula observes. At least she won’t have to feel guilty for wrecking the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“I can’t cook, TyLee.”

She stares at Azula. Azula stares back. The princess is beginning to gather that she had been summoned under the impression that she could make something of this mess.

“You didn’t learn to cook in the Earth Kingdom?”

She shakes  her head. “I know how to roast meat.” Even then she usually burns it quite badly. “Have you tried asking Zuzu?”

TyLee nods. “It wasn’t this bad before he got here. The head chef personally escorted him out.”

.oOo.

The first step had been to clean the kitchen. Azula is good at this. She probably should have gotten one of the servants to do it for her but she needs to know with certainty that her baking area is absolutely spotless. And with her hand having done the work, she knows that it is.

TyLee drops two eggs into the flour mix.

Azula shakes her head.

“It says, two eggs’.”

“Yes.” Azula agrees as she cracks it against the rim of the bowl. She cringes as the yolk bursts in her palm. “two cracked eggs.”

TyLee nods. She too rams the an egg against the bowl, dropping the smashed bits into the mix.

“Without the shells.”

“Whoops.” She purses her lips as she begins picking shell shards out. “Well how do we get the yolk out without getting shell bits?”

“You open it correctly.”

“How?”

Azula wipes her hands clean and shrugs. She plucks another egg and tries again. Just when she thinks that the yolk will slide easily free, it explodes again, spattering her face with yolk. She crinkles her nose and wipes the mess from her forehead.

“You have to be gentle.” TyLee suggests. She picks up another egg and taps it on the rim of the bowl. This time she only has to pick a few pieces of shell from the mix.

“TyLee, can I ask you something?” She asks upon finally putting the cake in the oven. She will let the servants determine when to take it out.

“Sure, Azula!”

She swallows, before back peddling in her mind, “firstly, did you read my journal with Zuko?”

She cringes, “was I not supposed to?”

“I was hoping that you did.”

TyLee relaxes, “why?”

“Do you think that…” She pauses. “Do you think that Hajime would be angry if I found someone else.” It is a silly question, Hajime can’t get mad at her, he is dead.

“Oh, Azula!” TyLee takes her by the wrists, she thinks of a beach party so long ago, hadn’t TyLee been trying to give her love advice then too? “I think that he would be happy that you aren’t hurt or alone anymore.” Still holding Azula’s hand she presses it over the princess’ heart.

“Okay.”

“Who is it?” TyLee beams.

She isn’t sure how TyLee doesn’t know already. She hasn’t exactly been around that many people. And then she does seem to connect the dots. She gives a happy little gasp and covers her mouth, “it’s Sokka, isn’t it?”

She nods. Still she finds herself hesitant.

.oOo.

She takes the time to wash her floury, yolky hair and changes into fresh silks. She is offered lotions and perfumes and she helps herself to at least a little of it. She thinks that she is finally starting to settle more fully and comfortably back into her old lifestyle. At least a touch anyhow.

“The cake tastes good, what’s it for?”

Azula’s face flashes red, “Sokka, you didn’t!”

He throws his hands up, “I didn’t, I didn’t! Promise.” He drops his hands. “But it smells good.”

Azula exhales. Truly she should knock the man on his ass. “It’s for Mai, can’t you tell.”

He taps his chin. “Gloomy colors. ‘Birthday’ spelled with little mochi chunks and no ‘happy’. Yeah I can tell it’s for Mai.”

“I thought that we should just give her the mochi.”

“I didn’t realize that you can cook.”

Azula gives a dismissive gesture. “Wait until you taste it to make assumptions.”

He laughs. “I guess that you can’t be good at everything.” He takes a seat next to her on the bed, his hand brushes over hers briefly before he finds an unoccupied spot to put it. But she finds it again and without a word she takes it. He stares for a moment, at her hand in his.

“What’s this?” He holds up their hands.

She clears her throat, “it is my hand, Sokka. And yours. I would imagine that you have known what a hand is for a while now.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know what hands are! I just want to know why you’re holding mine.”

“Because it is here.” And she wonders if that is all there is to it. He is simply there and available. But she doesn’t think that this is the case. She is holding his hand because it is his hand. The hand that hovered over hers when she’d first woken up dazed and distraught, it is the hand that took hers at the theater, the hand that guided her as she learned to sew, the hand that held hers when she was falling apart.

He chuckles again. “I don’t exactly know what that means, Azula.”

But she does, she knows exactly what it means and she finds that she is just as hesitant to say it as she had been with Hajime. Perhaps more so. She hasn’t been around Sokka nearly as long as she had been around Hajime--not affectionately anyhow. She doesn’t know how to say it, not in a poetic and elegant way. And maybe that is just it, maybe it isn’t something that is meant to be spoken at all.

Anyways, she had promised Go-Hara that she would live. That she wouldn’t waste her youth and her pretty face. She had promised to truly live. She doesn’t give herself time to overthink it. She cups Sokka’s face in her hands and pulls his face closer for a kiss. Her first one in a very, very long time.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Revolution Theme, Part 4 - The Governor’s Episodes

What led me to wanting to rewatch the Gov’s episode was a discussion with @galadrieljones. She talked about Lenny from 4b being an anti-Daryl, and that sparked something for me. I totally agree about Len, but it made me remember that, a long time ago, I remembered that Mitch (guy who operated the tank for the Gov and helped bulldoze the prison) was also an anti-parallel to Daryl.

Now, back when I first realized that, I didn’t have anywhere to really go with it. I mean, we had the leader (Governor) pitted against Rick and his right-hand guy (Mitch) pitted against Daryl. Mitch operated the tank, which Daryl blew up. And then of course Daryl ends up shooting Mitch in the heart. The thing that first made me realize Mitch was a Daryl parallel was the fact that he had no sleeves, lol. I know that’s goofy, but I think it’s intentional.

Anyway, I hadn’t thought about it in a long time. And while we’ve talked about Gov parallels to Beth in these two episodes lots of times before (like the stigmata walker in the yellow wheelchair) it suddenly occurred to me that there’s probably a LOT more to it than that.

Recently, especially since the bonus episodes, I’ve been big on looking at entire sequences and multi-episode arcs from a broad, bird’s eye view because I think they’re templates for future story lines. (It’s totally Find Me’s fault. Lol.) Anyway, I just realized I hadn’t done THAT with the Gov’s episodes, and I probably should.

Long story short, I was right.

Long story long, here we go:

So we start by seeing the end of 3x16 again, right after the Gov kills all his own people and takes off with Martinez and that other guy whose name I don’t remember. He doesn’t show up again and Martinez says he pretty much gave up and got eaten by walkers.

(We’ll skip the discussion about how Karen was a Beth proxy at this part in 3x16, because she was left for dead and even pretended like she was. In other words, she played possum. Then she returned to Tyreese and eventually became romantically involved with him. But that’s beside the point, right? ;D)

Okay, so we see the Gov and the two guys at a camp site and a very Beth-ish walker stomps through his fire, trips, and starts burning before Martinez kills it. I’ve always thought that was a Beth hint, and I still do. I think it’s just the writers’ way of signaling that this is a Beth template for the future.

When the Gov wakes up, his guys have abandoned him and he’s alone in this bright yellow tent that stands out against the bleak landscape. (Yellow.)

Then he goes and burns Woodbury. I’ve always tried to connect that to Beth, particularly because of the Moonshine shack. But looking at it now, there’s just something else entirely going on here. Emotionally, I mean.

We know Bethyl burning the moonshine shack symbolized something positive. Letting go of their pasts and moving forward. When the Gov does this, you don’t get that vibe at all. It’s more bitter and resentful. He’s angry and grieving over losing his leadership, the town he built up, and his people. It almost feels like a “if I can’t have it no one can” sort of thing.

So, this is total conjecture on my part, but I feel like there will be a Beth parallel to this. Probably not quite as destructive, but I’ve always had a head canon that somehow, after waking up, she’ll end up at Terminus, find the riot gear and Daryl’s poncho, and assume they all died there. That may be where the bitterness and sadness will come from. Just my head canon, though.

After that, the Gov starts on his long, lone journey (another thing we’ve always theorized Beth would do). Oh, and the song that plays over this part, which I’ve always thought was very pretty, is called The Last Pale LIGHT in the WEST (emphasis mine). I think the Gov goes west when he leaves.

Then we get voice overs, and this part is SUPER interesting and makes me very happy. We heard two women talking to the Gov about where he comes from and where he used to be. We now know those voices to be Tara and Lilly, but at this point in the episode, he hasn’t met them, yet. So, what’s interesting is that neither of them are named in the subtitles. They are just “woman.”

And where have we seen that lately? In 9x05, every voice (like Lori and Abraham, for example) was named, but Beth wasn’t. We immediately recognized her voice, but she wasn’t named in the subtitles as “Beth.” It just said “woman.” So, what does this mean? We wouldn’t have recognized Alanna’s voice yet at this point, unlike Emily’s, but we had yet to meet Tara yet. So, on a basic level, I think it shows that the unnamed “woman” will soon be a character on the show.

And why would they do that with Beth when, like Lori and Abe and the others, we’ve already met her? I think it’s probably in line with the theme about her being a different person when we see her again. In a good way. “Meet the new Beth Greene.”

The next important thing about this part is what is actually said. I’m paraphrasing here, but Tara and Lily ask where the Gov was before and he says something about having been in a town. Tara asks if the monsters were there. He says no. It was a good place, with walls. But “he” lost it. She asks, “who?” And he says, “the man in charge.” So clearly, he’s talking about himself in the third person, and Woodbury.

But.

If this is a Beth template, then Gov = Beth, right? We always wondered why they would use him, being evil and stuff, as a Beth proxy. But keep in mind that Gimple took over as official head honcho and completely reworked a reportedly terrible 3x16. They were basically done with the Woodbury/Gov storyline, and they needed a good sendoff for him. In a way, this was Gimple’s first Sirius arc. Someone who leaves, is presumed dead, but then comes back. We know Daryl (and Michonne) searched for him, but lost the trail (kinda like losing Beth’s body) and the Gov is even down one eye. Siriusly.

So, my point about the voice over is that everything said there could be applied to Rick, especially during the S4/S5. He lost it. He screwed up. Beth was left behind/separated from them.

Okay, now I’ll jump forward a little faster. For the rest of 4x06, there are really only two big things of note. 1) Tara and Lilly = two sisters who eventually lose their father. A foreshadow of the Greene family dynamic. And even though Tara’s father dies of natural causes (lung cancer), the Gov does end up bashing his face in to keep him from biting Tara. I think that was supposed to be kind of like him “killing” the dad, and therefore a foreshadow of him killing Hershel by taking his head.

The second thing, in terms of future Beth arcs, is that he lost everything, was left behind/abandoned by his people, went on a long journey, and eventually found people that he came to care about and protect. And I think the same will happen with Beth. In fact, it actually works in line with the Charleston template I laid out. Just a community of people she cares about and protects/takes care of.

And I’m sure some people will wonder about the fact that the Gov finds a love interest in Lilly, and if that will translate to Beth. Well, it’s possible. She might have had boyfriends over the years. We’ve discussed this. But it’s also important that her *true* love interest, Daryl, is already back with TF. And that wasn’t true of the Gov. He was never going to return to the prison and have some beautiful relationship with…anyone. The closest thing would have been Andrea, and she’d already died by this point.

There are, of course, small clues in 4x06 that I haven’t gone over, and of course I’ve skipped the rest home with the stigmata walker, because we know about that. But a few highlights: At one point, Tara says, “Ray Charles could have seen it” about their truck out front. Blindness mention. Lilly used to be a nurse, which ties to Grady. And she even talks about being bored, which is a direct link to Edwards being bored. 

Pirate theme, of course. I do think Megan represents Beth, though perhaps not directly in the template. She wears a lot of pink and yellow, blond hair, etc. And I think she’s just another way to say that this template is about the blond girl who, apparently, dies.

We should also probably appreciate that the way the Gov’s arc ends (the situation in 4x08) is a prisoner exchange situation where a Greene dies, and both directly ties to and foreshadows Grady.

But let’s move on. The end of 4x06/beginning of 4x07 is where they fall into a pit and meet Martinez. Let’s be real. In the show they call it “the pit” and it’s just used to keep walkers from overrunning their camp, but it’s clearly a grave. So, we have the Gov and Beth—I mean Megan—falling into a grave with a bunch of walkers (death) but surviving and eventually getting out (resurrection). Side note: we also saw the Gov kill one of the walkers that went after Megan by ripping it’s jaw off. (Speak no evil.)

So, here’s where we get to talk about Mitch and Pete a little bit. And it’ll be fun. I promise. :D

Watching this with an eye toward them representing Daryl and Merle, a lot of the symbolism became a lot more obvious. Keep in mind that they’re anti-parallels, not parallels.

See, between the two, Pete, who actually represents Merle, is the more sweet, compassionate one. While Mitch is the more brutal one. But again, they’re anti-parallels, so in this case, Mitch, the brutal one, is Daryl’s antithesis and Pete, the kind one, is Merle’s.

In fact, the first time we meet them, Mitch doesn’t want to let the Gov’s group in because they already had too many mouths to feed, and Pete says, “come on, man. They have a kid.” Just reminded me a lot of Daryl’s “they had a baby” in 3x10 after saving the family on the bridge.

So, they come back to the camp and start living in a trailer. The Hole in the Roof theory is huge here. The roof of the trailer keeps leaking water and, I shit you not, it looks like it’s dripping from a bullet wound. So, clearly….

And while I stand by it being a symbol of Beth being shot in the head, I also think it represents toxicity of a sort. Things that are wrong and it’s just a matter of time before the crap hits the fan. That sort of thing.

Okay, obviously the most important part of this episode is when they go to the cabin, but let me mention a few things that happen along the way.

Mitch, Pete, Martinez, and the Gov go out looking for supplies for the camp. And they had a really interesting conversation that may give some insight into the spearfishing in Find Me.

They walk by the lake and the Gov asks if there are fish in the lake. They reply, no. The lake is totally dead. Mitch then adds that there are rabbits, skunks, and possums. Obviously, some symbolism in those animals. But it occurs to me that fish = life. Something they can eat, subsist and even thrive on. The lake is dead because there are no fish.

Now, clearly this is a foreshadow of the Gov killing Pete and putting him in the lake. And of the Gov already being kind of dead in his soul. And “dead water” might also foreshadow the poisoned water theme. Water that can cause death if you drink it.

But in thinking about Daryl’s reaction to both Leah and Carol finding fish in FM, it’s kind of interesting. Both times, he says, “no way,” and is pleasantly surprised that they caught the fish (life). So, I’m wondering if this is meant to be him being surprised that someone he thought was dead was really alive. And what if all the fish symbols we’ve seen represent life in some way?

Of course, it could also be that a mounted fish, like we saw near Dwight in S8 is technically a dead fish. So, it might have symbolized the death of his and Sherry’s relationship. Or that it would live again. I’m not sure how granular to make this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Okay, so then they come upon a camp that seems to be doing well. Mitch wants to take all their supplies, but Pete refuses and they leave. Later, they come back to find the camp overrun, most of its people dead, and the supplies gone. Here, Mitch is just pissed that they didn’t take the supplies before someone else got them. (Very anti-Daryl.)

But I do think this points to some future arc. I don’t know for sure what it will be, but again, I think it works with the Charleston template. Like, Beth is in a community. She goes out looking for supplies, and when she comes back, the community has been knocked on its butt by the CRM. And this is one of those things that was never really acknowledged or explained in the show. Who killed off the camp? And why wasn’t anyone in the Gov’s group at all concerned that their camp might be next? Gotta be symbolism for sure. :D

Oh, and the Gov says it must have “just happened.” Just like Daryl said about the wolves and the girl on the tree in 5x15. And again, the wolves are very tangled up in the Native American symbolism.

Then there’s the cabin bit. Again, I’m not at all sure how this will fit into Beth’s arc, but I’m sure it foreshadows SOMEthing. So, we have two headless corpses, one of which says LIAR and the other that says RAPIST. And then a third that still has his head, but killed himself with a shotgun. He is, presumably, the guy who lived in the cabin and killed the first two, and he’s labeled himself MURDERER.

Now, on the one hand, all of these words describe the Governor. He says “Liar” just before taking Hershel’s head, which is what that first one points to. And it’s not too hard to figure out that he’s a murderer. We didn’t actually see him rape anyone in the show, but there were suggestions of it, especially as he attacked Michonne and manipulated Andrea. And I’m pretty sure in the comic books, he does actually rape Michonne. They just didn’t want that to be the case in the show. So, these do all work for his story line.

But I also think these may be things Beth encounters at some point in her arc. Maybe someone will lie to her (or even betray her, Lone Ranger-style) and she’ll have to take them out. We already saw her dealing with rape at Grady, and have long thought that it foreshadows a bigger, potential rape situation that she’ll have to deal with. You get the idea. So, it’s very vague and I don’t have any great inspirations about what these point to, but in general, I’m sure they’ll apply to her.

It's also important to note that all these guys are dressed in military clothing. So, we might be able to tie them to CRM, symbolically if not literally.

I didn’t find anything massive inside the cabin that we haven’t already discussed. You asked me to look for revolution/George Washington pictures, @wdway, and I didn’t notice any. I didn’t try overly hard to see every single picture in the background, but most of them looked too blurry to tell much detail anyway. The major one is of Abraham Lincoln, and I think that’s important. But I’ll come back to it.

Of course, we have all the Native American symbols in this cabin. So, here’s the thing. Because of Tonto in TLR, I feel like whoever the Native American symbolism points to, whatever group that is, good or bad, it represents the group that Beth found after she woke up/lived, who nursed her back to health. And the reason I say good or bad is because the Claimers do theoretically fall under this same symbol theme for Daryl. The first group of people he ran into after he lost Beth. After the big disaster.

And here, I think Martinez’s group works in that regard for the Governor. He wasn’t hurt badly but he was in need of help after falling into the pit. You could say the same of Daryl after losing Beth. He just needed people to pull him out of his slump.

Now, here’s the other thing I’m not entirely sure how to interpret, but it does lend credence to the idea of the guy who lived in the cabin, who took out the two headless corpses, being representative of Beth. Once they’ve cleaned the walkers out of the cabin and are all sitting down talking, the Gov finds a picture of the guy who lived their and his family. The guy’s left eye has been colored over with read. Like red pen or marker. But it’s clearly a Sirius symbol and the red looks like blood.

So, I thought about what must have happened in this cabin. I kind of thing it might have been sort of like what happened with Abraham’s family. We were told after 5x05 that he killed the people who were actually part of his group. People he trusted. That’s because while he was out on a supply run, they raped his family. They just couldn’t show that in the show.

So, for the cabin guy, taking out a rapist and liar who might have harmed his family is straight forward enough. But why would he kill himself if his family still lived? And the Gov’s group found them as walkers in the house. Why would they continue to live there if the husband/father had shot himself on the porch? So, I’m thinking that these two headless corpses not only raped but perhaps murdered his family. So, he beheaded them and, in his grief, took himself out.

Or, because he labeled himself a murderer, maybe something happened where his family went crazy, or just got bitten, and he had to put them down. And that made him feel like a murderer. Because I don’t think justly taking out bad guys would have made him feel that way.

This may feel largely irrelevant, but it’s in the episode for a reason. Once again, I think this probably points to some part of Beth’s future arc. I mean, this sort of thing, the kind of thing Abraham went through, since it happened at the hands of people that were part of his community and that he trusted, is the ultimate betrayal, right? So maybe it will be a matter of someone in her community that she trusts betraying them to the CRM or something. IDK.

I keep saying it’s the west/lone ranger stuff that = betrayal, but the Native American theme always seems to be tangled up with it, doesn’t it?

Some minor details.

They find *beer* in the cabin.

We find out that Mitch and Pete were in the army before the turn happened. And in this case, I don’t necessarily want to link that to the CRM. We could, but given that both of them are now dead, it doesn’t really matter.

But it occurred to me that this is more evidence of them being anti-Daryl and Merle. Daryl and Merle were nobodys and drifters before. So, their opposites were in one of the most disciplined professions one can enter. Daryl started in an unproductive place and evolved. Mitch started in a disciplined place and devolved.

Of course, they’re playing GOLF when he kills Martinez. After doing so, he sits like Daryl at the crossroads. Then when Lilly finds him in the RV, he says he had a bad dream. He doesn’t remember. (Memory loss mention.)

They tell the camp he was hitting golf balls, got drunk, and fell into the grave/pit. *coughs Bethyl*

There were some interesting mushroom mentions. I noticed that before they met up with Martinez’s group, they were talking about Tara’s ex girlfriend (who was named SAM, btw) who lied to her about her feelings for Tara. Lilly says, “Yeah, then you went camping, ate mushrooms, and the rest was history.” Or something like that. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but then later, we see the same mushrooms on the trees around the Gov that we saw in Still. Hmm.

I’m also a little unsure of what to make of the walker pit they reach when they try to leave the camp. Remember they all take off in a car, including Tara’s girlfriend, but they have to stop because the road is impassible. It’s turned to mud and is full of walkers. I’m sure that’s symbolic of something, but I don’t know what.

Of course, the Gov kills Pete and recruits Mitch. You could say he has a very Negan approach, ruling through fear. He kills Pete specifically BECAUSE he’s the compassionate one and Mitch is the brutal one. Very different to how Rick ever approached things.

Okay, that’s most of what I have for the Gov. Except that at the beginning of 4x08, after he takes Michonne and Hershel prisoner, he says, “they’re the key.” (Key Theory).

[horoyois]

hi! can i request a yoongi imagine where he has a fight with his s/o and they dont make up for a while but they eventually do? thank you! ♡

thank you so much for requesting! this is my first time taking requests so i hope you like it ;; this long ass drabble portraits something i struggle with a lot too, so i hope i made my own demons justice fjoewifjo

pairing: female reader x yoongi

word count: 1497

genre: angst, fluff

Yoongi knows he’s not the most expressive person to set foot in planet Earth. He also knows he has some issues with expressing his thoughts or feelings, sometimes he’s way too blunt and other times he simply can’t talk about them. 

He is completely aware of the way people react to these quirks of his, he knows that people often take him as cold hearted or grumpy, people usually think he doesn’t care about anything or anyone, when this couldn’t be further from the truth. He shows that he cares, he always makes sure of that, but people are just too blind. His love is shown in the most subtle ways, but also the most useful, the most reassuring, the truest. He doesn’t worry too much about words, even though he is working on that, understanding that some people need words to feel loved, but he gives his everything in acts of affection. 

He takes pride in his people, though. His loved ones get him, they know what his love feels like and the things he does for them. He doesn’t have to fake nor hide, he just is the way he feels like being and they understand. That’s why he’s so disappointed at you right now. 

It’s just a matter of common sense that being such a particular person when expressing his love Yoongi would spend his time only on someone who understands, and that’s one of the most important reasons of why you two have been together for the past five years. And that just makes this situation even more confusing and exasperating.

Last week he came home to a note sticked to the fridge, a cat post-it with a angry face and your round and looped handwriting announcing that for a couple of days you were going to stay at your brother’s. Something about spending way too much time home alone now that he was focusing day and night on his most recent project and that you felt lonely and needed the warmth and love that he couldn’t provide you with right now. You wrote it in a really soft and gentle way, but he knew you well enough to tell that you were feeling neglected and angry. This was a first, thought, and he didn’t know how to approach you.

So, in true Yoongi manner, before fucking things up he preferred to just let it settle. He acted as if the post-it was never found, as if your words never reached him. And he waits. He waits for you to come home in a couple of days, which you never do. And that gets him worried sick. 

So he decides to call you, but you never pick up. He texts you, but he doesn’t even get a read receipt. So what is left for him but being angry? 

He could do a lot of things. He could drive to your brother’s and talk to you. Reassure you just how he knows you like it and need it right now, take you back home and make you feel as loved as humanly possible. Because he knows how to do that.

But instead, he hurts himself with toxic and negative thoughts. He buries himself in ‘she doesn’t get me as much as I thought’ and in ‘it’s me the one that should feel neglected’, and he breaks apart on the span of three hours. And now he’s not only angry, but bitter, sad, lonely. Resentful. And he lets himself cry a little bit because disappointment makes him teary and goes to bed when the storm calms down.

He should’ve jolted awake by the sound of your keys crashing with the wooden floors of your shared apartment. Or maybe by the sound of the wheels of your small suitcase. By the time you open the door of your room and start changing, he’s almost conscious. He opens one eye groggily when he feels the mattress dip a bit with your weight as you climbed onto the bed, and he grunts when your gentle fingers pulled the comforter off his body just to slide underneath it. He is totally and definitely awake when your cold hands sneaked right under his baggy shirt and your legs tangled with his, though.

“You awake?” Your voice is soft, mellow. He knows you feel guilty. He feels guilty, too.

“Well,” He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, not liking the way your arms let him go so easily, “I am now.” He can feel the way your eyes stare intently at him, “Everything good at your brother’s? Took you a while to come back.”

You sigh, but you don’t seem angry. He feels relief in his chest. “Cut the crap, Yoongi. I know you saw the post-it.”

“Literally impossible to miss it. That cat’s stare gives me the chills”.

You laugh, and it sounds genuine.

“He’s just angry. An angry cute cat” Your arm now rests at the top of your face, covering your eyes, “He looks exactly like you, that’s why I bought them.” 

“I am not that grumpy,” he deadpans. He can’t help but feel offended.

“You’re not. You just look like you are, but I know you’re not” You remove your arm from your eyes and look at him deeply, “I’m sorry I left so abruptly. And I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone. Wasn’t feeling my best and didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Did I really make you feel that lonely?” He finds the words slipping his lips. He wanted to be a little more rough, blunt, but with your eyes shiny because of emotion he finds it impossible. He blames the late hours and the foggy brain.

“Yeah. I know it was not on purpose, though. And I know you try your best, Yoon, really, and that alone is more than enough most of the time. This time just... “ You blink away a single tear and he can’t help it when he cups your face and lets that tear slide through his long fingers, “I felt uncared-for. And that’s why I left, and then I waited all day long for you to react to that note on some way, but I didn’t even get a text message. And when I got it days later I was just drained and sad, and I couldn’t even open it. I still haven’t. Is not that you’re not enough, I promise. I just need a little bit of reassurement sometimes.” 

He feels guilty and you notice, “Yoongi, please,” You free yourself from his embrace and now it is you who cup his face, and for the sake of serious conversation you try to ignore the itch to kiss his shiny button nose, “Is not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong”.

“I did neglect you, though,” He tries not to look at your eyes. You won’t tell him the truth directly but he will surely see it in them and he’s not prepared for another wave of guilt right now.

“Is not your fault, really. You’ve been busy and I’ve been anxious and needy and things got overwhelming so I had to leave. But missing you made me come back to you and I’m here now.”

“I love you.”

You startle at the confession. Obviously you’ve heard it before coming from him, but never this way. It sounds desperate, it sounds so sincere and it sounds like it’s coming from the deepest part of himself. And you don’t know why this is taking over you so strongly because you’re not one to cry lots, but you feel your eyes watering against your will and now you can’t even see him.

“I know.”

He breathes deeply and you know that he doesn’t want you to just know, that knowing is not enough right now, so he keeps mumbling his thoughts as best as he can, “And I’ve loved you always and I’ll love you always. Even when I don’t say it outloud for weeks. I’ll try to tell you more often and I’ll try to be more vocal about my feelings. Just, please, don’t doubt them, don’t doubt me. And don’t run away again. You scared me so much I didn’t even know how to react, and I felt disappointed because I thought you didn’t understand how much I show you everyday that I love you-”

You stop his rambling by pressing lightly your lips on his. You hope he understands you’re being sincere and that you do understand his ways, that this time everything was just too overwhelming but even when your worst thoughts spiraled your mind you just knew. And you hope you can let him know in his own language, and that’s why you kiss him so deeply and slow. Is not a normal kiss, you want to make him understand.

And when the kiss ends and you look into his eyes, you know he understands. And he knows you do too.

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 27

Rating: M Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Numb! Suicide Thoughts! Verbal Abuse!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

MY MASTER-LIST

“And then? What happened?”

“Nothing,” The girl shrugged her shoulders as she sat on the floor of the greenhouse surrounded by growing vines leaning her back on a wooden table on which dozens of colorful pots which held some strange and most peculiar plants. “I told them about it.”

“My father will hear about this!” Daphne paced around the Slytherin Common Room late one night. “He’ll know what to do,” She said referring to the fact that her father was a fearsome prosecutor in the  Wizarding World.

Normally Tracey would’ve made a joke of Daphne sounding like Malfoy, but it really wasn’t the time or place. The Quidditch fanatic was sitting with her head ducked in between her hands.

“Don’t. There’s no point,” Nel let out a drained and exhausted sigh. “Ellar Lestrange is practically  ‘untouchable.’”

“Why is he?” Tracey suddenly snapped her nostrils flaring as she sat up erect. “Why is he so damn godly and untouchable? Just because he’s a Lestrange?” She spat out the last name with resentful bitterness.

“We have to do something,” Daphne insisted. “If not, he’s going to do the same thing- perhaps, something worse to somebody else,” she stressed the somebody and the importance of holding him accountable for his assault.

Despite Daphne’s insistence and Tracey’s frustration Nel remained silent. She had her knuckles pressed to her lips and she seemed lost in thought, head pessimistically shaking slightly  from side to side.

“What can we do?” She gave them both a defeated look. She really had turned ever nut in bolt in her head endlessly trying to think of a way to even things out – even a way to hurt Ellar Lestrange.

“Please,” Tracey scoffed, dark eyes rolling. “Everybody has a weakness. We just have to find out what his is!” She said determined, her expression mimicking her friend who was sitting next to her in the black leather sofa.

“Yes,” Daphne began murmuring. “Yes, yes, yes…” She anxiously paced over, and over which made Elowen dizzy. It seemed like the lightbulb went off when she finally stopped and clapped her hands together.  “I’ll write to my cousin in France. Perhaps she knows a thing or two.”

“I’ve also written to Professor Lupin. Maybe he knows a thing or two as well.”

“Lupin?” Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste at the werewolf. Why? Her knitted brow said. Nel ignored it.

“A werewolf? Teaching?” Nathair interrupted. “Filthy,” He hissed. “I’ve seen them, lost packs hunting together in the Forbidden Forest. Formidable creatures.”

Irritated Nel lightly flicked the tip of the snake’s snout. The adder hissed at her in response flashing its large fangs. She seemed unfazed by this gesture. “Most creatures seem to agree with me.” It spoke to her as it coiled around her neck seeking the warmth of her human body.

“Professor Lupin is a good person. He could be a vampire for all I care.”

“Walking leeches,” The adder added to the bloodsucking creatures.

“What if I was a werewolf?” She mused more to herself with her arms crossed and resting on her knees. “Maybe then I’d have a pack to run around with,” her voice dulled into a pessimistic feeling as the waves of loneliness and missing a family that there never was came. “I also am already formidable.”

“Oh, I know what are,” The serpent whispered in her ear.

Upset, lost in thought Nel dusted the dirt of her clothes and left the greenhouse with the snake snuggly coiled around her neck. Her shoulders were pessimistically slung. She rounded behind the greenhouses and sat behind them on a small grassy hill that overlooked the Whomping Willow and Hagrid’s Hut and pumpkin patch. The Forbidden Forrest bordered in the distance. “What do you think I am?” She asked solemnly fisting some grass in her hand and ripping it up from the ground. She met the adder’s beady red eyes with a profound sadness. It seemed like the more she dug into her past, the more she questioned and wished to know who her family had been or if she still had one the worse things got and the uglier her past appeared to be. Perhaps… it was best this way. Perhaps there had been a reason for her abandonment at Wool’s Orphanage all of those years ago.

“You’re just a silly little girl who’s afraid of water with too much time to spare. Shouldn’t you be reading? Or doing somebody else’s schoolwork?”

“I hate reading,” She huffed humorously. Maybe Nathair was right, maybe she should use her time wisely and continue working on other’s assignments. After all the more financial cushion she had the better for the future. Inhaling a deep breath, she held it for a moment before ripping a strand of weeds rather aggressively and releasing the blades of grass for the wind to carry. “Maybe you’re right. You’re a snake and have always been a snake and I’m just a stupid girl and I’ll always be a stupid girl.” Nathair’s loud hiss made her head rapidly tilt to the side.

“Self-depreciation does not suit you,” it advised.

Rising to her feet again Nel rose and brushed the few strands of greenery in her hands.

“Terribly hiding spot if you ask me,” A familiar voice broke the momentary peace. The snake hissed slightly at it and hid its head and tail inside the student’s sweater and underneath her coat. “It’s that boy that looks like there’s something stuck up his-,” the snake whispered into her ear. She ignored it. “Maybe it’s all that cologne he wears. I can smell him from a mile away.”She ignored Nathair’s comment, no matter how humorous she found it.

“If I was hiding you wouldn’t find me,” She shot back at Draco without missing a beat.

He stood a couple of feet away with his hands sank into the pockets of his dark coat. Hair parted on the side, bangs falling across his forehead. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said his lips twisting into a frown.

Not a lie.

Her frown turned into a scowl as she marched past him. Or at least attempted to.

“I don’t understand why you’re so damn upset,” He followed his temper quickly flaring in frustration.

Not wanting to engage she walked away from him. After being on the verge on an ongoing identity crisis that seemed to be reoccurring every couple of months, she really wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Nel, come on,” He implored. He stopped following when he realized she wasn’t going to stop in her step. “You’re not a mudblood.”

Halting she turned and zeroed in on him with a deathly glare.

“I’m going to bite him.”

“Would it matter?” She snapped furiously at his filthy comment. “What?” He looked startled at her sudden rage. “Would it matter if I was?” She marched up to him. “Would it make any difference to you if I was a muggle or mudblood or whatever disgusting and prejudiced, racist, narrow-minded spat of a word you use to call these people?”

He looked startled at her question. “Of course, it would,” He admitted with narrowed eyes looking at her as if she had just grown a second head. She was questioning an ideology that was deeply rooted inside of him. The Malfoy family, like many others privileged wizard families, had reaped and sowed from with their elitism in the Wizarding World. It was a dangerous ideology that had been planted in his young brain and nurtured to grow into a toxic vine that seemed to both wrap and stretch to ensnare every aspect of his life.

She pursed her lips and slowly nodded her head understanding, “Right.”

“But you’re not,” He insisted arching his eyebrows. “You’re a Parselmouth, you’ve clearly got some wizarding blood in you.”

She opened her mouth ready to protest that the status of her genealogy was absolutely nonexistent.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” He was sincerely flabbergasted.

“I don’t understand why you hate them so much,” She shook her head just as perplexed. “What did they ever do to you?”

She stepped closer still looking at him in disbelief waiting for a logical reasoning to his rooted prejudice.

“Well, the other sort,” He scratched the edge of his nose before running a hand through his bangs as he fidgeted uneasily. “They’re just not the same, are they? They haven’t been brought up our ways.” He reasoned with ease.

“Just like you don’t know theirs,” She retorted sharply. “Draco, I was brought up with muggles. Wizards and muggles are more alike than you think.”

His eyes widened and eyebrows arched at what he took as a serious offense. “Nel, we’re biologically superior to them. You can’t argue with that.”

Okay, true. A muggle really was no watch for a wizard. The average wizard’s lifespan extended to more than 200 years while muggles only lived a fraction of those years. Her silence was her answer.

“Don’t be a traitor to our blood,” he spewed words hailed by pure blood supremacists.

“Please?” He added, his eyebrows knotting in the center of his forehead after hearing her silent response.

“Being with them, muggles,” He spat the word out with disgust. “It shows weakness in one’s character. They’re filthy. Brutal, uneducated in our ways- they use their hands,” He raised his pale hands in front of his chest and lightly waved his fingers “To do things. Like muggle-brawling. It’s barbaric,” He scoffed in disgust.

“Those aren’t your words,” She glared at him. He was sounding more and more like Lucius Malfoy by the minute. He stood in silence looking at her with pleading eyes. As he asked her to agree with the ways he was so sure of.

“I am my father’s son,” was all he said.

The two shared a silence. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t pleasant. It was heavy and lingering and allowed the other to know where they stood in this argument. “I see we’re not going to reach an agreement,” she said quietly now averting her gaze from his. The scaly texture of the snake hidden underneath her clothes a reminder her she had places to be. Sensing she was about to walk away Draco summoned every ounce of strength that he had, and once again spoke.

“Nel,” He attempted to catch her eyes with his. “There’s something I have to say to you.” One of his hands which had been nervously twirling the emerald ring his mother had given him was now pulling at one of the velvet black buttons of his coat. He tried his best not to fidget as he remembered the conversation, he had had with Theodore Nott what now seemed to be ages ago. He had insisted that he tell her whatever it was that had been keeping him up at night and always had him starring at her lost in thought in Transfigurations class. He tried to ignore his pounding heart. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to take whatever it was he was about to say well.

“Whatever it is- I don’t want to hear it Malfoy!” She barked eyeing him from head to toe as if he was covered in filth. His vulnerable body language completely going a miss to her.

“Give me a moment,” He demanded entitled reaching for her shoulder boldly stopping her from taking a harsh turn when it happened.

Draco let out a small yell and immediately flinched bringing his hand back to his lip biting down on the fresh venemous bite.

Nathair revealed himself from the inside of Elowen’s clothes and crept out resting like a diamond patterned scarf. The adder’s snout was open in a dangerous snarl as it bore it large fangs in a threatening snarl. Its body was still as it coiled aggressively sensing its master had been threatened.

“Your snake! It bit me!” Draco cried out. Eyes wide at the stinging realization.

‘Disgusting!’ Nathair spat out in a pronounced hiss. ‘And I won’t hesitate to do it again pretty boy!’ Nel looked at the snake in astonishment, sure she was upset but she wasn’t expecting her pet to attack!

“It bit me!” Draco cried out exaggeratedly. “I’m going to die!” He shouted dramatically holding his hand which was beginning to turn pink and swell from the venom of the adder.

Oh boy, this is the same person that had been kicked by a Hippogriff and had the ‘bloody chicken’ almost beheaded.

“Draco,” Nel began slowly and carefully inching closer towards him. “Get that damn thing away from me!” He looked at the snake with fear. The girl paused and picked up the snake from her neck before putting it down near the front of the green house. ‘Never put your fangs in the hands of the ungrateful,’ The snake sneered in disappointment at what it perceived to be a lack of thankfulness. Its master gave it a warning look that could be interpreted as an ‘We’ll talk later.’ The snake slithered away complaining about how disgusting human flesh tasted even tossed a ‘Swine’ somewhere in its rant.

“Okay- you need to calm down,” She approached him with a wary look hands stretched out hoping he would become more appeased.

“Are adders venomous?” He asked with a panicked expression. All the blood seemed to have drained from his face. For a second she pondered if she should lie or not. “Yes,” Nel responded carefully hoping not to elicit an explosive reaction from him.

“I’m definitely going to die!” He wailed in desperation. She instantly regretted telling him the truth. Merlin, he was acting like a child. It was only a snake bite. Didn’t he worship serpents? His whole family being in a House with one in its crest, even wearing one engraved on one of his rings? “Adders are venomous, but their bite is rarely fatal. If anything, it’ll just swell up for a couple of weeks. The venom might cause some damage and discomfort, but certainly nothing fatal,” She explained calmly. Or at least she wished she could’ve completed that short explanation. Instead, halfway through Draco’s eyes seemed to go blank before his body tilted forward as he collapsed, his body going limp.

xxx

Madame Pomfrey walked across the Hospital Room with ease as she retrieved something from her cabinet of special potions and ointments.

Nel sat on a chair with her arms crossed a bored and unconcerned look on her features as she looked down at the pale boy in the hospital bed.

Hearing the sound of chattering enter the Hospital Room, Nel looked up and waved at her two friends that entered the room and immediately rushed towards the bed standing across from their sitting friend.

“What did you do to him?” Daphne asked her eyes wide in awe as she looked at the unconscious Slytherin in the bed.

“I love that you assume this was my doing,” Nel sniggered proud at the formidable reputation she had built for herself in her past 4 years at Hogwarts.

“A snake bit him,” She explained in brevity.

“Is he-?” Tracey asked as she looked down at her school mate with a concerned look. “Not that I’m concerned or anything, but- this means there’s a slot in the Slytherin Quidditch team!” She finished her sentence in an eager and upbeat tone.

“We thought something happened to you!” Daphne whipped up a note that had been sent by owl that in six words read: Come to the Hospital Room. – Nel. “Be more detailed next time, Stars,” Daphne shook her head irritated from the panic attack she had suffered from rushing to the Hospital Room. Nel apologized for the worry she must’ve caused the two.

It was then that Madame Pomfrey shooed the two Slytherins from the side as she walked behind them and poured what looked like pumpkin juice and placed a bar of fudge on the stand next to Malfoy’s bed. His hand had already been lathered with ointment and bandaged.

“Mr. Malfoy will be just fine; he can leave as soon as he wakes up. Nasty little shock is all,” Pomfrey explained before once again retreating.

Both Tracey and Daphne looked at the back of the Healer as she retreated and back to their friend.

“He fainted?” Tracey failed to hide her laughter. “He actually fainted?” She held her stomach as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Even Daphne couldn’t stop her giggling. “Not before throwing a fantastic tantrum,” Nel added joining them in their laugh.

“How did that even happen?” Daphne asked.

Nel shrugged. “Accidents happen in the greenhouse all the time,” she said dismissively really not wanting to explain she had been venting to a snake.

“And you two were there – together?” Daphne’s eyebrows arched so high up they almost vanished into her hair line. Eyes wide. Tracey who looked like she hadn’t been thinking about the scenario now looked intrigued by the blonde’s question.

Nel felt like she was on the hot seat in the middle of an interrogation she really didn’t feel like answering.

“Malfoy,” She derided with an exaggerated overemphasis. “You know how he is,” She let out an irritated sigh. “Just wanted to torture me.”

“What was he doing in the greenhouse?” Daphne pressed heavily sensing there was a missing piece to this story.

“Looking for me,” Nel retorted sharply and much more rapidly than she intended. She bit her tongue rapidly switching topics before she could ask any more questions. “Anyway- I wanted to read to you two the letter I got from Professor Lupin.” She said digging a hand into her coat’s pockets and whipping up a wrinkled and crumbled letter.

“Right here?” Tracey asked wondering why she would read the letter to the two of them in the middle of the Hospital Room. Her dark eyes looked down at the sleeping boy.

“He’s passed out.”

“You know, you don’t have to wait for him to wake up, right?” Daphne asked her eyes squinting as the edges with heavy suspicion. She was observing her friend closely waiting for her skin to flush or for her to stumble on her words and reveal a glimpse of sincere emotion.  

“I feel obligated,” Nel responded cooly leaning back on her chair with her arms crossed. She pretended the hot flash that she felt behind her neck wasn’t really there.

“Sure,” Daphne responded with a satisfied smirk. Her suspicions had been right all along. Theodore had also slipped to her about a little talk he had had with Draco only a few weeks ago. Tracey appeared to be clueless to all this.

“Anyhow-“ Saintday cleared her throat and she brought the parchment paper Lupin had written to her eye level. She skimmed over most and simply read over the relevant parts of it.

‘Ellar Lestrange comes from an ancient wizarding family of pureblood fanatics. Many practice the Dark Arts and have been known to be vocal and the most loyal supporters of You-Know-Who. His father Rabastan has been in Azkaban for the violent torturing of two Aurors. His mother Cloelia, I believe it is rumored feigned being a victim of domestic abuse as a way of being coaxed into following You-Know-Who.’

Nothing they didn’t already know.

“Is that true?” Tracey asked sounding concerned. “If she lied that’s really messed up!” Daphne said in awe. “We should always believe victims but this-“ She hesitated to finish her sentence and instead decided to remain silent.

Nel thought about all of the mental and physical abuse she had endured when living under Cloelia’s roof. She liked to think that a victim would never do something so monstrous to another person, much less a child. However, maybe she was more than familiar with torture methods having picked them up from her husband. Still, with the Lestrange’s one never knew.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Nel responded in a dull tone, her expression pained as she continued to read. The possibility of Cloelia being a victim of a life of domestic abuse no matter how far-fetched was possible. “Like I said- they were known to be some of You-Know-Who’s most loyal followers. I can’t help but get an ill feeling when I think about the strange reason, they must’ve had to adopt you. I wish I-“ Nel stammered and soon lost her voice.

Again, nothing they didn’t already know.

Tracey and Daphne asked her to continue. When she didn’t and they noticed her glassy eyes, they became concerned. She kept the next part to herself.

‘I wish I could do more for you Nel. I would be proud to be your guardian, but due to my condition I’m afraid it is not safe and would make the adoption process impossible in the eyes of any court.’

“Sorry,” The girl mumbled weakly as she wiped the inside of her eye with her thumb fighting back the tears that had threatened to spill.

The thought of having an adequate guardian. Somebody as kind as Professor Lupin. Someone that didn’t scream, yell, lock you in a room, or hurt you – It seemed like such a far away ideal. A dream the girl had long accepted would never become a reality.

“I would advise you to do everything in your power not to return to them this holiday.”

She lowered the parchment down to her lap and sucked the inside of her lip in deep in thought. The majority of information was useless. If anything, it only confirmed what the three already knew, that the Lestranges were in fact very dangerous people.

“So, what are you going to do then?” Tracey asked. “You could come home with me for the holiday if you’d like,” She offered kindly willing to provide a sanctuary to her best friend. Nel’s face lit up. That would be ideal! The two would have the best time going to Quidditch matches and staying up late talking about the best and worst flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Jellybean or watch Muggle films

“Really?” She answered loudly grinning broadly.

“Wait-“ Daphne interrupted the moment the two were sharing. She also didn’t offer her home. Knowing full well what would happen to her and her guest if she even dared bring home somebody whose surname wasn’t listed in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. “That doesn’t tell us anything about Ellar. Nothing we didn’t already know,” She said returning to the focus of the conversation.

“I heard back from my cousin in France,” she began. “She used a very colorful language to describe Ellar. Said he’s a – what was the word she used? ‘Manipulative snake,’ that he can be downright foul. Apparently, he event went a far as assaulting a muggle-born witch that worked in the same Department. It got so bad she eventually quit.”

“Like- sexual harassment?” Tracey squinted.

“Does it make a difference?” Daphne arched an eyebrow. “Not that my cousin ever did anything to stop it-“ She admitted regretfully. “But this is exactly what I am trying to say!” Daphne slapped her hand on her thigh as she continued to speak her tone becoming louder and more passionate. “You’re clearly not the first girl he’s done something like this to – and you’re obviously not the last. Who knows how many more survivors there are-“ Greengrass didn’t realize the shift in emotion in her friend’s whose face twisted into a confused expression? “Survivors?” She coughed with disdain. “-If he did this to you, and to this girl, he’s going to do it to someone else!” She finished with a concerned look. “We have to do something about this.”

“What do you recon we do?”

“I also heard back from my father,” She began to explain. “He said this is very serious. However, he says conviction cases for these types of crimes are very low. The success rate of a conviction in England is 5.7%.”

“5.7?!” Tracey’s mouth went a little slack.

“And that’s coming from an even smaller percentage of victims who actually speak up.” Again, Nel lightly flinched at the word ‘victims’ it wasn’t something she would ever wear as a label. If anything, it was something she saw as a branding to her identity. She wouldn’t allow Ellar, Wool or whoever to have that type of power in her life. Daphne took in a deep breath before continuing. “He also said it’s going to be even harder to prosecute considering we have no physical evidence including your memories which most Wizarding courts consider to be unreliable, and even if we did - The Lestranges have too much power in the judicial system.”

“Bunch of crooks,” Tracey shook her head disappointed biting down on her thumb as she appeared to be deep in thought.

“You have to do something about this Nel,” Daphne insisted. Her friend looked at her with a pure look of negation. “As much as we hate him, you have to tell the Headmaster.” She looked between the two girls. “Tell Dumbledore?” Eyes were wide in disbelief at what the Slytherin had just suggested.

“I can already tell you what would happen if Dumbledore knew,” Tracey leaned back on her chair. “Absolutely nothing,” She said pessimistically. “We’re Slytherin. He hates us.”

Daphne’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat.

Going to Dumbledore had also been Nel’s first instinct. Something Snape had strongly advised against. His reasons unknown as the old bat kept his agenda so cleverly hidden. Regardless, there had to be a valid reason. Either Snape knew no good would come from it or he was protecting Ellar Lestrange. There was no in between and Elowen wanted to find out which it was. “Trace is right,” Nel admitted sadly. “He was already expelled from Hogwarts once. What are they going to do him? Expel him from Beauxbatons?” It was a hard pill to swallow but people like Ellar Lestrange – privileged entitled, monsters – more than often got away with only a slap on the wrist.

“The least he can do is protect you,” Daphne continued pressing.

“I’m not telling Dumbledore. Why are you being so pushy?” Nel scowled bothered on how much her friend had been insisting she tell the truth to Dumbledore. Daphne looked greatly frustrated. “This is such bullshit!” The Parselmouth angrily kicked the hospital bed making the boy in it let out a deep brown and the sudden disturbance. She seemed to ignore this.

“You need to do it Nel,” Daphne again insisted, this time her tone stern. “You’re a victim.”

“I am not a victim,” The other snarled in denial. “I refuse to allow this, or any other sad incident define my life!” The girl said terribly upset speaking through gritted teeth. “Do you know what would happen if I told on every single person that’s ever-“ She brought herself to a halt before emotionally shutting down. Both Daphne and Tracey saw the distant look in her dark eyes. “This is my battle to fight.”

“We’re here to help you. You don’t have to do it alone,” Tracey said gently. The tension increasingly growing between the two parties. “Alone. This is my battle to fight alone,” She corrected defensively isolating and building high emotional walls around herself. Her head hurting and suddenly feeling hot as an incoming migraine began to set in.

Tracey looked wounded. Daphne’s nostrils were flaring. “I can see we’re not going to agree,” She retorted flatly.

“I guess not,” was the other’s answer, her tone made it seem as if her mind was many miles away in some distant faraway place.

Daphne stood up and angrily walked away without looking back. Tracey called after her. Her eyes darting between her blonde and brunette friend. With one last woeful look towards her friend, with a tucked tail she followed after the blonde.

Sitting alone in the Hospital Room the orphan pinched the bridge of her nose in great frustration and lowered her body to bury her head on her knees. If only life were as easy as Daphne made it seem. If she told on Ellar odds were, he would only receive a slap on the hand and he and his terrible mother would come after her with a blind wrath. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. She was betting this was what Snape was afraid would happen.

She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill and sucked in an exhausting breath as she tried to think of nothing.

“You can’t tell Dumbledore,” A throaty voice interrupted. She didn’t move an inch but heard Draco’s sheets moving as his body shifted positions. “It’ll only make things worse. My father always says he was the worst thing that ever happened to this place.”

She could hear him drinking the juice that Madame Pomfrey had left out for him.

“You heard everything?” She asked meekly.

“You wanted me to. If not, you would’ve left,” He rationalized.

“Touché,” She said sitting up using both of her hands to comb all of her hair and bangs away from her swollen face. Not wanting to think about Ellar, the drowning or her awful fight with her friends she looked at him with a lopsided grin and instead decided to bully him. “Is it true you fainted? Like- actually fainted?” She joked mocking him just like he had done to Harry the year before.

However, he didn’t laugh.

“You sent your pet after me,” He ignored her jab and downed the rest of his juice.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it myself,” She answered her voice returning to an unfriendly tone.

“Right,” He agreed. Afterall, she wasn’t the type to shy about this kind of thing. Considering he wasn’t freaking out about the snake bite Nel assumed he had also overheard everything that Madame Pomfrey had said about his condition and the status of his health.

“That git,” The words rolled out of his lips in a dangerously angry voice. She looked at him confused and noticed how his hands were tightly clenched into balling fists. “I’ll make him pay. I promise.”

She knew that if Draco was anything he was determined. She had no question he meant what he had just said. Yet she couldn’t help but be confused by his words.

“You don’t have to do that,” She squinted perplexed. “Not for me. I can take care of myself,” She said lowering her head, her voice dropping to a whisper as her hair once again came down hiding her emotion. After all this was her own fight, one she wanted to win or lose alone. She sat with her head lowered and her shoulders tensed when she felt a soft hand gently press against her forehead. Keeping her gaze lowered, she allowed him to push her brown hair out of her face and comb it over her forehead.

He let out a small chuckle. Nel wasn’t sure whether it was at the strange expression she must’ve been wearing or at the thought of whatever evil plan he was crafting to hurt Ellar. “I’ll enjoy this,” He said maliciously.

Something about the way he said it embarrassingly made her heart skip a beat. Draco was now sitting up still wearing his weekend clothing. He had brought his uninjured hand to his chin and was twirling one of his rings with fascination as he looked deep in thought. The slightest of growing smirks on his face as he concocted the fatal details of his vengeful plan.  

“Wait-“ She paused snapping out of his charming behavior. “Let me get this straight. You can do this for me- but you can’t learn to accept muggles as your equal?”

“Muggles are dangerous,” he began to explain lowering his hand and relaxing in his bed.  Hadn’t he just said wizards were superior? “I’m not contradicting myself. What I mean to say is-  haven’t you paid attention in History of Magic?”

Obviously not. Merlin’s beard it was the most awful class in all of Hogwarts with Binns mindlessly lecturing which seemed to go on for hours and hours. “Muggles used to persecute our kind, burn us at the stake, drown and torture us.” Nel visibly recoiled at the mentioning of the word drowning. “They singlehandedly almost destroyed our kind and forced our world into hiding. It shouldn’t be like that.”

She pondered on his words for a moment. “You have a point,” She finally agreed with him. “But I know muggles. They are more scared of us than us then we are of them. They fear what they can’t understand. I don’t blame them for-“ “For what? For massacring hundreds of our kind!” She wasn’t expecting him to raise his voice.

“How many of them have we killed?” She shot back just as loudly. “Hundreds? Thousands? How many did You-Know-Who kill? Or your father?” She spat coldly.

Ouch.

He grew silent at the mentioning of his father’s illicit activities as a Death Eater. His icy eyes were hard when he looked at her. For once Malfoy didn’t have a snarky comeback or any colorful words to throw at her.

“Don’t. Bring my father into this,” He sneered out in drawled out sentences.

“He’s cruel and vile and I will be bringing him into this as long as he continues to poison your mind. Go out there into the real world and once you’ve seen what it’s like I’ll let you make up your mind about it. Because you know what-“ She hadn’t meant for it to happen but her eyes began to water, her voice cracked at the emotional exhaustion of the day something he had not been anticipating happening. “As of right now,” She broke, trying her best to hold it in together, to not allow the stinging tears from spilling. “I have met many, many more cruel wizards in this side of the world than in the other and that’s from someone that was raised by Cordelia Wool,” She let out a doleful weak laugh.

“Who’s Cordelia Wool?” Malfoy asked after a moment as he racked his brain for any instance in which she might’ve mentioned it. He remembered her saying Wool’s more than once. Maybe this is what she meant.

One hot tear followed by another which meant it was time to go into hiding being the recluse she was.  “Forget it,” She said rising from her chair wiping her tears and walking away without bidding him goodbye or good riddance.

Draco tossed his head back and looked at the ceiling feeling a great frustration. Why was it that something always come in between them and royally fucked things up? Perhaps it was better to leave things the way they were, spare her the pain as Theodore had once suggested. However, looking up she was horrified to see Professor McGonagall standing in the entrance of the Hospital Room. The look in her eyes severe, lips drawn into a thin line. It could only mean one thing.

Fuck.

“Ms. Saintday, the Headmaster has requested to see you.”

Xxx

Dumbledore’s office was warm and welcoming like it always was. McGonagall escorted Elowen into the office keeping a close mistrustful eye on the student.

Walking in she crossed paths with Daphne Greengrass whose gaze was hard and did not meet her friend’s as she brushed past her on the way out.

Fucking Daphne.

Nel felt the pits of her stomach bubbling with rage. Looking at her. Tracey following behind with an apologetic look and then back to Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore who gravely stood before a fireplace both wearing solemn expressions on their faces. It was obvious Daphne had croaked.

Elowen was livid. How dare she. This was her story to tell, NOT HERS. Nel was the affected one, NOT golden haired, precious, privileged, beautiful, Daphne Greengrass. A deep scowl formed in her features as she shot a chilling glare to the girl’s retreating back.

“Ms. Saintday,” The Headmaster acknowledged her momentarily seizing her attention. “It’s been a while since our last visit,” He said smiling at her softly. The man stood tall as he usually did, wearing his half-moon glasses holding both hands resting on his lap.

Snape looked at her with a condescending look.

Nel remained silent at the greeting ignoring it.

“Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Davis have just come to me with a most serious concern,” Dumbledore began. “Perhaps accusation is a better word of choice.”

Her mouth felt dry. McGonagall was still standing behind her. Snape’s bottomless eyes carefully fixed on her. Dumbledore looked as if he was attempting to pry into her mind with his twinkling blue eyes. “Before any actions are taken, we wanted to hear the story from your own account as it happened.” He stretched out a hand signaling for her to take a seat before the fireplace. She did no such thing and remained standing looking at the two with hard eyes.

The silence was deafening with the exception of Fawkes combing over his feathers and the fire softly cracking in the background. She could also feel the eyes of the many former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts’ looking down at her in judgment.

She could feel him now physically attempting to pry into her mind. She emptied her head out of all thoughts and the vision of a safe shut tightly and the dial spun hiding away her thoughts and secrets.

“Your master has taught you well Elowen,” Dumbledore commented at her growth in occlumency. Wait- how did she know that word? Occlumency, the art of magically closing one’s mind against Legilimency, or mind readers. She didn’t know how, but somehow, she knew what the word meant.

Again, she did not say a single word. His eyes moved over to Professor Snape who uncrossed his arms and from inside one of his sleeves pulled out a small vial containing no color and bubbling slightly. “Know what this is?” He drawled out; his voice emotionless.

“Bubble bath soap?” She retorted with dripping sarcasm.

Snape did not seem amused.

“Veritaserum,” He responded. “Three drops of this and You-Know-Who himself would spill his darkest secrets.” She looked at him incredulously. Certainly, they weren’t hoping to use it on her. “The use of this on a student is regrettably forbidden. However, seeing as Mr. Lestrange’s involvement in this anecdote cannot be ignored and since he is no longer part of this institution my hand might just slip on his pumpkin juice and we might have to hear his version of the events.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She lied flawlessly as if her life depended on it maybe it did.

Snape exchanged a look with Dumbledore.

“Elowen, Ms. Greengrass claimed that Ellar Lestrange lured you into the docks some time ago. There he not only threatened you, but he also made an attempt on your life mocking and attempting to drown you in the Black Lake. Is this true?” Dumbledore leaned forward as if attempting to pull the truth out from her.

“It’s a lie.” She answered flatly.

“Elowen,” He pressed again this time taking slow strides around her almost like a shark rounding its prey. His eyes looking for any sign of betrayal. “This is a safe space. This institution does not tolerate the harassment of others. Much less if it endangers the life of one of our students.”

‘Rich coming from the same people that allowed Slytherin House and others to bully me for the majority of my time in this institution,’ she thought with bitter resentment.  

“Ellar Lestrange is my adoptive brother. Why would he hurt me?” She probed in her best reasonable logic. “I’m just as aware of his reputation, sir, but tell me- this being true, what reason would I have to protect him?”

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. “Ms. Saintday, if you confide in us. I can assure you that no harm will come to you. The steps that would follow would be taking Mr. Lestrange’s witness, then contacting his parents, and then-“ She had to interrupt. “And then what? He’d be expelled from Beuxbaton and transfer to Durmstrang? Just like he did from here, right?” She responded with snark.

Dumbledore allowed her to continue.

“I think the real question here is why Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Davis would make up such an elaborate lie.”

Again, silence as the three professors exchanged knowing looks.

“Saintday has a point,” Snape suddenly broke the silence. She tried her best not to look at the Professor with surprise. So, he was siding with her. She was holding up her end of the bargain and keeping her mouth shut to what had happened. Her suspicions were correct. If anything, Ellar would only receive a slap to the wrist, get away with it and then she’d have to deal with Cloelia’s blind wrath. To her it seemed like they were in the same page.

“I assure you I keep a close eye on my House Headmaster. Specially on Saintday who seems to have the keen ability to surround herself with... trouble. I can assure we would not be standing here having this hopeless discussion, if I had caught wind of this rumor before.”

Dumbledore stopped now holding his hands behind his back as he gazed at the fire deep in thought as he marinated on the Potion Master’s words. “For as much as you persuade Ms. Saintday, I don’t believe you,” He looked back at her with a mistrusting gaze.

“But you believe Professor Snape, sir,” Nel shot back her body language mirroring the Headmasters.

Behind her McGonagall looked at the interaction with concern.

Snape gave Dumbledore a look that seemed to say this conversation was over. After all, they had no arguments if they didn’t have the main witness admitting to the events. However, unknowingly to the student all of this had been pre-rehearsed and already discussed amongst the two men.

“Very well,” It seemed like Dumbledore had given up. “But do tell me Elowen, and I hope you are truthful. How do you fancy your new guardian Ms. Cloelia? Real nit-picky student from what I recall.”

It was lie, after lie, after lie. Nel had never lied so much to a person before. She was surprised at how easily the lies slipped from her mouth. She wasn’t aware that Dumbledore didn’t seem to believe a single word that came out of her mouth and if she did, she didn’t care. Instead, the Headmaster was looking at her moving mouth and edging grin with a fearful eye. It wasn’t the first time he was witness to it, but the shadow of a lonely orphan boy from a familiar background who also possessed the affinity to speak to snakes and the ability to flawlessly lie was instead standing before him.

His assumptions, as always had been correct. Despite Severus best efforts to protect her. Nel Saintday was beyond salvation. The evil within her louder and bolder than ever. It was then that Dumbledore decided that “The Girl Who Died” would have to return and die at the hand of her creator.

Professor Snape walked Nel down the stairs of Dumbledore’s office and lead her down to the dungeons and to his office. His hand in the form of a C was angrily pressing on the nape of her neck as he quickly  ushered her inside of his office.

“Let go off me!” She slapped his hand away and looked at him with a furious expression. “I am not a child anymore!” She heaved drained from the restless day she had had.

“You insolent, stupid, dunder-head, foolish, girl!” He exclaimed and whipped his wand behind him to lock the door of his private office. This spew of insults and verbal abuse coming from the Professor was sadly not unfamiliar to her. She wasn’t expecting him to be so upset.

He was acting as if she had signed someone’s death sentence.

“Shut mouths catch no flies,” He raised his want in offensive. Triggered she did the same not blinking afraid the professor might strike her. After all, it had never stopped anyone before. Putting on a brave face, she attempted not to show the fear she felt or how her knees were trembling as she expected to be gravely wounded. There was no way she’d be able to take on a Hogwarts Professor, much less somebody as ruthless as Snape.

“Foolish girl. You had to open your damn mouth and babble to Greengrass, Davis and Merlin know who else.”

“What Lestrange did was fucked up and you know it,” She spat vulgarly not minding she was speaking to an adult. Neither lowering her trembling hand or stance. Jaw clenched tightly as she hoped her focus would be of an advantage to her. Snape’s body mirrored her own.

Just looking at her made an emotional wound on his chest soar with painful heat and a burning guilt. Dumbledore felt Elowen was beyond reason. That her nature had long ago sealed her fate. That, that awful curse that branded her face had also sealed this same destiny.

But he liked to believe otherwise. He liked to believe she could be good. That she had a choice.

There was no use in beating around the bush when it came to discussing why it was best not to take any action in punishing Ellar Lestrange with the juridical system involved. Both saw the bigger picture and were in the same place. Snape wasn’t protecting Ellar, he was protecting her, but why?

“He can’t kill you,” He said directly.

“Why?” Her sharp tongue followed suit.

“You serve a very specific purpose for the Dark Lord and have been placed under the custody of the Lestranges because of it.”

“Right,” she answered with a deep canyon forming in between her brows and a tightly clenched jaw. “That I gathered. A Parselmouth orphan taken into the home of one of Voldemort’s most loyal followers I could hardly expect it to be charitable.”

“Good, you’re catching on. Perhaps you have matured since last time we met.”

She ignored this. Whatever he meant by saying last time. This conversation. This scenario it almost felt like it had happened before as if they had already had this conversation, but something had gone awry wrong. It was almost like dejavu.

“You’ve been teaching me occlumency, not how to control my emotions or whatever bullshit that was.”

Snape remained silent. It was true.

“Why?”

“You will find that just like today the ability to hide one’s thoughts is a useful one and I haven’t the slightest doubt that others, witches and wizards more dangerous than the Headmaster might even rely on sadistic methods of torture to pry the truth from your big mouth.”

“Who else knows about the incident with Ellar Lestrange?” He questioned.

“No one,” She lied without hesitation. Snape whipped his wand, and a red spark stung her arm like a pinch, she winced at the sensation. “Dare you use my own spells against me.”

“Draco Malfoy,” She spat truthfully with a look of concern. “He won’t open his mouth. “I trust he won’t,” Snape added swiftly knowing well that Draco Malfoy had more on the line than Elowen did. Being directly related to the Lestranges he wouldn’t raise any hell towards them. Nel decided to keep what Draco had promised her to herself. Snape slowly lowered his wand and guard. Elowen didn’t. “He’s got more bidding on the line than you do if he spreads your precious little secret.”

She bit her tongue standing angry and frustrated. “Why does he want me? What does he want from me? What could I possibly give him? I have nothing. NOTHING! I am nobody,” She heaved as her emotions came crashing like waves and spilled like tears. Like broken risks, recordings of Wool telling her she was worthless, locking her in the Chokey, Lucy going missing. Not having a parent, a name, a single galleon owed to her worthless life. This life that Elowen had been given… She didn’t want it. It was numbing moments like this that made her feel like it wasn’t worth living.

“Same reason he wants Potter,” Snape cleverly lied to hide the Dark Lord’s true intentions and motives.

“To kill me,” Nel nodded and lowered her wand slowly as the horrible realization sank in. The only reason Ellar hadn’t killed her that one night or Cordelia had all summer long was because they were saving her like a pig for slaughter. She thought about the way most of the Purebloods looked at her, the way Mr. Malfoy always so strangely looked and fixated on her. He obviously knew this – How many more people knew? Did Draco know? “He need not bother, at this point I’ll do him the favor myself and give up on this miserable existence.” She wasn’t expecting her wand to fly out of her hand or for Snape to look at her with such fury, in his eyes was reflected a broken look. Again, Snape was haunted by the dark flashback of the night Elowen came to be during that obscure evening all those years ago. The guilt of the atrocious things he had done still rocked him to his core.

“I do not take threats such as suicide lightly Saintday,” He warned her. “I still expect many things from you, cowardice, is not one of them,” he glowered with cold contempt.

Snape again pointed his wand at her and Nel flinched expecting him to wound her instead a chair behind her crashed into the back of her legs forcing her to sit down. Emotionally defeated she complied and sat, wiping away the numb tears that slid down her emotionless face. She now felt a burdening guilt at the words that had just left her mouth. Where had that venomous thought come from? The terrifying thought made her body violently shake as the tears continued to spill.

“I will not apologize for my tone or harsh words towards you,” Snape began harshly now speaking in a collected and calmer voice. Hands behind his back as he stood tall looking down at his student. “Life is hard. We learn and we grow and I’m afraid I will not allow you to have a choice in this or leave us behind to pick up the broken pieces of your short, sad and pitiable life,” He soothed in his own twisted way. Words which didn’t alleviate her pain or made her feel any better about the horrible thought she had just had.

“It is her purpose,” Dumbledore said coldly with much indifference. “As I’ve told you before, it does not matter where Elowen Saintday resides, the Dark Lord will find her. How many more lives must be lost?”

Snape swallowed hard displaying the slightest glimpse of emotion. Be it his guilt, he always felt a sense of responsibility to protect the creature sitting before him. He had brought her to this world and because of that this monster was his responsibility. Burden or not. His alcoholic muggle father had once walked out on his mother and him, be of relationship to this child or not, would he be able to do the same? Was this something he had inherited from his bastardic nature?

No, that wouldn’t be him. He wasn’t his father. With a deep sigh he approached her and stood before her. She sat deep in thought, miserable, friendless having pushed everyone who cared about her away. She was so lost in thought she didn’t hear the Professor clearly saying her name until he knelt on one knee meeting her eye level.

How many times had he had the poor girl crying her eyes out to him? How many times had he failed in his ways to show her the smallest glimpse of humanity?

“Nel,” She stopped sitting with a surprised look on her swollen, red face. She couldn’t remember if he had ever addressed her by the name, she considered to be her own. “Look at me,” his voice was softer than his typical nasal tone. She obeyed, nastily sniffing and wiping the snot that was coming down her nose.

Seeking the bits of humanity that were left in him Severus chose to look inside his heart. What would Lily say? What wisdom would she provide to the broken girl sitting in the Potion Master’s office chair. “I understand,” He spoke in brevity. He chooses not to divulge any details about his personal life. “Perhaps I was out of line,” He admitted regretfully. “I’m aware that I can be rather harsh, but I want you to understand it comes from…” He paused for a moment masterfully and very carefully picking the words he would say next. He’d never vocally admit to it coming from a place of care. “I want you to be strong. Life isn’t easy. We both know yours hasn’t and it is not going to get any easier.”

She didn’t respond to his unfamiliarly kind words.

“Just know,” He said placing his large hand on her upper arm in a familiar way hoping to comfort her. His brown eyes zeroed in on her dark ones and maybe from up this close Snape looked human and not like a giant sulking bat. He smelt of salts and other potions ingredients. Even the middle of his forehead was sunken in genuine concern.

It took great will power to make the following promise. A promise he intended on keeping. “I will do everything in my power to protect you.”:

Unsure of what came over her the girl threw her arms around the professor and held him tightly. He held the child back.

[12-am-username]

Well it's not THAT extreme XD But I definitely would love some more Yandere! Hanako headcannons but this is more about if Yashiro had been sent to the hospital for three days and went absent from school because uh let's say somebody in school caused it. Highlight: How/What is Hanako doing meanwhile? And the moment Yashiro came back what'd he do—?

yandere! hanako x nene headcanons

(yandere! hanako x yashiro nene | headcanon and oneshot | fluff, angst, and gore | 2.2k words | spoilers)

— requested by @aliarosella —

i didn’t think i’d be making a part two to this but hey i’m idea-less. @aliarosella i hope this lives up to your expectations 🥺🥺. this will contain spoilers from the manga so please proceed with caution. THERE IS a fair amount of GORE IN HERE TOO, SO IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THAT KIND OF CONTENT, I SUGGEST YOU SEARCH UP SOME FLUFF CONTENT like some of my other works. (unedited)

He is an obsessive yandere

Obsessive in a way that he always have her safety on his mind, wonders if she messed with the wrong apparition, imagining her bright smile once more, or reminiscing of her warm hands that reminded him that she’s alive

He is obsessive in that he cared for her so much that he wanted to protect her from the dangers of her new reality

However, he could not protect her from that accident

“Kid, please!” Hanako begged. When Yashiro didn’t come to school, he didn’t think much of it. Until another day passed, and another one came. The apparition floated beside the young exorcist, shaking his shoulders.

“Senpai made me promise not to tell you.” Kou rubbed the back of his neck. It was one thing to promise Yashiro not to speak of the incident, and another to not speak of who did it. He already broke one. When Kou explained that Yashiro hit her head and suffered a severe concussion, Hanako could barely register the words coming out of his mouth. He assured the apparition that it would take a day in the hospital. He had to keep reminding Hanako that she isn’t dead.

Kou didn’t have any intention of breaking his promise. Yashiro specifically said not to tell anyone what really happened in the cooking room. Yet something inside him wondered if it was a good idea to keep it from Hanako.

“It was a guy in third year. They say he had disciplinary issues and acted like a delinquent.” Kou was hesitant. Who wouldn’t be? He looked down, waiting for a reaction from the ghost. Hanako’s eyes darkened.

“I don’t think Senpai told me the whole truth. Only that she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Kou muttered. He didn’t think it was loud for the ghost to hear, but Hanako could already envision what happened. His mind replayed a scenario where Yashiro was struck by a blunt object. It was on purpose, wasn’t it? That boy did it to provoke him, didn’t he?

“I’m sure it was just an acc—“ Kou stopped. When he looked up, he saw Hanako’s expression grow cold as shivers went down his spine. A dark shadow cast over the apparition’s face as his hand twitched in anger. Kou’s heart started to beat faster as Hanako lifted his head to meet his eyes. The look that he gave was unearthly and foreign. Kou didn’t know how much trouble he caused for the apparition. His brother’s words rang in his head. A troublesome ghost that goes unstable at the drop of a hat...

He is a resentful yandere

Resentful in a way that he can no longer put a facade on, that he has brought hell to the academy, except no one knew that he declared war

He is resentful in that he didn’t need words to express the feelings bottled inside

However, he’s walking the line between stability and insanity

He never thought too hard about it. Really, he didn’t. He didn’t. He thought that he didn’t. His mind always dirfted back to that delinquent that hurt Yashiro. What if that killed her? What if she died there, while Hanako didn’t know? What if he came too late? It killed him, thinking that way. Nothing good came out of it, but he can’t stop. He fell into despair while she was in the hospital.

Thoughts plagued his mind. He stopped smiling. He no longer had a carefree tone in his voice. He wasn’t the teasing and playful No. 7. No, he changed. There was no more joy in his eyes. There would be no more butterflies in his stomach. There would be no warmth to remind him that all he does is for Yashiro to live. All he felt was numb. Pain. Resent.

Resent for that boy. That insolent fool. He wondered if Yashiro would be better off without that kid. In fact, everyone would be better off without him, right? Hanako twisted his mindset. His head grew heavy as his heart turned bitter and harder, almost stone. It hurt to smile, too. But this sick and twisted grin, Hanako found himself adapting to this new look.

It didn’t go by unnoticed. Akane, Vice President and Clock Keeper, would often see him wandering the halls. He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, just passing by. What caught Akane’s eye however, was the look on his face. It always seemed like he was looking for something beyond him. Akane fixed his glasses, heading to the Student Council Room.

Kou didn’t know what to do. For the most part, Hanako stopped talking at all. Not that he didn’t mind it, sometimes it was nice to not hear his perverted thoughts. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Worried, he looked for the apparition in the girl’s bathroom. He reached out to knock when he heard a giggle. It sounded like Hanako. It’s been a while since he heard him laugh. No, this is different. It wasn’t a pity laugh, nor did it stem from joy. The distant voice of his brother called to him. He harms the living at the slightest provocation...

He is a distant yandere

Distant in a way that he wouldn’t meet with anyone, preferring to isolate himself from people and apparitions

He is distant in that he won’t let anyone come near him, not that anyone approached him

However, he found himself longing for something to distract him from his loneliness

The 7th Wonder didn’t know when he started to isolate himself. For 3 days, he already seemed accustomed to it. Like second nature. It terrified him, how easy it was for him to adapt with the new reality he has. Yashiro is still in the hospital. He wondered how she’s doing, as he always does. He found himself at the school rooftop. He missed it when she made him donuts. Or when they came up there to talk about anything. He missed teasing her and seeing her face flush. The mokke came and went, offering him food they stole found in the cooking room. The cooking room. Where the accident took place. He shook his head.

“It’s not healthy to keep your emotions to yourself, you know?” Hanako turned his head and found Tsuchigomori, giving him a concerned look. Hanako sighed and went back to staring beyond the school gates. Perhaps if he was taller, he could get a better view and find the hospital. “Are you even listening to me?”

“I don’t have to.” Hanako crossed his arms. He looked at Tsuchigomori, glaring at him. The fifth mystery remained unfazed as Hanako continued. “There’s nothing you can do to change the fact that she’s hurt. And I’m not there with her.”

“We’re all hurt when we heard what happened. You’re not the only one suffering.” Tsuchigomori sighed as he went back the stairs. Some of the mysteries were uncomfortable with how the Honorable No. 7 was acting. Maybe he was acting out of self interest. Only doing what he felt like he needs to do. By himself, like he always did. Maybe that’s what Hanako is. Self-serving and violent...

He is a dependent yandere

Dependent in a way that he can’t see himself do anything without Yashiro, or yearn to brush her hair and feel the gentle touch when their hands intertwine

He is dependent in that he didn’t want to lose the solace he found in his arms

However, he found himself facing this temporary but painful reality

Hanako found himself rocking back and forth in the girls bathroom. God, how he wanted it to be over. He wanted Yashiro back in his arms. He wanted to talk about daikon, just to see her face turn angry. It always brought a smile on his face. She was his salvation. The only good thing in this world to him. The only thing that mattered in the world to him. The only thing that meant something to him.

Three days felt like hell. No, hell was kinder than this reality. Any day without her, left alone to his imagination, it didn’t do any good. The mokke sensed his distress and pain. The other mysteries noticed it, too. Without Yashiro, they’re left to wonder if Hanako would disappear from the near shore, because what is his world without her?

Kou’s mind wandered back to when his brother nearly exorcised the apparition. Hanako had said that he still had things to do. What things? The life of a murderer could never atone for anything. There were things that needed to be done. But this was a punishment for Hanako. Something worse than being released from the near shore.

Hanako found himself unconsciously reaching for the mop that Yashiro always used. He found himself unconsciously touching the door to the third stall. He was torn. He grew worse every day. His mind went to a dark place. A grim and lonely mindset that no one should ever go into. That boy... He caused his heart to turn cold. He wanted to snap, oh God, what he would do to snap. Release all the emotions. Like he did with Tsukasa. Tsukasa... He took his brother’s life. Taking life from another...

He is a taunting yandere

Taunting in a way that he didn’t see anything wrong with it, only acting on what he believes is true

He is taunting in that he’s trying to see how far he could go before something happens

However, he found himself slowly losing his grip on reality

Was this his punishment? For God to give him his haven, only to take it away once more? What more could God do? What other cruel fate is planned? His heart started to beat faster. Nothing could hurt him any more than this. His head hurt from all the thoughts that raced through his head. There would be another time to think about what happened. Another time to ask why Yashiro was hurt. Another time to ask why it had to be Yashiro.

Hanako could remember Teru’s words when they confronted each other. Maybe part of it was true. Maybe is a troublesome ghost. Maybe he would harm the living for what they did to Yashiro. Maybe it’s of his own accord, serving his self interest. To take away that delinquent’s life for nearly taking away Yashiro’s. He could disappear now, yes, but what if Yashiro got hurt? His days without her felt like it happened for forever. Maybe when she dies, they could be happy. Happier without the pain in the world. Happier without the pity that came too late. Yet he clings stubbornly to the near shore and refuse to accept his own death...

He is a quiet yandere

Quiet in a way that he didn’t need words to convey what he’s feeling, denying his delusions, and found solace in a gloomy place

He is quiet in that he kept his dark fantasies to himself, never letting anyone ask what was going on in his head

However, he didn’t know if what he did next was real

Night is about to fall. Something about today felt different. There was something in his eyes.

Maybe the joy of seeing his blood splatter in the kitchen room. Maybe the thrill and excitement that rushed through him as he held the knife. The happiness he felt when the boy’s heart slowed its beating. His eyes glowed with hunger for more, his smile growing wider every time he choked out blood. The look in his face never faltered, only growing darker as screams echoed in his head. The delinquent’s face started to lose its color, eyes drained of life.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, no longer witnessing the apparition’s murderous gaze. Panting heavily, he dropped the kitchen knife.

The night was quiet.

There were no screams.

Blood stained the floor, the walls, smeared on his face, on the countertop. The entire room would be a crime scene. Hanako looked out the window. The moon shone brightly, the smell of blood no longer filling up the room. Did he imagine killing him? It felt so real. It didn’t matter then, because his heart started to settle down. Whether he made it up or put it into action, he allowed his mind to reach the deepest and darkest pit that demons fear to enter.

It was fine.

He was fine now.

When Yashiro came back, he gave her the biggest hug and cuddled her like a koala. He refused to let go of her, even as she went to class. She didn’t mind, she missed him too. Her mind wandered as class began.

What was Hanako doing without her? Was he alright?

It’s been a few days, but she can’t help but worry about how lonely he must have been. Hanako stood behind her, twirling her hair in between his fingers. She reached behind her and touched his hand, which would seem like she was touching her hair to most people. He missed her soft touch and let out a small smile. But something lingered in his mind, making the soft look on his face falter.

He still can’t comprehend what happened. Whether he really did kill the boy. He couldn’t bear to tell Yashiro. He stared at the back of her head, lifeless eyes looking for a distant memory where he satisfied his bloodlust.

To be perfectly honest...

...it’s painful to look at...

[schnees-and-schnugs]

Hmmmm thinking about the relationship Weiss and Whitley would have had before she left for beacon.

I mean it was never established but you can kinda assume a few things? Weiss casually saying that Whitley never like Winter, but later in the volume looking absolutely betrayed as it is revealed that Whitley wanted her to lose the inheritance (which is a can of worms in and of itself since instead of just saying yes and trying to justify it or just a plain no - Whitley seems to get angry by her accusation and just straight up told her that she should just do what father wants so. uh.) But either way the point is that it's a new revelation to Weiss that Whitley doesn't like her.

"you never liked winter" -weiss states this matter-of-fact, it's not news to her- "you never liked me" - Weiss stated this incredulously as if it's not something that she ever considered.

And even from whitley's point of view. He practically stinks of resentment towards weiss- most likely since she left for beacon. He never says directly that he resents her but he's passive aggressive about it. How he hasn't stopped growing since she left for beacon, why she decided to come crawling back. It all screams "look how I'm better off and you are worse off since you decided to abandon me!"

In the same way weiss' words and feelings of betrayal imply a past relationship (that was more than just strangers inhabiting the same house) between the two of them, whitley's own obvious feelings of resentment towards weiss also shows that he probably had an attachment to her. Enough that when she left, it stung. He got angry. And let's not even start on the "of course he wants nothing to do with you. You left him. With us" line.

To me, it was probably a codependent sibling relationship born out of the need to survival in a household controlled by Jacques. Fearful whispers in bedrooms about how Father is in a bad mood tonight. Collective sigh of relief when Father is out on a business trip and won't be home for a few days. Side glances when Mother drank more than usual. Knowing that the other is lonely and isolated just like they themselves are and building a relationship out of their shared experiences in that household.

It's not your stereotypical loving sibling relationship, but it was enough, I think, for both of them. Neither of them knew what true bonding was, or how to cry on front of each other. Or how to console each other after a particularly bad night with Jacques. But it was just the two of them for years after winter ran away so I think that they only had with each other on a day to day basis. A relationship out of necessity and survival.

And it's enough. Or was enough until Weiss left for beacon.

There she met RBY and found what a true genuine bond feels like. Actual True Love. True friendship and family.

And then beacon falls and she comes back home crying about the friends that she had to leave behind. About how she's trapped in her household. Suddenly her relationship with whitley wasn't enough. Or at least thats what he thinks.

Now weiss is not the same anymore. The weiss he knew: jaded, resentful, and bitter, just like him, was gone. She's moved onto better things and she no longer needs him. But he needs her. He doesn't understand how she can be so happy with those rascal friends of hers. How she needs them more than she needed him.

Weiss doesn't understand why Whitley is so angry. Why he can't be happy for her. The relationship they had never had a good foundation due to Jacques. Weiss found something better. Why is he siding with father? Playing the obediant little heir role?

Weiss is angry that Whitley changed

Whitley is angry that Weiss changed

[dangthoseronpas]

46. What are some of your pregame headcanons?

Okay okay okay I have a lot so get ready for this one! I also don't tend to go as extreme on my pregame headcanons as some do, so they're pretty mild.

That being said, while I find the concept of the pregame personalities interesting, I think the idea that they were COMPLETELY different than their in-game selves a tad unrealistic. I feel as though the pregame/in game shifts should be more on the subtle side, it's taking away memories that made them afraid or resentful or angry. Once you take away the root cause of your outlook on the world, it changes who you are. So my headcanons for the pregames are less of a "completely opposite" take and more on a level of this is what they were like while impacted by the atrocities they'd all been through (because it seems to me like every V3 character had been through it).

Shuichi: Not so much a pervy person as an obsessive person, he obsesses over danganronpa, people he likes, etc. Veeeeery clingy, especially if you show him any sort of interest.

Kaede: She just doesn't care very much. Not particularly violent but willing to throw down. Fiercely loyal, though, if she does like you. Probably joined because she had nothing better to do and thought she could win.

Kokichi: I headcanon him as living at an orphanage because he was removed from the custody of abusive parents, on the reserved side, doesn't often do things to get himself noticed but despite this he still gets bullied. He will, however, throw himself into danger for those he cares about or if he sees something bad happening. Despite all he's been through he isn't bitter at the world, and still wants to do everything he can to help people, but it often backfires. I fully believe if he wasn't coerced into going into danganronpa by someone else, he likely went into it fully hoping to take it down.

Miu: Also a bit timid, I feel like she's pretty lonely and doesn't get along with many of her peers. Likely would join danganronpa for a sort of fresh start

K1-B0: Very curious! Wants to know about all aspects of life, especially ones that can't really be taught, not violent either, would join danganronpa completely out of curiosity.

Korekiyo: Emotionally manipulated and abused by his sickly sister, Kiyo joined to get away from her (and should be protected at all costs). I feel he was on the submissive side because of this, not really doing anything for himself because he was too busy doing things for his sister. Because of this he doesn't really know who he is.

Rantaro: I really see him as mild, it baffles me that he would join this, it doesn't fit him at all. He is out of place and probably followed a friend into the previous game, so I feel his pregame side doesn't really differ much from his real personality. I feel like Rantaro didn't get a personality overhaul.

Ryoma: He's another one I find it hard to see differently, mainly because of how I view the pregames. He still remembers what he went through, so he isn't a different person. Joined likely because it was a way to get out of a prison cell.

Gonta: Rebellious. He hates the box his parents try to put him in, and resents them for it, so he ends up doing things just to get on their nerves (including joining danganronpa).

Maki: Obedient, polite, and reserved, she fears the way people see her, she fears being rejected, so she stays away from everyone and everything. I do not think Maki joined of her own free will. I believe she was instructed to join.

Kaito: pretty much the same Kaito but more violent. He's angry at the world because he doesn't know how to process his feelings, which is really how he is in the game, but it's even worse when he remembers why, joined because he really thought he could win.

Angie: I don't have a whole lot for her, she was likely raised in a cult that ended up getting disbanded for whatever reason. Not too sure on her (or Himiko, Tenko, Kirumi, or Tsumugi).

[kiu-k]

"Why they say Winifred Barnes raised a true gentleman"

[Translation] (Original author's permission granted)

Original Author: 燕麥夾心巧克力 (Original post)

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

On the date of that "last night", Bucky held that date girlfriend's hand(maybe that's not real/official girlfriend). They didn't watch movies, didn't have a decent dinner, didn't go to a pub, but visited a science exposition. The science exposition that represented the future. Sergeant Barnes, who was going to England in the very next day; and who had made much of and had lived a smooth life in the first half of his life, had no idea how turbulent his future was gonna be and even went beyond everyone's imagination.

In this gif, the 25 or 26-year-old Bucky was holding a young, carefree, charming girl's hand. This makes me can't help but imagine, what kind of life he could have had, supposedly, in a world that Hydra and Captain America never existed. This passionate, gentle, responsible, caring, brave, willing-to-sacrifice man would have got a proper job, built a nice house, married a beautiful wife and had some kids, after the war. That's the kind of life he's SUPPOSED to have. NOT a brainwashed assassin, insane murderer, terrorist, or a haunting ghost from WW2. In this gif, was there any trace of the Winter Soldier or brainwashed Bucky in the Civil War? No, coz he had never prepared that fate would trick him in such a brutal way, over and over again.

The most ridiculous thing is, he didn't go on this happy life as he deserves, but some other irrelevant guys did, overtly. Still, somebody praised that and get the hump about Bucky owing Tony an apology. But, who is going to give Bucky an apology? Hydra? Fate? In fact, no one. He'd done nothing wrong, not even a mistake. He's just an ordinary American soldier, a kind-hearted person. Why do this to him.

Back to this gif, Bucky was always so gentle with girls. He held her hand, instead of her waist; he just smiled softly, not much talking, instead of lower his head and kiss her. He was this gentle to everyone. His best friend changed his mind in the last second and not willing to stay with him on his last night, he had no anger at all. Later, when Peggy who was in a glamorous red dress, approached and give Steve a notification, Bucky tried to flirt with her. But he is nothing like other soldiers, no whistling, not using any offensive wordings, or making those vulgar jokes. In that scene, She didn't even throw a single look to Bucky. This was already kinda rude. Yet, Bucky didn't get angry, didn't complain after she left, didn't cry foul at her impoliteness and arrogance. He showed complete generosity and confidence throughout the whole process, then just laughed off his own embarrassment at last. He is a true gentleman.

This is Bucky's gentleness to girls, and his gentleness to the world.

We all know that Captain America is widely respected because he sacrifices himself for saving millions of people. Then does that mean Bucky's sacrifice is negligible? Every single soldier's sacrifice, especially Howling Commandos', had brought great improvement for the final victory of the war. However, Bucky's sacrifice was way more than that.

Because he was sacrificed on the mission of the arresting Hydra's top scientist Zola.

Captured Zola finally agreed to cooperate with the government, and later recruited by SHIELD. He revived hydra, let it parasitised SHIELD. It was Bucky's death caused Zola's arrest, and at the same time, it's also the amnesty and recruitment for Zola made hydra chose Bucky to be the one to experiment. Imagine how Zola was disgustingly gloating while he was brainwashing Bucky-- "Oh, Sergeant Barnes. Do you know that, if you hadn't been that desperate to arrest me back in those times, I wouldn't have experimented on you over and over now."

What was Bucky thinking after he fell from the train? The rescue team was useless, he's still alive. Compare to the broken limb, the loss of blood and severe pain should be nothing at all. Was he hoping someone to save him, when he was temporary awoke in his lonely waiting? Did he think that he was rescued when he saw those Soviet soldiers' jackets? But he had no idea, still, not a single idea, that's just the beginning of his tragedy. Since then, that smiling young adult, James Buchanan Barnes, had waved his hand and farewell to him. And he had dropped into an abyss of darkness, which only gets deeper and deeper.

No one was able to find Bucky in those 2 years of absconding.

But this doesn't bother to change the way they call him, look at him, treat him. From "the only sacrificed Howling Commando" to "the infamous former Hydra agent/assassin". Half of the world hates him, terrified of him; half wants to manipulate him, control him. During the endless and bitter self-searching, he chose to hideaway. Of course, it's because when he got his conscious back, his home was no longer his home anymore. The era he knew had gone far away. He realized that he was forced to do so many horrible things, and the world chose to give him a cold shoulder. He didn't have a place in this world. But that's nothing to the Winter Soldier. It was just like when those smart-alecky German Special Forces locked him in a cage for beasts, he didn't break out of it because just he didn't want to. The reason for him to hide, was mostly because he knows how dangerous he is.

He knows he is unstable; he knows trigger words. He feared that he would be controlled by bad guys and caused bigger harm. So he hid away, wrapped himself like a silkworm, isolated himself from the society. That's the way to protect more people. He couldn't seek help from anybody coz he knows that will bring what kind of mess to them. This is his gentleness to the world.

Can you imagine? A man who had suffered 70 years, brainwashed by his arresting target, blamed by the world which doesn't care about the truth, doesn't even a bit of an emotion called "resentment"? From CA: CW, we can see that Bucky's memories have already recovered to the level that every tiny detail can be described clearly. He recalled the inhumane experience of testing those "Winter Soldiers" when he was a subordinate of Karpov. And even after all this time, he didn't blame anyone after he was freed and conscious. He didn't complain, didn't punch a dozen sandbags to vent, didn't feel frustrated with his missed date. He treats the world so gently as he used to. He'll say thank you to hawkers when he buys plums; he'll hide himself in a small safe house, retrieve memories and do self-questioning; he'll confess honestly to Steve: "I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve." He'll still go on the battlefield to save the world when it's in danger.

I cannot imagine there would be someone like you, the one and only Bucky Barnes.

The world does not deserve you.

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

ALL THE CREDITS AND ANALYSIS ABOVE BELONG TO THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR. I DID NOTHING BUT ONLY TRANSLATING IT. (Thanks a lot for tolerating my poor English.)

[upstartpoodle]

For the AU prompts: George/Elizabeth + either Medieval or Military AU :D

Thanks for the ask! These were both tough ones - I had real difficulty coming up with ideas. I drew a complete blank on the military one so I’ve just done one for the medieval one (although I may have stretched the rules on the whole three sentence bit, just a teensy bit ha). Anyway, I’m not really sure of the quality of this so I hope you like it! :D

MEDIEVAL AU

“You know what is said about me,” he warned her, so early one morning that the sun had barely risen. They were sitting beneath the great, solitary oak that had become their meeting place during her lonely rides, away from unfriendly, prying eyes. “You will be thought unchristian should you be seen to associate with me.”

For a long time, Elizabeth did not speak, listening to the boughs of the trees bend and creak in the wind.

“I know what my aunt says,” she replied, slowly. “She says that you are a usurer, though you hide it, and none would dare prove it. She says that you have exchanged the flames of the forge for the fires of Hell.”

Many were inclined to speak ill of the money changer of Truro - wicked rumours which scattered amongst the people like a high wind through barley, but careful never to be spoken in the presence of their subject, for many owed him to greatly to dare risk offending him. Elizabeth, however, harboured neither fear, nor disdain. She thought he probably was a usurer - and if he were, he knew to conceal it amongst more respectable business - but, though she never dared voice it, usury seemed to her to be so petty and paltry a sin when robbers and murderers were rife on the roads, and when her own husband, who for all that she had loved him had been an adulterer himself, had been taken from her so young. In truth, Agatha’s attitude puzzled her a little. For all the old woman liked to pretend at piety when it suited her, she reveled in sin. Indeed, she suspected that she resented him, not for the crime itself, but because he sought to gather riches beyond what his proper place in life might have afforded him.

“Indeed,” George said. Something dark and angry flashed in his eyes, and the twist of his lips was more of a smirk than a smile. “I can’t help but think it rather ironic to be deemed destined for Hell by a woman rumoured to practise witchcraft. Perhaps I should repent my sins, else I might be forced to suffer eternity in her company in the depths of the Pit.”

It was not kind, but if there were one Christian teaching that George ascribed to, it was “an eye for an eye”. Elizabeth could not blame him. After all, Agatha had never been kind to him.

“She is a bitter old woman” she said, her voice barely audible over the rush of the wind in the leaves above them.

“Is that so?” came the reply. George’s bright eyes were sharp and wary - even now there was a part of him that didn’t quite dare open his heart to her, not completely - but she met his gaze without flinching, sincere and steady.

“I do not wish to become like her,” she said, willing him to see the truth in her eyes. “I do not wish to be poor and alone. I do not wish to fade away an old widow, bereft of friendship or love.”

She reached out and took one of his slender, long-fingered hands in her own.

“Please, George,” she said, and finally, finally she saw the hard, sharp lines of him soften, and his fingers closed gently about her own. “Please, I cannot be alone anymore.”

Send me a pairing and an AU and I’ll write you a three sentence fic