#damn like. time of chaos. chaos theory

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

been thinking about god and free will. their hand-in-hand existences. godswill like spacetime. distance as time. been reading about iterative bifurcation. things split in two over and over to fit pseudo-infinite distance into finite spaces. we have 48.000 miles of capillaries in our bodies. this takes up 3% of our body volume. tardis voice: so much bigger on the inside. the doctor was adam and the master was eve, but the master was the older (greater) so he was cain and the doctor was abel. who came first, god or time?

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[officialtokyosan]

uuughhh megatron/optimus really is the couple of all time huh

[multifandomslxt]

Quiet Rage

MDNI

MINORS GO AWAY

Pairing: bsf!Johnny x reader

Synopsis: You wanted to test a theory and ended up making Johnny "Quiet Rage" Suh pissed all the way off. Surely he wouldn't take it out on you though right? after all, you were his best friend.

WARNING: THIS IS SMUT...arguably one of my dirtiest yet. reader is a little shit and Johnny is the quiet guy in the friend group. Johnny in glasses. Dirty and I mean DIRTY talk. spit, sweat, mentions of bruising skin, drooling, overstimulation, exhibitionism via video call, just dirty stuff alright

A/N: This took forever to get out and I apologize for that. it's exam season and I really wanted this out so I pulled some all-nighters. so I apologize for the grammatical errors and so on. I'm very very nervous about this because I did not expect the teaser to get that much attention. but anyway, enjoyyy. @neoculturecollectives @calibabii21

"I swear, Johnny's into you," your girlfriend claims, and you almost spit out your latte. You shoot her a look, throat burning, and coffee dribbling down your chin. "What the hell makes you say that?"

She rolls her eyes, handing you a napkin. "Come on, babe. The guy gives you that intense stare all the time."

You stare at her in disbelief. "He gives everyone that stare. It's just Johnny."

She grunts in frustration. "Y/n, he calls you 'baby' for crying out loud."

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "So? It's not like it's some romantic declaration."

This scenario is all too familiar, and it annoys you. People always misread Johnny and you, trying to turn your perfectly platonic relationship into something more.

"Alright, if you're so confident, come with me to Jay's party tonight," she challenges.

Your heart sinks.

Jay, aka Jaehyun, is her boyfriend, and you've crossed paths quite a bit. But you already know you can't go.

"He doesn't like you like that, right? So let's settle it, Y/n. Let's end the speculation."

"That's dumb. I don't need to prove anything," you argue. But truth be told, your heart is still doing somersaults. You both know why you won't go, or rather, can't.

Johnny has this strict no-party rule for you. Sounds stupid, but it's his way of keeping you safe. One bad experience with some idiot led to this.

"Come on, just this once, and I'll drop it, promise," she pleads.

"Fine" you reply, already feeling your energy drain.

~

You find yourselves in what's supposed to be Jay's living room turned dance floor.

"Where's that man?" your friend complains beside you.

You hadn't been paying much attention to her anyway. Tonight, you're on a mission to prove a point. Yep, you're scanning for Johnny.

"Yo, ladies!" A familiar voice greets you from behind.

It's Mark. Awkward, cute, and definitely on some kind of high.

weed probably

"Markieee." you smiled and hugged him.

"Have you seen Jay?" your friend asks, not even bothering to greet Mark.

"In the upstairs bathroom," Mark replies, the thumping bass of the music echoing through the house.

"Thanks, y/n, call me if you need me," she says, her voice almost drowned out by the distant laughter and chatter.

"Okay," you agree, even though you know she's most likely going to be too busy to pick up. With that, she confidently stalks off into the lively chaos to find her man.

You're still hugging Mark throughout that, the music's pulsating rhythm vibrating through your bodies, and neither of you makes a move to release the other.

"Markie, how high are you right now?" you ask, half amused and half concerned, the scent of various substances hanging in the air.

"I'm not high," he insists, his words slightly slurred.

Yep, he's as high as a damn kite. "Alright, let's get you seated," you decide, guiding him through the animated crowd.

You hug him a little tighter to your side as you maneuver through the sea of people, completely unaware that the man you had been scanning for was silently observing you from across the dimly lit room.

Johnny tilts his head ever so slightly, the ambient lights flickering, casting enigmatic shadows on his intense expression as he observes you cradling the nearly unconscious Mark in your arms.

"Yo, Johnny! Where you goin'?" Heachan's voice echoes from the kitchen, where the clinking of glasses and laughter weave through the air.

"You can't bail on me now, man. You promised to try this strain with me," Hexhan pleads, his tone a mix of whining and cajoling.

"Another time," Johnny responds tersely, striding away without a backward glance.

Johnny can't fathom any sober reason for Mark to be draped over you like that.

"And you shouldn't even be here," Johnny muses to himself.

"Y/n," his gruff voice calls out, a single word that carries volumes.

You pivot, finding yourself face to face with your long-time best friend, a man whose relationship with you blurs between suspected boyfriend, occasional fling, or perhaps something more permanent.

His towering figure looms over you like an impending storm, his mouth contorted in a sneer, eyebrows knitted in displeasure. A quick appraisal reveals he's opted for a relaxed ensemble tonight—black hoodie and grey joggers, his signature black rimmed glasses resting on his nose.

"Johnny, I've been looking for you. Where the hell were y--"

"Y/n, have I ever told you that your tits make the best pillows ever? Oh my god," Mark interjects, completely oblivious to Johnny's presence.

In one swift motion, Johnny shoves Mark away, causing him to collide with people behind you.

"Johnny, what the fuck!" you gasp, caught off guard.

"What are you doing here, Y/n? I'm only asking once," Johnny demands, his hand firmly gripping the back of your neck, forcefully pulling you into the shelter of his chest.

"Answer the question."

"I'm here for you," you assert, making no attempt to deceive.

"You could've called me if you missed me so much, baby," he responds, his voice softening, and his eyebrows gradually easing.

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted to have fun too," you argue.

It becomes apparent that you've made the wrong choice as his hand tightens slightly around your neck.

"Have fun at home. No parties. I'm sure I told you that," his voice remains calm, but the increasing pressure on the back of your neck contradicts his demeanor.

"Go home. Now," he states, leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, your body twitches as if to comply, but it seems you're on a defiant streak tonight.

"No. I'll stay and have fun. I've seen you now, so I'll just go look for the others and enjoy myself," you declare.

He stares at you, a blank facial expression revealing nothing.

"Y/n, baby, go home," he says softly.

Successfully prying yourself from his grip, you retort, "No."

You stalk off, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room, hands straight by his sides, and his gaze unwaveringly black yet watchful.

As you navigate through the crowd, encounter familiar faces here and there.

~

You find yourself on your umpteenth shot of tequila when, unexpectedly, you're invited to a game of truth or dare, courtesy of Haechan.

Johnny is nowhere to be found, and the absence begins to stir a sense of worry and nervousness within you.

The game had unfolded over an extended period, leaving your mind increasingly hazy with each passing moment. Holding your liquor was never your forte.

You observed as the bottle spun and twirled before ultimately settling on the guy positioned beside you.

"dare" the guy simply said.

"I dare you to kiss y/n," Haechan's slurred yet mischievous voice announced.

As Haechan proclaimed his dare, Johnny ambled into the room, seemingly oblivious to your presence, it left you feeling bothered and angry.

Fine, you mused, if he's going to act that way.

Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol coursing through your system or some other inscrutable force, but you found yourself impulsively lunging towards the guy next to you. Teeth clashed in a messy, audacious kiss, and, fueled by the audacity of the dare, you dared to explore further by delving your tongue into his mouth.

A cheer erupted from the onlookers, making your heart swell.

Basking in the attention, you pushed the boundaries, only to be abruptly seized by the neck for the second time that night, this time by none other than Johnny himself.

Without hesitation, he mused, "Go to the car and sit. I'll be there soon."

"But, Joh—"

"Go. To. The. Car, Y/n, and shut your fucking mouth. I said I'll be there soon," he asserted, his words punctuated through gritted teeth.

~

The last ten minutes had passed in utter silence as both of you sat in the car.

When Johnny finally slid into the driver's seat, his gaze never once met yours. Without a word, he started the car and left the party, only sparing you attention when he needed to secure your seatbelt.

The oppressive silence weighed on you.

"That was a fun game, wasn't it?" you ventured, attempting to break the tension.

Silence persisted.

"I bet Haechan has a video of it. Probably gonna send it to the group later," you added, attempting to inject a touch of levity into the atmosphere, though your laughter carried an undercurrent of awkwardness.

"Quit playing with me." He bites back, completely unamused by your attempt at a joke.

Your body stills as you stare wide-eyed at the man beside you. You didn't expect that from him. He wasn't the type to be so aggressive, especially with you.

"I didn't mean for that to happen, John." You said weakly. He had to understand, you were just trying to get his attention.

"But it did y/n and now I'm gonna have to show you what happens when you don't fucking listen" He rages quietly, eyes still on the road ahead.

It was always quiet with him.

little did you know.

To the untrained eye, he seemed cool and collected. But, you could tell he wasn't quite there. Maybe it was the way he squeezed the life out of the steering wheel or how he kept clenching and unclenching his jaw. Or, you know, the massive tent in his pants…

either way, you knew

somehow, you managed to piss off Johnny Suh.

"I suggest you start thinking of a way to apologize because you have no fucking idea what I have planned for you." He momentarily looks at you just long enough for you to see the dangerous glint in his eyes

~

Arriving at Johnny's apartment, you found yourself comfortably settled on his couch while he busied himself in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water for you. Since his remark on the way here, a palpable silence hung in the air.

As he approached you with the glass of water, he broke the silence, "Thought of a way to apologize yet?"

You glanced up at him from your spot on the couch. "I'm sorry. I should've listened to you," you managed to utter, your gaze dropping to the floor, a strange sense of shame washing over you.

He snorted in response, "That's all you came up with, Y/n?"

Meeting his disappointed gaze, you took a deep breath. "I should've known better," you added quietly.

He sighed, handing you the glass of water. "Drink."

Taking the glass from his hands, you started sipping as he watched you in silence. Then, without breaking eye contact, he nonchalantly remarked, "I'm going to fuck some sense into you and then fuck it out of you."

You choked on your water, hastily wiping at your mouth as you stared at him in disbelief.

"Your apology wasn't going to satisfy me anyway. I made up my mind when you said no the first time," he asserted, his tone casual yet loaded with an underlying intensity that left you flustered and strangely intrigued.

"And what if I don't want it." You daringly ask.

you knew you did.

The way he was watching you made that clear as day.

"Then say no." He shrugs

"Now finish the drink and head upstairs when you're done."he adds

and you did exactly that.

~

Johnny was a man. You knew that, he knew that, and the whole world knew that. But sometimes, it felt like you didn't always keep that obvious characteristic at the forefront of your mind, as you should have.

Entering the room, nothing struck you as special. It was the same as always: his bed in the middle of the space, surrounded by walls adorned with retro posters and pictures he had taken over the years with friends, family, and you. Despite the numerous times you had visited his home, particularly his room, it didn't feel as intimate as it did now, and for some reason, that excited you.

As you let your gaze wander, movement from the door pulled you out of your thoughts, and you turned your focus to a strangely quiet Johnny.

You both stood in silence, staring at each other for what felt like long, drawn-out minutes.

"I didn't think I'd have to tell you to strip, y/n," he said seriosusly.

You hiccup, startled. "E-excuse me?"

He stepped closer to you. "Fucking strip."

Your heart hammered in your chest at the complete unfamiliarity of the situation.

"John, you can't be seri—"

His hands fisted in your hair, causing you to tilt your head up, meeting his hard gaze. "Strip. I won't ask again. You're always free to leave, y/n, but you and I both know you don't want to."

~

"move your hand"

you twist and turn writhing your body all over his bed, hand trying to stop his fingers from fucking into you.

"Johnny, please! I said i was sorry " you scream as tears line your eyes

"I said move your fucking hand" he grabs your writs and pins the above your head

his fingers pummeling into you repeatedly. long and thick. you felt like you could feel all the ridges and callouses on them. all the fucking veins. it was torture.

SQUELCH SQUELCH

you try to squeeze your thighs together only for him to pry them back open almost immediately.

it was almost embarrassing just how wet you were really

"God. Fuck you're all over my sheets baby hmm" he moans his eyes never leaving your pussy.

almost.

that did it for you though

"Johnny, Johnny m'cumming"

“not yet baby”

you couldn't hold it

“Y/n, I said not yet” his actions contradicted his words as his fingers curled rubbing against your g spot

your body involuntarily shoots up off the bed as your lower abdomen contracts

"I can't hold it."

You cum with a high-pitched scream. Squirting all over Johnny's hand before lifelessly falling back on the bed.

you’re trying to get your breathing under control when you hear Johnny’s displeased voice

"you don't fucking listen do you"

fingers still in you, he manages to add even more pleasure relentlessly pumping into you

your legs start trembling from the intense pressure building in your abdomen once again.

Your scream is ear piercing as you cum for the fourth time

fifth...

you don't even know.

gosh, He hadn't even fucked you yet

you didn't even realize the drool running down your chin. eyes rolled back and lashes fluttering, your skin gleaming with sweat and thighs trembling. Your chest heaved as you breathed hard still coming down from your high.

In Johnny's eyes, you looked so fucked out and so fucking pretty.

He knew his version of foreplay was intense but he also knew he took it a bit further just for you.

his stubborn girl. He loved it but you needed to be taught a lesson.

with your mouth wide agape, he takes the opportunity of your oblivious state and shoves his middle and index finger down your throat causing you to gag.

"taste yourself...that's right baby suck my fingers clean" He coos as your mouth clings to his fingers.

when satisfied he pulls his away

"knees" is all he says.

you mumble uncoherent words trying to tell him you can't get up but it seems he is already way ahead of you helping you get comfortable in your position on the floor.

He begins to pull his sweatpants down revealing his erection fighting against the fabric of his black underwear. he wastes no time in pulling his cock out and you almost drool.

so harsh but so fucking pretty.

big and veiny with the prettiest pink tip. No wonder the foreplay was so intense. there was no way he was gonna fit without stretching you that much.

You look up at him with hopeful eyes. you wanted him in your mouth so fucking bad your pussy actually ached.

"So cute," he spits in the palm of his hand before bringing it down to stroke his cock.

"open and suck" He states.

Wasting no time your hands replace his and you begin to pump his pretty cock. you lick from the base of his pretty cock to the even prettier pink tip teasing him just a little with small kitten licks

"no teasing" he warns.

But of course, you don't listen continuing to push him over the edge with those kitten licks. even having the audacity to maintain eye contact while doing it.

You see the way his jaw clenches as he loses his patience and grabs the back of your head thrusting and forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes widen and begin to water as you start to harshly breathe through your nose.

Gagging multiple times as he continues to relentlessly fuck your mouth

"no teasing and you continue to fucking tease huh? who's fucking in charge here y/n? Who's fucking cock's fucking your pretty mouth?"

not being able to speak you hum around his cock watching as his gaze becomes more sadistic by the second.

"Ah fuck, you're gonna make me cum like this baby?" you hum in response causing him to groan from the vibrations

"Ah, shit"

You watch his expression contort into a pained one before he somehow manages to make his cock hit even further than the back of your throat and cums in your mouth.

"Dont waste it, baby, swallow for me" he says airly

you swallowed his mouth full of cum. loving the pleasantly salty taste.

you wheezed and choked so overwhelmed with just how rough Johnny really was.

Where was this side of him hiding?

holy fuck

"your mouth, keep it open," he grumbles still heaving firm his previous orgasm.

you open your mouth a gain forming an 'O' shape and surprise takes you as he spits in your mouth before lightly slapping you across the face.

your hair was all over the place and your entire face was decorated with a mixture of precum, smudged makeup, tears, snot, and sweat

"Atta Girl." he praises you.

He helps you to your feet before giving you a quick peck on your lips

"turn around and bend over. Yeah just like that... spread your legs for me"

you used the bed as support as you got into the desired position.

he wastes no time thrusting his cock into you rough and hard.

the sound of skin slapping and the squelching of your pussy around him cause your knees to buckle as you threaten to lose your stance.

You were gonna cum soon.

feeling your swaying form, he grabs your neck pulling you into him as your back meets his chest

"don't you fucking dare" he threatens.

"Ah... please please, please! m'sorry... m'so sorry I won't do it again just please make me cum john, I'll be good I swear" you cry gasping for air between words. soon your sentences jumble into a whole lot of nothing.

he keeps his hand wrapped around your neck as he uses the other to hold your hand behind your back

"no. Cum when I say so. you need to learn to fucking listen."

snapping his hips at a quick pace.

the area around your hips already beginning to bruise from how hard he was holding you.

"t'much please johnny!" You scream as your legs begin to shake for the umpteenth time

"you can fucking take it. This is what you wanted right? To piss me off? Having mark all on you like that?" he says begrudgingly

he grabs your left breast and squeezes your nipple hard enough for your pussy to clench around him

"so damn sensitive" he whispers in awe.

he pulls out and pushes you on the bed. you look back and he's

standing over you with messy hair, dark eyes, and a cock so erect it slapped against his stomach with the slightest movement.

"get on your back and spread your legs" he says pulling your legs to the edge of the bed .

You flip over and he immediately fucks into you even harder than before.

once again your hands flay erratically as you scream trying to get away from the aching pleasure that was starting to make you see double.

"look at that baby, " he coos eyes staring at your stomach.

you look down and see his cock bulging in your lower abdomen.

You gasp at the sight

'Johnny please" you whimper not even sure what you are asking for.

"I might just fuck a baby into you. keep you home like a good little wife hmm." he says seriously, eyes still set on the bulging in your lower abdomen.

you clenched around him liking the sound of carrying his children

"you like that huh? " He groans

you nod as tears start to stream down your face.

suddenly he stops thrusting causing you to cry out

"Just gimmie a second baby gotta fix your mistake," he says as he reaches over to his nightstand picking up his phone.

"I'm calling Mark " he says nonchalantly causing your heart to race.

"you're off-limits and they fucking know that but it seems all of you need to be reminded of how things are tonight hm?"

the dial tone blares out before a muffled "hello?" comes through the speaker. Mark.

"watch " Johnny says before he thrusts into you so fucking deep you could taste him

you moan loudly

barley registering the "fucking hell, man" that comes from the phone. That was Haechan

'watch' Johnny had said earlier and you begin to understand that it was a video call.

Mark and Haechan were witnessing Johnny fuck you into oblivion.

"see this? this is my fucking pussy and nobody else can fucking have it." he fucks your relentlessly a familiar feeling building in your stomach.

"j-johnny its t'much"

"nah, you can fucking take it."

"oh, fuck! " you scream into the pillow

"my fucking pussy and she can't give it away ain't that right y/n"

"mhmm" you say not having the strength actually speak.

you cum with a shiver and a whine and even then he didn't stop

still drilling his cock into you

overstimulating you more and more

you try to get away and he never once let his cock leave you.

"tell them how many times you cum tonight." He challenges, knowing full well that you couldn't form a word much less a sentence at the moment.

you mutter random words too fucked out to think

a sharp slap to your face brings you back

"how many fucking times?" he says through clenched teeth

"Alot" you scream.

"good girl" he says before hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room.

"just give me one more" he continues.

you moan as your toes curl from the overwhelming sensations building in your stomach

with a sharp thrust, you squirt all over Johnny's cock just as he cums inside you.

"next time you do that shit I’ll fuck you right in front of them instead of over the phone."

[wandaslittlelove]

Destined Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: None?

Series Masterlist

I sighed as I heard a loud knock on my front door. Grabbing the bag of flour I made my way to the door assuming it was just my neighbor Marcy wanting some for baking again. The girl never seemed to have any and always came over for mine which I didn’t mind. I just started buying more when I would go to the store. 

“Marcy hun you should really just-” I froze as I saw Strange on the other side of the door and a young girl stood next to him.

“y/n nice to see you.” He spoke. With a sigh I sat the flour down on the small table by the door before inviting them in.

“Tea?” I asked while making my way into the kitchen as they both followed after me. The young girl politely nodded her head and took a seat at the island along with Strange who sat a very old looking book down on the countertop.

It was silent for a minute. The only sound being me getting down three mugs and the teapot whistling on the stove. 

I sat the tea in front of the two along with some sugar as I took to standing across from them.

“What do you need Strange?” My tone came out more bitter than I wanted it to but I couldn’t help it. After I left what remained of the Avengers I had hoped I would never have to see his face or any of theirs ever again. That's why I moved to Ohio so that I would be away from the never ending drama that is New York and to be close to my sister's grave.

“I- We need your help. This Is America Chavez. She’s able to travel the multiverse.” With those words I choked on my tea.

“The multiverse?” I questioned not trusting my ears to have heard the right thing.

“Yes. You know about it?” He asks as he and the girl, America, looked at each other.

“Vision often talked of his theories during movie nights” The word Vision seemed to make me scowl remembering how he got the life with the person I had loved. The person who was supposed to be my wife. 

“You said Wanda said the same thing” This was the first time the girl had spoken and the way she said Wanda had made your whole body shiver. It was as if she was scared of the woman.

“You spoke to her?” I hadn’t heard anything of her since that night I left. I expected to at least see something about her on the news but she never came up. 

“Yeah. She’s after me. She’s been sending these weird creatures after me to take my powers.” America explained as she fiddled with the mug.

“She has the dark hold y/n” The words caused me to stiffen. I had only heard of the dark hold a few times while I was studying with Strange but I knew it was nothing good. It was described as the book of the damned and anyone who touched it became corrupted. “I need your help in protecting America. Yours and Wanda’s magic are almost complete opposites. While hers is chaos magic while yours is Order magic.” The two shared another look as if they both knew something I didn’t. I watched as Strange opened the book he had brought and flipped to a page. “With the help of the darkhold Wanda has become the Scarlet Witch. Everything anyone had ever known about her is written in this book like a prophecy.” I nodded as I listened to his words. “It also speaks of yours.” He slides the book over to me and setting my tea down I quickly read the page he had opened to. 

The Scarlet Witch bringer of chaos and the White Fawn bringer of life and creation:

The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged. She has no coven or need for incantation. Her power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It is her destiny to destroy the world. 

The White Fawn is the opposite of the chaos bringer. She is born to counteract the actions of the Scarlet Witch. Her destiny is to heal the wounds, love, and calm the Chaos Witch.

My eyes scanned the page three more times before I slammed the book shut. I watched as America jumped in her seat and I sent her an apologetic smile as I slid the book back to Strange. 

“That can’t be right or it can’t be me. Wanda does not love me. I will not let my destiny be what is written in some book. What is she even after in the multiverse?” My question seemed to keep Strange quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“You”

Tag List: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa @idontknow-llol

[thankskenpenders]

There’s been some discussions on Twitter recently about if Blaze’s dimension is worth keeping around and expanding on or if it should be ignored/merged with Sonic’s world thanks to a Bumblekast clip. What are your thoughts on Blaze’s dimension as a story-telling hurdle/ alternate setting? I personally feel like it wouldn’t make a difference if Blaze was a princess from another dimension or a princess from the other side of the world, it would just be easier for her to show up if she wasn’t from another dimension, but I also think it’s be neat to expand on Blaze’s world as a parallel to Sonic’s.

I think there's a whole cottage industry of Sonic fans who just like to take things Ian says out of context so they can rile people up on Twitter, and the fandom falls for it every time, and it's extremely tiring

But also I think Ian is right

This isn't something I've really shared, but I actually have a document where I've kept ideas for what I would do with a hypothetical modern reboot of Archie Sonic where I'm allowed to start from scratch and change anything I want. (I might share some of this someday, perhaps with some character designs, but for now it's just a thing for me. It's not like I'm gonna do a comic or anything.) For Blaze, I immediately decided that all of the elements from the Sol Dimension should be merged with the regular Mobius. I would just say that Sonic and friends have all their adventures on one hemisphere of the planet, and Blaze is from the other. I mean, the Sol Dimension already has a heavy Australia/Oceania vibe. It'd be really easy. This way, there would still be some level of separation, and Blaze would still have her own territory where she gets to be the main hero, but it'd be WAY easier to actually use those elements. Characters can just show up on whatever part of the planet they need to be on for any given story

For some reason people seem to think that Blaze being from a separate dimension isn't a storytelling hurdle at all, and I really don't know what franchise they're following, because it sure as hell isn't the version of Sonic I know. Yes, in theory it could be as simple as just using a warp ring to hop over to the Sol Dimension whenever. There are ways to write around it. I'd love to see that happen so that we could flesh out Blaze's world some more. Give Blaze some more allies and villains of her own! Give her more to do over there, and more reasons for Sonic and co. to visit! But clearly Sega isn't down with that, considering the Sol Dimension has only ever been in one game and, what, two issues of the IDW comics for maybe ten pages total? Sega's just sitting on it, and it's impossible not to see the fact that it's a whole separate dimension as the reason.

Even if we were getting more stories about traveling to and from the Sol Dimension, it'd still be a hassle. You want to use the Chaotix in a story in the Sol Dimension? Wanna use Marine or Johnny or whoever in a story set on the main world? Well, you'd better think up an airtight excuse for why those characters are traveling between the dimensions and pray that Sega approves of it. And right now that seems to be one hell of an obstacle, given how little we see of the Sol Dimension even though I know damn well Ian and Evan would love to explore it more. It's gotten to the point that Blaze is now on an endless "vacation" on Sonic's Earth so that they can actually use her in stories. People have been acting like merging the worlds would completely take away everything that makes Blaze special as a character, when it would just make all of her personal story stuff infinitely easier to work with than it is right now.

"Oh but what about the Sol Emeralds?" There's no reason the Sol Emeralds couldn't exist on the same planet as the Chaos Emeralds. We've already got other magic rocks like the Time Stones, the Phantom Ruby, and the Warp Topaz. "But what about Eggman Nega?" I could not give less of a shit about what happens to Eggman Nega and Sega doesn't even use him anymore, but also he's already supposed to be from Silver's future, not the Sol Dimension. "But what about the plot of Sonic Rush where the whole point was that they had to stop the worlds from being merged because they thought it was a bad thing?" Yes, because Sonic has always been a series that treated canon as sacred an immutable, and Sega would never do something that contradicted a game from almost 20 years ago

Anyway, all of this is a moot point. It's not like this is going to happen. Ian just brought up the possibility on the BumbleKast as an "if I could change literally anything" type deal. Sega is not going to do this. He is allowed to have his own opinions on Sonic things without fans having to take it personally and scream and cry about it. You don't have to agree with him on everything. I've certainly had points I disagree with him on! It's fine! That's normal! He's only human. Yes, Ian is on the Lore Team, but he's just one voice in the room. He's not even the boss of that team. If Ian could get whatever he wanted, we'd have seen the Freedom Fighters and Sticks by now

[deconstructthesoup]

It's Black Friday, which means I'm, of course, thinking about Starkid... and I have a theory that the specific order that the LiB are always listed in (Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblephem, Wiggoth Y'Wrath) are, in fact, the order of how powerful they are, from least to greatest.

Let's start with Pokey. Now, on the surface, yeah, being able to completely take over people and turn them into hollow shells that speak your voice may be pretty damn powerful, but I think this actually works to the LiB's detriment. Think back to what Hidgens said, way back in TGWDLM---the existence of the hivemind would result in world peace, because if they're all under one mind, one "Singular Voice," there's nothing to fight about... but the LiB are all about sowing chaos, driving people to ruin. And if Pokey takes over everyone, there's nobody left to mess with. Even Webby outright compares Pokey to the rest of his brothers, which speaks a lot to how they see him---short-sighted, close-minded, and probably a little selfish. (I could also bring up the fact that unlike the others, he seems a lot more serious and even somber in his infliction, tying into his stone-face mask, but that's a whole other thing.) He's also, interestingly enough, one of two LiB who weren't introduced by way of Sniggles---even Nibbly got a little song from two of them after he did his Honey Queen munching---so maybe that means something? Idk.

Blinky definitely seems to have a good deal of power, if the horrors going on in Watcher World are anything to go by, but it also seems kinda... limited. From what we can see (heh), Blinky just operates out of this theme park, and unlike the others? He actually got defeated. Alice and Bill broke out of the effects, flooded Watcher World, and made it out with their bond strengthened rather than broken. Compare this with Pokey succeeding in taking over the world in TGWDLM---even if he failed later in Yellow Jacket---Tinky easily pulling the rug out from Ted's feet in Time Bastard, Nibbly snacking on Linda without so much as a second thought in Honey Queen, and Wiggly fucking starting a nuclear war in Black Friday despite his cult getting defeated and him not actually manifesting, you gotta wonder... what's up with Blinky failing? But I think his human look in NPMD speaks to that---it's a very laid-back look, and I saw someone suggest that he (or she, here, I guess) is trying to emulate the type of teen who's just there to chill, sit back, and watch TV. Maybe Blinky's whole deal is that he's fairly passive, and just wants to watch the chaos happen while he nudges some folks in the right direction. I could be completely wrong, of course.

Now, Tinky as the brother who's smack-dab in the middle actually makes a lot of sense. His domain is time itself---that's nothing to sneeze at! He's incredibly devious, and he always seems to get what he wants! His specialty is driving people insane! But when you look at the fact that he seems a little too chaotic, even for his brothers, and the fact that his eldritch form is, uh... kinda tame, since it's literally just a yellow goat, you have to wonder if Tinky suffers from middle-child syndrome. He's powerful, sure, but he's weird. Either he gets overlooked or he's just there to be along for the ride---I'm just guessing this based on the fact that he had, like two lines in The Summoning, even though he's probably the reason the messed-up timeline in Hatchetfield exists. He's just the crazy middle child, and honestly? That works. Good for him.

Nibbly, I think, is the only LiB (aside from our tentacle boi) who is explicitly stated to be considered "unique," with a power set that automatically puts him on a different level than a lot of his brothers. He's the only one who can regularly manifest in our reality, which makes him the only one who can physically affect the real world---and sure, that means eating pagent winners, but it could also mean a shitton of other things. It's kind of amazing that with his constant hunger and the power to manifest on Earth once a year, he only limits himself to one sacrifice... and maybe that's the point. Maybe the sacrifice only exists because Nibbly used to use that night to cause as much devastation as possible, and he's calmed down since then. Which, uh... yeah, scary thought.

And, yeah, Wiggly is obvious. He's in charge, he makes the decisions, he's always revered over the others---it's pretty clear that he's the most powerful brother, and though everything he does in Black Friday speaks to that, I have a feeling that we don't actually know the extent of Wiggly's true power... and maybe, that's the point. The other LiB get clear-cut domains---control, surveillance, time, and hunger, with not a lot of room for wiggle room, if you'll forgive the pun---but for Wiggly, it's not so obvious. We know that his line in The Summoning is "Wiggly wants his wrath," but it's not just wrath that he preys on. In Black Friday, he uses what people want to become strong, quite literally marketing himself as the solution to all of their problems. In NPMD, he asks Steph, Pete, and Grace for the thing they cherish. He's not just wrath, but greed and desire, and that adds a punch. Also, that extra bit of complexity makes him line up perfectly as a devil figure.

And considering all of this, you have to wonder---where does Webby fall in all of this? Is she stronger than her brothers, and it's just that they outnumber her, or is she weaker? Is she older or younger (this might've been answered, I'm not as caught up on livestream lore as some may be)? Is it just her in the White, or does she have sisters? She's described as "A Queen in White," not "The Queen in White," which points to there maybe being more, but why haven't we seen more? Why is it just Webby fighting against her brothers, and why can't she do more?

*pauses*

Wow. Okay. Jesus, that got away from me.

Anyways, the Hatchetfield saga has super cool horror worldbuilding

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Let Me Take Care of You

Pairing: JoeQuinnxReader

Summary: I couldn't stop thinking about how that man needed someone to take care of him after such a long day. And I know how much he cares about his fans. He was so kind but toward the end, everybody was rushed, and I have no doubt he wished he could have taken more time. So, fic idea popped into my head because...yeah, he looked so damn good on Sunday. You're dating Joe and after the chaos of the day, you just want to help your man.

18+ only

The hotel room door opened and in came Joe, looking absolutely drained and exhausted. It had been a whirlwind of a weekend. The U.S. Embassy had misplaced his passport and he almost missed the con in Philly, disappointing thousands of fans. At the last minute, everything worked out, but he’d had to cram three days worth of autographs and photo ops into one day, showing up early and staying late. You’d offered to tag along but he’d insisted on you relaxing as you’d had a late flight the night before and he had his friend, Ollo, there to be by his side throughout the day. Joe was also nervous how his fans might treat you if they found out he was seeing someone. The two of you had kept it under wraps the last few months when you’d seen how some of the fandom had treated Grace. It was awful that someone so sweet had to deal with that kind of toxicity. 

You knew Ollo would take care of Joe, making sure he hydrated, got something to eat, and at least got a couple of smoke breaks to keep his nerves steady. But that didn’t stop you from worrying all day. You’d been checking your phone, seeing all the photos people were posting. It hadn’t gone without notice that as the day wore on, Joe’s smile wasn’t quite as wide, those eyes weren’t quite as soft as usual. 

You set your phone down, sitting up as he let out a large sigh, dropping onto the edge of the bed in front of you. You gripped the leather jacket in your hands, sliding it down his arms and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. Using your fingers, you kneaded the tense muscles of his shoulders, relishing the pleased groan he released. Your fingers continued, moving along his back and you rested your chin gently on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. Joe’s hand came to cradle your cheek, his thumb running over your jaw. 

“Long day, baby?” you asked.

“The longest,” he answered. “We managed to get everyone done but as the day wore on, they were making me rush. I felt so bad because I couldn’t chat with people or do the poses they wanted. They were telling people no hugs. I feel like they left disappointed.”

“Oh Joe, no,” you assured him, your thumb pressing into a tight knot you felt in his low back. “Your fans understand. I saw so many of the posts today and they were so grateful they had the chance to see you, that you managed to make it even if it was for one day. They understood. None of this was your fault. It sucks that you had to rush people but if you didn’t, everyone might not have gotten their chance to see you.”

“I know, darling. I just hate feeling like I didn’t give them a great experience. And it was such a long day…”

“Did you get a lunch break?”

“Yes, I did,” Joe chuckled, tilting his head, resting it against yours. “I ate, love, no worries. Ollo kept checking in on how much water I was drinking. I got three smoke breaks. It was just a lot. The panel actually felt like a break. I got to sit on a couch and have a good chat. They asked about the Kas theory again.”

You laughed, “Of course they did. Your fans want you back for season five badly. I’m sorry it was such a long day. I know this isn’t how you wanted it, but I am glad Ollo took care of you. Him and I would be having words if not.”

“I have no doubt, my sweet girl. Everyone took very good care of me today.”

“Mmm…well, maybe, but I haven’t had my turn.”

“You’re taking care of me right now,” Joe insisted. “Thank you for the back rub. Standing on that concrete was killer by the end of the day.”

“Oh, I think I can do more than that. My poor boy needs to relax,” you crooned, winding your arms around him, pulling him until he was lying back on the bed. You straddled him, your knees cradling his thighs. “Let me help you relax.”

Joe’s eyebrows raised, a smirk appearing on those sweet, full lips, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, bringing your lips to his. 

His arms locked around you, crushing your body against his. Your tongue slid along his bottom lip and he caught it with his lips, gently sucking before slipping his tongue along yours, eliciting a gentle moan. You rocked your hips, rubbing your core along his length, your tongue exploring his mouth, loving the sounds of pleasure that rumbled up from his chest. 

“Let’s lose this shirt,” you whispered, sitting up and pulling the plain black tee over his head, tossing it across the room. 

“And what about your shirt?”

“This isn’t about me right now,” you grinned, your lips tracing the line of his jaw, down the side of his neck. Jesus, he smelled like heaven. “I'm taking care of you, remember?” Your lips continued their path, over his collarbone, nipping gently, his hips thrusting up into yours, creating delicious friction against your already pulsing center. 

“Seeing your tits would take care of me. Nothing makes me happier than your jubblies smothering my face.”

“Uh-uh…not yet, my beautiful boy. You just lay back and relax. Let me do all the work tonight.”

You placed open mouthed kisses over his chest, teeth grazing over his nipples. His hand cradled the back of your neck, a low growl falling from his lips. As your tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other, your fingers worked his belt and then the button on his jeans. You continued to slide down his body, placing your feet on the floor. Your tongue followed a path over his abdomen, following the trail of coarse hairs that led right where you intended to go as you gripped his jeans and boxers at the same time, dragging them down his legs and over his feet until he was completely bare to you, his cock standing at attention, pre-cum glistening along the tip. 

Kneeling down in between his legs, you gently raked your nails over his thighs and his hips rolled towards you in response, his body letting you know exactly what he needed. Your tongue darted out, capturing the salty release that had already collected. 

“Fuck, darling…” he hissed. “Don’t tease. Please.”

“No worries, baby. I am going to help ease all your stress.”

You wrapped your lips around him, working his length, taking as much of him as your throat would allow. He grunted deeply, one hand tangling in your hair as he thrust up into your mouth, the tip of his cock scratching the back of your throat. Wrapping your hand around the base, you moved along him, using your mouth and hand, pleasure shooting to your core as you listened to this beautiful man coming undone because of what you were doing to him. 

Sometimes you pinched yourself because you could not believe he was all yours. But here he was, completely at your mercy, groaning, gasping, writhing, and you were the cause of it. You were the one who could help him, who could ease his stress, who could make him feel good. It was a goddamn high. 

“Bloody hell…so sodding good…don’t stop, love…just like that…” he panted. 

Your other came up to cradle his balls, rolling them along your palm like a pair of dice. Joe growled low, the hand in your hair tightening, pulling, his other hand slamming down against the mattress. Your tongue ran along each side of his cock before taking him fully in your mouth again as you tugged down gently on his balls, squeezing them gently, applying just the right amount of pressure. 

“Fuck!” Joe shrieked, bucking up into your mouth as he held your face tightly against him, his release flooding your mouth. His entire body shook beneath you as he went rigid, helpless grunts and moans rolling out of him. 

As he relaxed, you carefully released him from your mouth, swallowing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Standing, you smiled down at him, holding his eyes with yours as you slowly removed your shirt, followed by your shorts and panties until you were naked in front of him. Joe’s eyes traveled the length of you, devouring you with his gaze, sending a shock of desire straight to your center, pulsing with need. 

You crawled over the top of his body and his hands immediately fell upon you, roaming over your sides, your hips, the curves of your breasts. He grabbed your hips, sliding you up his body until your breasts were directly over his face and then he buried himself between them, deeply moaning, his hands pressing them together against his face. 

“Fuck, I love these tits,” he sighed, his mouth exploring every inch, tongue and teeth teasing your nipples into hard little buds. 

“Joe,” you breathed, sliding your wetness over his cock until it was hard, ready to go once again. The feel of his erection pressing against your clit had you whimpering, eager for him to fill you. 

His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb moving over your clit and you gasped, back arching as you pressed your hands against his chest, sitting up. Joe started with slow circles, moving faster and faster until you were gasping for breath. 

“So wet already, darling and I barely did anything for you.”

“Taking care of you works me up,” you breathed, struggling to speak against the intense pleasure coursing through your body as his circles grew smaller, focusing right on your pleasure button. “The way you sound…knowing I can do that…it’s so damn hot. Fuck, I need your cock.”

Reaching between you, you grabbed his cock, lowering yourself onto him slowly until your pelvises were flush together. The two of you moaned simultaneously as you began to slowly rotate your hips in a circle, his cock hitting all the right places that had your stomach tensing, already so close as his thumb continued working magic on you.

“Shit, darling…that’s so good,” Joe praised. “I love watching you ride me.” His free hand caressed your face, thumb running over your lower lip and you caught it between your lips, sucking it into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

You sighed, releasing his thumb as you rocked back and forth, hands gripping his shoulders for purchase as you picked up the pace. Joe’s chest rose and fell heavily as he quickly raced toward another climax, his cock twitching within you as you rolled over him. His thumb began moving back and forth, faster over your clit, and you knew he was determined to get you to cum before he did. 

“Come on, my beautiful girl,” he urged, one hand now gripping your hip as he moved with you. “Cum for me, darling. Let me see how fucking beautiful you are when you let go.”

“Joe…I…fuck!” you cried, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as you shuddered on him, your climax crashing over you. 

“That’s it…yes, love,” he grunted, gripping both of your hips, thrusting up into you hard, taking over as you lost all control, moaning his name over and over. Joe’s fingertips dug into your flesh as he held you against him, filling you with his release. “Jesus Christ, darling…” He sighed, falling back on the bed. 

You fell forward onto his chest, nuzzling his neck, “Do you feel more relaxed, beautiful boy?”

“So relaxed,” he murmured sleepily. “Fuck, you took everything out of me, love.” His arms wrapped around you and his lips pressed against your forehead. “I am going to sleep like a goddamn baby.”

“Good,” you replied, kissing his shoulder. “I’ll clean us up and tuck you all in.”

You went into the bathroom, getting a warm washcloth that you used to clean the two of you. Joe laid still, eyes closed, breathing deep as you gently wiped him. You tossed the washcloth back in the bathroom and then had to work to get him turned in the bed the right way as he was not much help. Your poor boy was so damn tired. 

Laying down next to him, you pulled the blanket over both of you and he whimpered softly in his sleepy state, hands reaching out for you. Joe was a cuddler, always the big spoon. Smiling, you slid toward him with your back to him, those strong arms encasing you, pressing you against his chest, wrapping himself around your body. You sighed happily, burrowing into his arms, inhaling the soothing scent of your favorite person on this planet. 

“I love you,” you whispered. “Good night.”

“Mmm…love you…” he mumbled. “Night love.”

[rainysofsunshineao3]

It's officially 2 Weeks until Jurassic World Chaos Theory drops so I'm making an overcomplicated really long analysis of:

*THIS* scene because I love them the normal amount :)

SOOOO... Lets start off with this vvv

First off, GOD THE ANIMATION. Screaming, crying, sobbing right now. That hesitant pause, the eyes movement as right before + as she says "Fallen". Our girl is so scared, I'm sure her heart is beating like, 1000 times ber minute. Her eyebrows scrunching together as she finally gets the words out, then raising like a weight is lifted off her shoulders? Goddamn, these animators got me sobbing at a fictional character.

The worry in her expression as she waits to hear what Sammy has to say and as soon as she figures out that it's a positive response, she just gets this look of absolute ADORATION. Look at that full-on open-mouthed smile she gives. She just looks so happy. You can also notice she's taking full, deep breaths again. It isn't really shown in the previous GIF, but girlie was definitely holding her breath. Convince me otherwise.

And then we have this MASTERPIECE vvv

There's so many things in this. She still has that like, half-dazed happy puppy smile and then Sammy kinda just launches herself towards her and you can visibly see the confused "oh shit, wat" widening of the eyes.

And I mean, to be fair, this girl is not the best at romantic cues. Like look at these...

Like, even in the beginning seasons, the way this woman looks at you and you can't tell? And she puts up with your dramatic ass? This is not normal heterosexual behaviour people. I know maybe 1 pair of friends who are straight as a ruler but are a little too comfortable with each other, but that's a minority.

Going back on track...

Yeah, Yaz isn't the best with romantic cues, and also, Damn, Sammy, I can't really blame her. You freaking yeeted yourself at her mouth, of course she wasn't going to kiss you back immediately. Like, y'all, especially for a first kiss, please ask your partner? This actually was my one problem with this scene, and I don't know why it doesn't get talked about more...

Anyway, Yaz closes her eyes the second Sammy touches her (like, fr, girlie was expecting atomic impact) then slowly opens her eyes.

But you can see the good second and a half that Yaz' brain just can't catch up to what's happening and it's the best fucking thing ever. I'd post like, every single time we have a "Yaz Brain Buffer" but tumblr only allows 10 images per post :(

Then finally - actually this time - we have the continuation of the previous GIF (not including the sapphic yearning slides )

Yaz finally just, understands and kisses Sammy back (thank god) but the real focus of this gif is that when they pull away, YAZ IS STILL LOOKING AT SAMMY'S LIPS LIKE GIRL.

Another blink showing "Oh, ok. That just happened" and then we get the sweetest sapphic-yearning-fulfilled soft smile from both of them.

I'd scream with Brooklyn in the background but I CANT cause she's dead *sobs*

God I love these two so much. I need this representation when I was 10. They make me so happy I actually can't describe it. LORD, what a blessing and journey this was.

Hope these two had the same effect on you as they did me :)

TOODLES!!!

[fabulouslyflamboyant5]

The Unrighteous Knight Part 4

pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader

summary: when your past makes its way to your present, you have no choice but to face what you desperately tried to bury.

warning: canon typical violence, mentions of s*xual as*ult, themes of depression and su*cidal thought

word count: 1.5k

a/n: if you couldn't already tell, life hasn't been the greatest lately. writing has always been therapeutic, a comfort of sorts. so this fic has unintentionally progressed into something much darker than I intended for it to.

part one part two part three part four

The task of understanding oneself is easier said than done.

It is, in theory, a time for serendipity and unwavering resolve. Questioning is encouraged for it is sure to call forth inner peace.

In practice, you have experienced only chaos. Self-destruction of the highest level; the complete and utter repentance of self-fulfillment and appreciation.

You are destined to be happy, in the same ways your sisters were destined to be great.

And yet, you are the epitome of misery, lacking in accomplishments and cauldron blessed feats. 

Rejecting opportunities is something favored by the weak, so you aren't quite sure why you seem to be doing just that.

Standing in front of the marble lined mirror, its obsidian edges sharp and artisan crafted, you cannot help but resent everything bestowed upon you.

Immortality, oftentimes revered by mortals, is no more than monotony dragged out over eternity.

Why is it you fight, would it be so difficult to give up?

Perhaps Azriel was only acting on your own subconscious ambitions that fateful night. Had he struck the littlest bit closer, just enough to pierce the fragility of your lungs, you could be resting contently in whatever fire ridden land you are destined for.

You mistake your tears for rain, not realizing the moisture cascading down your face is a product of yourself until you focus in on the image presented within the mirror. Occurrences such as these are rare. You devour sorrow with ease, but the physical act of crying is a poison you are yet to find an antidote for. 

It's unfamiliar.

Almost as much as the thought, or impending reality, of being face to face with Azriel.

For the first time since the incident, you will be training with him again. Though Nesta did not outright mention he would be present, it would be foolish to assume her failed ministrations were not a warning.

So now, as you stand before your own reflection, crying, and cursing the universe for your creation, you wonder.

What could I be, if I were to leave this all behind?

Who may I have become, had I never been corrupted?

You imagine, for the first time in years, a better future for yourself. 

And god damn, if it isn't a wonderous thing.

You lower your hands, resting them on your womb, and let your mind go places it had nearly forgotten. The montage is blurry, like a notebook immersed in history. But it is still there. 

You’re still there.

Visions of clandestine ballrooms, all too tall bed chambers, and joyous smiles haunt your mind.

It’s supposed to be beautiful, it was beautiful.

But you know what comes next.

Chandeliers fall and their crystals scatter, a shack is built and the desperation for money has your body ravaged. 

You clutch your stomach, never as flat as your sister’s, and let your body give into the tragedy you are reliving.

The sound that you release is not one you are familiar with. 

It's primitive, wretched, horridly grievous.

Richoteing off of your bedroom walls, you claw at the pristine floor until your fingers are stained red, maimed into something else entirely. 

As your voice rises in octaves, the crystals within your room begin to tremble. You sense their clattering, feel the vibrations of their destruction as they crack into pieces too small to be made anew. 

You pay no mind to any of it. Not even when the grandiose chandelier bursts, leaving behind only linings of darkened copper. 

You raise your head so it is no longer touching the floor and admire the destruction you have caused. Crystal fragments fall and swirl across the room. Their edges, sharp and jagged, wedge themselves into your exposed skin all while your back is reserved for the larger pieces of the bunch, supplied by none other than the chandelier that once hung proudly.

You think you may be bleeding, if the crimson droplets trickling across your body mean anything, that is. And yet, you fail to register the pain of your flesh being split apart. 

A disease of the mind is what truly plagues you. Haunting you, playing out within your heart as if its curtains never even closed. And it’s ironic, because you lived it. Witnessed its rise and fall. Bathed yourself in its glory and scrubbed yourself of its grime. The curtains did close, for you were the one pulling them shut: The sole actress in the tragedy that became your life, remembered by no one, and loved by only the forgotten. 

Trembling, you reach for your lower abdomen and caress it with your hands, tracing the scarred edges of the brand burnt into you. Moving up, down, and all across, your fingers, even through leather garments, are still able to make out the shape of the word lining your lower stomach.

R…U...I…N…E…D

You were barely an adult when the hot iron made contact with your malnourished flesh. All you remember is the searing pain and sound of coins being retrieved. Your “innocence”, as the leader liked to call it, had been sold not even an hour before you received the label. Double, perhaps triple your age, the man who placed the highest bid on you is the one you wish the most misery. 

Had it not been for your own desperation, then perhaps you would still be intact. But you were impoverished, and your sisters grew desperate. No one, you are certain, knows the lengths you went to in order to bring home a salary. Even if it was only a portion of the bid, it was enough for a week’s worth of food, a testament to the nothingness you are valued at.

You have loved and you have lost, yet you have never truly grieved. How could you? A brothel is no place to rejoice, 18 is not old enough to process the crime you fell victim to.

Practically a child when you were sold off, a situation as disastrous as the one you lived though was not something you were capable of recognizing. Had you done so, you’d have crumbled. So you didn’t think of it, you buried it deep within the soil, under an oak sapling and left behind what could have been. In many ways, it did kill you. But you never quite broke. Fractured, perhaps, but you were still whole. Your edges were jagged and all light had gone out, but you still went on. 

Life, whether you wanted it to or not, still went on. 

You're sisters had one another, and you had pieces of yourself. How could you have revealed such a thing to them? Life was surely difficult enough.

You’d been raised to keep your struggles a secret, your mother conditioned it. To open up, to share such a tragedy with anyone, would be a betrayal to the one you’d been born loving, even if that feeling was never quite reciprocated.

~~~

For hours, you lay on the hard floor. Visions of wealth, poverty, and stolen mortality possess your mind. 

Your tears have been never ending and your sobs have transformed into husky whispers of shame. 

All’s cruel in love and grief, for the past will always bleed into the present. Devastation wraps her hands around your neck and you urge her to press harder, steal your breath and life with it. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is worth what you’ve endured.

It’s quiet, you're shaky breathing being the only sound within the room.

You hear the footsteps approaching and the door handle rattling, but pay no mind to it.  

The fading sunlight from up above bleeds through the thin curtain, panting the man within the doorframe an angelic shade of gold.

He looks like he could be your savior. Had he put his knife through your lungs, then perhaps he would have been. 

But alas, shadows dash forward and amber eyes assess the shattered crystals spread across the floor. 

You see his mouth moving, hear the syllables he is spewing, but fail to interpret any of it.

His steps grow closer and panic overtakes you. 

He wouldn’t. Surely, he wouldn't…

Scarred hands meet your shoulder and a scream tears through your already worn out throat. You are saying things, yelling things, but you don’t know what exactly.

You claw at his arms, praying they remove themselves from your entity. 

Slowly and unprecedented, he lets his hands fall to his kneeled form. In nothing louder than whispers, he calls to you. To send you further, or bring you back, you don’t quite know. 

But his eyes, those damn eyes. The same ones you’d never quite been able to walk away from, have you running right back.

taglist: @tele86 @aetherl0l @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl

[respectthepetty]

Tan is my Debbie, and I love him

I don't wanna hurt anybody. I don't enjoy hurting anybody. I don't like guns, or bombs, or electric chairs. But sometimes people just won't listen. And so, I have to use persuasion. And slides. -Debbie Jellinsky

I was for White being the final gay, but . . . SHUT UP, SIR!

We all know he is a smart boy, but why is spilling all the secrets, all the time. Just go with Tan's theory that it's Janta possessing Top, and not drugs. Read the room! It's chaos. We don't have time for logic! If he wants to survive, I need him to lock those lips tight!

And then Phi is just spilling all the tea because he got laid once and caught feelings.

Damn, commit to the fucking bit, bro! If you're gonna be homosexual about it, at least make it "Be Gay, Do Crime" like Tan. For three whole seconds, I actually shipped this!

But Tan NEVER loses focus!

Only for Jin to come in on his shitty high horse trying to call out Tan.

But, once again, my Barbie does. not. lose. focus.

Non is still wearing that red bracelet in these flashbacks

While Phi is promising to protect Jin as they get lost and stalked in the woods and leave an axe in the middle of the road! Non + axe that was left behind = my life force

That's not what I wanted! That's not who I was. I was a *ballerina*, graceful, delicate! They had to go.

Tan had a life. Tan had a future. Then, these boys fucked over his brother, and now he has no one, so I'm fully on Team "Tan gets to kill EVERYBODY"

It's what Debbie would have wanted.

[azzydoesstuff]

uhhhh lore drop much??????

when you take into account the fact that machines began being developed during WW1 in the ultrakill universe (there's evidence look it up) and, uh, whatever this is...

you start to consider that maybe the machines aren't "alive" because of their AI, but perhaps it was their flesh and blood. they weren't driven by artificial reasons, but by supernatural ones.

they're called "machines" and not "bots" or "droids" for a reason.

these aren't robots. they're essentially metal golems, risen from the blood of human beings. blood isn't fuel in the sense of going into an engine, it's fuel in the sense of flowing through veins.

this pretty much explains how so many machines managed to reach hell. sure, some just went there out of their own volition like v1 or v2, but pretty much almost all other machines we see ingame would be completely incapable of making it down there by themselves. things like drones or streetcleaners would get their asses absolutely rocked by some of the things we've had to fight on our journey into the depths, and yet we keep seeing them on the way there.

they're in hell because they were ALIVE. they had SOULS. they died and went to hell.

i think this was subtly implied by the earthmover terminal entry said that when the sun was covered by ash and soot, the earthmovers "died out" instead of just "shut down".

this also explains why the only machines we see in limbo are drones and streetcleaners. they're the only ones that weren't invented purely for destruction and chaos, and thus, the only ones capable of being morally "ambiguous".

it's also why we're only now seeing guttermen, guttertanks and earthmovers in the violence layer. they were machines invented purely for war and nothing else, of course they would've all had commited the sin of violence and therefore be damned to AT LEAST go to layer 7.

of course, this theory doesn't really hold up with more, uh, human layers, like greed or wrath. machines can't be greedy, they have no concept of money. machines can't be wrathful, they can't express anger.

the same can't be said for lust, though. mindflayers are the only new machines we see there, and uh, you can probably see what i mean just by looking at them. yeesh. their rather revealing forms are enough to offend the holy father and damn them to such a layer.

neither can it be said for gluttony. machines can very much be gluttonous, seeing how they obsess over wanting blood to fuel themselves so much, when in reality they could last a long time without having to refuel, yet they yearn for blood anyways. think about it. what is food, but fuel for humans?

just to make ends meet in this theory i've got going, i'm just gonna assume that hell does sometimes move machines around layers for the hell of it (pun absolutely intended lmao)

[stardew-otter]

I'm back bitches, who's ready for more chaos

•─────✧─────•

Shane: Yeah, I don’t like people.

Marnie: Oh, well, now that’s not fair, Shane. Have you met all of them?

Shane, taking a swig of beer: I’ve met enough of them. Bunch of assholes.

─────────────────────

Pierre: Damn, the power went out.

Abigail: Don’t worry, I got this.

Abigail: *stomps foot*

Pierre: What the hell are you doing???

Abigail: *Sketchers light up*

─────────────────────

Marnie, to Lewis: I'll be under the mistletoe when you start feeling desperate!

─────────────────────

Sam: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset?

Sebastian: No, I said, "Sam, don't lick that swingset," and you said, "Don't tell me what to do," and licked the swingset.

Sam: Good times!

Sebastian: You were hospitalized for a week!!!

─────────────────────

Penny: Oh shoot!

Penny: Excuse my vulgarity.

Pam: I’ll let it slide.

─────────────────────

Shane: So my therapist was talking to me, and she said that I really just need to break down my walls and let people in.

Shane: So I’ve decided to break the fourth wall.

Shane: *looks at player through the screen* Hi there. I use humor as a coping mechanism. You also need a better coping mechanism than this game. It's been 13 hours.

─────────────────────

Farmer: I don’t want to talk about it.

Shane: Good, I don’t wanna hear about it.

─────────────────────

Sebastian: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter A.

Maru: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Sam: Fuck you.

─────────────────────

Harvey: What happened to your nose?

Alex: I used it to break some guy's fist.

─────────────────────

Sam: Did you bring Harvey?

Sebastian, gesturing to Maru: No, but I brought the next best thing. She's still qualified.

Sam: Maru? The next best thing would be Farmer.

Maru: I would be offended, but Farmer is freakishly strong and smart.

─────────────────────

Sebastian: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

─────────────────────

Farmer in Skull Caverns: All of a sudden, I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

─────────────────────

Sebastian: When I first met you, I did not like you.

Maru: I'm aware of that.

Sebastian: But then you and I had some time together.

Maru: Uh-huh?

Sebastian: It did not get better.

─────────────────────

Haley: What’s up with Emily? They’ve been lying on the floor for like….an hour now?

Gus: They're just a little overwhelmed.

Haley: Why?

Gus: The Farmer gave her a new gem.

─────────────────────

Harvey: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?

Shane: Can't relate.

Sam: Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins?

─────────────────────

Gus: One time I went to hand the Farmer a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.”

─────────────────────

Sam: Be right back, gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob.

•─────✧─────•

My brain is half dead

[xbabyd0lli3x]

"Harmony in Chaos I I L.Gallagher

a/n-reader doesn't look like this, please give me some lip Gallagher request

Pairing: lip Gallagher /Reader

Reader Gender:gn

Requested: nope

Word count

Warnings:fluff

go read this one, I got inspo

Lip let out a low chuckle as he observed you nestled snugly under the blankets, a lazy smile gracing your lips as you drifted deeper into sleep. "Looks like someone's not quite ready to face the day," he muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he returned his focus to his textbooks. Flicking through the pages, equations and theories blurring together, his mind kept wandering back to you. It never failed to intrigue him how serene you appeared when you slept, as if all the chaos of college life had momentarily evaporated. Lounging against the headboard, Lip released a quiet sigh, his eyes lingering on you. "You know," he began, his tone soft and reflective, "sometimes I envy you, being able to drift off so effortlessly, so carefree." His fingertips brushed lightly against your cheek, careful not to disturb your slumber. "You make it look so damn easy," he murmured, a fond grin crossing his lips. "Meanwhile, I'm stuck here, wrestling with one problem after another in my head." He paused, tracing the contours of your face with a gentle touch, taking in the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. "But then again," he pondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper, "maybe that's what makes us click. Your tranquility balancing out my chaos, even in your sleep." Leaning closer, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips contrasting with the coolness of your skin. "Hey, sleeping beauty," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "Time to rise and shine." Lip knew it was a futile attempt, that you were deeply entrenched in dreamland, but he couldn't resist teasing you a bit. With a smirk, Lip settled back against the pillows, content to let you snooze a while longer. There was something strangely comforting about watching you sleep, knowing that in this moment, at least, you were safe and at peace in his presence. Returning to his books, he stole occasional glances at you, silently vowing to cherish these moments together, whether you were awake or not. In a whirlwind world of fraternity antics and academic pressures, these quiet, intimate moments were rare gems, and Lip intended to savor each one.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/10/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Long Post is Long. Cast & Crew Sightings; David Jenkins; Matt Maher; Clowning; Rhys Darby; Rosie; Samba; Max Trolling Reminder; Coyote Vs Acme Cont'd / Articles; Watch Party Reminders for Feb 11; SafeSpaceShip; Art Director's Guild Nominee; We Need to Be a Lighthouse! Game; AdoptOurCrew Choose Your Own Adventure; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Today's Taika;

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

Well as you can imagine, the David Jenkins IG is the big news of today. The clowning forecast has gone up significantly. Dad posted one of the late-blooming SaveOFMD banners in NY and attached Elton John - Candle In The Wind to the post. This song has some very specific significance to our fandom.

Apparently back when we lost Lucius in Season 1, Chaos Dad posted this song to Nathan Foad. Src @cptn_brightsky's Twitter Post

Now ADD to that... David Jenkins ALSO added this picture of Matthew Maher standing in front of a saveOFMD flyer found out on the street.

NOW OF COURSE, we are all clowning, but I think as usual Chaos Dad is trying to give us info without giving us info since the fandom pays so much attention to every little detail.

@saltpepperbeard has a theory that I'm down to clown with until I turn blue in the face. Src.

So yeah, as always take the clowning how you will, but I'll be honest, this looks like great news to me. It really does. CLOWN ON MY FRIENDS.

= Other Cast & Crew Sightings =

Rhys Darby's going to be at The Bourbon Room Hollywood next Friday, 2/16 at 8 PM PT.

== Rosie ==

Since doing cute stuff just doesn't stop in the Darby houshold, tonight I wanted to make a special shout out to Rosie Carnahan Darby, Rhys' Wife who has been active the last couple days. First and foremost, she knit a little blanket and hat for Samba's baby!

Second apparently she's restocked the Awesomeness Comedy website with more Buttons McGinty books and Comedy Special DVD's in case you're interested.

Oh and by the way, Samba loves the blanket:

= Vico Ortiz =

Tonight Vico was out performing with Them Fatale Drag Kings at their last night at their home bar Redline! Just some shots from their IG stories, feel free to check out more.

== Max Trolling ==

Gentle reminder luvs, if you're going to IG, or Twitter to troll Max posts, let's try to remember not to post OFMD/Negative comments on any posts that are celebrating underrepresented groups. We want to support those groups. Please note however, if you'd done it previously and didn't know, don't beat yourself up! We all make mistakes, just please try to keep it in mind going forward! (If you can delete your previous posts, great, if not, again not the end of the world).

== Coyote Vs Acme Cont'd / Articles ==

Why Deleting and Destroying Finished Movies Like Coyote vs Acme Should Be a Crime

This article is from yesterday but this blurb was pretty damn specific so I wanted to make sure if you missed it you got to see some of the reasons why Max did cancel OFMD.

"Some of the company’s tactics post-merger were garden-variety ruthless, like eliminating 87 series from its streaming platform Max, so that they won’t have to pay union-mandated residuals to the talent that created already-existing programs or pony up funds to produce more seasons of existing ones (such as “Our Flag Means Death,” one of the company’s most popular and critically acclaimed comedies—canceled after just two seasons)."

= Watch Party / Event Reminders =

Feb 11: Q+ and AdoptOurCrew Season 2 Live-Rewatch Party

Times: 2PM GMT, 9 AM EST, 6 AM PST

Watch Party Hashtags:

#OurFlagMeansBBC 

#OurFlagMeansRewatch

#SaveOFMD 

#AdoptOurCrew

= Feb 11: Relax I'm From the Future Watch Party! =

Sunday February 11th, 1 PM PT. 4 PM ET, 9PM GMT

Watch Party Hashtags:

#PiratesFromTheFuture

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

== In Person Events: San Diego CA ==

February 11, 2024 at 4 PM at Maritime Museum of San Diego

Costumes & Cosplay Encouraged! Location: Maritime Museum of San Diego 1492 North Harbor Drive San Diego, CA 92101

Hashtags:

#SafeSpaceShip

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

= Art Director's Guild Award Nominee! =

Sorry, I forgot to add this one yesterday!

Ra Vincent - Nominee for Half-Hour Single - Camera Series. Src: @AdoptOurCrew and ADG

Check out the Design Presentation: OFMD_s2_art.pdf

== We Need To Be A LightHouse! ==

Have YOU heard of this awesome new Monkey Island Inspired Point and Click Adventure Game by @blueberreads and @eldawee? They've been working on it for months and it's FINALLLLLLLY HEEEERE!

These folks are so incredibly talented! Please go check it out here! https://dawee.itch.io/lighthouse If you're using a MAC OS you'll most likely need to download an executable at the bottom of the main page. Just FYI! If it prompts you with the "you downloaded this from the internet" error just click OK. I already started playing with it and I'm in love.

I pushed Ed and he asked if I wanna do something weird xD Okay no more spoilers, GO CHECK IT OUT!

== AdoptOurCrew Choose Your Own Adventure Game!==

In honor of the s2 watch party with Q! tomorrow, @adoptourcrew did a really adorable choose your own adventure game on twitter today! They did polls and let the majority pick which direction they wanted the story to go!

Since it was a lot of pictures I made a separate post so you can see the whole story: @adoptourcrew Choose Your Own Adventure here on tumblr. Please check it out!

== Love Notes ==

Alrighty lovelies. It's been another busy day. Lots of clowning, lots of hope, lots of emotional roller coasters. I hope you had a good time and generally it was more positive than negative. I have a lot I want to say, but my brain is still pretty foggy. So I'll make this short.

Sometimes when things go well, our brain gets excited and then they overcompensate when we calm down. It starts to think a lot more negatively because it had so much extra dopamine for a time. When that happens, little things can be really devastating. I just want you to remember that we all make mistakes and YOU, you beautiful imperfect being are not your mistakes. They hurt, and we learn from them, but they don't define us. Try not to listen to your brain if it's telling you otherwise. You are so very wonderful.

Anyway, I hope that makes sense.

Here's a picture I found today I thought really applied to all you wonderful people. Thank you to all the folks who reached out to me and checked in and sent me love when you knew I was struggling (there are too many to list and I don't know if you want to be tagged so please just know how much I appreciate you). I love you all so much, and I'm so lucky to how found people who make me feel like it's ok to be me.

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Tonight is once again animal themed. I wish I'd made that Taika gif last night for the lovebirds theme, but here we are.

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

So I've been trying to get a gist of post-time skip Ben based on Chaos Theory trailer (obsessed again? wrong, I never stopped being obsessed), and I feel like I can optimistically assume that his personality will make sense for his character development that we've seen in Camp Cretaceous.

I made a post about it once but to sum it up shortly:

season 1 Ben is a boy who was clearly raised in some sort of bubble (a different bubble than Kenji) - he is scared and anxious (not just regarding dinosaurs); at the same time we get hints that he can be very passionate and has a sense of an adventure (he's just scared to cross the line). Season 2 Ben experienced a massive traumatic event, to put it nicely, his personality was put into a blender which was then turned on and left unsupervised for several days. His season 2 jungle boy persona, while still consistent with the traits showed prior (as mentioned - Ben was both passionate and adventurous before - he was just too shy to act on it), is mostly a result of a severe trauma; meaning his personality feels more extreme because he had to rely on extremes to survive. Season 3 Ben is one of the most interesting "forms of evolution". The trauma is still fresh but at the same time Ben tries to think beyond it – wants to make decisions based not on "fight or flight" response but on his own feelings on the matter, it's very interesting but in this season - though not visibly - he slightly reconnects with season 1 personality (slightly) for example by considering advantages and disadvantages of his actions (leaving Nublar or staying) (it doesn't apply to every situation which is actually quite perfect because at this point he is still pretty damn traumatized). Then we have season 4 which is actually very important for Ben's character arc because, for the second time, he loses his footing - Nublar was wild but familiar, Nublar was 'never without Bumpy'. Mantah Corp Island is completely new and Ben is forced to reestablish what actions and behaviors are going to pay off in this environment; ironically enough, I think that the distance from Nublar is good for him - Nublar was also the environment where he got traumatized, personally I think that the island could, to some extent, prevent him from healing. And ofc, season 5 - Ben shows clear signs that he is going to evolve as a person; he mellows down not because he gets soft in a bad way but because he recognizes that he doesn't always have to be a knife. At the same time, he is not hesitant to strike if the situation calls.

So, now let's take a quick look at Ben in the Chaos Theory trailer. I noticed four traits that we can spot in that short clip:

He has that sort of shy-silly boy charm to him. A subtle mixture of bashfulness ("hey Darius," his voice is amused but he also sounds a bit apologetic). That is something that especially shines through his character in season 1

When he needs to be serious - he is ("Someone is hunting us"). This is such Ben-thing to do, especially in season 4 and season 5 Ben – when he is learning how to distinguish between a real danger and something that doesn't require setting the world on fire.

He gets slightly panicky sometimes ("before it's too late!") which is a fantastic news because trauma really messed up Ben's sense of danger and it's just good to knows that he feels fear like a normal person (yes, when someone is hunting you for sport, I guess everyone would be a little bit panicky)

From what I can tell - when the situation calls he does display signs of recklessness - notice how he's driving the car. Notice how Darius is visibly not impressed with Ben behind the wheel. Now, sure we can't tell whether someone (something?) is chasing them at that exact moment but either way - it seems that Ben is in a hurry and, excuse me but, he does not give a flying fck about safety on the road (which is! funny considering how he was driving the gyrosphere in season 1)

So yeah, overall, I think that we are going to get a nice continuation of Ben's character arc in Chaos Theory. I certainly hope so because watching Ben grow as a person was one of my favorite aspects of Camp Cretaceous!

Ah, and also... I really hope that at some point in Chaos Theory Ben will do something unhinged out of nowhere and the rest of the campers (because we will see all of them - I don't doubt that) will look at each other, nod, and say "ah, yes, that's our Ben"