#going back to my Bonnie things but to vent for the moment

[cancerian-woman]

the most irritating thing about Hope isn’t even about her directly. Obviously Klaus gets no time with her all of that development goes to Hayley. When he should at least idk had one those time jumps with Hope. If that’s the way they HAD to write that family. But in the same stance we’re told Hayley is a good almost perfect mother. Yet we don’t see that either.

[oftenwantedafton]

Vent - Steve Raglan/William Afton/Springtrap x Female Reader

Chapters 18-20

Rating - Explicit

Warning for sexual content

Also available on AO3 Chapter 18 | 19 | 20

Chapter 18 ~ deja vu ~

The spring rains in Hurricane have begun in earnest.

Ten steps from your front porch and down the driveway bring you to Steve Raglan’s car. There is no longer any debate about how you will reach your destination. You just accept that he will be there each afternoon, ferrying you to your fate.

It’s pouring today and the water sits on your cheeks, sinks into your hair, douses your lips. Your work shirt clings to you, the white material plastering to the flesh beneath. Your fingers press into the stitching on the seams of the seat your body sinks into. Cherry licorice today, you can smell the artificial scent. His palm cups your cheek and his thumb approaches the shallow divot at the center of your bottom lip and you automatically reach for it, sucking it into the warm wetness of the cavern just behind. You’ve been trained for this. You’re good at it. You listen to the sharp intake of breath and let the older man drink the rainwater from your mouth. The sky weeps onto the sedan. The windshield wipers squeak gently as the blades streak across the glass.

Your employer brings you to the establishment.

***

“Where’s Bonnie?”

You notice the absence of the blue rabbit as soon as you enter the dining area, the main stage now only displaying two animatronics.

“Transferred for repairs. That’s what we’ll be working on this afternoon.”

You follow him to the workroom. You’re still damp from the inclement weather outside. Wetter still in other places the rain cannot touch.

Your boss has not escaped the deluge. You watch him remove his glasses, tugging a corner of the hem of the tucked dress shirt free to polish the lenses. They smear and he sighs and sets them on the closest free surface. He depresses some hidden panel and a section of the robot’s shoulder lifts, then shines a pen light into the darkened space. “There. You see it?”

You lean closer. The wires look frayed, the electrical components charred. Almost as if it’s been struck by lightning, receiving too much current.

Raglan clutches the light between his teeth, rummaging among the tools he’d selected when you’d first entered the workshop. You feel like you’re assisting a surgeon as you watch him remove the damaged parts carefully, handing him the requested items, holding the light steady, participating in the removal when he indicates for you to.

“How was school today?” So casually asked. As if he hadn’t just spent long moments letting his mouth wander over you inside his car. You long to be back within the confines of that steel beast. Steve on his knees outside the car with you draped across the back seat, parted legs near the edge and that sinful mouth you’re constantly craving between them. You knew he didn’t care about the rain pummeling his spine or the puddle soaking through his work pants or the fact that it was still daylight when he’d pulled off the road. Your mind lingers on the way he always watches you watching him when he takes you apart.

“I got an A on my Calculus test.” You see a faint smile on the bearded man’s face. He’s pleased with you. “The yearbook committee went around asking people to submit photos and gave us pages to fill out for our entries. And the prom tickets went on sale.” You struggle to dig a ruined circuit board from the joint, hissing in satisfaction when you succeed.

“Good. Are you going to prom?” He pries the frayed wiring loose, glancing at you.

“No, of course not.”

“Why ‘of course not’?”

“Because I have no one to go with. I can’t dance. It would be awkward,” you protest. “Did you go to yours?”

He nods. “It was terrible. But it’s one of those things. A rite of passage. You shouldn’t miss out on.”

“And stand in the corner all night? No thanks.”

He uncoils fresh wire from the spool, sheathing it in electrical tape. The copper glints in the illumination from the penlight you’re still holding to assist your boss.

“Someone would still ask you to dance.”

“No one would notice me. No one ever does.”

His hands still and he looks at you. “I did.” His eyes are dark gray today, matching the storm outside.

“Yes, you did,” you agree quietly. You think about the open door behind you. What a shame he hasn’t locked it today.

***

There’s a party that night at the restaurant. Nothing formal, just a little taste testing event to confirm choices for the upcoming menu, a little reward for how well everything’s been progressing. It will be opening day soon.

You tuck yourself into the edge of the kitchen, watching Steve help the staff prepare the meal. For all his protests about not cooking that he'd made on your first night in his car, he clearly knows his way around a kitchen. You can envision him in a smaller space at home cooking, back when he’d had a family. Helping the kids with their homework until it was time to start getting a meal ready. The counter a mess by the time whatever dish or pot is simmering on the stove or placed in the oven to bake. Stacks of dishes in the sink. Sneaking a piece of cheese, licking a stray bit of tomato sauce from knuckles. Wife coming home, sighing at the mess good naturedly. Standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Positions reversed. She’s been waiting for him to get home from the restaurant. He asks her if she wants to go out. The kids are staying at their grandparent’s house. The wife now wears your face, suggesting they stay inside instead. The counter is cleared with one broad sweep of a scarred arm. His mouth is on your throat and his cock is driving into your pussy. This is what you dream about, in the quiet dark of your room. You draw his face and his hands and the patterns of his scars. Your journals remain blank. They’ve been that way for weeks. You cannot fill the pages because you’ve given all your words to him.

“Hey. Are you alright?” Raglan sees your far away look, perhaps notices how rapid your breathing has gotten. You nod. “Try this.” An appetizer is brought to your mouth. You accept it hastily, burning your tongue in the process. Something fried, cheesy, dipped in marinara. It’s delicious. His thumb lingers a heartbeat too long against your lips. One of the servers—a girl from your high school, a cheerleader, popular—glowers nearby. He’s too bold. Of course people must be talking about how the two of you are always together. They see you arrive as a pair, know you’re the last two leaving. As unremarkable and unnoticed as you think you are, they’ll still figure it out.

The girl says as much minutes later, backing you into a corner, arms folded beneath her breasts. She’s nearly got all the details right, save she assumes you’re already having intercourse. You haven’t gone that far yet, but that result is inevitable. You deny that he favors you, that you’re making more money than the rest of the staff. Steve sees your predicament. He tells her to leave, dismissing her threats to expose your relationship.

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” His voice is low and dangerous. He’s still holding a kitchen knife in one hand. The girl opens her mouth to protest, swallows the sound instead, and disappears into the deluge outdoors. Your eyes dart again to the blade. A sense of deja vu floods over you.

Chapter 19 ~ want ~

You’ve grown to enjoy some of the cassettes Steve Raglan plays in the car during your commute together.

You’re as familiar with the melodies and the lyrics as intimately as the older man is with your body. Sometimes he pulls the car over, fingers thrusting inside relentlessly until you’ve become lost in the rapture once, twice, and another for good measure. Sometimes he doesn’t even stop and touches you while he’s driving. An artist that’s perfected his craft. A musician plucking your insides until he creates the symphony of your pleasure.

“Do people still make mix tapes?” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties. It’s one of those nights when he’s multitasking, still driving. One finger probes inside your entrance, finding it already drooling.

“Um…yeah except they burn the songs on a CD instead…fuck…”

“I’ll make you one.” He adds a second finger. Curls the pair. Rubs that secret space inside you. You clutch his forearm, feeling the taut muscles there, your hips writhing in ecstasy. He removes his fingers when you’ve had your fill and sucks them. “My favorite candy.” You reach for the fly of his pants.

***

It’s late at night. and the restaurant still slumbers, not yet ready for customers. You and Steve are the only people inside, seated at one of the booths. You finish the last college application and the older man sets it onto the pile. You’ve decided on a career in engineering, still debating about the exact branch you’d like to focus on.

“Tonight was your prom night, wasn’t it?”

This again. You don’t understand his preoccupation with it. “Yes.”

“Would you mind running down to my office and grabbing something for me? There’s a package on my desk I need to mail.”

You nod, shoving at the employees only doors. The route is familiar to you now, the misgivings long buried. You still think of the yellow rabbit from time to time, but rarely. There is just too much of Steve to fill the spaces.

The manager’s door swings open and you pause, realizing there is no box on his desk. Instead there’s an evening dress, sheathed in a clear plastic garment bag hanging on the coat rack tucked into the corner. It’s dark navy, the scrolled embroidery on the bodice and skirt glinting where the embedded silver threads catch the light. Matching low heeled pumps sit nearby.

You gather the items in your arms and enter the restroom nearby, dragging your tshirt over your head and shrugging out of your jeans and sneakers. The dress fits you like a glove, draping neatly over your frame. You have no idea how he’d known your size, the shoes also a perfect fit. You wish you had makeup, something to style your hair with.

“Stunning,” the man greets you when you return to the dining room. The first two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, his tie coiled neatly, resting next to the car keys on the table and a CD that you think must be the promised mix tape, your suspicions confirmed when you recognize the first song that plays moments later when he’s slotted it into the player.

“This is… you didn’t have to…thank you,” you whisper.

He grins and offers you a hand, pulling you tightly against him. You laugh and he spins you around. He’s dimmed the lights. Your fingers weave together. His dark eyes devour you and his mouth covers yours.

You’re in the back seat of his car, dress hiked up, the dark fabric gathered above your hips. You feel him through his clothes grinding hard against your crotch. Lace panties today. You won’t wear anything else. They’re his favorite.

You kiss the scars that mark his collarbones, peeling the folds of the collar back to have better access. You love the noises he makes; love that it’s you making him create them. You’ve never had a friend before him. You’ve waited your entire life for this.

“I want…” he begins, the words hot against your ear.

You want, too.

Chapter 20 ~ jekyll and hyde ~

Steve Raglan’s house is a well maintained brick Tudor with curls of ivy wrapped around the iron gates bordering the front yard.

You wait for him to fumble the key to the front door in the lock. His smile is as unsteady as his hands.

There’s a living room with a fireplace to greet you when you first walk in. A row of built in bookshelves filled top to bottom. Your fingers run over the spines, tugging a copy of Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde free. You’ve read this before. You envision the older man tucked into the recliner in the corner with this book cradled in his hands, those long, deft fingers turning the pages.

He drags you against him and the book falls to the floor.

Past the kitchen and bathroom you’re led inside his bedroom. Tidy walnut dresser and matching nightstands and a platform bed with storage beneath it. You wonder what he might keep in those drawers. A free standing full length mirror occupies one corner of the room.

You see your reflection in it as stands behind you, helping to pull the dress over your head. He takes his time removing your undergarments, his fingers calmly skimming over your still damp skin, but you know better. His eyes betray him every time. They meet yours in the mirror.

You turn, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. You’ve never seen him undressed. The scars extend over every inch of his now exposed torso. You lick along the line of one, hear the air whistle sharply as it’s dragged into his lungs. You’re pushed onto the bed. Firm mattress, firm pillows, soft comforter beneath you. He unfastens his pants, lets them drop to the carpet. More scars tattoo the skin there, your gaze lingering on the ones that extend promisingly down from his abdomen. Briefs pulled from hips and there they are, running down over the wings of bone, spilling down his thighs. There is no end to the patterns that you can see.

He climbs into bed, his long frame hovering over you. Still the deceptive calm before the storm, every movement slow and deliberate. Your heart is racing. His lips press into your hairline, graze your nose. Finally on your mouth. You clutch his neck, dig your nails into his bicep. One hand finds the space between your thighs and his fingers fill the hollow wetness. His mouth leaves yours as he straightens, on his knees, tugging your legs up and apart. Pressure when he’s positioned there, just slight, still poised, waiting. Those eyes on yours again. There’s no going back from this. It’s your final lesson. One moment still virgin, the next not and oh, the stretch of it as he pushes. It’s beyond what his fingers have teased for so many weeks. You feel yourself tearing, a sharp burning pain. You bite your lip and whimper. He’s barely begun. There’s so much more of his cock to take into you. Your throat knows this lesson only too well.

Another couple inches buried. Your hands squeeze the duvet beneath you. The fingers on your thighs dig into your skin. Deeper still. The absolute ache of it. You wonder what it feels like to him, to be clenched in that narrow space. You’re tugged against him, the distance closed in one impatient burst. Another high pitched whine escapes. Fully inside you, pausing before withdrawing partly. Pushed back in. The process repeats. Again. In. Out. In. Out.

Raglan’s body shifts. He’s bent over you again, still seated inside your body, your knees hugging his ribs. His mouth melts in yours. Still fucking your raw pussy open slowly. Reaching your cervix. A new ache when he strikes that place.

The sensations evolve as he gradually pushes into you faster. It still hurts, but there’s another feeling blossoming inside. You grow wetter. Your hips meet his. Your breathing is so harsh; his own huffed against your neck. One hand paws at your breasts. There’s none of the usual careful artistry in the touches, the strokes desperate, needy. The contact between your bodies is a feverish sequence of slapping movements. A thumb finds your clit, grinding the tender nub. Faster still. Your body knows instinctively how to move. The hair at the nape of his neck is damp beneath your fingers, moist from rainwater and perspiration. You can taste the salt of it as it beads on his forehead and slides down into your mouth.

Steve’s body tenses, rigid against yours when he cums, spilling inside of you, claiming you. He’s your first and you’re his only and that’s the thought that carries you through to your own release.

***

The older man is asleep beside you, snoring gently. You cannot join him in slumber. You’re sore inside and out, tender, raw, but it’s a good kind of ache. You’re proud of it. You slide out of bed and grab the dress shirt lying on the floor, slipping it over your shoulders. You pad barefoot down the hall to use the bathroom, then wander back to the living room. The book is still on the floor. You bend to retrieve it, thumbing through the printed text. The pages are thick, ivory colored, and smell like the public library, old paper and old ink. Vintage, like all of his other possessions. You are the newest one he owns. You reach the title page. The one opposite from it features a book plate. It looks very dated. He’s had this story for a long time.

You’re about to shut the cover when you realize it’s not Steve Raglan’s name printed there.

William Afton

Your eyes ignore the surname and focus on the first one. You stare until the pair of orbs burn, until they water. The yellow rabbit’s warning reverberates in your mind.

William. You should avoid him at all costs.

He’s using another name, but it’s him.

You should run. Get out while you still can.

Your stomach drops and the book follows, clattering to the hardwood floor.

[klonnieshippersclub]

How would Elena and Caroline react to Klaus and Bonnie? Bonnie’s their bestfriend.

Negative at first. This isn’t an anti-Elena or Caroline moment at all. I do think they'd warm up to Klonnie in their own way. Let me explain.

Elena’s arc is about grief, keeping those close to her and finding a way to be happy again after lost. So, in return Elena grows attached to people that essentially wouldn't leave like vampires or Bonnie. I'm going off S1-2 was the strongest that Bonnie and Elena were. They shared secrets with each other, texted every day, did cheerleading, sleepovers, and viewed each other as sisters. Elena wanted Bonnie to be close with Stefan because they both were important to her. When Elena is upset, she goes to Bonnie for comforting. When Bonnie is hurting Elena wants to be there for her. The writing doesn't allow that though. Elena certainly doesn't like being cut off from Bonnie or finding out she's hurt. Elena loved that Beremy was a thing. It kept Bonnie close and her brother happy. Now include everything that goes on in S1-3. My point is Elena is very dependent on Bonnie.

Caroline's issues with Elena were insecurities and projection but even then, when DE became a thing, she didn't mind frequently bashing their relationship as she saw fit. Keeping Elena informed on who she was dating context does matter because the series ignores how Damon treated her. But with that in mind, she'd do the same about Klaus just venting about how terrible he is and how much of a problem he creates for everyone. The series doesn't consider Bonnie someone Caroline has to be jealous of for obvious reasons but if Bonnie was being given a great amount of attention, I do think those patterns could repeat with Bonnie. In general, Caroline does exist in her own world but still depends on or expects Bonnie to be there. We've seen Caroline venting to Bonnie often.

Klonnie would be a lowkey thing for a while. Bonnie would feel conflicted in her feelings and trust for Klaus, she wouldn't take him seriously while keeping up the mentality that she has to be there for everyone. Klaus have to do way more than giving her gifts to win her over. Bonnie wouldn't try to make Klaus suddenly like her friends either. She wouldn't allow a relationship to persist if he's harming them. Klaus would be so determined on making Bonnie believe him. Adding in Klaus will claim he doesn't care if Bonnie bonds with his family but he's lying. She'd get closet to Kol and Rebekah in the meantime since they wouldn't go tell the MF about Klonnie imo. Bonnie would want to confide in her friends about her relationship as it grows. When it all does come out, I do think Elena would only once mention Jenna's death in an argument out of being hurt that Bonnie kept this secret for so long. Or not knowing where their friendship stands if Bonnie continues to be separated from her since she's been holding onto that secret relationship for who knows how long. Same, for Care completely I do think she'd slip up and imply once why would Klaus take an interest in Bonnie, that he's using her for magic or how it all is some bad idea. Which would be all fears Bonnie has had and wanted to share more than anything else, but I do believe once Elena and Caroline see how happy Bonnie is and lets her confide in them about her relationship, they would love that Bonnie is happy that's all that would matter to them. If she was happy, and getting the love back she was given then they're okay. Would they like Klaus for her? Nah, and certainly not going to enjoy getting used to not being so dependent on Bonnie cause Klaus would break that up.

To sum it all up they'd be negative and very critical at first still wouldn't like Klaus for Bonnie long-term. They may say the wrong things initially but they'd both apologize talk out why they said or feared things with Bonnie being with him. Most of the hurt would be not understanding why Bonnie didn't come to them about Klaus. Then they'd go interrogate Klaus demanding he'd treat her right. I can see Carolena stalking Klonnie on their dates just to see how this relationship was going. Bonnie would just have to catch her bestfriends up at a sleepover that's all.

Hope this helps!

-Rikki

[koco-coko]

OC Info Post: Bonnabel de Saint-Germain

(This is most certainly my most self-indulgent and somehow also my most thought-out OC. Enjoy my unadulterated silliness)

@drewadoodle hi here's the mansion baby (apparently i have one for the castle trio too except that one's fully an adult so if I post her I can tag you in that one too if ya want)

General:

Full name: Bonnabel de Saint-Germain

Nickname: Bonnie, Bon-Bon (Arthur specific), Bell (Theo and Vincent specific)

Birthday: November 8th

Likes: Outdoors, Pastries, Mousette, Reading

Dislikes: Sour Flavors, Math, Rules

Background: A mysterious infant showed up on Le Comte de Saint-Germain’s doorstep one night during a banquet with the residents, and she’s been called his daughter ever since. All she came with was a homemade birth certificate, a stuffed toy of a pastel blue bat, and a wax-sealed letter. The contents of said letter are only known to Comte and Leonardo and he has refused to share it with anyone else, even Bonnie herself. A strange injection Bonnabel took as a newborn has made it so that they are unable to detect what kind of vampire she is, though Comte doesn’t seem too concerned about that fact…

Through the Ages

(aka the main differences between Bonnabel’s different ages without getting into deep spoilers because I’m writing a fic with her hehe.) (Bonnabel is almost always portrayed in the Childhood stage. Sometimes teenage [mostly with castle trio])

Childhood– Bonnabel, wild and carefree. Don’t even try to make her sit still– she’ll bite your hands with dull, stubby fangs until you let her go. The biggest nuisance and agent of chaos the house has seen in a while. Temper tantrums and dramatic outbursts are common, and as a vampire, she’s really yet to understand her strength. Still… There is something endearing about her reckless abandon and pure fascination with life. She’s sweet and kind all the same, she just has her moments.

Teenage years– Outdoor play time has turned into calm walks through the garden and snack time is now tea time. Although Bonnabel’s matured since being in single digits, everyone can tell something about her is just… off. Maybe it’s the way she’s shy about everything, how reclusive she’s become, how utterly captivated she is by space, or perhaps the way she’s withdrawn from everything other than her studies. Her self-image couldn’t be worse (how could she ever compare to the greats of history she lived amongst, really?), and she’s really been pestering Comte about her past as of late.

Adulthood– Bonnabel, after many, many challenges, trial and errors, heartbreaks, and betrayal, has finally grown into her own skin. Well, sort of. She’s gained back some of the excitement she had when she was a little girl, but it’s been distilled into a fine wit and humor. Now, she simply does as she pleases, whether that be studying something to the point of burning into her brain to simply staying in all day and catching up on some novels. She’s a vampire! She’s got all the time in the world to get things right.

Physical:

Eye color: A pale orange, with slight hints of crimson in her pupils. It’s not very noticeable from far away but in the right sunlight it’s a bit more 

Hair color- Sandy blonde, like Vincent’s hair. Just a bit more colorful than that.

Disabilities- Undiagnosed because of the century, but most certainly has ADHD and dyscalculia (unable to some basic math)

Height- Childhood: 4’1, Teenage: 5’0, Adulthood: 5’11

(i dont have any drawings so um yeah i just used to ikevamp doll haha)

Relationships:

I’ll be splitting the characters into archetypes– how Bonnabel sees each of the residents as a family unit, then going a bit more in-depth.

Brothers– Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Isaac, Napoleon, Jean

– Napoleon: The big brother. No matter how Bonnabel’s feeling, whether she wants to play or vent to him, he’ll make time available. Bonnabel likes hiding and cuddling into his cape and constantly pesters him to teach her fencing. Instead, he’ll teach her how to cook pastries (it’s not like Jean or Vincent are going to do it). 

– Arthur: He’s the one Bonnabel goes to if she wants to get away with something or is bored out of her mind. He’s the fun brother and almost lets her get away with anything. Especially when it comes to teasing Isaac. He’ll also sneak her chocolates from time to time. She loves playing detective with him and likes to act out scenes from books with him. Plus, Vic and Bonnie are utterly enamored with each other, so it’s always a good time with Arthur.

– Vincent and Theo: How could they not feel like her big brothers? Vincent is the only person Bonnie is nice to no matter her mood and he’ll let her watch him paint if she’s ever interested. They tried finger-painting when she was little, but she tried to eat the paint and it’s been banned for the time being.

Theo, on the other hand… It’s a bit more tenuous. Bonnabel didn’t understand being called a mutt or pup was a sign of affection at first, but the two clicked once the misunderstanding was cleared up. As a little girl, Bonnabel drew a picture of all three of them holding hands with both Vincent and Theo titled ‘big brothers’ and that might be the closest Theo was to ever crying in front of his brother. He now has it framed in his room.

– Isaac, Mozart, and Jean: All in the same boat- didn’t get along at first, but later on they became close. Mozart’s relationship with loud and wild Bonnabel is… strange, but he does seem to be able to talk sense in her. She only recently got unbanned from the music room. Mozart’s bedroom is still off limits. Isaac was wary of her (especially because she liked Arthur so much), but they get along once she’s older and quieter. Sometimes they stargaze together. Jean has always been kind to her, but never got too close. Well, until Bonnabel insisted they study reading together and now it’s not uncommon to see them reading fairy tales together. Jean has promised to teach Bonnabel fencing one day, too, behind Comte’s back. 

Weird Uncles– Dazai and William

Dazai: Dazai is a nutcase, but in a fun way! He’s always speaking in riddles, but at least he’s not boring, right? She doesn’t interact with him that much, but when she does, she’s surprised by the words of wisdom she receives. She also has joined forces with him to absolutely torment Isaac, except she’s the one who has to apologize and learn a lesson. He’s fun, just weird.

William: Bonnabel doesn’t see him often. When she does, Puck is close behind and the girl and rabbit become inseparable. Bonnabel is utterly infatuated with Puck and gives him all of her attention, booping his cute little nose at every chance. The one bad thing about seeing Will is, well… tiny little Bonnabel can’t understand him at all. Vincent or Comte have to translate for her if they ever visit the villa because she’s too shy to ask him to speak simpler.

Parents– Leonardo and Comte

Comte: Dearest papa! It’s his life mission to make sure Bonnabel never has to know a day of pain or fear. Sure, perhaps the idea of raising her without the same pressures of nobility and vampirism that he did is a selfish wish, but she’s smiling everyday in the mansion. He has to be doing something right, right? Comte was Bonnabel’s whole world as a little girl. Going into her teenage years, their relationship becomes strained, much to Comte’s confusion and sorrow. (And yes, the pun in Bonnabel's name was intentional, even if he tries to deny it).

Leonardo: Babbo! Whenever there’s a Comte level matter but Bonnabel’s worried he’ll be mad at her, she goes to Leonardo. While hugging Comte smells like fine wine and perfumes, Leonardo smells like book pages and cigars. Both scents have become safe places for her. They take naps together a lot. Especially when Bonnabel is upset. Sometimes she’ll find him sleeping on the floor and join him because she’s bored, using his chest as a pillow. A lot of Bonnabel’s toys and even her bed are made by him.

Auntie and ‘Mama–’ MC/Mitsuki and Sebastian

– When Bonnabel was learning how to talk, she called Sebastian ‘Mama’ and it kind of stuck. Nowadays, she just calls him Sebby (he’s not the biggest fan, but nothing he’d really want to complain about), but sometimes they still joke about that name despite Bonnabel having zero recollection of it. Unfortunately, Bonnabel almost never listens to what Sebastian has to say unless he flicks her forehead. 

Mitsuki was called Auntie from the start. Bonnabel respects her a lot and will mostly listen to her authority, so she is definitely more of an aunt than a sister to her. This is also due to Mitsuki having to help Comte in certain aspects of raising her, such as bathtime and the likes. A part of their strong connection simply is the fact they’re the only women in the mansion.

BONUS! Castle Trio (met at Teenage Stage)

Charles-Henri: After a bit of apprehension, they get along pretty well. Whenever Bonnabel starts stressing out, Charles will pop up and distract her with games, food, or something else. He also tends to encourage any of her fixations no matter what, when, how and why.

Faust: Bonnabel is completely creeped out by him, but… He seems to know her somehow. Sort of like an uncle you haven’t seen in years but keep telling you things they remember. Bonnabel thinks he might know about her birth parents, but she's too shy and nervous to ask him. He’s… polite, at least. Doesn’t seem to try and bother her very much, but he still gives odd vibes. She does not want to be alone in a room with him.

Vlad: Oh… him. Yeah. It’s weird. On one hand, they have a shared trauma they can bond over, and on the other, he’s trying to hurt her family. Sure, he saved her from certain death that one time, but his dream has become so twisted she can’t help but distrust him. Still, it’s not as if they don’t get along. Actually, they have a lot more in common than one might think. 

[flownwrong]

expectations (a due south fic)

F/K, 1.5k words, additional tags: first kiss, stupid phone conversations, drama over a duffel bag

I'll tell you what I told ao3:

"My writing hit a wall a while back. To deal with it, I decided I'd write the only way I can now—short fic I can seat-of-my-pants in one day. A piece for each ship/fandom/idea where I have wips or thoughts that I can't make into actual works. This is the first one.

Thanks to @nigeltde-fic for dragging me down with this ship, and generally being a champion. <3”"

Maybe it really is a damn Groundhog Day type situation. Only twice as boring and nobody gets the girl, like, ever.

One thing he never pictured when he thought of the after-fraser-life, which he didn’t do very often, or, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t like doing it, point being—one thing he didn’t imagine was that it would be the same. As in, poof, never happened, must have daydreamed it, off you go, Stanley, play well with the boys.

And, well, it isn’t really a never-happened kinda deal, because Fraser, he just lives in a pocket in Ray’s head now, twenty-four-literal-seven, like friends do, you know, or something close. And what with Vecchio and Stella fucking off to Florida and Frannie doing her thing all while they were still doing the big adventure stuff, between all that it’s hard to not notice the change. But other than that—it’s the same job, the same desk (his desk, The Kowalski Desk), the same bottle in the cabinet above the sink and the same—the inside of his head is the same, too, giving him trouble like always.

more under the cut or on ao3

The way they left things—if that’s even what happened, left things, huh—it’s not what he feared. Not what he expected, either—and it took him many, many frozen-through adrenaline-drunk days to put a finger on it, that there was an expectation. And now back here, it’s like one of those tip-of-the-tongue moments he’s so familiar with, only with that expectation; it circles him all predatory with every lonely shuffle around his dance-apartment-floor and every stupid late night reruns session and every finger of drink he takes with that, and then it wafts away on the wind, leaving him feeling like he missed a step and twisted his ankle. Which is kinda stupid, when you come to think of it, since it looks like all his worst-case scenarios solved themselves and left him with a cushy little offering while he was playing explorer, and wasn’t that what it was all about.

And maybe it wasn’t, because Fraser calls, like he does, which floors Ray a little every single time for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, he calls on a Friday and brings him up to speed on Dief’s aversion to the nearest Tim Hortons (nearest being a few hours’ trip to Yellowknife) because quote he says it’s cheating and Chicago ones tasted better and frankly it’s insulting end quote and how you pay and pay and pay and how he fixed up the cabin now and the second bed is new and really much better than the one Ray had to deal with up there, he made sure of that (felled the best tree he could find, Ray wagers), and Ray finds himself nodding and humming and gripping the stupid station handset, knuckles gone white, biting his cheek, hell if he knows why, not like his smile could do any damage at this point. “There isn’t a waiting list for that bed, is there?” he says, no reservations worth stopping for. And, “no,” says Fraser, and there’s that expectation, clarion as you please, ten-four, roger that. “Greatness,” Ray says, and hangs up, and does a little shimmy he’s not even ashamed of.

And then Fraser doesn’t call for three weeks, in which Ray is very productive, managing to vent drunkenly at Turtle who looks so unimpressed Ray thinks he actually hears him sigh, pack the bag, unpack the bag, consider terminating the lease, call in with Welsh then come in anyway, chase the latest case into almost three whole days awake and get sent away by Welsh anyway once the Bonnie and Clyde of small-time food truck GTA are locked up, pick up the phone roughly thirty-seven times, put it down thirty-six, and that last time, Fraser picks up and calls out for him softly and he’s too much of a chicken to do it back. Where exactly they tripped in a dance Ray felt resonate in his bones, he can’t guess.

Week four, Fraser calls, only it’s Ray’s doorbell that rings this time, and he picks himself up faster than he would the phone.

“Fraser,” he says first, then swings the door open, “Frase,” gripping his wrists way too tight, “what in god’s name was that—scratch that, don’t say, one thing it was is not buddies.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Ray,” Fraser says, and it’s supposed to make him angry, this far in, only this time Fraser is wrapped up in a soft green-gray flannel instead of the red walking coffin and he has his beat-up bag and the stupid hat on, so even Ray can see through the reflex of it. Fraser tugs gently at him. “Ah, Ray, if you could just let me put my bag down—thank you kindly.’

“You do, Frase, I know you do.” He lets Fraser’s wrists go for half a second it takes for the bag to thud onto the floor—other side of the threshold, damn it—and not a moment longer. “Did you come to stand outside my home and bullshit me?”

“Yes. I mean, not for that, no, but yes, I forgot about—oh, darn,” he says and tugs one hand free to take his stetson off, which is how you know, if you’re Ray, things are afoot. Big things. Momentary events in history. So when Fraser steps one foot in and leans back against the doorjamb and pulls him near—with hands snaking under his arms to land just below his shoulder blades, one half of a hug not yet given, a freakish way only Fraser would go with, which fires Ray up instantly, heat flooding his face like a punch he has to close his eyes against—when that’s done, Ray can find his mouth blind he’s so ready.

“You’re off,” he mumbles, because Fraser is the one with eyes open and he still landed somewhere around where Ray’s lips turn into his cheek, and then only corrected half an inch down, catching the corner of his open-eager mouth.

Fraser presses a kiss there, with intent. “Not,” he says, and then, then he hits the bullseye, fucking A, bingo, job done, you get a sticker—or a mouthful of tongue, because that’s faster where they stand.

“Momentous,” Fraser says into Ray’s hair, some breathless minutes later, and Ray says, “wha—’ and Fraser says, “you said, or rather mouthed, something about momentary events, if my memory serves—well, it must, it’s only been three minutes. I suppose you meant momentous, given the context.”

“Jesus, Shakespeare, come the fuck in, what do I have to offer to get you both feet inside.”

Fraser straightens but doesn’t move an inch to displace Ray where he’s giving him the second half of a hug. “Well, Ray, I didn’t mean to stay, per se.”

Ray disentangles them and tugs at the lapels of Fraser’s really very soft shirt, whenever he’s grabbed those, huh. He blinks once, twice, and thinks about how many bottles he will have to get for that cabinet now, because fucking hell. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to rub at his eyebrow, so to him it all makes sense somehow. He looks down and frowns.

“What’s with the bag?”

When he looks back up, Fraser smiles, an honest to god I’m-back-in-ten-foot-snow-and-alive-again grin, eyes kind of superglued to Ray’s face. “Promised Dief to get some of those Chicago donuts, which are, apparently ‘the right kind’.”

Ray steps back, shoves at Fraser’s chest, no way-like, and folds in two with laughter. Fraser looks at him all affectionate, and the absurdity is so familiar it gives Ray a headrush. Or maybe that’s all the wheezing he's doing.

“A bag? A whole bag of donuts?”

Fraser gets this look where his eyes get all liquid and light, and now that Ray’s got the manual he knows that translates to scared and hopeful in downright unhealthy measures. “I didn’t count on being back to Chicago soon.”

Ray can feel he’s doing the superglue thing now, too.

Fraser clears his throat. “Oh dear. Unless—I didn’t mean to presume, it’s only that on the phone—”

Ray cuts him off in a voice that’s too rough to seize the reins of, so it will probably break in there somewhere but it’s all a-okay now, isn’t it—says, “You’ll have to get in here, Frase. I think I’ll want some pants with my donuts, and I’m now in the bag-unpacked phase—uh, anyway.”

He heads inside and hears Fraser shut the door and toe off his boots. 

So maybe there was no tripping after all. Just Fraser and his insane moves Ray always learns, dancing skills be damned. Good thing he isn’t Bill Murray—would be awkward to explain this to the girl.

[nemisdevilishkitchen]

Open Custom Night Devlog #1: After A Year, I’m Really Doing It This Time

Oh boy I have a lot I wanna say and rant about after working on this for such a long time. 

WHY AM I REMAKING UCN?

Screenshot of the main scene of Open Custom Night as of writing.

I really dislike Clickteam Fusion 2.5. When I was a wee lad I saw FNaF and wanted to make my own video games. I was inspired! So I spent the next 4 years of my life learning it. Huge mistake. CTF2.5 isn’t built for really doing any sort of complex games that might require multiple global objects or things of that nature. It’s very very limited. Not only that but it’s like 300 dollars for the full edition. Like no man fuck that. I decided that in order to prevent other kids from wasting their time learning such a dumb engine that’s hard to pirate and unreasonably expensive, I would remake UCN for it to act as an open source fangame template.

BUILDING THE AI

Scuffed photo showing Toy Bonnie in the office

So when I was first figuring out how to make AI for FNaF games, like back when I was on Clickteam, I came up with this: (rng.randi_range(2/(Global.animatronic), 4/(Global.animatronic)) And it works fine. Except... it doesn’t go from 1-20, it went from 0.01 to 0.20. I found later that this gave super wild results as some characters wouldn’t be able to move for upwards of 300 seconds on level 1 which is just downright silly. I then changed it to 0.11-0.30. As of now, it works just fine. I can change the range depending on the animatronic along with whatever specific calculations they may need.

This has a few implications. Whereas there is a small chance of animatronics failing movement opportunities repeatedly keeping them in place for long periods of time, this new AI calculation for some characters will guarantee that they will ALWAYS move within a specific time range.

MAKING ANIMATRONIC MECHANICS AND BEHAVIORS

Freddy was quite easy to get going as was Chica. A bit of a stumper for a moment was Toy Bonnie and Toy Chica. At first, I just had them go into your office until they reached a hard coordinate and if the mask wasn’t on in time, they would kill you. This movement was also scripted in the code itself. This worked but it was just a tad cumbersome. I decided to update this to have them move to a coordinate object that I could freely move around without needing to update the code to. But their movement would continue to be scripted. It wasn’t until recently I realized that I have animation tools in Godot which means that I can now animate this process!

A look at Toy Bonnie’s keyframed animation along with his sprites are shown

I basically did the same for Toy Chica and the rest was history! BB and JJ are pretty unremarkable although they were both annoying to do as well. I also used these new animation tricks on them.

Demon spawns getting ready to strike

Mangle wasn’t too bad to program- at first. She required a new system to be added, the vent snare system. To be fully frank, I’m not quite sure how the map was animated in UCN. Did he update position manually for each phase she moved in depending on the path? Maybe? I hope not. What I did is that I animated out his path with keyframes and then for each time his timer ran out, his phase was updated and that also updated what frame of the animation he was on.

A look at the animation and Mangle’s code.

The main thing towards the end is that I wasn’t quite sure how to make it so Mangle knew which snare was active. I could’ve probably made some code about it but I wanted to try something a bit outside of the box. Mangle has raycasts attached to her. When those raycasts come into contact with an area collision shape, he’ll check if it’s specifically a snare or the “freedom” object. If it’s a snare, she’ll go back to the start and decide on what path he wants to take to get back to you. If she touches the freedom object, she’ll find herself in your office.

“Just hangin’ out!”

Before I move to the next bit I want it to be clear that I wasted like 30 minutes to an hour on trying to fix a bug with Mangle’s vent animations not playing properly. The way that I set it up is that everytime their phase is updated, the animation player will seek a certain point in the animation that corresponds with this. Since the animation was set to 1FPS, that means that phase 1 will go to frame one and so on. But I didn’t change the other animations to 1FPS. So that caused some uhhh. Issues. Haha.

A NEW PERSPECTIVE?

Give love and kisses to this handsome fellow. Without this guy I wouldn’t have the proper office effect quite yet. For some reason, in Clickteam, this effect lags games hard. It seems to be much more optimized in Godot. Due to this, there may not need to be any performance settings for a while. I’ll likely still have to include them anyways but man it’s nice to get some good frames.

MISCELLANEOUS CHANGES TOO SMALL FOR SECTIONS

Destroying animatronics: In order to save on resources when running the game during a hectic night, animatronics are straight up destroyed on the start of the night when their AI is set to zero. This means that they’ll all still be loaded and checked through at the start of a night however so this is mostly for long term performance. A way to load in ONLY the necessary animatronics at the start of the night to help performance in general is being looked into.

Dynamic audio: Some audio within the game now changes volume automatically depending on where it’s located. Previously I believe this was done by hand via code (something like, if in office, set the volume of music box to 0). Now due to the new engine, the game will handle this by itself without any coding being needed.

Music box additions: “Metal Scratchin’ (Sonic Rush)” has been added to the lineup of music that can be chosen at random.

WRAPPING UP

While I disagree with Scott’s political views and morals, working on this project has made me sympathize with him more as a game dev. If you wondered why a lot of the UCN enemies feel like random garbage, there are two reasons

Game design reasons. There would be way too much mental stack and stress from each animatronic having a counter that requires multiple steps.

Making some of these systems really fucking suck and it’s easier to make clones of characters or guys who don’t really do much.

Even though I’m not making a brand new game, some of the changes I’ve implemented bring out inherent changes in how UCN functions which means the design of the game has also severely changed. This is on top of whatever liberties I’m taking as well. Game development is hard man. But it doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be a good template. This likely will not be a 100% recreation of UCN down to it’s easter eggs and extras but it’ll give new devs an idea!

Thanks for reading all of this if you even did! I’m gonna try to keep updating this as much as possible.

- Nemi

[dearrrabbit]

steve being a huge fucking dork. maybe quentin catches him singing in the shower

hi i didn’t realize this said shower until i was halfway thru it… i hope u accept this into ur heart anyway

Steve’s bored. 

He’d sighed that out half -an-hour ago, and now regrets it, because Robin had grinned gleefully and dig out the mop, shoving it towards him and darting out back to take her break. The mall’s foot traffic waned  on a Sunday evening, and so Steve is tragically stuck, mopping the fucking floor by himself.

The emptiness of the mall is good for one thing though, ensuring that he can hum along to whatever’s playing through the speakers of the store without getting  weird stares. It’s usually some earworm the radio blasted to keep the hordes of people active and energized, but Steve doesn’t mind.

As he sloshes the lavender-scented cleaner to the floor, beginning to mop, the opening beats of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ sound. And shit, that’s his jam! Steve sways his hips, the mop only serving as an imaginary dancing partner at this point, crooning out the lines with Bonnie Tyler.

He’s engrossed in the activity, twirling and stepping in a convoluted, twisting pattern with the mop, absolutely not mopping to Scoops Ahoy protocol. Because the mall is so quiet, the tinny speakers do the song justice for once, and Steve can almost feel each crash of the drums through his soles. It beats mopping and going back to standing stock still while freezing alive in the stupid little shorts they make him wear. 

“..don’t know what to do, and I’m always in the dark..” Steve mumble-sings into the top of the mop like it’s a microphone, “Livin’ in a powder keg, giving off spark- whatthefuck!” 

Having looked up from his ‘mopping’, Steve realizes he is no longer alone in the store. In fact, there are two very attractive people watching him from the door of the shop. The girl’s blonde with a smart brown turtleneck and flare pants, and the boy’s so pretty. Pretty in a spooky way, with deep eyebags and dark curls, clad in dark blues and blacks which only make him paler. 

Steve goes bright fucking red. He can’t help it, he scrambles to straighten up as they both fail to cover their clear amusement, the boy even raising his eyebrows at him. 

“Shit! Fuck, hold on,” He manages, ducking behind the counter quickly, waving his hands as he tries to vent some of his nervous energy, embarrassment radiating from every pore. “Uh, low.. low traffic, you know?” Steve smiles nervously, and the girl laughs with him, shaking her head.

“Low traffic.” She drums her fingers on the counter, lips quirked in amusement, “Guess they just don’t know the performance they’re missing?” 

Steve laughs a little too loud, realizing too late he forgot to lead with the company intro, and stands akin to a puppet with its strings cut, clearing his throat. “So, um. Ice cream.”

“Ice cream indeed.” Spooky Boy (as Steve mentally dubs him) echoes, and casts a glance to the flavors, “Alright, Bonnie, can I get a sample of the Rum Raisin?”

Steve has forgotten how to be normal. Maybe he never knew, he turns around with a meek shrug of, “Oh, old people flavor.” before he hands the boy a translucent pink spoon with a heap of his chosen flavor. Spooky Boy shoots him an unimpressed  glance, but takes the offered spoon, and man, Steve really can’t breathe now. 

I wish I was that spoon, his horrible brain hums. He hovers for a moment, hand on his scooper, and Spooky Boy flicks his eyes back up. 

“I’ll take a scoop of that in a cone.” The boy says finally, and like that Steve can breathe again. Just barely. He quickly falls into the motions, handing the boy his cone and taking the girl’s order - soft-serve dipped in a cherry shell - and finds himself stalling at the register. 

“Your total is ten sixty-eight,” His finger lags on the Employee discount button. An inner voice suspiciously similar to Robin’s chides it away. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“My friend wants your number.” The girl says, swiping her card as if she’s just remarked on the weather.

“Laurie.” Spooky Boy hisses, face aflame. Steve finds himself in a similar state, stammering an ‘Oh!’ out.

“Quentin.” She mimicks, and like that, Steve’s crushing. He’s got a name. Quentin. It just sounds nice, he thinks to himself, grinning a little stupidly. “You were never gonna ask him. There you go.”

Quentin huffs. Steve can’t help but chuckle a little, cheeks still burning. He ticks a lock of hair back behind his ear, resisting the urge to self-consciously refluff it. He bends down to grab a pen, and gestures for Quentin’s hand.

“Here, I’ll write it down for you.” He smiles, in a way he hopes is roguish and handsome, not overly eager and dorky. Quentin lets his arm be taken, and Steve is quick to scrawl his number across it , adding a little ‘Steve’ next to it. “Don’t lose it.”

“I will try very hard to keep this arm attached to my body, thanks.” Quentin remarks, a little dryly, but quickly quirks his lips up, and Steve is sighing internally, the way a lovesick teenager might.

“Cool.” He manages, being the exact opposite. 

“Cool.” Quentin echoes, also tinged pink.

Laurie faux-gags from the table she’s set herself down at.

[backandimbamon]

Are you still taking Halloween requests for Bamon? If so, would you be willing to write a fic about Damon watching Bonnie having fun with her magic on Halloween or throughout the season? Like, making things float for trick-or-treaters, lighting candles, making lights flicker to spook kiddos. It's fluffy, but it can be spookier or hotter if you're inclined! If you're not taking requests, that's okay too! Happy Halloween! <:



ughhhhh you’re hitting me right in the feeeeels 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i love this idea. this is a pureeee Bamon fluff moment <33333

Damon had a chat with Bonnie- well, vent session really- about how he didn’t give a damn about Halloween. After a century and a half of witnessing angels and devils, he’d seen enough red and white polyester for a lifetime. Halloween was just gimmicky and trite and without any kids, what did it matter?

That was the end of September, and while Bonnie didn’t say much during his rambling, she’d hum her concession at every spare sentence distractedly.

By October first, Bonnie came over with puppy dog eyes and pumpkins, suggesting, (begging,) that they carve out “spooky” faces and hide the seeds in moist soil and well, he couldn’t deny her. Especially not after the puppy dog eyes.

“For someone who didn’t want to do this, you’re pretty amazing at carving pumpkins.”

You’re one to speak, Damon thought to himself as he watched Bonnie use the knife like a floating stylus, you’re carving without using hands.

“I’m brilliant at everything I do.” He stated confidently.

“Can I take my compliment back?”

“Nope.”

When they finished, Bonnie magically lit small tea candles and sat them in the pumpkin heads as lanterns during the nighttime.

“Show off,” Damon mumbled.

The light in her eyes made him think that this Halloween might not be so bad after all.

.

Damon realized very quickly what this whole ordeal was about.

Bonnie was no longer eighteen, or twenty-two, or even twenty-five; she was twenty-eight so it wasn’t far-fetched for him to assume that she was having a severe case of baby fever.

She was just coooing and awwwing a little too much at the kid’s costumes and took it upon herself to use her witchy powers as entertainment, and though she was fooling the stupid kids, Damon knew no ��magician” could juggle blow pops in mid air.

“If you really want to use your powers, why not scare the living shit out of them?” He pointed a rigid thumb at the adorable kids behind his back as one dressed as Batman covered his mouth in surprise at Damon’s foul language.

“Ooo, he said a bad word,” one kid whispered to the next and quickly the gang of mini comic book heroes decided they preferred the “magician” over the vampire.

“Damon, please.” Bonnie sighed, then addressed the kids with a big smile as she extended a hand to send candy dropping into their bags out of their own accord.

“Oh wow, that looks so real!” A parent exclaimed.

“It is. She’s a witch.” The dad shook his head and laughed.

“It’s true. And I’m a vampire.” Damon extended his fangs and hissed for added drama. The kids, now fully terrified, ran off noisily and the beloved father only shook his head again and pointed a finger.

“You really almost got me there,” then he walked off to the next house.

Vampires and witches didn’t go bump in the night, only animal attacks did. Damon sighed.

“I might just stab myself and see what explanation they come up with when my body sews itself back together.”

“Please don’t.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know- I can practically hear your ovaries about to burst when you see a baby in an idiotic costume.”

“That’s not true!”

“Bonnie you’ve got a whole side magic show…Care to explain?”

“I want to entertain them, Damon, is that so wrong? It’s Halloween for Christ’s sake,” he cut his eyes up to the ceiling, “get into the spirit.”

.

It was easier for him to be a little more festive when she really started scaring the older kids who were unimpressed with floating candy and making plants grow in front of their eyes.

They insisted it was special effects or hypnotism or this or that so when Bonnie made them hear a voice whispering in one ear and then the other, Damon finally developed a genuine smile on his face.

He could always advocate for a good punishment.

“Try not to enjoy this so much,” Bonnie teased.

“You first.”

.

They had just settled in, down to one bag of candy, The Nightmare Before Christmas on the television screen when Damon heard the last knock.

“I got it!” He called out to Bonnie who was in the kitchen of the boarding house throwing away the empty packages of sweets.

Damon’s breath caught in his throat when he opened the door to a pale little vampire with raven black hair. He looked up at him with crystal blue eyes and a smile missing his two front teeth.

“Trick or treat.” He declared, holding his bag out and open. By his side was a little brown-skinned girl with a black pointy hat and a broom.

“Bonnie this isn’t funny.” He called out.

“What do you mean?” And when she saw them she lost her breath too.

“No more candy, huh?” The little vampire asked with his left brow raised critically.

“You can’t just ask that, manners are important, Bennie.”

“Manners, shmanners. You’re not the boss of me, Dana. Who doesn’t have candy on Halloween?”

Bonnie looked over at Damon and mouthed, Bennie?

Dana? He mouthed back.

Before they could leave, she handed them the rest of the candy and Dana, ever so polite, thanked them graciously while Bennie trekked over to the next house.

Only when they sat on the couch with their bowl of popcorn did Damon speak again.

“Did we just enter the twilight zone?”

“Ya know, I think we did.”

For what it was worth, Damon felt a lot warmer than he had in years.

[salami2]

AN: Thank you @rxsyxhh for participating in Sally’s Valentines Lovers Raffle! Here is your 1 Oneshot that was apart of the 4 prizes. Enjoy!

Warning(s): Mentions of family, work, venting, crying, etc.

— Withered Bonnie x gn!reader —

As the lights flicked on, you flopped down in the tattered, rolling chair and spun around with a heavy sigh.

Your day has been utterly tiring. With your friends being too busy to hang out, family becoming incredibly annoying, and things just not working out today. Let’s just say your job as a night guard isn’t as appealing today.

Peering through the vents, you checked with a freshly charged flashlight. Thank goodness. Nothing there.

The time was 12am. You massages your forehead and groaned.

“They’re not here yet, that’s good.”

From what your boss had told you, the toy animatronics have been extra lively from the past shows today. So you can expect them to be the same this time as well.

Thundering booms made its way through the darkness. You squinted your eyes to see who it is, forgetting you had a flashlight.

“… Hello? Who’s there?”

You shouted. Flickering the flashlight front and center of your office space.

The silhouette of a rabbit's ears perked in from the darkness. Ruby eyes illuminates the darkness. You’re eyes glimmered, knowing exactly who came to visit you.

“BONNIE!!” you squealed, rushing towards the revealed figure.

He slowly inched towards you as you jumped for joy.

Bonnie had always been your friend, ever since your first ever shift at the Pizzaplex. He was interested in the new guard, and decided to pay you a visit.

The withered animatronic was surprised to see no concern on your face as he was crippled and frightening. Usually scaring away the past guards that came and gone.

“Bon, it’s so great to see you. You have no idea how exhausting today was…”

Walking back to your chair, you slumped in and sighed heavily. Taking off your nightcap and rubbing your forehead.

“Everyones at work when I’m not, my mom has been a thorn in my side today, and I fell down my houses stair twice! How the hell does that happen!?”

He listened to your woes. Taking in all the things going wrong lately. Bonnie has always been so patient with you when the others weren't.

“… And that’s about everything. Sorry to dump this on ya, Bon. Today has made me wanna cry so many times, I-“

Suddenly, with his only arm, Bonnie picked you up with great strength. Pulling you into a tight hug. Patting you on the back.

Truth be told, today hasn’t been the greatest for him either. Toy Bonnie really gets on his nerves. So this sweet moment is what he’s been waiting for all this time.

Small tears rolled down your cheeks, as you shut your eyes closed to keep them from going.

“Ahhh… thank you, Bon. I… appreciate this.”

Bonnie nodded, letting go and wiping your tears away.

Truly, you could always trust Bonnie to cheer you up through hard times. Always and forever.

@salami2

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 9: Terrors and Delights of the Great Unknown

Chapter Summary: Claire gets her first taste of the human world.

Read on AO3

Read chapter 9 below the cut

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Chapter 9: Terrors and Delights of the Great Unknown

***

Claire clung tightly to his hand as he led her through the streets of Inverness. Her eyes were huge as watermelons, pupils blown wide as she tried to take in all the sensations assaulting her. 

Jamie thought the buildings were the first shock she was trying to come to terms with. Her neck craned up to look at them, glancing nervously at their looming presence all around them. She’d seen Jamie’s house, of course, but that was nothing like the crowded buildings of the city. Her eyes glanced upward toward the sky— likely grounding herself with the one familiar aspect. Much to Jamie’s delight, she then glanced toward him, and peace flashed across her face. 

If Jamie’s nearness offered comfort akin to the sky, he could die happy. 

The buildings were quickly overshadowed by the disconcerting nature of the people around them. She shied toward him— her body pressing to his side like it was her refuge— every time another person passed, even if they were meters away. Some of the passersby gave her strange looks, apparently seeing her odd behavior (not to mention her attire) which completely unnerved Claire. In addition to never having interacted with another human save Jamie, she was used to being invisible to them. The puir wee thing trembled at his side, but bravely continued on. 

“Dinna fash, they’ll no’ harm ye,” Jamie reassured quietly. 

She gave him a wordless nod, lips pressed tightly together, and continued to meld herself to his side. She no longer stared like a deer in headlights at every person close by, but he could tell she still snuck wary glances at those who wandered near. 

As they continued to walk on the cobblestone street, passing by shop windows with elaborate decorations and advertisements, Claire’s anxiety gradually subsided. She began to sneak peeks at the shops as they passed, and Jamie smiled to himself. As the trepidation was replaced more by curiosity, she melted inch by inch. Soon, her death grip on his hand became one of simple connection. She would pause every once in a while to study a shop window, tugging on Jamie’s hand to get him to stop. 

He catered to her every whim, even when she wanted to stop and run her hands reverently over the bricks of one building for several minutes while he struggled to explain the basics of construction. 

During their (very slow) progress down the street, a broad smile gradually formed on those bonny pink lips. Her eyes now wide with intrigue, Claire was coming alive. 

It lightened his heart immensely to see her beginning to enjoy herself and overcome her apprehension. At first, he’d worried to himself that it would all be too much for her— that maybe he’d scare her away from the human world with this single traumatic experience. But that wasn’t the case, and his own anxiety had eased along with hers. He delighted in watching her explore the world with endearing enthusiasm. 

He was pulled to a stop once again as Claire peered into the window of an ice cream shop. 

“What is this place?” she asked in wonder. 

“Och, ‘tis a place where they make food— a special kind called ice cream that humans particularly enjoy.” Jamie was starting to get better at his explanations, trying to boil them down to the simplest things she would understand. (That was more difficult than he would have imagined, mind, because a usual explanation for ice cream would have included descriptors such as “dessert” and “sweet”, but Claire of course lacked the background knowledge for that to make any sense.)

She nodded at his words but didn’t tear her eyes away from the displays of colorful ice cream inside. A smile spread across his face as he watched her take it in, his heart swelling with affection yet again for his strange lass. 

“God, I wish ye ate. If this were a movie ye ken there’d be a grand scene where I take ye inside and ye’d experience ice cream for the first time, yer world lightin’ up the instant ye taste it,” he said to himself. 

She did tear her eyes away then, to give him a furrowed-brow look of bewilderment. 

“What?” 

Jamie laughed and shook his head. “Dinna mind me, Sassenach,” he dismissed with a chuckle. 

They continued on at their snail’s pace, but before long, Jamie was nearly hauled off his feet by Claire abruptly stopping in front of a trash can. 

“What’s this?” she inquired as she reached a hand toward the nearly overflowing bin. 

“Dinna touch it,” he pulled her back rather forcefully by their joined hands, and he felt bad when she instantly latched onto his side again, thinking it harmful because of his forceful response. Her fingers were clutching his shirt in a white-knuckled grip.  

“It’s no’ dangerous,” he quickly amended, “that’s jes’ what humans do with waste. Things that arena good any more or they dinna need.” 

“Why don’t they need all these things?” Claire asked in confusion, squinting her eyes at the contents. 

Jamie wasn’t sure exactly how to answer that. “Weel, did ye no’ have things that once served a purpose but then no longer did?” 

She peered up at him and gave a shake of her head. 

“The Earth provides what we need, and when we’re done, it returns to the earth to be used again.” 

“Aye, that’s a good way to live,” Jamie murmured. 

Claire still seemed disturbed by the trash as they began walking again, but she soon forgot all about it as more things caught her attention. A passing bicycle brought up a whole new conversation, and Jamie had to chuckle to himself imagining his graceful faerie bumbling around the pedals and clinging to the handlebars. Maybe someday… 

Finally— after taking more than three times the amount of time it would have taken the average person to go this short distance— they arrived at the wee thrift shop, tucked on the corner. 

Jamie knew the owner, a Mrs. Fitz, who was a very distant relative of his. Although to be fair, everyone in the highlands was practically related. As Jamie pushed open the door and led Claire inside, the little bell rang in welcome and Mrs. Fitz instantly popped up from behind a rack of clothes, her face shining with enthusiasm. 

“Och, Jamie, lad!” she exclaimed, “it’s sae good t’ see ye!” 

She clasped both her hands over her chest in delight and gave him a wide smile. The shopkeeper quickly bustled over to him, arms outstretched for a hug. But as he tried to withdraw his hand from Claire’s, she stubbornly refused to release him, so he was left giving Mrs. Fitz an odd, one-armed side hug. 

Drawing back, she seemed to notice Claire for the first time, and blinked at her for a second. 

“Ah, and who is this ye have wi’ ye?” she asked Jamie. She looked pointedly down at their clasped hands, up at Jamie, and then back at Claire. 

He looked on in amusement as Mrs. Fitz truly took in Claire’s appearance— the wee lass standing there in his huge jacket, sagging sweatpants, and feet clad in socks and sandals. Mrs. Fitz’ eyes seemed to bulge as she looked at her, and Jamie realized he’d better give an excuse before the shopkeeper combusted. 

“This is my… friend, Claire. She’s visitin’ but lost her luggage, and we need tae get her all new stuff. Could ye maybe help us out?” 

Mrs. Fitz’ agog morphed quickly into a motherly look of sympathy. 

“Ye puir thing, of course we’ll get ye everythin’ ye need.” 

She made toward Claire as if she was about to hug her and then lead her toward the racks, but Claire hastily took a step away, bumping into Jamie in the process. 

“No’ a hugger I see, no problem,” Mrs. Fitz said accommodatingly with hands raised. 

Instead, she simply turned on her heel and headed over toward the first rack in sight— jeans. 

Claire was quiet, looking around the room abstractedly and not paying the slightest bit of attention as Mrs. Fitz prattled on about the pants, speculating about Claire’s size and which might best suit her. Jamie was trying to answer the questions on her behalf, but was distracted by the look on Claire’s face, which had suddenly lit up as something caught her eye. 

For the first time the entire trip, she let go of Jamie’s hand. (The moment felt absurdly monumental, and he found himself feeling empty without the sensation of her hand clasped in his). He resisted the impulse to gape at her with an open mouth as she wandered across the room with rather astounding boldness. Then, he spotted exactly what it was that had caught her attention. 

A gauzy white dress hung on a display hanger, it’s hem fluttering just in the slightest from the air vent above it. 

“I like this,” she announced, halting Mrs. Fitz from her perusal of the jeans. 

“Och, a dress lass, are ye? Well I think that’d suit ye jes’ fine. Why dinna ye try it on while I grab some others I think might work for ye?” 

Jamie quickly thanked her and took Claire’s elbow, steering her in the direction of the dressing room. 

“Ye can change into it back here to be sure it fits,” Jamie murmured into her ear. 

In one fluid motion, he opened the curtain of the dressing room, shoved the dress into her arms, herded her inside, and then closed the curtain again. Every second Mrs. Fitz wasn’t studying her made it more likely they’d get through this without arousing too many questions. 

It took Claire a rather long time to change, he thought. Although she did have a lot of layers to peel off. While she was still inside the changing room, Mrs. Fitz returned and deposited an armful of dresses into Jamie’ lap, all in the same size as the one Claire had picked. 

The shopkeeper was just about to open her mouth to ask him something when the bell over the door rang and she scurried away to greet the other customer. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. 

It was then that the curtain flew open and Claire emerged, clad in her white dress. 

Jamie nearly had a stroke on the spot. 

She was divine. The white dress fit her perfectly, clinging to her curves down to her waist where it flared out into the draping of the skirt, the hem falling to just below her knees. A hint of cleavage teased at the neckline, skin creamy-white and looking oh-so soft. She swayed gently back and forth with a faint smile, and the gauzy material of the skirt flowed around her with the movement. It was as if the dress had been made for her. 

Under the bright lighting of the shop, Claire’s glow seemed muted to him, although certainly still there. It seemed to accentuate the perfection of the white dress and her dark hair that flowed down her shoulders in sharp contrast— giving her the air of an angel. 

Jamie was astounded. 

Unaware of how speechless she’d left him, Claire asked shyly, “do you like it?” 

He had to swallow three times before his dry throat was capable of answering her. 

“Ye look beautiful,” he forced out. 

She beamed, twirling around in excitement— which made the skirt billow up around her— and then suddenly she was launching herself at Jamie. Claire hugged him tightly, bare feet on tip-toes as she tried to reach up to be closer to him. 

“Thank you, Jamie,” she breathed warmly. 

He was ecstatic that something as simple as a new dress could make her this happy. 

Mrs. Fitz chose that exact moment to return, her footsteps pattering over and barging in on what Jamie considered a rather private moment. 

“Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed as Claire and Jamie parted, “ye look breathtakin.” 

Jamie couldn’t have agreed with her more. 

Claire flushed, eyelashes lowering demurely, and quietly thanked her. She had barely gotten the words out when Mrs. Fitz began shoving a couple pairs of shoes into her hands. Then, just like the whirlwind she was, Mrs. Fitz breezed off again. 

Jamie handed Claire another dress to try on and took all but one pair of the shoes from her. Then, he sat back down to wait. 

When Claire next emerged, she was wearing a black sundress with a floral design. Although the hem was above the knee, it wasn’t quite as form-fitting or astonishingly perfect for her (although he thought everything suited her, of course), so Jamie managed to better keep his composure this time. 

But the moment she turned around to show him the back, Jamie’s heart stopped beating and his blood ran cold in shock. 

He all but tackled her inside the dressing room, falling in after her and then frantically slamming the curtain closed. Once Claire was safely behind him in the privacy of the fitting room, Jamie peeked out a little to ensure no other customer had seen. 

Then, he very slowly turned back toward Claire, whose big honey eyes were staring up at him in question. 

He didn’t address her. Instead, very gently, he placed his hands on Claire’s shoulders and turned her so he could look at her back again. 

The sundress had a low back— a very low back— which exposed the two delicate appendages there.  

Wings. 

Transparent, beautifully fragile— wings. That laid perfectly flat against her back and shoulders. 

Jamie reached a finger out, mesmerized, to gently trace the outline of them. 

But the second he made contact with the edge of one, she let out a little squeal and jerked away. 

Jamie withdrew his hand as if he was burned, clutching it to his chest in shame. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldna have—” 

“It’s alright,” she said as she turned to face him, “I just wasn’t expecting… Is that why you shoved me in here? My wings?” 

Jamie blinked several times, trying to get his brain to catch up to the situation. 

Of course she had wings. She was a faerie after all. 

The sound of his name jerked him back to reality, and he realized he’d never answered her. 

“You have wings!” he exclaimed daftly, still failing to answer her question and merely staring at her, open-mouthed with astonishment. 

“Oh,” she said, glancing behind her at her back casually, as if checking to see they were still there, “of course I have wings. Purely decorative though, I’m afraid.” 

Jamie was still struck dumb, but he longed to look at them again. The dressing room was too small for him to be able to walk around her, so he simply reached out and turned her a second time. 

They were beautiful. Heartbreakingly delicate looking. He could see through them everywhere except where the veins laced through, like a butterfly’s wing. The edges curved gracefully up toward her shoulders, ending in a point. It took all his willpower to resist the urge to touch them again without permission. They laid flat against her back, and he wondered distantly if she could move them. 

As if sensing his curiosity, they suddenly fluttered back toward him— nearly hitting him in the face— and Jamie jolted backward with a surprised laugh. 

Claire shot him an amused look from over her shoulder, and fluttered them again in demonstration. 

“They’re… beautiful,” he breathed reverently. 

“Thanks,” she replied bashfully, “I always thought them dull, really. Some fae have much grander wings, mine are rather small.” 

Jamie couldn’t bear to hear any disparaging remarks aimed at the perfection that was Claire, and he made a Scottish sound of derision deep in his throat. 

“Everythin’ about ye is perfect,” he stated firmly. 

Her wings had settled back flat on her back by this point, and Claire turned around to face him, cheeks adorned with a becoming blush as she adjusted the straps of her sundress over her shoulders again. 

“Well…” Jamie said, eying her up and down, “as bonny as ye look in this dress, I’m afraid we canna buy it for fear of exposin’ ye to the world. Ye’re no’ exactly verra inconspicuous...” 

Claire bit her lip, perhaps embarrassed about forgetting that minor detail when she’d showed him outside. But he was quick to reassure her. 

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. No one saw ye earlier. Yer secret’s safe wi’ me.” 

He tried to give her a wink, which he was aware was a skill at which he was woefully inept, and she burst out laughing at his attempt. 

In that moment, he wanted more than anything to lean down and press his smile to hers. 

Before he could do anything foolish like act on the impulse, he quickly ducked out of the dressing room, eyes still fixed on Claire. 

He slipped backward through the slit at the edge of the curtain… and right into Mrs. Fitz. 

Stumbling away from her, he whirled around to find the shopkeeper with her hands on her hips, face red with admonishment. 

“James Fraser,” she uttered in a menacing voice that indicated he was in big trouble, “I understand that ye’re infatuated with yon lassie, but I canna believe that ye’d engage in— in— such depravity. In my shop!” 

Jamie fell back a step, hands raised defensively. 

“I wasna…” 

But Mrs. Fitz wasn’t having any of it. “I wilna condone such behavior, especially not in public when other customers are around. I’m appalled by your behavior, Jamie Fraser—” 

When she paused for breath in her tirade, face growing redder by the second, Jamie took the opportunity of the minute gap to jump in, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fitz, but I promise we werena doin’ anythin’ untoward. Listen, we’ll take the lot and be out of yer hair.” 

Jamie gestured frantically toward the pile of dresses and shoes, then reached into his pocket for his wallet. He produced a wad of cash and held it out toward Mrs. Fitz like a peace offering. 

She looked him up and down for a long moment, eying him and the money with narrowed eyes. Jamie thought for a second that he’d be taking Claire home empty handed, but then Mrs. Fitz reached out and snatched the cash from his hands. 

“I want you out,” she said curtly. 

Jamie nodded frantically and instinctively backed away a step. Without breaking wary eye contact with Mrs. Fitz, he called into Claire, “get dressed, a nighean, we’re leaving.” 

With that, Mrs. Fitz turned on her heel and stalked away, as if she couldn’t stand to be in the presence of such a depraved lecher for one more second. Jamie sighed to himself. All of Inverness would be hearing about this within the day… no way he could hide Claire from Jenny for long. 

A minute later, Claire emerged from the dressing room, clutching the jacket to her chest. 

“Jamie, what—?” She started to ask. 

But Jamie cut her off by simply taking her hand and tugging her toward the door, his other arm juggling their purchases (which of course he had no bag for since there was no way he’d push his luck asking for one). 

Once they were safely outside in the Scottish gloom, Jamie slowed down— realizing he had been dragging the puir lass nearly off her feet in his haste to be gone. 

“What—?” She tried to ask again. 

“Nothin’ tae fash about, a nighean,” Jamie assured her, “it was only a wee misunderstandin’ wi’ Mrs. Fitz. But hopefully these dresses will do.” 

Claire, bless her, tended to take Jamie at his word, and so she didn’t press him for any more details. Quite honestly, her trust in his dismissals of things was a breath of fresh air in contrast to his sister Jenny’s stifling desire to wring every last bit of information from him. He wondered distantly just how long Claire’s innocence on this front would last. But for now she was content to let him take the lead with all things human, and he was happy to take it. 

Jamie’s strides were still long and hurried as he brought Claire back toward the car. Thankfully, she was unresisting— she’d probably had enough exploring for one day. Although Jamie knew he hadn’t actually done anything wrong (save going in the dressing room with a fully clothed lass— because she had wings for pete’s sake!), he still felt like a young lad caught with his pants down around his ankles. He wanted to be away from the shop and the talk that surely would be following in their wake. 

The stream of thoughts that occupied Jamie’s brain was interrupted by Claire tripping and nearly toppling over onto the cobbles stones. 

“Woah, lass,” tumbled from Jamie’s mouth at the same time as the pile of clothes on his arm started to fall to the ground. 

With an impressive feat of juggling, he managed to pull Claire upright with one hand and only lose a couple dresses and one pair of shoes with the other. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, letting go of Jamie’s hand so she could stoop down and pick up the fallen items. When she straightened, she pulled at the legs of her sweatpants in frustrated illustration as she said, “I keep tripping over these.” 

“Weel, ye needna suffer them any longer, a nighean,” he laughed, and he lifted the shoulder holding the new clothes, “let’s find ye somewhere tae change.” 

The “somewhere” Jamie settled on was an old bookshop. It was right across the street, so Jamie simply herded his wee faerie inside, trying to make his armful of items look as discrete and nonchalant as possible. 

The bookstore was old and musty. Something about it had a feeling of another time, as if the world stopped the moment you stepped in. The bookshelves were crowded, with only narrow aisles between, and every one was stuffed to the brim with books. The lighting was rather dim, and Jamie had to squint his eyes a bit as he took it all in. Spotting the front desk, he brought Claire over to it. 

Attending the shop was a woman nearly the same age as Jamie, with long red hair that cascaded down her narrow shoulders and over a name tag that read “Geillis”. When she looked up at them, he saw that she had the most startling shade of green eyes. Almost like a cat’s, he thought distantly. Something about her prickled the tiny hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck. 

But she greeted them quite warmly. 

“Good day, how can I be assistin’ ye?” she asked with a bright smile. 

“We’re jes’ needin’ a place tae change, do ye have a loo?” 

The lass, Geillis, eyed him up and down for a long moment before her gaze flicked to Claire. To his astonishment, the lasses made steady eye contact for a long stretch of time, green meeting whisky, and then she suddenly broke it to smile politely at Jamie. 

“Of course,” she said, “we canna have yer hen paradin’ around Inverness in that outfit, can we? It’s on the far side.” She pointed helpfully in the direction. 

“Thank ye,” Jamie said, and quickly dragged Claire off. 

After seeing her inside the bathroom to change into her white dress and new shoes, Jamie took to perusing the shelves. All the books were old, likely this was a secondhand shop, and mostly titles he didn’t recognize. He became absorbed in the looking, though, so much so that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a figure appeared beside him. 

“Find anythin’ interesting?” Geillis asked. 

Jamie quickly composed himself after the fright, and answered, “eh… jes’ lookin’. Quite an assortment of titles ye have here.” 

He ran a finger over the spine of one of the books. 

“Quite,” she agreed, “I take pride in procuring the selection.” 

“Ye own the shop then?” Jamie asked. 

A nod in confirmation. “My name’s Geillis Duncan, nice tae meet ye,” she said, extending her hand. 

Jamie took it, shaking amicably, and replied, “James Fraser.” 

“It appears ye and yer lass have had quite the… adventure…?” She said with raised brows and a glint in her eye. 

“Oh, she’s not my—“ but Jamie cut himself off, finding that he didn’t have it in him to deny the thing he so desperately wanted. Instead, he finished lamely, “aye, we have.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what compelled him to admit it, but he suddenly added, “honestly, I’m at a bit of a loss.”  

At that moment, the door to the washroom opened, and Claire emerged, clad in her white dress. As she made her way toward them, a book was suddenly shoved into his hand. 

He looked down in surprise, and then up at Geillis. 

“This one is on me,” she whispered, drawing close to his ear, “read it carefully, fox.” 

Bewildered, he didn’t have any reply. And apparently he didn’t need one. Because he had glanced over at Claire, and when he looked back toward Geillis, she was gone. 

“Ready?” Claire asked as she reached him. 

Jamie shook himself out of his startlement at the shopkeeper's abrupt disappearance and gave Claire a smile. 

“Aye, lass.” 

Hand in hand again, they walked out of the shop, the book Geillis had given him still tucked under his arm. 

*

Next

[winxlava]

Where Fate: the Winx saga fails

As a winx fan of 14 years (in and out), this fate thing is really scandolous. I’ve seen lots of ups and downs the winx fandom. As I’ve watched all of the development that fate had, I've had some thoughts, but I’ve waited until I watched everything.

This is going to be a reaction to all 6 episodes of Fate the Winx saga. This is coming from a fan of the og show so expect lots of comparisons.

If this bothers you, please don't keep reading. A lot of this is only my opinion. If you like it and think its great, that’s good! I’m not here to ruin it.

There is a list of what I liked most near the bottom of this post. Spoilers Ahead!!

Anyway, back to the post.

What made the Winx work

Lets start with the basic idea of Winx. Bloom, a normal girl, finds out that she has magic powers and is from another dimension. Seems like a simple concept? Well, Seasons 1-3 (and 4?) expanded this idea to the max.

Likeable characters galore and lots of fun, fashion, and magic.

For a lot of us that’s what sold the show. 

So lets talk about tone and why its so important 

The idea that teenage girls were exploring a world we could never see or experience. And the darkness that came with it.

Remember when Daphne, bloom’s dead sister, clung to life to help bloom figure her life out? When bloom became evil and nearly killed all of her friends? When Flora drowned to save her sister, only to get enchantix? (Actually all of enchantix was like this). When Musa gave up seeing her dead mom to save the world? When nabu died?

The show was full of these small, intense, dark moments. That’s what made winx special. The light came with dark.

By making the show dark and “eDgy” it takes away the impact of the dark moments. I’ve been saying this since the beginning. 

Point of view and how Stella is affected 

Stella was very misunderstood in the remake and it shows. The thing is, Stella was the first entry point into the magical world in the original show. She carried Bloom and her parents to Alfea. She was the transfer point to a whole world for the audience.

Her spunk and optimism and snark made her a fan favorite, but that’s not what made her character work.

She was Bloom’s first friend, and because of the that, we saw her in a good lens. She was reckless, but a pure heart nonetheless. She was confident, cunning, and powerful. 

It was because we saw the good in her first that made us like her. She was good before she was bad in our eyes.

The remake takes all of that away. She’s just a generic mean rich girl now. To be honest, Stella is accurate, but the way she was introduced put her in a whole new light. In this version, she is annoying and trifling, seemingly taking the place of Diaspro in her liking for sky.

Also she hates her mother? Stella would never! She loved both of her parents dearly and was mad simply because she felt they never loved her as a result of their divorce; they never talked to each other and she felt split between the two of them. (See Stella’s nightmares sequence season 1 :https://youtu.be/wuvyw0OHA6A?t=129). She was lonely and her father, though he loved her, spoiled her with gifts instead of the love she desired. 

You see this side of her when Chimera comes in and tries to take her place in season 3. Her worth is tied to what she has and looks like. Her title as a princess rules her.

Not only that, Stella learns about “commoners” through her friends. She was spoiled and never saw people who couldn’t afford things; it was new and she was a bit rude about it, but can you blame her, she was always put above everything else in her home country.

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgzCfOQ696rvwa51Z_J4AaABCQ?lc=UgzCDSxfcNaP9XogBSB4AaABAg

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgzCfOQ696rvwa51Z_J4AaABCQ?lc=Ugxl_sOsUSGBXEwagxJ4AaABAg

^^ These are comments of people saying similar things.

Stella also vents to Sky a lot in the remake. She seems like she is chasing him pitifully, something og Stella would never do.

Edit: Check the “liked” section; she has been upgraded to sort of like in episodes 5 and 6.

Aisha

They did Aisha dirty as well. (Just like Bonnie from Vampire Diaries, why am I surprised?) I would write a lot here, but someone else summarized it well:

https://rainbow-whitewashing-jar.tumblr.com/post/639787632624369664/its-just-there-is-so-much-background-on-aisha.

https://www.youtube.com/post/Ugx4WL5rIPTS1suGOed4AaABCQ

Tldr: Aisha was a very lonely princess of Andros. She only had one friend growing up but then they moved away and she was lonely all over again. She copes with her princess duties by being great at sports and even beating some of the men! She stood up to her parents when they wanted her to be arranged married, until she fell in love with Nabu HERSELF. She decided her own future from that point on.

Also, her relevance to the plot has been dwindled to being Bloom's right hand man; the black best friend sterotype! What a let down for one of the PRINCESSES of the original!

She had her own goals, drive, and motivations in the original! She did things for all of her friends; she definitely wasn't only driven by one person!

And she was closer to Musa than Bloom that's for sure!

Bloom

The fact that bloom transforms before everyone else gives bad vibes, considering that one of the reasons she was insecure about magic was because everyone of her friends was better than her and could transform. Why would she feel insecure when they are all around the same level?

The theme of sisterhood

Ever notice that none of the girls had the same taste in guys?

Bloom liked goody guys like Sky and Andy. Stella liked guys who were fun and flirty like Brandon.

In fact, none of the girls ever fought over a guy, they fought over things that actually mattered like someone being rude or a mission gone wrong.

That's what made them relatable. They weren't petty about guys and they mostly respected each other's relationships.

https://www.youtube.com/post/Ugz6TEOmGRV2Cfqy12F4AaABCQ?lc=UgwhLsToVbhLDYpFphB4AaABAg

^^ Look at highlighted comment

Not only that, but the winx represented a positive sisterhood. They stood by each other and respected each other; they never let men come between them and shared their power with each other.

Only the trix, the bad sisterhood, fought over men and power. The trix were foils to the winx and what they stood for! That's what made them some of the best villains in the series!

Instead of that, we get useless relationship drama! 😒

And that brings me to...

Stella/Sky/Bloom & Riven/Dane/Terra

What was the point of Dane? I'm still asking myself that question. He doesn't really do anything except act as relationship fuel for a love triangle.

Don't get me wrong, the representation is needed. But he adds nothing to the real plot at all except that Terra thinks he likes her, and he has a crush on Riven.

In terms of the Stella and Bloom love triangle with Sky, apparently she BLINDED someone because they flirted with sky. What?!? Stella isn't that cruel at all. The show clearly flanderized her to a cruel mean girl so....

Edit: Check the “liked” section; she has been upgraded to sort of like in episodes 5 and 6.

Lets not forget about “diversity”

Male fairies did exist before Fate:

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgziTWMf44kv0fkDt8x4AaABCQ

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgxWAFZRmqt_k3iBMhZ4AaABCQ

Flora/Terra, Musa, and Whitewashing

Terra and Musa are wonderful! Their actress' do a great job; their personalities are so similar to the original (except for musa's mind abilities and Terra's talkative personality)! Whenever one of them interacts with the other main cast, you feel actual friendship chemistry between them!!

But there is an elephant in the room: the whitewashing. If these characters were the correct race, they wouldn't be in this critical review.

Terra isn't flora, but her character was clearly based on her! Also, she has a cousin named Flora, so Flora is clearly in this universe.

??

Why change her race and swap her out! The personalities are spot on, which makes it even more disheartening to know that they would rather replace two POC characters with white characters who essentially are the same people and have the same plot importance.

What a shame and low blow that is! Especially since I am a black woman myself!

Sky and Riven

Them being bros make no sense really. Before they were more like enemies who were forced to work together.

Why are they friends?? What's the backstory?

Other than that, sky is pretty spot on. He's the pretty boy with good intentions. Not interesting but not very boring either.

Riven is cringy like I feared. He was also sort of cringe in the og but because of the darker setting in the remake he just feels even more so.

Other Criticisms:

- we gets some pretty cringy dialogue (mostly from riven). Some of the clingy dialogue (not from riven) ironically could have worked in a lighter setting and become "campy".

- The fact that there are no wings for 5 whole episodes, just makes the entire thing feel like Witches or something...

- why does everyone have the dead parent trope??

- no tecna

Things I do like:

- bloom missing her parents and feeling left out

- Musa and Sam before Musa and Riven (hopefully)

- Terra in general

- Terra’s dad and brother

- Musa in general

- Stella funny quips

- the scenery is gorgeous

- Stella's clothes are so fashionable! She has great outfits!

- Sky and Bloom taking during the party and/or being friendly with each other

- the magic cgi looks good 👍

- the rooms of the girls dorms and the castle looks great on the inside

- Aisha's personality

- Farrah Dowling is good as well

- Bloom is pretty spot on

- Stella's mom's powers are awesome

- imagine the genocide plot but with the happy fun show vibe and with the trix. The trix want to get revenge on faragonda for killing their cult, who wanted to revive the ancestral witches or something💥💥💥

- Stella in episodes 5 and 6 is cool

- the inclusion of the witches of aster dell (Beatrix said she was born there = witch)

- the inclusion of musa’s mother’s death

-Her transformation was lackluster to me, but I appreciated the effort to include it.

Conclusion

The pacing was all over the place to me; it felt like some episodes lasted forever and all of them seemed to have the vague theme of : be careful who you trust.

By trying to separate the winx from the og and have them have "their own lives" (which they already had), they ruined the intriguing backstories the characters already had in the og. Some were somewhat kept, but others were kind of left in the dust *cough*Aisha*cough*.

They took away with made them special: the teamwork, love, and friendship that brought them together and made them stronger. *They try it in episodes 5 and 6, but to me it just falls sort of flat.*

That said it isn't completely bad, it's mediocre at best, but it isn't Winx and that's that.

Edit: I know that it’s not supposed to be winx per say, but it has characters from the og and even the “winx” name in the title!

Credits: WCD channel on youtube, rainbow whitewashing jar on tumblr, and Youtube videos by the official winx club youtube channel.

[themangledsans0508]

Bad Days

Read on Ao3

Summary: Sometimes Marceline had bad days. Sometimes they were because of arguments. Sometimes she just needed to vent to her girlfriend about it.

Words: 1201, Oneshot

Warnings: None

Characters: Bonnibel Bubblegum, Marceline Abadeer, Lumpy Space Princess (mentioned)

Ships: Bubbline 

Additional Tags: ranting to gf, mild hurt/comfort

Sometimes Marceline had bad days.

The door opened and slammed shut, the vibrations sending shock-waves through the house that made the pictures sway. Bonnie looked up from the treaty she had been drafting, setting it on the table in front of her.

“Marcy?” There was a groan in return. That wasn’t a good sign. She got up from her seat, pushing her chair back in so that it wouldn’t drive her mad later.

Marceline’s ears were back. Her dark crimson eyes were sad and angry, her hair loosely dangling around her face like a cloak. Her fingers were curled into fists, her lips turned downwards into a frown with her fangs peeking out. Her stature was similar to that of a toddler who had gotten into an argument and was told: “you’re stupid.”

“‘Just keep LSP distracted,’ they told me. ‘Make sure she doesn’t get in the way of Finn’s date,’ they told me. They never warned me that she would kill a man to get some good gossip!” Marceline shouted. Bonnie gently pushed her hair back behind her ears so she could see her face better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly. Marceline sighed.

“I guess.” She threw herself down on the couch, bouncing slightly when she hit the cushions. Bonnie sat beside her with her hands neatly folded in her lap. “I don’t know where to start. It isn’t even that big a deal.”

“Start from the beginning, for a bit of context,” she suggested.

“Okay, beginning. You remember when Jake called me a few days ago asking for a favour? Well, he wanted me to make sure that Lumpy Space Princess didn’t get all up in Finn’s business. Apparently, he was going on a date, and LSP was basically dying to find out with who. Don’t know why she cares so much, she said it was the “tea” right now and she “needed to know who landed the hunk.” Sucks for her because even I don’t know who Finn went out with, Jake wouldn’t even tell me if it was a guy or girl or other. No species, age, or kingdom. I even tried to bribe him.”

“Maybe he wants to wait a bit before he makes it official. Also, he might be worried that you’d harass whoever he’s interested in.”

“Why would I do that?” Marceline asked. Bonnie twirled her hair.

“You’re like his big sister, and you’re kind of protective. Plus, you have the potential to tell me, and the whole Flame Princess break-up was kind of my fault in a way,” she explained.

“I wouldn’t get involved unless he gets himself in trouble. The kid has to learn somehow, and he won’t learn a thing if we try to protect him from everything.”

“He’s severely traumatized. I think protecting him is understandable,” Bonnie stated.

“I meant in the department of love. It’s best for him to figure out as a teenager just like all other teenagers. Can I continue my story?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, so LSP somehow found out about the date and we ran into each other just outside of Lumpy Space. She was going on and on about how she had to know and I was trying to tell her that no, she didn’t need to know because I didn’t need to know. Then she tried to say that I know nothing about love because I’m, and I quote, “fucking the most stuck-up bitch in all of Ooo and probably everywhere else” which, no, I’m not, and it kind of pissed me off. So maybe I said something insulting her taste in men and then she came for my music. For a girl who acted like a die-hard fan, that was surprising. She also called me a “punk-ass whore” whose only call to fame was “having a daddy that controlled all demons.” Plus some other low swings at my style and life along with more digs at you that may or may not have started a fistfight.”

“You got in a fistfight,” Bonnie repeated.

“Yeah. Obviously, I won. But I am now a wanted woman in Lumpy Space. Worth it but damn some of the things she said stung. I’m also fuming because of what she said about you, since calling you a stuck-up bitch was probably the best of everything she said.”

“Are you still angry and upset, or just upset, or just angry?” Bonnie asked. Marceline thought for a moment.

“Mostly upset, but also angry. Because first off, she doesn’t know you, she knows Princess Bubblegum. The professional. And if she wants to call you names then I have some choice ones for her. Second, I put my heart and soul in my music and I know I have fans, and every song is from my emotions and for some little shit to insult it without even thinking about that is an offence to every musician out there. Third, my dad is the only reason I’m famous? I’m the fucking vampire queen, proud musician, half-demon, a survivor of the Mushroom War, a survivor of the Gum War, slayer of dragons and vampires, former caretaker of the Ice King, the girlfriend of the Princess of the Candy Kingdom, a partner in crime with Finn the Human and Jake the Dog, and so much more! Her only claim to fame is harassing people, being a royal runaway, and a general problem.” Marceline huffed. “She went straight for my pride and it took a hit.”

“Well, you obviously know that she was so wrong about those two things. Insults coming from Lumpy Space Princess mean nothing to me because she’s had it out for me for years. But you are the best musician in Ooo, although I may be a bit biased,” Bonnie reassured. Marceline chuckled.

“More than a bit.”

“Hush, you. You are also a hero in general since you failed to mention that. You have saved my life on many an occasion, as well as the boys, Simon, the Candy Kingdom as a whole, and all the humans on Ooo. LSP doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Bonnie pulled Marceline into a hug where she lingered. She ran her fingers through her thick black hair, working through the knots.

“How do you always calm me down?” she questioned.

“I don’t. You talk through how you’re feeling. It has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you. You listen to me. If we were still fighting, I probably would’ve razed a village by now.”

“Those villagers should thank me then,” Bonnie joked. Marceline took a deep breath.

“Thank you. For just being there for me,” she murmured.

“Thank you for defending me. Just know you don’t have to, it’s the burden of being a ruler.”

“You don’t have to support me but here we are.”

“I don’t have to, but I will because I love you,” Bonnie reasoned.

“I love you too. So much. You’re a blessing.”

“That’s a bit much, I’m just a bubblegum person.”

“My bubblegum person.”

“That is true. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Thanks to you.” She grabbed Bonnie's hand and ran her fingers over her knuckles. "Always thanks to you."

[missnmikaelson-main]

A Year to Eternity - Chapter 3

Elena’s eyes darted from Caroline to Klaus curiously before settling on Elijah’s confused expression; he had no idea what his brother was doing at her house either.

“What’s going to be amusing?” She pressed a hand to her back, applying a light pressure to the ache near the base of her spine and mentally scolding herself for leaping to her feet so quickly.

She focused her gaze on Klaus, turning to face him fully. “What are you doing here?”

She thought she did an astounding job of keeping any and all accusations from her tone.

“Perhaps you could invite me in, love,” he pushed a hand against the barrier, “so I’m not speaking across the length of your house.”

“Are you going to threaten to burn my house to the ground if I don’t?” She arched an eyebrow, hearing the snide inflection in her voice.

The baby tapped out a staccato rhythm on her ribs.

As much as she wanted to deny him entry and step outside for whatever conversation he had in mind she decided against it, knowing she would live to regret her impulsive decision made by tired limbs.

“Come on in.”

He stepped inside and moved to the living room without pausing to look around.

“What do you want Klaus?” She crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling suddenly like a beached whale.

“What I want is your blood.”

Elena clicked her tongue. “Saw that one coming from a mile away.”

“I need it for a spell,” his jaw clicked. “Bonnie Bennett will only do it if you give your blood willingly.”

“You expect me to give you my blood for another spell?” Heat rose in her cheeks, but with it came a powerful sense of control. “You murdered my mother and my aunt, you indirectly killed my father, terrorized my town, used me as a human blood bag and you were going to kill me again. Do you really think I’m going to give you anything you want?”

“I’m sorry...”

She cut him off with a wry laugh. Her words came out sharp, ringing with a truth they all knew. “Oh please, we both know you’d do it again in a heartbeat without batting an eye.”

“You’re right,” he nodded solemnly, “I would, and I regret nothing with the exception of your aunt. That was an unfortunate necessity to draw you out after Damon’s interference.”

“That interference saved Tyler and Caroline.” His eyes widened. She wondered if he had ever known the first vampire Katherine provided him was Caroline. Would he have been able to kill her, or would he have been as captivated that first night as he was when he couldn’t let her die from Tyler’s bite?

From the corner of her eye she watched Caroline perch on the arm of the sofa and motion with her hand. A sharp backwards jab that Elijah steadfastly ignored. She felt his presence at her elbow.

Klaus shifted closer, staring into her hard eyes.

She knew he didn’t regret it. He would never regret it. For a thousand years he had been cut off from a part of who he was, denied his heritage. A piece of him had been missing and in a weird way she got it. Maybe if he had gone about things differently, asked for her help and provided Elijah’s elixir, she might have participated willingly - so long as nobody innocent filled the other roles: Kai Parker would have made an excellent candidate; she couldn’t say the world would have been worse off without him.

Of course nobody could ever hope to know.

The past was past.

“Elena, please?”

Her name sounded as foreign on his tongue as the show of manners. ‘Love’, ‘my lovely’, ‘doppelgänger’ and ‘my girl’ were his preferred monikers for her, but ‘Elena’ had only crossed his lips once. She remembered it clearly, the cold night, the lick of fire, and the numbing emptiness as Jenna’s death sank in; the sincerity with which he had thanked her remained nothing short of shocking. It was one of the few moments she had ever seen him vulnerable with his emotions laid bare.

She tried not to show how much her name affected her.

“She and Kol have found a way to save my daughter, and it requires your blood, willingly given,” he took a deep breath to help force out his words. “I’m here to ask for your help.”

She gripped her upper arms and narrowed her eyes at the man who had blown into her life and laid it in ruins at her feet. Every death caused by his siblings and even Katherine could be linked back to him and his curse breaking crusade. The sorrow he had caused still hit her from time to time at  the oddest moments.

And now she had the opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine. The life of someone he loved rested in her hands.

She imagined saying no and the rush of power that would give her. None of her friends would blame her for the decision; Elijah wouldn’t begrudge her for the choice, despite what it would mean for his family.

“I need your help, Elena, please?” She could have sworn she saw moisture in his eyes.

She was well within her rights to say no.

She had earned that no.

And then there was the flip side. Klaus might be a dick, and the evil hybrid who destroyed her sleepy little town, but his daughter was innocent. Hope Mikaelson was a fifteen year old with her life ahead of her and a father who loved her more than anything; the man had been willing to sacrifice his life so she could live.

And she’d already lost her mother.

Not that Elijah had any intention of letting her lose her father too.

“I’m begging you.”

She knew she couldn’t say no.

++++

Elena shivered in the blast of cold air and leaned forward to close the vents. The swell of her belly made the motion awkward and knocked her purse to the floor. She blinked down, between what she could see of her feet, considered bending to retrieve it and came to the decision neither she nor the baby would enjoy the experience.

“You know,” she walked her fingers across her stomach, earning a kick with every touch, “my car has the ventilation perfectly set, and my stomach doesn’t get in the way of driving.”

“Yes, but if you were in your car, driving by yourself, I would be returning to the school with Klaus and be unable to grill you with questions.” Caroline signalled to turn. Her eyes drifted to the rearview mirror for a glimpse of the Bentley’s headlights where two Originals followed them close enough to hear; she flipped on the radio. Jazz filled the car. “You really disappointed me back there.”

Elena adjusted the seatbelt, stopping it from digging into her windpipe.

“You thought I’d refuse to help Hope?” Her brows rose into her hairline, nearly disappearing behind her side swept bangs.

“Of course not,” she scoffed, rolling her neck around for Elena to see her expression.

“I knew that you’d help. She’s just a kid, so you were obviously going to help her. I just figured you’d make Klaus work for it a little more. Is it wrong that I was looking forward to watching him beg, and seeing you deny him? I thought for sure we’d have to utilize Elijah’s persuasive skills at some point.”

Caroline slowed for a stop sign and checked both directions before rolling into the intersection.

“I thought you’d be tickled pink by the thought of Klaus incased in concrete somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.” Her jaw clicked.

“You really think Elijah would have let him go through with it?” She braced her forehead on the window and caught a glimpse of his dark outline in the mirror.

Her breath fogged up the glass: “stupid, freaking, martyr.”

“I’m gonna let that one go,” Caroline glanced over.

Elena flushed and blamed the pregnancy hormones for her next words because she refused to be the only one blushing in the car.

“If you’re so eager to hear Klaus beg for anything, I’m sure you could think of something else that will have him pleading harder with each subsequent denial.”

Caroline’s alabaster cheeks burned red.

Elena smirked. “You’ve thought about it,” she tittered, “minus utilizing Elijah’s persuasive talents.”

“You’ve thought about Elijah’s persuasive talents,” Caroline shot back.

It made little sense in terms of what they alluded to, but Elena understood the middle school comeback, so rather than burst into giggles her flush deepened; she cursed the day she told Caroline about her recurring dream that had only gotten steamier with the addition of hormones.

“You’re cruel,” she ducked, hiding her embarrassed grin.

“You started it,” she tossed her hands up from the wheel for a second in a shrug. “What was Elijah doing at your place?”

“Catching up.”

“Not turning your fantasy into a reality?”

“Of course not!” Her heart thundered loudly in her ears. He had of course fulfilled one of her dreams, but since the domestic fantasies had never been shared with Caroline her words remained true.

“So, Elijah decides he’s gonna play self-sacrificing big brother and instead of spending his last hours on earth with his family he goes to visit you?” Caroline leaned against the headrest.

“What’s your point?” Her nails scratched the seatbelt, catching in the tiny grooves.

“You haven’t psychoanalyzed that yet?” She fluttered her lashes.

“I only found out a few minutes before you arrived, and I was too busy yelling at him because there was no way in hell I was letting him go through with it.” Pressure built in her chest. “And now all I can think about is the spell Kol helped Bonnie make, and how I’m a central part of it.”

“I guess that means you also haven’t considered why ‘there was no way in hell’ you weren’t letting him do it either?” She tapped the wheel.

“Have you thought about why you wouldn’t let Klaus do it?” She countered.

“I know exactly why and if he were actually going through with plan A then I might even tell him, but we’re not going through with that so I don’t feel the pressing need to reveal the inner workings of my mind.”

Elena twisted to look over her shoulder and through the window.

“He knows,” she sighed, “even if you can’t say it. Deep down, he knows.”

She found Caroline’s soft eyes on her, all teasing gone from her face. “He knows, too.”

Before she got a chance to dispute that, the entertainment system dimmed for an incoming call. Caroline used the controls on the wheel to answer.

“Hey, Bonnie.”

“Hey, are you on your way?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Elena with me,” she flipped her turn signal, skirting the town square.

“Hey, Bonnie,” she raised her voice to reach the speaker.

“Hey. I have a confession to make.”

“You’re having a steamy affair with a Mikaelson,” Elena breathed.

“Wow, you really need to get laid.”

“Elijah would probably oblige,” Caroline smirked.

“Whats the confession Bon?” She glared at her friend.

“It’s about the spell. Right now your blood is tainted by the cure which makes it less… reliable.”

“I think I know where this is going,” she sighed, turning her attention to Caroline. “You want it?”

“Not even a little bit,” her nose wrinkled.

“Didn’t think so. Pull in here,” she nodded to a charcoal awning. “I’ll take care of it Bonnie.”

Caroline ended the call and put the car in park. She eyed the darkened window, momentarily illuminated by Elijah’s headlights.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Potentially put myself into early labour.” She pushed open her door and stood, feeling her back pop.

“At thirty-seven weeks you’re gonna induce,” Caroline shook her head. “Technically you’re at term.”

She dug through her purse for her keys and sorted out the ring until she had the right one. “Do I need to tell you who to call?”

“I think I got it,” she nodded, already flicking through her contacts.

Elena left her to her devices and moved to the building. A fine layer of dust clung to the office, mocking her neglect of hard to reach corners on the desk. She made a note to ask the cleaner to come in twice a week instead of one.

That was if she didn’t ultimately decide to shut down and sell the practice.

Dr. Elena Gilbert once held a nice ring to it, but long ago it began to feel like someone else’s vision of her life. She wasn’t sure she wanted to make a career out of another person’s dream. Maybe she would write or teach, or do any number of things that wouldn’t turn her into her dad.

She loved him, and she missed him everyday, but there was no denying that Grayson Gilbert missed a lot of his children’s lives.

She didn’t want her daughter growing up to wonder when Mommy would be home from work, especially without a daddy to fill in the gaps.

But she shook off those thoughts. The clock ticked; she would have time to think later. Fetching a couple of syringes, she walked back onto the street before Klaus could race in and demand to know what the hold-up was.

++++

Rebekah met them at the front door, bouncing from one stiletto to the other. Kol stood at her side, dark brows drawn over darker eyes.

Her stomach twisted. The last time she had seen that type of intensity on his face he had been driving a railing through her body. Her baby kicked the throbbing spot, somehow managing to touch every place the wood scraped.

The set of his mouth appeared more urgent than murderous, so she took a deep breath to relax as she opened the door.

Elijah’s hand appeared before she could command her legs to move, and she took it, enjoying the brief contact. It lasted only as long as it took to stand and refocus her balance.

Then she had the privilege of watching Kol’s eyes grow wide and his mouth pop open. She let herself enjoy the moment for a second and then focused.

“Does Bonnie have the spell ready?” She hooked her purse over her shoulder.

“She and Freya are putting the finishing touches on it,” Rebekah nodded, “they just need your blood.”

“Where are they?” Caroline moved towards the school.

“In your office,” Kol moved with her, eyes darting back to Elena.

She hoped he felt little to no residual, well deserved, rage because she suspected Elijah would place himself between her and potential danger to her child, and she had no desire to kick off another feud between brothers.

She glanced at the spell, arranged in an ash circle before the sister she had never met. The complexity laid beyond her level of magical comprehension, and she lacked the time to ask. At least she assumed she lacked the time based on the patient.

Hope reclined in a red leather armchair, eyes closed and extraordinarily pale.

She took the desk chair and rolled up her sleeve.

“Does anyone else know how to draw blood?” She brought out the neatly packed syringes and a tourniquet, finishing off her supplies with an alcohol swab.

“After a thousand years we are rather proficient,” Klaus murmured, laying the back of his hand on Hope’s brow; she shifted, but didn’t open her eyes.

“I meant with a syringe,” she rolled her eyes. “I was a vampire for a few years and once the cure is gone those years will catch up. I don’t know how fast it will happen, but there is a decent chance that I’ll be inducing labour and I’d rather not give birth with a stinging vampire bite or a large cut on my arm.”

“I can do it,” Rebekah picked up the tourniquet. She tied off Elena’s arm, and swabbed the vein; she had the syringe in place before addressing the surprised looks. “I did spend a year as a nurse; I had to do this a few times.”

Elena watched the clear tube fill and stopped Rebekah before she could clip the second in place.

“I think that has to be taken first,” she frowned, directing her gaze to Bonnie.

“Better safe than sorry,” she nodded, raising an eyebrow at Freya.

“I’m of the same mind,” she poured black sand around the knife.

Elena turned her attention back to Rebekah, expecting her to inject the cure without a second thought. It was the only thing she had wanted her entire life from the moment she learned what her mother had truly done to them. Yet hesitation turned her pretty features as she glanced from the blood to the left, half-turning to look towards her brothers.

“Rebekah!” Klaus snapped, but she wasn’t looking at him.

Her eyes were focused on Kol between glances towards the syringe.

“Did I miss something?” Elena whispered, finding Elijah’s gaze; he shook his head and shrugged.

Kol swore under his breath, almost too quiet for her human ears, before plucking the syringe from his sister.

She turned back towards Elena.

She watched the soft play of emotions as Rebekah’s stiff shoulders quaked. The dejected sigh went straight to her heart. The sound cut off in a strangled gasp; her eyes darted to the syringe in the blonde’s neck as Rebekah’s lashes fluttered when she fell.

Cold rushed through Elena’s body, pouring over her head and racing up from her toes. It poured from the pinprick in her forearm and she swore she saw a wave leave her body, crashing onto Rebekah’s falling form.

Kol carried her to a short sofa and stretched his sister out.

Elena squeezed her eyes against nausea and exhaustion. She peeked out through her lashes when large hands covered her thighs; a little more energy and she might have flushed at finding Elijah on his knees in front of her.

“Elena?” His thumbs drew circles atop her leggings.

“I’m good,” she swallowed, “pass me the other syringe?” Her fingers shook.

Elijah took over, taking the needle and slipping it into her vein. He filled it with blood, tossed the second syringe to Freya and untied the tourniquet.

He attempted to place a cotton swab on the dot of blood.

Elena’s fingers twisted, digging into his hard biceps. She breathed fast through her nose and clenched her jaw tight against the contraction.

There was a specific way to breathe. How was she supposed to breathe?

Blood stained his shirt sleeves when she let go.

“Is that enough for the spell?” She blew out a fast stream of air.

The pads of her fingers replaced her sharp nails, but if she left bruises instead of cuts she would never know because Elijah voiced no complaints. She wasn’t sure she would have heard it anyway, too busy clenching her teeth against the pain.

Shouldn’t the contraction end at some point?

Precipitous labour, her brain supplied. Should have seen that one coming.

“We’re about to find out,” Bonnie muttered.

Elena blinked, catching movement as the witches joined hands. She felt the static charge of magic in the air, pulling towards the knife as they chanted.

“Are you going to release Elijah, darling?” Kol drawled, carefully pulling blonde hair from Rebekah’s mouth.

“Nope,” she went for a head shake, but the motion made the pain worse. She couldn’t see what Kol did, nor hear what he muttered. Whatever it was proved enough to earn a sharp reprimand from Elijah.

She felt her hands tugged away and squeezed hard enough to break Elijah’s fingers.

“Is that enough blood?” Elijah reclaimed one hand and shifted, carefully maneuvering to rub the small of her back.

“Yes,” Bonnie looked up from the knife.

“You don’t need anymore?” Urgency laced his tone. “You’re certain?”

The conversation flew back and forth. She needed a hospital. Bonnie needed to put the final seals on the spell with Freya. Caroline needed to bring the girls. Alaric needed to hover and make sure the twins remained safe, not the he could have done anything if they weren’t.

And then she knew what it was to be weightless in Elijah’s arms as he carried her to the car and placed her in the passenger seat.

“I’ll ruin the fabric if my water breaks,” she flushed.

“You have more important things to think about right now,” he fastened her seatbelt.

++++

The full moon’s light filtered through the blinds in the large window, making it a few inches into the sterile space; florescent lights drowned out the celestial event.

She couldn’t see where it was, but she suspected it had risen beyond its apex.

Her fingers curled around the bed rail.

Tired eyes flickered from the cupboard holding her clothes to the well worn visitor’s chair and her concerned visitor. He appeared at once comfortable and out of place.

“How do you feel?” Elijah tilted his head.

“I just had a giant needle jabbed in my spine,” she hummed, “I feel numb.”

She allowed herself a moment to close her eyes as the drug worked its magic. It had the added benefit of cutting off their eye contact. He grew up in a time long before the existence of the epidural when women felt every contraction. His mother did it seven times. Tatia and Katherine both did it without aid.

She lasted an hour, less when she took begging for the drugs the moment they were inside, into account.

“Do you think I’m weak?” She directed the question to the IV.

“Why would I ever think that?” His brows drew together.

“Giant needle…” her lip curled.

“I think,” he began, unbuttoning his jacket, “that you were in tremendous pain and that if you gave me a month I could provide you a list a mile long of women who would have jumped for an epidural; including your own ancestor.”

“Tatia?” Her eyes narrowed. She pushed her head into the pillow. “Seriously.”

“You could hear her screams from the falls, and I am not speaking figuratively. I had taken Rebekah and Henrik swimming, ten and six at the time, when Niklaus heard the first scream. I had to strain to catch the sound. We thought the village was under attack.” Nostalgia graced his smile, tinted with sadness. “Mother gave us an earful for leaving a thirteen year old Kol in charge of our younger siblings.”

“Irresponsible?” She guessed, glancing to the machine keeping track of her contractions.

“Poor swimmer,” he chuckled. “Rebekah had a habit of swimming under the falls.”

“I used to do that,” she sighed, tightening her arm over her stomach, “there’s a little cave back there.” She blinked back tears as a contraction tore through the pain meds.

“Little more than a ledge, I’d say.”

“You’ve been?” She drew in a sharp breath.

“I did grow up here,” his smirk turned serious, “you’re not weak, Elena.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, fiddling with the hospital bracelet. “You don’t have to stay, you know? I’m okay, and I’m sure you’re dying to check on Hope.”

“Hope is surrounded by family who will immediately let me know if something goes wrong,” he reasoned. “And I do have to stay. I won’t leave you here alone.”

“I should probably get used to being alone,” she chewed her bottom lip, chomping down hard enough to bruise. Her hand curled over her belly as she sighed. “Sort of alone.”

He reached out and placed his hand near hers on the rail, not quite touching her fingers; the heart monitor jumped.

“You should never get used to being alone in any capacity.”

“I don’t see another option right now.” She tried for a wry smile.

“Aren’t you the one who was screaming there’s always another option?” He teased.

“That was different,” she shook her head. Her eyes widened when he covered her fingers.

“You gave me an option Elena, and now I’m giving you one. Now that I have the time, since I won’t be sinking to the bottom of the deepest ocean, I would offer you my support.” He gently squeezed her fingers. “You have it Elena, whatever that may entail; be it help in the dead of night when she won’t sleep, or finding out what the hell happened to you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Or overhauling that nursery so you don’t have to be confused every time you put her to bed.” His thumb rubbed her wrist. “Whatever you need Elena. I give you my word.”

“Elijah,” she choked on his name and blinked back tears that she blamed on her hormones. Her sparkling eyes flicked, searching his gaze for honesty just for something to do; she knew he was honest, and that he would keep his word. “You knew it was me in Willoughby?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Why?” Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths.

His eyes fell to her hospital bracelet and back to her face.

“Because I’m a very selfish man,” he sighed, “and if I thought for a second that I could get away with it I’d do it again, but that’s not likely to happen.”

Her mind flashed back to the gazebo. She felt his strong hand on her jaw and the slant of his hungry mouth; soft, exploratory and oddly gentle with a tongue that whispered sinful promises.

The question travelled up her throat and sat heavily on the tip of her tongue: ‘what if that’s what I need?’.

The door burst open before she could ask and she was forced to break their heavy stare to watch Caroline and Bonnie skid across the linoleum.

“We’ve got it from here,” Bonnie reached for her hand as Elijah let go.

“How’s Hope?” Elena blinked, swallowing her question; the moment had passed.

“She’s fine,” Caroline directed the response between them.

Elena wondered if she had been listening.

“The vessel held?” Elijah’s fingers brushed her arm.

“Yeah,” Bonnie nodded, “Kol’s keeping it safe for the time being.”

“Klaus is seeing Hope through the transformation,” Caroline explained, “and Rebekah is getting a full physical from a compelled doctor in 402.”

“I suppose I’ll go check on her.” He locked eyes with Elena on his way out, and she understood that he wouldn’t go far.

@elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @naughtynecromancer @ethanjwillis @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms @morsmornte @xanderling @bellemorte180 @iw1shiknew@blndbandt@petrova-banz @bulldozed88 @njeancastro316

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Bonbon...just bonbon. Just bonbon stuck to his hand. And he has to make a choice to put up with bonbon, or cut off his own hand.

(Amazing idea that I cut short due to being so fucking tired and filled with writer’s anxiety to the MAX, smashing my head into the keyboard, but not wanting to keep abandoning the damn blog. Hope this is still fine though! I really need to cut back to shorter asks again, I should have considered that before making a “series” of this. At least it’s going to be done soon!)

Sometimes, your brain tells you to do stupid things. TRULY stupid things. Henry certainly was no stranger to it, not at all. Though usually he had a little bit more… of a reputation what to uphold. ‘What is the worst that could happen?’ That was the standard question to consider, the one thing to maintain at the forefront, while also eying the potential benefits of the risks. What was the worst that could happen? Usually death. That has prevented Henry from doing quite a few nonsensical actions, ranging from petty theft of objects he never needed, to making himself a name as a Serial Killer. Nonsensical ideas, with no rewards, and potentially risky chain reactions that could lead to the destruction of his entire work. It was for the better that they had gotten buried in his mind again, Henry would have been even more upset with himself now, looking back on his life, otherwise. Yet, now? Nothing was stopping him from the worst. Death? Never heard of ‘em. If you only wake up again in the same place as you were before, death lost its biting edge, it became old news, hardly worth a second thought. And this led to more and more bad ideas. However, today’s bad decision had taken the cake. Henry had sat down behind the desk just a moment ago, the night barely even started. Only few animatronics were roaming, thus it wasn’t anything to pay too much attention to. Maybe a few interesting conversations would come out of it- but that was it. So, instead he began picking apart the office. It wasn’t the common one, it was made out of steel and darker than the regular one, instead there were blinking lights shining- pizzas made out of plastic and glass, stage lights to the sides, and the eyes of two animatronics that were- probably not capable of coming to life. Probably. A shiny mask of Funtime Freddy’s and- The Puppet. The OTHER Puppet. God, when was it that he had designed and planned out THIS robot? It must have been when- … never mind that. Prying his attention away from the frozen machine, peacefully smiling, with its eyes glowing golden- Prying his attention AWAY, he turned to the table, where the small handpuppet of Bonnie was sitting. The panel to the side, filled with buttons and levers, was also interesting, but he would look at that later. The little machine seemed like a great opportunity to inspect if the animatronics were actually still working as they should have in reality… or if perhaps they were only plastic shells, filled with only the intent of the soul that created this place. He wasn’t sure what it would tell him about the maker… however more information was always useful. It was a light machine, in general. Its weight would still surprise anyone who wasn’t familiar with machines, but all in all? A lightweight, nothing to note. Peering into the opening, the Pink Guy noted that it was unnaturally dark inside of there. Even if he held it directly under a light, there seemed to be a void inside, swallowing all light, making it almost impossible to see any mechanisms that were in place. And that was when the terrible idea hit him. Usually there were a few criteria that thoughts of his had to pass before being translated into an action, like ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘what if’- due to his currently freedom of basically anything, it swiftly skipped past these hurdles. Before he knew what he really was doing, he put the little bunny onto his hand- Where it instantly clicked shut, grabbing his arm tightly from the inside. The lights flickered wildly, before the lighting changed to the usual “caught” atmosphere- Quite alarming. Now, there were two options- either a creature has come in from the outside while he was disracted, or BonBon was about to maul him. Seeing as the machine started twitching and booting up, the latter one seemed more likely, so Henry watched the creature with mild interest. What a funny way to kill him. The vengeful soul was rather creative, he had to admit that much. The bunny looked from the left to the right- Then up at Henry, who stared down at him somewhat unimpressed. For a moment both sides stared at each other in silence, then BonBon crossed his arms. “Put me down.” “Oh, I would if I could and in more sense than one. But you seem to be grabbing me.” “Where is Freddy!?” “On the wall, as far as I can see.” Looking at the mask, the bunny frowned for a moment, then swiped its claw over Henry’s eye and cheek, only barely missing the eye itself. Deep red scars were left on the cheek, blood slowly starting to drip down from it, a disgusting feeling in the Pink Guy’s opinion. “NOT FUNNY!” “DO NOT ATTACK ME.” “THEN STOP MESSING WITH ME! JUST BECAUSE I’M SMALL YOU THINK YOU CAN MESS WITH ME, HUH!?” Again he tried to attack, Henry only barely being able to hold him back. “I CAN EAT YOU. I CAN HURT YOU. AND I WILL IF YOU DON’T TELL ME WHERE MY FREDDY IS!” “I DO NOT KNOW.” “THEN FIND OUT!” “IF YOU STOP ATTEMPTING TO HARM ME, I MIGHT.” Finally, Henry was able to let go of the bunny, it wasn’t trying to rip him into pieces anymore. God, that little rat was a little stronger than he liked. “Last time I saw Funtime Freddy- or at least a thing somewhat resembling him- he was in the vents. Thus, the choice- do you want to let go of me and inspect them, or do you want to stay here and search the other rooms first?” BonBon- Benjamin, right? He thought he could remember him being called Benjamin before- looked at him angrily again, then his ears dropped. “I- don’t- I can’t! I don’t know how to! I think YOU did something to make me unable to let go, this isn’t my fault!” Finally, the aggression that had started to build up inside of him subsided, as he recognized this behavior easily. Benjamin was still a child, probably has not been very old when taken and not having been dead for more than a year or two. Raising his other hand, he tried to calm the boy down. “Alright, alright… I did not do anything, but if neither of us can separate from the other, we might have to look together. Would that be okay with you, Benjamin?” Wrong thing to say. “Wh-Who told you my name?! You don’t have a RIGHT to use my NAME-“ Something within Henry SNAPPED, the aggression returning, double as strong. “Please, CALM DOWN.” Finally, this seemed to shut him up. Perhaps it was the heightened aggression in his voice that helped- and while Henry didn’t enjoy trying to scare those weaker than him, this time it seemed to be necessary. This seemed to be the damn reason why that bear was borderline mad and always happy to throw this thing around. Looking at the little thing the man slowly shook his head, then took a deep breath. “Are you calm now, Bon? Good. Good. Amazing.” His tone had changed now, much sharper and colder than before. If it worked, it worked. “Let us have a nice walk now. A nice, long walk, you and I, both of us, maybe we will find Freddy, maybe we will not. And you know what, while we have this walk, we could also have a nice long talk about you. What brought you here, specifically.” “I- I don’t want to-“ Abruptly Henry moved his right hand, where Bonbon was located, almost smashing it into the wall. “Oh. I seem to have slipped. How CLUMSY of me. What were you saying?” It was a bluff. Of course it was. He wasn’t so pathetic as to try and harm a kid. But he also felt sick and tired of being in such a ridiculous situation. For a moment Bonbon stared at him nervously, his jaw slightly tremble, as he was caught between wanting to try and live with the situation, in hopes of it not getting worse, or if he should lash out, here and now, trying to kill the human he was attached to. “Only a little walking and a little talking and maybe we will find Freddy too. Do you not want that?” The easy way out. Old habits die hard. Most people preferred the devil that they knew. Including returning to familiar situations again and again, reenacting them, even if it had hurt before. The small machine pressed its ears against its body, clearly distress, but finally he nodded wordlessly, drawing a smile out of Henry, who was now more than willing to pretend he hadn’t very obviously threatened the kid before. “Fantastic! I am sure we will have a lot of fun. First and foremost, I would like to know, what is the last thing you remember from before waking up here…?” Maybe he would be able to make it up to the bunny a little while on the go. He did somewhat feel bad for him. They slipped outside the office. No animatronics in sight. And Henry for once was looking forward to a long night.

[spiralingsights]

A Monster in the Dark - Chapter 9

[ self ship fanfic about Nightmare Bonnie and my insomniac s/i :) ]

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NightBon’s silence was starting to get suspicious, and Cane was 90% sure that if it could grin, it would.

Even with the underlying fear of what it was planning, he held his ground. Besides, ignoring the monster had been doing wonders for his focus. He’d managed to find out that there was, in fact, a Christopher Afton that had been bitten at Fredbear’s Family diner, so all he needed now was if the nightmares had plagued him before the bite or if they hadn’t haunted Chris at all, instead attacking his brother, who they simply thought was him.

The nightmares couldn’t have possibly happened after the bite- from what Cane could tell, the poor kid’s frontal lobe had been bitten clean off, therefore removing his ability to feel fear or even dream.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” he heard NightBon begin to whine from the living room, rolling his eyes at its ability to underestimate him constantly. It was sad though, how quickly NightBon got bored of staying quiet. He was enjoying the peace.

“I sure can,” he muttered under his breath, perking up at the sound of snickering. He assumed NightBon was sitting on the bed behind him, until he noticed the quiet sound of whispering.

He slowly turned around, both surprised and somehow not when he saw the monstrous bear from his nightmares sitting on his bed, three much smaller bears sitting on various parts of him.

To be honest, Cane had always been rather chill with this one. He’d never seen the inside of Freddy, as far as he remembered, so even the nightmarish version seemed chill enough that he didn’t instill the same fear in him.

“Oh, so you’re finally coming out to play, huh?” he questioned, gaining another chuckle from the bear. He only now noticed that the bed didn’t dip with the weight of the animatronic, despite the fact that he was huge, proving that they couldn’t make themselves solid.

His attention was immediately caught by the bear’s hand (paw?) moving though, and his gaze stayed locked on it as Freddy moved it up to his mouth, holding his index finger up to his maw as a signal to stay quiet.

“We wouldn’t want Bonnie to come charging in, now would we?” he teased, his voice a low rumble and somehow more comforting than horrifying, the exact opposite of Nightbon’s voice.

Wait. If he didn’t want NightBon hearing… “It doesn’t know I can see you, does it?” Cane asked, his voice lowered to a near whisper. He’d learned that NightBon’s hearing was shit, so he didn’t need to make his voice any softer than this.

Freddy shook his head, his cubs noticing and copying the movement in their own frantic little way. “I’m the only other one strong enough to appear, but it’s rather amusing to watch it fumble from afar.”

“I’m guessing y’all aren’t exactly… friends. At least, not anymore?” God was he glad Freddy would answer his questions, NightBon had been less than helpful after it first appeared.

Freddy nodded again, tilting his head slightly when a grin flashed across Cane’s face. “Oh, sorry, I don’t- I’m not happy y’all aren’t friends anymore, it’s just so nice to have someone cooperative instead of that jackass.”

The chuckle that came from Freddy this time was a low, amused rumble, one that almost made Cane feel… safe. Interesting how that worked.

Before either of them could say anything, the alarm on Cane’s phone that he set for leaving to go to work went off, causing the human to jump and the bear to just give it a curious look. 

Cane quickly shut it off, shoving his phone in his pocket and making sure he had everything. “Hey,” he said, catching Freddy’s attention again, “I’m not calling you Freddy. I’ll come up with a name for you when I get back, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, simply grabbing his bag and darting out the bedroom door. He kissed Cheesy Dip on the head as a goodbye before heading out the front door, not even checking to make sure NightBon was following.

---

He could already tell something was off when he got to the diner that day. Scrap was nowhere to be found, and the animatronics were switched on.

Well, Sequin and Salem were switched on, he hadn’t been to the other two rooms yet.

Sequin was the obvious singer of the two. She was actually the shortest of the four, standing at only 6 foot while the others were 7 foot. Still, she was his second favourite, seeing as snakes were his favourite animal.

She was actually the most ambitious of the animatronics, since she didn’t have legs. No, her lower half was all snake. It wasn’t likely she’d leave the stage because of it, but it was incredible, and the way it moved made her almost seem like a real snake.

She was also the most muted of the group, being made out of a dark brown metal. Her eyes, however, were a bright yellow. Scrap told him it was because it made it look like she had little suns in her eyes. Azriel said it was actually because it made her look more snakelike.

Salem, on the other hand, was the only other mammal, being an opossum and all. Their “fur” was a greyish cream colour, and they did actually have fur, sort of. It felt like fur, but he knew it was just that fake fur that all animatronics got.

Their eyes were a deep brown, bordering on black, but they always had this playful glint to them. They were programmed to move off the stage, according to Azriel, so they had to look approachable.

But at this moment, neither of them looked anywhere near approachable.

And then they looked at him.

Canetheus turned on his heel without hesitation, heading out of the room so fast that it almost looked like he was running. This had to be a prank of some sort, Azriel and Scrap were just messing with him.

That seemed pretty plausible, until he ran into a hard, cold chest. He froze, unable to look up at the animatronic that was now holding him by the arms, making it impossible to move away from the metallic chest.

Cane had never been scared of Spade before, but now he was wishing he’d never even looked at the bat.

“You’re smarter than the nightguard,” he whispered, leaning down closer to Cane. “For that, I’ll give you a headstart. The office is in the back of the building. Let’s see if you can make it.”

The second he was released, Cane took off toward the back, running faster than he even knew he could. He could hear Sequin laughing, probably at how scared he was, and only vaguely noted that it sounded a lot more human than the programmed laugh he was used to.

He made it to the office in record time, glancing around for anything he could defend himself with. No weapons, unfortunately, but he could close the doors on either side of him, and the vent behind him.

And, thank god, there was a camera system. If this was what the nightguard went through every night, he’d have to congratulate them later on surviving literal hell.

That is, if he survived.

---

NightBon was losing it as it watched Cane dash through the halls of the diner towards his only hope of surviving, gaining a harsh glare from Spade.

“What? This is hilarious! He’s gonna WISH he only had to deal with me after this!” it exclaimed, a little disappointed when Spade just rolled his eyes and returned to his stage, getting ready to run for that office too.

It could only assume Spade thought it was going a little too far just for some attention, but it decided to ignore that little fact. After all, Cane had let it in, and it was only fair that he stop trying to block it back out.

So what if it could possibly be making things worse, all it knew is that if he was scared of the monsters in real life, he would be more open to the monsters in his mind, aka NightBon.

Right?

[zalrb]

Unpopular opinion: It would have made more sense for Matt to be the Hunter than Jeremy. Like after everything that vampires had done to him. Between Damon&Stefan with Vicki ( Damon turned her, Stefan had to stake her ), Kol breaking his hand or arm I don’t remember which, Rebekah making him drive off of the bridge. He should have snapped. &on top of that didn’t Jeremy kill a hybrid? Shouldn’t something have happened at that moment. I mean tvd loves it’s retcons and plot holes but still.

Anonymous asked: How would you make Matt more relevant in tvd lol? It’s just he was always there but most of the time it was just to be the human who disagrees with things but it got boring really quick.

I’ve answered this many times.

With each and every episode I’ve been like, how has Matt not set fire to Mystic Falls yet? How has Bonnie not snapped on her friends and just released all of her magic on them yet? Like the most they make Matt do is get grumpy at Stefan for a minute and then refuse to let Elena feed him her blood? And Bonnie shows Damon what she went through in the nineties with Kai and she’s done venting? Are you fucking serious? People keep saying that Matt is a useless character but I see the potential in him because he and Bonnie would make the perfect opposition to the ‘core’ group and imagine how deranged they’d be? Like a psychological break would happen between them and they’d give absolutely zero fucks. And then we could deal with the ‘core’ group being so surprised that the two people they step on the most are ‘fighting back’ in a sense and are refusing to be ignored.

Him taking out his anger on Tyler didn’t bother me, it’s that the scale wasn’t big enough. He said a few words and he didn’t let Elena heal him like that’s a big deal. It’s not. It’s inconsequential. I don’t buy that he’s resentful because he doesn’t act resentful, he acts sullen; he shouldn’t be friends with any of them. His rage should destroy the entire town. He’s been bitten how many times, he’s been hit by a car, he’s been stabbed, he’s been used as bait, he’s been buried alive, he’s been driven off a bridge, like no, a few words here and there about how vampires suck isn’t going to cut it. It shouldn’t be respectful or respectable or small or at the right times, he should hate everyone with a passion, it should be to the point of insanity, like he should be obsessed with either destroying them all or getting the hell out of town but to make it more interesting it should be destroying them all; the line between enemy/friends should be gone and Bonnie should join him with it.

My point is that Matt’s anger should be directed at everyone, including people who don’t necessarily deserve it at the time. He should have a prejudicial hatred against all things supernatural, like it should be a fury that has a rational base and spirals out into irrationality because he’s at his wit’s end and he has a psychological break, it shouldn’t be logical and strategic, it shouldn’t just be about Damon and Stefan, that’s what I mean by how in my opinion it shouldn’t be “respectful resentment” everyone should be a threat or a target in his eyes and same with Bonnie after everything they’ve been through. They should have serious PTSD.

A psychological break doesn’t necessarily mean that Matt wouldn’t be effective at what he’s doing, it just means that he wouldn’t follow certain guidelines and he wouldn’t be confined. I like the idea of psychological breaks, I like the idea of snapping because the only characters who have been allowed to do that are Damon and Elena and I guess Stefan. Caroline turning off her humanity wasn’t a “snap” in my opinion. A snap has a lot of potential to be messy and I like it when characters get messy, I like it when they go off the deep-end because there’s so much you can do with that. I like the idea of Matt and Bonnie just having a disconnect and going beyond logic and reason and playing dirty because neither of them have done that before, it’s an unexpected route for both of them to take but one that still keeps in line with their characters after everything they’ve been through. I’m not interested in the “by-the-book” approach because we had that with Bonnie’s dad and we had that with Connor and we had that with the Council, it’s more of the same thing and the point is that the show should go in a different direction and to see the psychological and emotional scars that being around the supernatural has done to both Matt and Bonnie would be AMAZING and heartbreaking and it’d be intense for the other characters to see just how far they’ve pushed them.

in my opinion, Bonnie and Matt should be the “big bads” that everyone has to face but instead of it being an external villain, it’s an enemy they/the town created. That, in my opinion, would make sense for both characters and would be such an interesting storyline for the show to take on. Not these one minute/two minute/one episode gripes that go absolutely nowhere or get shut down quickly.

I mean they had ample opportunity to really push that forward but it’s like they’re too scared to do anything that has actual consequences. For me, Matt’s descent should’ve happen in season 5. He was in a house full of vampires and none of them heard Nadia take him and none of them found him buried alive? Instead Caroline took Klaus’ word for it (Klaus above all people) and everyone else was preoccupied with other things and were all at the Salvatore mansion when he finally got back? Like THAT should’ve been the beginning of the end. I have so many problems with that episode.

How would you write the team up of the psychological break with Bonnie and Matt against the main group?

I always said that one day Matt would just snap, like some bullshit will happen to him again and he’ll just set Enzo on fire on something and Bonnie would walk in on him and he would just rant about how he’s sick of being the guy who gets run over and stabbed and buried alive and shot and be like dude, we were FINE until the Salvatores showed up and Damon killed Vicki and wanted to get into the tomb so Grams died and Bonnie being like Matt, c’mon, bad things would’ve happened anyway, Elena was the doppelganger Klaus would’ve  — and then he just scream and say this is what I’m talking about the constant defending, don’t you get sick of it Bonnie, think of everything that happened to you, like aren’t you just MAD? And then Bonnie leaves and gets taken advantage of again or lied to again or has to put her life in danger again with great emotional and/or physical cost but that’s a secondary thing to the core group (again) so she just goes to Matt like yeah you’re right.

So since it’s all-in for him, does Matt die or win? Knowing you, even if he dies, there’ll be far reaching consequences of this arc, right?                        

I think what I would do is Stefan and Damon argue about how to handle it with Stefan wanting to lock him up and Damon wanting to kill him. If he did die then I think the consequence of that would be the Salvatores leaving MF, like either Bonnie has been pulled back already and she’s like you guys drove him to this then murdered him, either they go or I do and Elena and Caroline choose Bonnie or after Matt dying they don’t trust the Salvatores to not kill Bonnie so Elena “banishes” them before it becomes a everyone tries to kill Damon and Stefan gets involved and puts his life in danger because of it

I meant to say if he didn’t die, then I’d Azula him where he just is so mentally deteriorated that they lock him up and Bonnie goes to the group and is like, yo this is what you do to people eh?