#got a bit carried away with how much this quote applies to everything in the show

[faithandlove-knightfall]

[TW: ends super violently ❤️]

Sometimes the object

of a man’s desire

is beyond

reach

- De Nogaret, Knightfall s1

[ktinastrikesback]

Alright, here it is: The meta post about Eddie Diaz and mother figures and how it all leads to Buddie (I think). Thanks to @yramesoruniverse for your help with this, and @kitkatpancakestack and @evanbucklies for inspiring it! I really have been thinking about this nonstop and had to get it all down. This got quite long, so I'll include a cut in order to spare everyone who doesn't want to continue reading!

We first get an idea of Eddie's complicated thoughts surrounding mother figures throughout his whole storyline with Shannon in season 2 when he romantically reconnects with her for Christopher's benefit. I do want to keep the focus here trained on Eddie in season 4, but I want to point out a season 2 line that is pretty fitting. As much as I don't want to use a Shannon quote as a starting point for a meta, I think this one is actually pretty useful: "...Eddie always knows what's best for everyone...God forbid you stop for a second and actually ask them what they need." While it's harsh and spoken out of spite, Shannon does make a point here which becomes relevant at the end of season 4.

We don't know a whole lot about season 4 Eddie (thanks writers) aside from the fact that he's working on being a single father (he tells Marjan in the crossover that he's "doing the whole single dad thing") and being a support system for Buck and the rest of the 118. Eddie's "arc" this season is moving on from Shannon and beginning to date again (a very small and limited arc, which hopefully season 5 will remedy). Of course, because it's Eddie, the core of this arc is him wanting what is best for Christopher. And it seems pretty clear that what Eddie thinks Chris needs is a complete family with a mother figure (note how he asks Bobby if he's "happy now, with Athena and the kids" and just assumes that Bobby is talking about Ana Flores), but the universe pushes against this idea throughout the whole season. There are a lot of examples in season 4 of unreliable mother figures (for example, the alcoholic mother who causes the wreck in Blindsided), but in order to save some space here, I'll list and discuss those in another post. The main thing I want to point out is that we've seen that mother figures aren't always perfect, and they aren't the end all be all that Eddie thinks. And canonically, the show suggests several times throughout the season that the partner that Eddie needs/wants and who is best for Chris is actually Buck.

In Breaking Point, while Eddie is on his date, it's Buck who is at home taking care of Christopher and getting him through his nighttime routine (which establishes that he knows the routine and has gotten Chris ready for bed before, hence the reference to his "cautionary tale"). On the date, when Ana says that no one has been in his life since Shannon passed away, Eddie noticeably looks uncomfortable (the will reveal makes this scene and that particular comment and Eddie's subsequent reaction so rich. Eddie knows that what Ana is saying is completely untrue, because the person he trusts most with his son is with him at that exact moment). Later, when Eddie tells Christopher about his new 'friend', he says "it's a woman." And...to be honest, what the hell was that? He could have said, "I'm dating someone" or "I have a girlfriend." But he says it like this? And it's weird...right? Christopher is the one who has to say "girlfriend." Also his tone of voice when he says it...it's suspicious to me. Anyways...Eddie talks with Ana about Christopher's reaction and her first instinct is to take a break and wait for Christopher to warm up to the idea so as to not cause him more pain. Meanwhile, Chris is out the door, in an Uber, and on his way to Buck, the person who actually gets Chris to talk about his feelings and who fixes the whole mess. So while Eddie is talking with Ana, Buck is playing a parental role AND promising Chris he isn't going anywhere, completely juxtaposing everything Ana has said and done in this episode (throwback to Fools, anyone?). Just like we see in 4x14, the perfect partner that Eddie is looking for is already putting in the work, no questions asked (and this is all before Buck knows about the will!). Yet Eddie is still trying to force it with Ana.

We see this again very briefly in Parenthood. Eddie and Buck are seen agreeing on parenting ideals on a call, similar to how we saw them work together in Future Tense to talk Chris out of playing video games. At the end of the episode however, when Chris asks to join the movie, Ana just jumps ahead and lets him in, not consulting with Eddie. Of course, this isn't a serious issue and Eddie is happy to have Chris join them, but it still carries on with juxtaposing Ana with Buck. It's also a bit interesting that Chris sits between them, parallel to the video game scene from season 3. But again, it's a very brief scene, so I don't know how much value it has overall.

We see all of this come to a head in 4x13 when Eddie becomes invested in the single mother and her son from the balcony call. Interestingly, this call happens after Eddie's conversation with Carla ("make sure you're following your heart"). On the call, Eddie flirts with the mom. This is interesting because we've seen many times in the past that Eddie...doesn't like flirting, especially on the job. Eddie openly flirting with the mom here may be his way of fighting against what his instincts are telling him Carla's comment was about (him liking Buck/a man). Eddie quickly becomes invested in Charlie (the son) and takes a liking to his mother because he relates to her. You can kind of see the gears working in Eddie's head when he's at their apartment...he's admiring her and perhaps maybe fantasizing about having a partner who gets it. And he sees a mother taking care of her son...reinforcing his love for the mother figure. But of course, we all learn by the end of the episode that this mother figure is extremely warped and not at all what her child needs.

The best part about this plot is the way it plays into the shooting scene at the end of the episode. Just before he gets shot, we see Eddie in an interesting framing choice (I am genuinely serious when I say that I want to sit down with Brenna Malloy and ask her about her directing choices for this whole scene):

The mother and son are placed into separate ambulances, and Eddie stands between the two vehicles. Visually, Eddie is literally placed between the mother figure and the son, and Buck is standing in front of him (at a slight distance). As (thank you to @kitkatpancakestack for pointing this out!) the ambulance with the mother drives away, Eddie says "shoulda gotten here sooner" to Buck (who replies, "That kid is just lucky he met you." He knows how to reassure Eddie and recognizes what is good for the child). Then of course, Eddie gets shot. But let's focus instead on why this framing before the shooting is important: the universe does scream, and it sure as hell was screaming at Eddie this whole episode. Carla calls him out for not following his heart, he idolizes this mother only for her to end up being horrid, then he gets shot with his partner standing right in front of him (you know, the same person who takes care of his son for the entirety of the next episode).

This can be read so plainly: Eddie has been fighting hard for what he thinks is best for his son, and he's stuck in this relationship with Ana because he thinks she is what will make Christopher happy. Meanwhile, Buck is in front of him and has been there the entire time putting in the work with Chris and making him feel heard, loved, and important. This ties right back to that Shannon line: if Eddie had simply asked Christopher what he needs/wants, it's very possible that his answer would be "Buck." Eddie doesn't need to be stuck in the middle of this relationship he doesn't care about because Chris' happiness is not dependent on having a mother figure.

Of course, we didn't see very much of Eddie in 4x14 so we don't really know what is going through his head regarding the shooting or Carla's comment just yet, but I'm hoping we see a lot of him working through all of the events that took place in 4x13/14 throughout next season. Because of the way the mother/son storyline ended up and the way they framed Eddie in the shooting scene, I'm willing to bet that he's going to be reevaluating just what Christopher needs and what he already has (with his Buck).

(Also side note--the welcome home party scene...when Buck is watching Eddie greet Christopher, notice the framing there too. The photo of Chris and Shannon is on the right side of the frame, Eddie and Chris in the middle, and Buck to the left. You already know what I'm going to say, so I'll leave it at that...)

Anyways. Edmundo Diaz is confused about what he and Christopher need, and it's actually a brilliant way to dive into a storyline about his sexuality and his feelings for Buck. Remember that post-finale interview with Tim where he said Eddie is always concerned with what's best for Christopher? That there will be a lot to explore with Eddie? I take everything Tim says with a grain of salt, but looking at all of this, there's quite a bit here pointing in the direction of pining Eddie. It's not wishful thinking, it's in the text.

I'm literally just applying basic film analysis to these scenes...and everything is adding up to a larger picture. I'm really excited to see what Eddie's arc in season 5 will be because there's so much set in place for it to be really great.

[jeehye]

Fragments (Shigaraki x Reader)

shigaraki x f!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, blood, gore, anxiety, death, trauma, OOC shigaraki

genre: angst

word count: 1.2k

song choice: ventus’ theme - lizz robinette

a/n: hello i am jeehye! i hope you enjoy ;w; please read the song quotes as like quotes / “fragments” from y/n ( you of course :3c)! this goes into intervals of flashbacks, so I hope it isn’t too confusing! i tried my best to separate everything.

-

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t let shadows touch your dreams”

What was this nightmare his mind trapped himself in?

Heavy downpours of rain came crashing down against the three panel, cracked window, some of the raindrops getting through the fractures and causing water damage. Thunder followed suit, roaring through the sky, and shaking the beaten down building.

The weather was almost befitting of how he felt inside after she left him.

No.

After she abandoned him.

And even though she was gone now, he was still haunted by her.

“When you awaken I will be by your side”

He could hear fragments of her voice serenade his subconscious mind. Occasionally, these fragments seemed so real that he thought he heard her in the room with him. Sometimes he even swore he felt the ghost of her hand brushing the hair away from his eye, causing him to scratch at his neck raw in a fit of anxiety.

Her very existence, or what was the remainders of her existence, plagued him every day.

He tried drinking to get these fragments out of his mind, but when he became subdued by the alcohol it just made these feelings, these memories, more intense—more unbearable.

And he hated it, he loathed how much of an affect a person had on him. It made him want to decay his mind—anything to get her out of his head.

Memories of her always got carried a long with a soft breeze, the scent of her followed with it.

-

“we’ll look up skyward and the stars, they will shine in your eyes”

The couple sat a foot apart from each other, both staring off into the cosmos above them. There was a slight breeze that carried her sickly-sweet scent and all he wanted to do was envelope himself in it.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before she broke it.

“I wish we could leave this all behind one day,” she said, hugging her legs tightly as her head rested on top of her knees.

He turned his gaze towards at her, the sight of her nearly taking the breath out of his lungs. She looked like an ethereal goddess—her silky, h/c hair falling perfectly around her face and the moonlight shining in her gorgeous e/c eyes.

The white-haired man hummed in response, too captivated by her beauty to give an actual verbal answer.

“You know…I am not afraid of dying”, She smiled sadly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Sometimes I feel like this is the destined, sick fate we villains have”.

The glimmer of silver caught his eye, and he moved his attention to the thin band that adorned her dainty ring finger, which symbolized the promise they had made together.

“Do not talk about stupid things,” he frowned, not fond of this conversation they were having. “You made a promise you were not going to leave me”.

He started feeling the sensation of something crawling on his skin, and as he lifted a hand to scratch the itch away, she slinked her arms around him.

“I will never leave you Tomu”, he could feel her soft lips being pressed on the back of his head and part into a smile, “I will always be here, even if I become a fragment of your memory”.

‘Never’, he thought to himself.

-

His hands balled into a fist, his knuckles turning ivory from the grip he held them in. He should have never believed her empty promises and kind smile. He was a fool for ever believing a word that graced her lips.

“You no longer have to face the evil in the dark”

Shigaraki let out a blood-curdling scream and punched the mirror in her—his room just to feel something other than the pain from his heart.

He could feel the blood dripping from his hand, but other than that it felt numb.

He slumped to the ground, his bloodied hand scratching ferociously at his neck, smearing the red ichor around.

“You fought so bravely, my dear”

-

“Boss! Y/N…she isn’t going to make it!”, the raven-haired fire-wielder shouted, holding her near lifeless corpse in his arms as he rushed towards Shigaraki.

The moment he took one look at her he could feel his whole world shatter and break a part right in that instance. He took her from Dabi’s arms, carefully making sure he left a finger from each hand off her.

Shigaraki slunk to the ground, coddling her.

She was so pale, as if all the color was flushed out of her.

“I told you to stay out of this fight”, He cried, applying pressure on her stomach wound with eight of his fingers. He could hear his heart booming from his chest, he knew she was not going to make it.

She looked up at him hovering over her, blood pooling in her mouth and dribbling down her chin. “If I didn’t do anything it would have been you instead”, she grasped his cheek and rubbed her thumb against his tear-stained face.

He left out an exasperated cry and started hyperventilating, his shoulders convulsing from his breakdown, as he continued to apply pressure onto her wounds. “You can’t leave me Y/N, you promised!” He screamed out.

Y/N gave him a sad smile, “Protecting you Tomu is more important, and I promised I would protect you no matter the fate I may face”. She pushed his hands away from her stomach, “You have to go, the heroes will catch up to you if you do not leave now, Dabi please…”, she motioned Dabi to get Shigaraki off her.

Dabi reluctantly grabbed Shigaraki’s shoulder, which he aggressively shrugged off. “I can’t leave you like this; we need to get you patched up; you need the doctor!” He sobbed, trying to lift her body but fumbling from the shock and exhaustion his body was going through.

She looked at him, her eyelids getting heavier every second she was awake, “Go”, she pushed his shoulder to encourage him to leave, using the last of her strength, and breathed out her last words.

“I love you Tomu”.

-

Shigaraki looked at his hands, pieces of the mirror sticking out from his knuckles. His hands were almost as bloodied as they were when he held her for the last time.

He bit his lower lip to fight back the tears, he could feel himself calming down from his outburst, and the anger was now replaced with shame.

Shame that he wasn’t there to save her.

Shame that he blamed her for leaving him.

He felt the band around his neck burn against his bare chest. He grabbed what was attached to the necklace with four of his fingers and stared at it.

It was the ring that once graced her finger. The ring they made a promise with.

Shigaraki looked at it pitifully, tears flooding down his face. He missed her. He missed everything about her, and all he had left were the memories and this ring.

He laid on the cold, damp floor and cried. However, just as he did so, he felt a hand rub his back and a cool chill surround the room along with her scent. Normally he would have grimaced at the fragment of her, however in his current state it was so comforting that it lulled him to sleep.

“Just rest your mind and leave your pain behind”

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

[miraculouscontent]

Kagami and Marinette deserve so much better.

Anyway, let’s just start literally where this episode starts, because it makes no sense. Remember back in my “Truth” critique where I basically said that the episode seemed like it’d been shoved through multiple drafts and no one checked the final one?

Same applies here.

Like--okay, ”Truth” and “Lies” take place at roughly the same time, which means that the same filler akuma/sentimonsters appear to interrupt Adrimi’s moments just as they did with Lukanette’s, giving its audience a clear timeline of how the episodes line up. The reason this is important is because the writers can’t even keep consistency within singular episodes and then honestly thought that they could do it within two.

“Lies” begins with Marinette talking to Tikki about the grimoire, because apparently she has the non-translated version and there’s a secret to figuring out the code that Tikki believes Marinette will discover eventually.

...Alright, I’m derailing here but I have to add how absolutely stupid Fu was when dealing with translating the grimoire. He was supposed to teach Marinette how to be guardian, yet he didn’t teach her how to read the grimoire (if there’s supposedly a “secret” to it, is he really going to bank on Marinette figuring it out herself eventually instead of just giving it to her and avoid the risk altogether??), kept the translated pages on his tablet without sending them to Marinette as he deciphered them, and took time to write a letter to her in “Miracle Queen” but left no guardian-centric advice for her to work off of, meaning that Tikki had to explain how the Miracle Box worked to Marinette back in “Truth.”

The show goes out of its way constantly to turn everything against Marinette even if it makes all the characters around her look either incompetent or cruel. It’s not that I’m not used to this by now but it’s just infuriating that it keeps trying to raise the stakes and tension when Marinette made such a tiny mistake to cause the issue in the first place, and now we find out that Fu had no back-up plan or strategy, apparently expecting this 14-year-old girl to act perfectly and cover for him.

And of course, instead of leaving the scene off on Marinette being encouraged by Tikki and Marinette showing confidence in herself (i.e: what would’ve been a nice scene), the kwami accidentally fumble with the keyboard in such a way to have Marinette’s computer bring up  a news story about Adrien, which leads to Marinette leaning towards her computer and sighing over Adrien and his “amazing life.”

Can I just point out how annoying it is that all the Adrienette moments so far on Marinette’s end have been forced, not just in general (because we’re used to that), but literally forced by the plot so Marinette would talk about him or other characters would bring Adrien up?

“Truth” had Alya insult Marinette to her face over her Adrien crush because Marinette was freaking over something non-Adrien related that they couldn’t have known about, Luka was sent a no-context picture of Marinette’s Adrien wall which led to him lowkey teasing her about it, and then Truth was forced to listen to Marinette’s friends and Tom babble about Marinette’s supposed crush on Adrien even when Truth points out that it’s not a secret, making the “joke” fall absolutely flat.

And now “Lies” comes along and has the kwami drop things and step on the keyboard in the exact way to pull up Adrien stuff for Marinette to fawn over. It’s at this point I’m realizing that - had the kwami stayed inside the box or just not been around in general - Marinette literally wouldn’t have brought up Adrien at all in either “Truth” or “Lies” and now I’m sad. I really don’t want to have a counter for “episodes where Marinette wouldn’t have so much as breathed Adrien’s name if the kwami/someone else wasn’t there to force it.”

So yeah, the episode had to force Adrienette into its Adrimi episode because the show can’t go five minutes without reminding the audience that Adrien exists even though this episode is primarily from his point of view, made worse by this scene’s lack of ability to exist.

See, from the timeline in “Lies” lining up with “Truth,” there is no possible way for this opening scene with Marinette talking about guardian stuff and then fawning over Adrien to happen. There’s an akuma scene in “Lies” that literally is just copy-pasted from “Truth” (it actually does this again with another scene later but that’s not important right now), so that means anything that takes place before said scene in both “Truth” and “Lies” have to line up.

Except they can’t. The akuma scene in question interrupts Marinette’s movie date with Luka in “Truth,” and before that, she had just opened the Miracle Box, wrangled up the kwami, talked to the girl squad over video call, talked to Luka, and then immediately had to leave. There are no cuts or wiggle room anywhere in there.

Therefore, the scene in “Lies” is impossible. Either the scene is supposed to go elsewhere in the episode (we don’t actually know how many days it takes up so it’s hard to say on that front) which just makes the episode even more convoluted, or this means that one would have to pick between the scene in “Truth” and the scene in “Lies” because they literally cannot co-exist.

“Lies” was supposed to coincide with “Truth” and they messed it up in the first scene of the episode.

Then comes Adrien himself, who really shows the series’ clunkiness in focusing on other characters. It’s not that I’m against the show moving away from Marinette to show other people’s point-of-view (I definitely didn’t complain during the Couffaine sibling scene in “Reflekdoll”), but Adrien cannot carry his own episode.

In Marinette’s opening scene, we immediately got details on the grimoire and lore about how reading it actually worked. I didn’t like it and it wasn’t good, but it was new information.

Adrien, meanwhile, spends a large portion of the episode being sad (a very grand and unique plot, my dudes) and giving us information we already know. “Truth” has to come first because “Lies” is half of a follow-up on it, meaning that the audience is already aware that Ladybug has been forgetful and has had to miss out on patrols. It’s just that now we get to see Chat Noir sulking about it and--okay, I am just going to go off, alright?

Firstly, Chat Noir tells Ladybug later on that he “understands” her guardian duties, but he previously mocked her behind her back by using air quotes when he was talking to her answering machine (since she obviously wouldn’t see that). We saw in “Truth” where he admitted that he doesn’t mind her being guardian “as long as it doesn’t change their relationship,” and that’s on display right here with his comments.

Not only is it extremely disrespectful, but for someone who claims to be so loyal and understanding to Ladybug, he sure doesn’t show it.

Secondly, he leaves her a message about how he’ll take care of patrol, then proceeds to slack off because she’s not there to keep him in check. He sulks around Paris, mumbling about how Ladybug isn’t around and constantly checking his messages to see if she’s replied to him. Chat Noir has shown his “priorities” in terms of heroism before, but patrol isn’t supposed to be about getting time with “““his lady”““ yet that is clearly all he cares about. He even ends the patrol unprompted, either giving up or just generally having not finished, because I don’t believe that the “end” of patrol just happened to be at the place Kagami was.

Patrol is about protecting Paris and scoping things out. Ladybug is trusting him to pick up the slack when she’s not around and he should be picking up slack, yet he has completely failed on that front. This is made worse when considering that the Season 3 finale had Ladybug breaking down to him from guilt and we know that Marinette had a breakdown before that to Luka, yet Chat is doing nothing to lighten Ladybug’s burden, putting up a falsehood on Ladybug’s answering machine to make him look better than he actually is.

Then, thirdly and most importantly/infuriatingly, Chat Noir knows that Ladybug is busy and he knows that she’s taking on a new responsibility, yet he not only jabs at her for “how hurtful it is when she leaves him to patrol alone” (one, cry me a river, and two, I don’t care if it’s a joke, it’s insensitive), but before that scene, he was actively hoping for people to get akumatized so Ladybug would be forced to show up and he could spend time with her. He egged Xavier Ramier on, even asking him if he “missed being Mister Pigeon,” and then looked on with glee as Chloe bullied Sabrina because he thought that an akumatization might happen.

And this is on top of so many other issues with this whole scene. Adrien complains all the time about his schedule and how restrictive his father is, but suddenly - in the episode right after Marinette had to break up with her boyfriend due to her cramped schedule - is lounging around and wasting time. It hurts to see Marinette suffering from all of her responsibilities while Chat’s biggest problem is how little time he gets with Ladybug.

Also, another point on Mister Pigeon is that that’s the akuma that had interrupted Marinette’s movie date and kiss with Luka. I’m not suggesting that Chat egging Xavier on led to him getting akumatized, but I am saying that Chat wanting akuma to happen with no regard for Ladybug’s happiness is yet another point on the list of why I hate the love square. Marinette genuinely forgot about patrol with him - genuinely was forgetting about everything, really - and as a “punishment,” her own partner whined, didn’t patrol properly, and egged on an akumatization that eventually ended up happening which then broke up the little bit of happiness that the universe was allowing her to have.

Oh, and did I mention that he’s also dating Kagami at the time as well because here we freaking go.

Now, I did not get on Marinette’s case for her Adrien wall and stammering because Luka is largely aware of where she stands in the relationship and she only brought Adrien up when someone else did, even when Luka wasn’t around or being mentioned. Adrien, however, I have multiple bones to pick with, starting with how utterly needy he is for Ladybug’s attention.

This guy has tons of friends, all these fans, and could get people to flock to him whether in or out of the mask, but he wants Ladybug, and anyone not Ladybug isn’t good enough. There’s a scene later in the episode where Kagami - his girlfriend, mind you - is pouring her heart out to him, and he gets distracted by Ladybug instead of listening to her. Even when he excuses the distraction, he then gets distracted again even though Ladybug is no longer in the background.

Lying to protect his identity is one thing, but what Adrien does to Kagami goes beyond that. He’s pining after and flirting with another girl and Kagami has no idea. She’s speculated before that Adrien likes Marinette, but she’s mostly left in the dark because Adrien hasn’t told her anything, nor has he confirmed with her whether it’s okay or not for him to flirt with other girls so long as he’s not pursuing them. He could’ve admitted that he was in love with Ladybug but that he wants to try things with Kagami, but he refuses to open up to her or put himself out there.

Except, he technically does, once, when Kagami tells him to pose for her and he strikes his transformation stance, but he caught her completely off-guard and it’s no wonder why she was put off by it or thought it was unnatural. Not only that, but when Kagami tells him that he’s acting like a clown in that scene, we can see by jumping back to “Truth” that Chat Noir fished for Ladybug’s compliments which then led to a line about him talking about how Ladybug enjoyed him acting like a clown; a direct connection.

Kagami didn’t validate him, so he fished for Ladybug to do so because Ladybug was both forced to answer the question and wasn’t able to lie to him. The show has Ladybug state that her most preferred trait of his is his humor but I am certainly not laughing.

Chat Noir even goes further after the fight with Truth (so another copy-pasted scene) by saying that he has the most fun with Ladybug specifically, and this is all while he’s still dating.

Then this guy has the gall to talk during his break-up about how his fun times with Kagami weren’t lies after apologizing to her for his constant lying, as if he’s trying to earn her sympathy when we know that he’s been pining after Ladybug and flirting with her like she were his number one when he already had a girlfriend waiting for him (and who, by the way, had covered for him earlier and was sitting sadly on a staircase outside, feeling abandoned). The episode presents the break-up as if Adrien’s problem was the fact that he had to constantly lie to Kagami due to being busy with hero work (which is already dumb when we also saw him lounging around and complaining about how nothing was happening, meaning he was inadvertently supportive of the idea of having less time with Kagami and more time with Ladybug even if that means Paris is in danger), but the real problem ends up being that Adrien neglected Kagami emotionally and wasn’t able to give her the attention she wanted.

It’s both sad and annoying that Adrien has always sulked about his dad not paying attention to him and then we get Adrien not paying attention to Kagami, looking for Ladybug when Ladybug had already left and Kagami is trying to tell him something very important.

This is what I mean when I say that Adrien can’t carry an episode on his own. He’s incredibly selfish and most of his dialog just involves him complaining about Ladybug or making excuses. Kagami carried the episode more than he did because more details were revealed about her - specifically the fact that she likes drawing - and she’s active in making things happen (being the one to make the excuse to set up their fencing lessons, deciding what they’ll do with their hour of free time, etcetera).

And regardless of what girl he’s interacting with, Adrien can’t respect either of them. I just talked about Kagami and I’ve already talked about how he treats Ladybug when she’s not even around, but now we get to how he treats Ladybug when she is around.

During the climax of the fight with Lies, where Ladybug requires a distraction to safely pull off her lucky charm, Chat Noir decides - without Ladybug’s input - to sacrifice himself yet again.

I have to stress that Ladybug is stressed and Chat has always talked about her plans and listening to her, yet he has a horrible habit of making decisions all on his own and letting Ladybug deal with the fallout. Whenever he has the chance, he’ll throw himself in front of her and take the big hit, presumably with the mindset that Miraculous Ladybug will fix everything so it’s not like it matters.

Ladybug even shouts at him when he hints at what he’s about to do and there was absolutely time for them to talk about it, but Chat Noir just lets himself fall and be bait, even throwing out what is a clear confession (again, while he’s still dating someone else) before he’s knocked unconscious by Lies’ power.

And when Ladybug yells at him for it when everything’s said and done, pounding at his chest and looking absolutely upset over the whole thing? He not only brushes her off, but he boops her nose and talks about how “irresistable” her “angry little pout” is.

He might as well have just said, “you’re cute when you’re angry,” because that’s exactly what he’s implying; that Ladybug’s anger is something “amusing” to him and not something he takes seriously. We’ve already seen it before in “Reflekdoll” and “Oblivio” as well, so this is just a continuation of already-annoying behavior.

Then, instead of Ladybug getting even angrier for it, the episode has her smile at him, which not only isn’t a normal reaction compared to how she’s reacted before, but now gives the impression that she’s being conditioned by the narrative to accept Chat Noir’s behavior in whatever shape or form it takes.

Because think about it: regardless of how upset Ladybug gets over Chat Noir, it never works out for her and she’s forced to either make up with him quickly or just get over it because she can’t be fighting with her partner (meanwhile, like in “Glaciator,” Chat Noir can be as upset as he wants and she’ll apologize first). She presumably would now have the authority to take away his ring by virtue of being guardian, but he’s also been her partner from the beginning and he’s had so much time to get used to the cat. Most likely, she would sooner blame herself for failing to reign him in than blame him for failing as an adequate partner.

There’s nothing she can do. She has to deal with the hand that she’s been dealt and getting angry at him has done nothing; rejecting him has done nothing.

And of course the episode throws everything under the rug in the ending with an insulting LadyNoir scene where Ladybug and Chat Noir talk about the secrets their forced to keep but also how they can trust each other.

Meanwhile, Ladybug has no idea of all the things Chat Noir has done behind her back. She still has no clue about “Copycat,” nor “Syren,” nor any of the stuff he did in this episode that she’ll probably never know about. Factor it in with “Miraculous New York” (whether one considers it canon or not) where she rightfully shouted at him because he betrayed her trust, and here we are one and a half episodes later (since “Truth” and “Lies” take place at similar times) where suddenly they’re all buddy-buddy and Chat Noir doesn’t have to deal with any consequences to his selfishness.

I’m glad that Kagami didn’t forgive Adrien in the end (even if I’m upset that she doesn’t know how bad it really was) because she had every right to walk away and not want to be friends with him. I only wish that Ladybug could do the same thing and never look back, but due to the love square’s status as endgame, we know that can’t happen, and Ladybug will eventually be forced to fall in love with a guy who mocked her responsibilities behind her back, disrespected her authority by opting to tease/flirt with her, continued pursuing her despite her rejections, and hoped for Paris to be in danger just so he could see her.

And... yeah, that hurts. It really does.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Fluff prompt #38? "Are you alright?" "I will be."

Well, this one certainly went in an unexpected direction! The quote winds up a bit altered, but I think it fits the spirit of the thing.

I’m working off this prompt list - send me an ask or @ me with your request!

--

The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of the bookshop just as the all-clear signaled the end of the night’s bombing. They hadn’t been in any danger during the drive; exhausted as he was, Crowley still had the strength to make sure of that. Probably.

Crowley only had to keep it together for another minute, maybe two. His feet ached from the burns, stinging like a sunburn as high as his knees, flaring every time he shifted his feet on the pedals. But he’d made it this far. He was fine, and he could continue to be fine until Aziraphale was in the shop.

He pressed his lips together, kept his hands on the wheel, and resisted the urge to fidget.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, still clutching his bag of books as if it was a life raft. “That was certainly a thrilling experience.” He frowned tartly at the dashboard, making his true feelings for the Bentley abundantly clear.

“Nh. Got you home, didn’t it?” Crowley glared out the window at the shop, shifting his feet between the pedals as inconspicuously as possible.

“Yes, and the fact that we’re still in one piece is clearly the most incredible miracle of the night.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?”

“I should think not. I am an angel, and the nature of my being is incorruptible, eternal, and unaffected by the comings and goings of mortal beings—”

“Meaning you’re just as much a smug bastard as ever.”

Well. That hadn’t taken long to fall apart.

Really, the entire evening had been one disaster after another. His intelligence had revealed a team of Nazi spies was meeting with a contact at an old townhouse in Soho, so Crowley had settled in to wait it out. He had his fingers in everything these days, from British Counterintelligence to street gangs, and the opportunities for a bit of chaos during the Blitz were never ending.

Then he’d received word that the drop had been changed. And that the contact was a certain local and well-established bookseller. Meaning that the idiot being duped by the Nazis was his idiot. He’d barely been updated on the new location in time, and of course Aziraphale had picked a church, of all the places in the city, a church to meet his bloody spies, and Crowley had to charge in, no plan, no preparation, and now he hurt and Aziraphale seemed determined to make this as miserable as he possibly could, and really was it any surprise after the last time—

Crowley didn’t want to part angry, not again, but his feet hurt and he didn’t know how to stop himself.

In the silence, Aziraphale shifted in his seat, looking at the door but not opening it. “I…Crowley, I am…very glad…that you were there tonight.”

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley blurted, mostly out of habit. “Just. Be safe. Be smart.” One quick glance to the side, then glaring at the windscreen again. “And stay away from Nazis, it can’t be that hard.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. I just thought…ah, well.” He opened the door, but didn’t try to leave.

“So,” Crowley started.

“So,” Aziraphale agreed.

Deep breath. “Guess I’ll see you next century—”

But at the same moment, from Aziraphale, “Do you want to come in?”

More than anything.

Aziraphale still didn’t face him, and his stiff shoulders gave no hint of his emotions, but Crowley wasn’t going to let this – whatever this was – pass him by.

“I mean…I could…I can…” His hand fumbled for the door latch, popping it open, almost leaping out onto the pavement before the invitation could be withdrawn. In his urgency, he entirely forgot about the pain in his feet.

Until he put his weight on them.

“AAAH!” With a strangled gasp, Crowley collapsed like felled tree.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was beside him, impossibly quickly, hands fluttering over his face and chest. “Oh, my word. What – what happened? What’s wrong? Oh, Lord, is it—”

“Calm down, Angel.” His voice still sounded tight, but there wasn’t much Crowley could do about that. “Told you. Hallowed ground.” With some effort, he managed to sit up, one hand braced on the floor of the Bentley.

“I thought – you said – ‘being on the beach in bare feet’ – this isn’t—!”

“S’nothing.” Crowley eyed the distance to the driver’s seat. He could probably get himself in, but it wouldn’t be dignified. Well. Any and all dignity had long since gone out the window. “Just need to…”

He pulled his legs in and tried to stand – the pain hit him halfway up – and with another cry of “NrrrrrrAAAH!” he toppled over, slamming his head against the street.

“Oh, oh, Crowley!” His eyes blinked open, and behind the flashing supernovae that filled his vision loomed Aziraphale’s concerned face. “My dear fellow, are you alright?”

“Told you. S’nothing.” He’d need another minute or two before trying to sit up. “Be fine in the morning.”

“Yes, I’ll see to that.” Before Crowley could ask what that even meant, Aziraphale scooped him up, one arm under his knees, the other across his back, cradling him like a child.

“What? Angel – stop – you – Ngk!”

“Would you rather lay in the street all night?” He nudged the Bentley door shut with his foot. “Let’s get you inside.”

“But—”

“Hush.” He held Crowley a little closer, the demon’s head against his shoulder, and started walking. “Do hold on to my neck if you need balance, and try to relax.”

There was no chance of relaxing, not when his entire body was pressed into the warm curve of Aziraphale’s stomach, not when his vision was filled with that soft face, jaw hardened in determination. Especially not once he realized he could feel the angel’s heartbeat, steady and calm. His own was racing erratically, and every nerve in his body was raw, on edge.

As Aziraphale stepped past the Bentley into the street proper, Crowley’s heels taped lightly against his side, and sharp pain shot up to his knees. Crowley flinched, just slightly, but immediately Aziraphale stopped to shift his arms, making sure Crowley’s legs wouldn’t swing as much.

“Better?”

“Nh. Yuh.” Not knowing what else to do, Crowley slipped his arm across Aziraphale’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure it was any more comfortable, but he liked it.

Only when they reached the steps to the shop did Crowley realize something was missing. “Your books!”

“Still in that horrid vehicle.”

“But…” Aziraphale loved his books. Especially the prophecy books. He’d carried some of them around the world for the better part of a millennium. Crowley knew that, it was why he’d made sure to protect them from the bomb blast.

But, counter to all logic, Aziraphale just shook his head, as if they didn’t matter at all. “They’ll keep for an hour or two.” He nudged the door with his shoulder. “I have more important matters to attend to first.”

And he stepped across the threshold into the brightly lit shop.

--

It hadn’t changed. Eighty years since his last visit, and everything was still the same.

Oh, there were a few more tacky figurines and baroque sculptures scattered around; the books were piled even taller, suggesting Aziraphale had acquired far more than he’d sold in that time, and cloth bindings seemed to be giving way to leather again. The lights were electric now, but the gas fixtures clearly hadn’t been replaced, merely altered. The shelves, the columns, the furniture – everything was just as Crowley remembered.

He sat on the sofa now, feet soaking in a basin of hot water. Aziraphale knelt beside it, carefully applying angelic healing a little at a time. Crowley’s body couldn’t take much more holy energy without breaking.

His feet were much worse than he’d thought. Bright pink and deep red in patches, covered with angry swollen blisters that started between his toes and wrapped back around his ankles. When he’d rolled up his trouser legs, he’d found smaller burn patches all up his shins, as if the hallowed ground had somehow splashed him almost to his knees.

“Does this usually happen when a demon walks onto hallowed ground?” Aziraphale ran a dampened cloth across Crowley’s leg, gently wiping away a burn.

“Dunno, I’m the only one stupid enough to try it.”

“Crowley,” he murmured, somewhere between warning and exasperation.

“Sssss.” He slumped a little further on the sofa, wiggling his aching toes. “I’ve seen a few demons get close to holy ground or objects. Burns and blisters, yeah, that’s normal. But I’ve never seen it this bad.” Aziraphale’s fingers ran down his ankle, setting off more sparks of pain. “Mmmmph. Should heal though. Almost everything heals eventually.”

Demonic self-healing took time, of course, and hurt all the while.

“They’re coming along,” Aziraphale commented, gently lifting Crowley’s left foot out of the water. His hand on the back of the ankle was as gentle as possible, but still made Crowley squirm.

“Nnnnnnnrk. Why did you have to meet them in a bloody church?”

“I…” Aziraphale carefully brushed the cloth across Crowley’s foot. It tingled – not entirely pleasantly – but the skin left behind was less burned, and the blisters a little smaller. “I’m not really sure.”

“C’mon, Angel.” Crowley shifted again, fingers curling into the sofa cushion. “I know you changed the spot at the last minute. And don’t tell me that was their idea.”

“No…” For a long moment, Aziraphale didn’t say anything further, just continued to wash Crowley’s foot with slow, gentle motions. When he’d cleared the left foot as much as he could, he lowered it back into the water and started on the right. “I just…I was so flattered. To be asked to help. To trap spies and book thieves! To…be part of a team.” The cloth slowed to a stop. “I just…I suppose some part of me hoped that Heaven would look down and, and see…”

You wanted them to be proud of you. Not that he could say it. Aziraphale’s feelings towards his superiors were as complicated as ever.

“Well.” Aziraphale started into his task again, perhaps a bit too briskly. “Good thing no one did look, considering how it all turned out.”

“Angel…” Crowley pushed himself up a little, to better watch the white curly head bent over his feet. “Are you alright?”

“What? Don’t – that’s absurd – you’re the one who’s – why wouldn’t I be—?”

“You trusted her. That woman. And she pointed a gun to your head.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale quickly lowered Crowley’s foot into the water, but not fast enough for him to miss how the angel’s fingers trembled. He gripped the sides of the basin. “Do you…do you think me very foolish? To fall for…such an obvious trick?”

“Not at all.” But Aziraphale didn’t look up, didn’t move from his spot. “This…isn’t the first time it’s happened, is it?”

He shook his head. “Never this bad, but…I always throw my lot in with the worst sort of people, don’t I? Or if I do find decent types, I just – just drive them away. I never learn my lesson. Good lord, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Of course there isn’t.” Crowley wished Aziraphale would meet his eyes.

“And it was so obvious! If I’d just stopped to think for five minutes…”

“You can’t blame yourself for humans being—”

“Why? Am I so desperate for approval, I just – just throw my lot in with whoever comes by? Why do I keep—”

“Because you’re lonely!”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say it, never mind with such feeling. He wanted to take it back, but Aziraphale’s head jerked up, finally met his eyes – oh, yes. He could see how right he was.

Eighty years, with no one but humans for company. Crowley could remember how awful that was. How much worse, when you knew there was another way? When you understood what you were missing?

“Angel…I’m…” The word stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner, instead of just…just sleeping it off.”

“And I could have gone to you,” Aziraphale said softly. “I wanted to, you know. So many times, I just…”

Crouched beside the basin, Aziraphale slid his arm around Crowley’s legs, leaned forward to rest his head against the demon’s knees. Crowley laid his hand on the angel’s head, fingers burrowing into soft, feathery curls.

They didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, not with words at least.

After a time, Aziraphale whispered, “Do you think – is it – are we…alright?”

Crowley stroked his hair one more time. “We will be.”

[darling-i-read-it]

Digestivo

3x07

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, surgery, canniblism  

Author’s Note: ugh this one is so sad because we’re in the home stretch and UGH i hope you guys enjoy (?) it 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: Captured in Italy, Hannibal and Will are brought to Muskrat Farm, where Mason awaits; Alana plots Will's rescue; Margot is reminded that Mason never keeps his promises; Chiyoh learns of Hannibal's location.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif) (last to by @/rocktheholygrail

The police filed into Pazzi’s apartment. Commendator Benetti led the pack of people who quickly got Hannibal Lecter on the ground, hands in the air for surrender. Jack eagerly looked to his friend who continued to drip blood from his wounded head. 

“Commendator Benetti. Don’t imagine you’re here to make an arrest,” Jack said.

“You imagine correctly.”

He glanced over to the man behind Hannibal. He knocked Hannibal out swiftly. 

“Take Lecter and this one. He’ll pay us double for both. There’s no price on your head, Signor Crawford,” Benetti said as a man put a black bag over Will’s head. The same thing was done to Hannibal on the side. 

“Hannibal Lecter, il Mostro di Firenze, narrowly escapes the Questura. That's how the story goes?” 

“Missed him by that much. The good Doctor Lecter is once more in the wind. But he left one last victim.” Benetti gestured to some men and pointed at Will who was being carried out. “Open him the way Lecter opened the other one. Open him all the way.” He looked at Jack. “Arrivederci.” 

Benettie walked out of the door.

“Arrivederci.” 

The two remaining cops moved forward to Jack. The lead cop picked up the bone saw that Hannibal had set down. Jack panicked, trying to figure his way out of this one. There had to be a way out of this one. 

In a blink one of the guns was shot through the head from a bullet coming from the window. The other cop looked stunned but from one of the corner rooms came you, slitting his throat with Will’s knife. 

He fell to the ground. 

Your eyes went on Jack and then to the other man you had not killed. 

“Chiyoh,” you muttered. Jack furrowed his eyebrows but your thoughts were already elsewhere. 

“Were you hiding?” Jack questioned. You shook your head.

“You think I would hide as they carted Hannibal and Will away?” You took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Hannibal drugged me. What happened?”

“Hannibal cut open Will’s head. They’re both being carted to the Verger farm as we speak.” You cursed under your breath and ran a hand through your hair. Jack had never seen you so distraught and alone. Usually it was you distraught with Will or with Hannibal. Now you were alone, the two people you were closest with being carted to their tortuous death. “Could I trouble you to take this needle out of my neck?” 

You looked at him like you had just realized he was there.

“Chiyoh will do that.” 

You left the apartment.

-

Mason sat at one end of the table. At the other end, sat Hannibal. Between them was Will, looking out of his depth and tired. He should not have been there, and yet.

“The transplant surgery is extremely skillful, which is why Cordell here will be performing the face-off,” Mason was saying. 

“Hello,” Cordell said, making himself known. Hannibal looked at the cook with interested eyes. 

“You boys remind me of the German cannibal who advertised for a friend, then ate the friend’s penis with him before he died. Tragedy being, the penis was overcooked. Go to all that trouble to eat a friend, and you overcook his penis. They ate it anyway. They had to, they committed. I’m committed to enjoy every bite of you.”

Will, a few seconds behind with the head injury, looked over to Mason.

“You’re going to eat him...with my face?” 

“Yes. I got a taste for it after the two of you had me eat my nose.” 

Will and Hannibal’s minds were both considerably spaced. Will was itching to know where you were. He couldn’t remember what had really happened and his mind now was in no condition to find those memories. He couldn’t ask Hannibal now. Not in case you had managed to get away and Mason would want to look for you. 

“You must be terribly proud that you could bring this off, Mason,” Hannibal said. By his voice Will was willing to bet you were alive. For whatever reason, that was what he felt. 

“An accomplishment comparable to the discovery of radium. I imagine you, they produce all my searching and expenditure, glowing in the dark like the vial in Madame Curie’s laboratory. I imaging after eating you, my belly will glow like a lightbulb.” 

“It’s dangerous to get exactly what you want, Mason. What will you do after you’ve eaten me?” Hannibal asked.

“You could wreck some foster homes and torment some children…” Will suggested.

“Drink martinis made with tears.” 

“But where, Mason, would the hard-core fun come from?” Hannibal questioned.

“Foolish to dilute this ecstatic time with fears about the future. Cordell, Mr. Graham is looking very dry. A little moisturizer, please.” 

Cordell walked over to Will.

“I’m curious, what will be the first cuts of me you’ll serve?” Hannibal asked. Cordell, preparing the moisturizer, approached Will.

“The first course, of course, will be your hands and feet. Sizzling on a Promethean barbecue. The coal is white and very hard, makes a clear ringing sound when struck.” 

“You’ve thought of everything,” Hannibal said pleasantly. 

“After all, we’ll have a pajama party, you and I. You can wear shorties by then. Cordell’s going to keep you alive for a long time.” 

Cordell leaned in to apply Will’s moisturizer. When he got close, Will bit off a chunk of his cheek. He spit it out on the plate in front of him, blood dripping down his cheek. 

Hannibal gave him a fond look.

-

Will sat at the table alone. Hannibal had been carted off to be with the pigs and Mason was off talking to Margot. Will was alone until Alana Bloom stepped into the room, carrying half her weight on the cain. 

Will looked at her and scoffed a bit, surprised at her presence.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned.

“I’m Mason Verger’s psychiatrist,” she explained. Will nodded, breathing out hard. 

“That part of his therapy or yours?” 

“I think we’re all working through some issues. I’m putting an emphasis on self-preservation.” She paused. “Jack’s alive.” He nodded. That meant something bad for you. If Jack was still alive when you were leaving then you would have killed him. 

“Good for Jack,” he spit. He paused and wondered if asking Alana was the right thing to do. 

“They didn’t find a body for Y/N. She’s alive.” Will narrowed his eyes.

“Unless I ate her.” There was a small silence and they understood that was completely within the realm of possibility. Will had no idea how long he had been at Pazzi’s. He could have been there for hours or minutes. “You helped Mason Verger find us.” 

“I helped Mason find Hannibal. We followed Batard-Montrachet when we should have just followed you,” she whispered, sitting down at the table.

“Almost as ugly as what Mason wants to do to us is the fact that he can do it with the tacit agreement of people sworn to uphold the law,” Will admitted. 

“It’s the way of the world.” 

-

Alana stepped into the pig farm. She greeted the guard with a stiff smile and then reached into her handbag, picked up the tranquilizer gun and shot him in the throat. He dropped quickly.

Margot, standing by Hannibal’s cage, stared at her surprised. 

“He had a pocket knife,” Hannibal said. Alana retrieved the pocketknife and crossed to where Hannibal was. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Margot yelled. 

“Yes,” she answered. “I thought I could save Will from you, but right now, you’re the only one I know can save him for sure.” She looked at him. “Unless you didn’t eat Y/N.” Hannibal showed no emotional response. “Promise me you’ll save him. Please.”

“I promise, Alana. And I always keep my promises. Just cut the ropes on one arm, give me the knife and leave. I can do the rest.” 

She nodded.

“Are you going to kill Mason?” 

“Margot is. Snatch some of my hair, back from the hairline, if you don't' mind; get some skin. Put it in Mason’s hand after he’s dead.” They started at each other for a moment.

“Could I have ever understood you?” she questioned. He smiled.

“No.”

As Alana and Margot left silently, Hannibal got himself out of his reigns. 

He smiled at you, who stood at the door.

“I was meant to come save you,” you whispered. He was naked but you didn’t seem phased. “If you’re saved, I suppose I should find Will.” 

“Mason wants his face.” You raised an eyebrow.

“He has good taste in faces.”

-

“Good news and bad news. The good news is, until recently, a full face transplant was almost unthinkable,” Cordell explained. “But medical science is a fast-moving train. First, I’ll lift your pretty much right off, and then I’ll expose the blood vessels and major connections of Mason’s face, then lay yours straight on top. You really are done, you know. That’s the bad news.”

Will realized then, the gravity of this situation. He couldn’t get out of this situation. You were likely dead, Hannibal was chained. Who else had he ever counted on saving him? Will’s eyes moved to the gleaming tray of surgical instruments. Sharp blades and tools. He struggled to move his limbs and as nothing moved, panci reached his eyes. 

“Cordell told me, if I waited long enough, he could grow me a new face from my own cells, but I was adamant it was your face I wanted. I was looking at your face while you were watching me cut mine off. I thought, ‘That’s a nice face.’ And the pleasure of knowing you’ve digested your girlfriend with that face...ah the serendipity,” Mason said as he was placed on the surgical table beside Will. 

“You’re going under now, Mr. Verger and when you awake up, your face will be bound and uncomfortable.” Cordell adjusted Mason’s dosage and Mason’s eyes slowly fell to sleep. Cordell moved to Will. “This will immobilize your body, but you’ll feel everything. I’m going to cut your face without anesthesia, Mr. Graham.”

Will looked up at Cordell and his hands squeezed into a tight fist just as Cordell’s throat was slit. A hand gripped his chest as it reached around him. Slowly, Cordells body fell to the ground beside the surgical table. Will had his blood sprayed all over his face. 

As Cordell fell you were revealed behind him, holding a bloodied knife. You smiled at Will, pleased to see that nothing had happened to him.

“Hey pretty face. Glad to see it’s still intact.” Will let out a breath of relief. 

“I thought I ate you.” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I fed you the soup silly.” You started at the straps to help him out. “Hannibal drugged me.”

“What was that?” Hannibal emerged from the shadows. You turned around quickly, pleased to see him. 

“I was saying you drugged me.”

“Ah yes.” Hannibal moved to Cordell’s body and you handed him the knife you used. Swiftly, Hannibal worked at peeling off Cordell’s face. You helped Will out of the surgical table but he was too exhausted to walk on his own.

“I can’t hold him on my own,” you said. Hannibal nodded. 

“I’ll take him when I’m done with this.”

You cupped Will’s face in your hands as he leaned against the table. Your hand rubbed gently across the bandage on his forehead. 

“It bleeds worse than it is,” he promised. You scoffed and nodded softly. 

“Alana and Margot will kill Mason when he wakes up. We take Will back home.” You nodded, smiling gently. 

“Home.”

-

Your house seemed different. The last time you were in it was just before you went to Europe. What a different world that had been. 

Will was draped over the bed and you sat beside him, hand holding his. He was out cold.  Hannibal stood at the foot of the bed.

“You do know Will’s wishes right?” you asked. Hannibal looked at you for a moment and nodded slowly. 

“I assume he’ll tell us.” 

“He doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

“And you?” You paused, lips pursed as you looked anywhere but Hannibal. You held Will’s hand in yours and you rubbed it, breathing steadily. 

“And I will do whatever Will decides to do.” He was surprised at that. “But I don’t want you to be caught. I won’t put you in jail, I won’t cooperate or participate. I can’t.” Hannibal glanced outside of the window.

“Chiyoh is here.” You nodded.

“Go speak with her, before he wakes up.” 

-

When Hannibal walked back inside, Will woke up. He adjusted himself so that he was sitting up and able to look at Will. 

“Do we talk about teacups and time and rules of disorder?” Hannibal questioned. 

“The teacup is broken. It’ll never gather itself back together again,” Will stated. Hannibal sat at the chair across from the bed. 

“Not even in your mind? Your memory palace is building Will. It’s full of new things. It shared some rooms with my own. I’ve discovered you there. Victorious.” Hannibal glanced at you. “And what was nothing with you Y/N has grown, grown to something so grand.” He sounded proud. You had to look away. You knew how this conversation would go.

“When it comes to you and me and Y/N, there can be no decisive victory,” Will stated.

“We are a zero-sum game?” 

Will took that in for a moment and glanced at you. You didn’t meet his eyes.

“I miss my dogs.” Will started and you closed your eyes tightly, facing the wall. “I’m not going to miss you. I’m not going to find you. I’m not going to look for you. I don’t want to know where you are or what you do. I don’t want to think about you anymore.” 

Will’s voice was cold and flat. It striked Hannibal.

“You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight,” Hannibal said.

“You delight. I tolerate,” Will quipped. 

“Tolerance is a fig leaf to hide your ravenous self from the world,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t have your appetite.” He paused and took one last long breath in. “Good-bye, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal stared for a moment, rejected, hurt. Will looked at you but you refused to look at him. Hannibal finally stood up and you stood up quickly, rushing over to Hannibal. You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“It’s for the best that you go. Go and keep going,” you whispered so Will couldn’t hear. He relished in smelling you. He breathed you in and knew that your feelings were different than Will’s but you agreed. You couldn’t do this anymore. “And keep my job open,” you whispered. He couldn’t help but laugh a bit. 

You peeled away from him and stared at him, taking in all his features. He was reminded of the look you had when he left for Florence. 

You let him go. 

He left.

-

That night, the police arrived at Will’s home in droves. Will glanced at you and the grip you had on the mug you were holding tightened. You looked over at him. 

“Why didn’t you kill Jack?” he asked. “I’d been meaning to ask that.” 

“I honestly thought Chiyoh would do it. I was unfortunately wrong.” You walked out of the door and Will followed suit. You had both showered, looked over each other's wounds, cried in each other's arms. 

You faced Jack Crawford with a hard look. 

“He’s gone, Jack,” Will said. You nodded.

“I’m here.” Your head snapped to where Hannibal had emerged. Your heart felt stabbed. You had told him to go. He was supposed to go. 

He kneeled to the ground and you moved forward to grab him, do something to stop this. Will grabbed your arm. You shook your head, protesting against him. 

“You finally caught the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack,” Hannibal said, hands above his head.

“Didn’t catch you, you surrendered.” 

You kept moving forward, pushing against Will’s hold on you. He had to wrap his arms around you now to keep you from walking off of the porch.

“I want you to know exactly where I am. And where you can find me.”

You quit protesting. You turned around and buried your head in Will’s chest. He held you tighter than he ever had as he watched Jack arrest Hannibal Lecter.

3x08

[lottsoluv]

I used to be a mod on Dangan-Happy

This is going to be a very long post because there’s so much that happened, and I felt the need to expose the truths hidden behind the positivity everyone loves so much. Everything seems so fine and dandy on the surface, so consider this a callout post. Thank you to my friends that helped me create this.

For context:  I was Mod Chiaki, Mod Rantaro, and Mod Shuichi after a friend of mine left the blog. I would always sign my posts with emojis.

I was in a discord server made by the creators of Dangan-Happy before the blog was created. Both creators run another danganronpa blog focused on writing imagines, and I joined their server because I loved their writing and was interested in making new friends, and that I did.

When Dangan-Happy was created back in July and a link was posted in the discord server for mod applications, I applied for Chiaki immediately. I enjoyed her a lot as a character, and I knew I’d be good at emulating how she spoke through writing, and I got to make people happy while doing so. Though, before this, I had never been apart of a blog like this, I just had this blog, one that I’ve muddled in since 2013, so it was a brand new experience for me. 

I was accepted and after a couple of other people who were accepted as mods started joining the monomonomayhem discord server, the two admins created a separate section in the discord server for the mods of Dangan-Happy to communicate, away from the eyes of the fans of their original imagines blog. Everything started out fine, seeing as we barely had any asks coming in, as expected, and I became good friends with a couple of the mods that joined us. 

Around the middle of August was when things started going down hill. I became really good friends with our first Mod Izuru, Beep, and we were discussing our grievances we had with the blog, which wasn’t much honestly, such as how mod applications worked or how some of the asks were behind or just how we didn’t think some of the mods wrote their characters well, and it was all in moderation, we were just having a chat between friends, it was nothing serious and only stayed between us. None of the other mods really had any idea what was going on either, we were all just thrown to the wind.

Then, the two admins came up with a rule that no one was allowed to post asks unless either of them specified that they were ready to be sent, which became sort of a problem, seeing as they weren’t always online. Beep and I were usually the ones, at least in the beginning stages of this blog, who tried our hardest to make sure the asks got done and got posted, outside of the two admins. It felt sort of like a punch to the face, to be quite honest, but there was no animosity held toward the two admins. We still tried our hardest to help out, but the list of mods was growing and our list of asks were growing as well, we became buried underneath the voices of the newer, inexperienced mods.

Beep was a sort of hard person to get along with, and as our list of mods on Dangan-Happy grew, they had a harder time getting along with people or trusting people, so they created a group chat to talk and hang out with the people from the server that they trusted, and this eventually grew into a server, one that was not created by either of us but created by Dangan-Happy’s Mod Akane. Collectively, we agreed that the server that was created was a sort of “safe-haven” for Beep, so we only added people to the server that they trusted. We started a “rebellion” of sorts, because what we wanted was change in the way the blog was run, though we never actually did anything, it was more of a mindset. We never had any hatred toward the admins or any of the other mods.

About a week or two passed and one of the admins, Mod Kaz, updated all the mods on their current irl situation. Beep and I then told Mod Kaz that if they needed any sort of help with the blog, they should ask for it, and that the older mods that have been on the blog longer should be allowed to help more with it, and he agreed, making a new role in our discord server titled “Mid Mod,” who’s individual roles were broke up into specifics, such as “tag checking,” “grammar checking,” “overall checking,” etc. All was fine and going well, and I’ll restate, Beep and I held 0 hatred or animosity for Mod Kaz, we were only concerned for his well-being and the well-being of the blog.

Then, on September 9th, the old Mod Byakuya/Ibuki/Nagito left the blog. That being said, it was well known that Beep was an “unwilling Nagito kinnie,” and they would say all the time that they regretted not taking Nagito when they had the chance. They even covered for Mod Nagito a couple times beforehand. They were working on a Nagito mod application, when a new person joined the server, the new Mod Nagito. This alerted many of us in our little “rebellion” server. At that moment, Beep, the old Mod Miu, Mod Akane, one of the other mods, and I were in a voice chat in that server. We were just hanging out, not really doing anything in particular, when we were just all caught off guard. It hadn’t been even an hour when the mod applications were opened for a new mod Nagito. 

This topic was a hot debate between the admins and the handful of us. We were told the mod applications were “first come, first serve,” which is still just preposterous in my opinion, and that it didn’t matter how well someone was at writing a character. If they submitted the application first, then they were that mod, and no amount of refutation could convince them otherwise. This angered Beep because they were working so hard on the application, and none of it mattered. There is no anger or hatred toward the new Mod Nagito, I personally think they’re pretty good at writing Nagito and I’m glad they were chosen, but the system that the admins had set up showed its true colors. It didn’t care about quality, only quantity and efficiency. 

Beep’s anger was understood by me and the others in the voice chat with them, but that empathy did not carry over to the other mods and admins in the discord server, who decided to start their own group chat discussing whether or not to ask Beep (and I, for some reason) to leave the blog. The reason I, and the others in the voice chat, know about this conversation is because they added Mod Akane to the said group chat. Mod Akane, who was the one who created the “rebellion” server we were voice chatting in. 

At this point, we five: Beep, the old Mod Miu, Mod Akane, one of the other mods, and I, had all agreed that there were systemic flaws in the blog we were apart of, and were all relatively upset with the recent events. It was rage-inducing, watching people we worked with talking about how “mean” our friend was, even though they’ve previously stated publicly in the server and apologized for any sort of misunderstandings. I even re-read all the screenshots that were sent to us by Mod Akane before writing this (October 17th,) and it got me really angry again. During this, I talked privately with Mod Kaz about Beep’s behavior, trying my hardest to smooth things over, and again, I never once came to hate him, even after all this.

Then, finally, Beep left the blog, extremely angry after reading the group chat messages relayed by Mod Akane. Even after all of these events had transpired, the rest of us still wanted to work on the blog because we enjoyed roleplaying as these characters and enjoyed giving people advice and making them happy. Sometimes, working with some of the mods was trying, but that’s just how it is when you have such a large group of people working together. Not everyone is going to get along, some people aren’t going to like some of the others, and it’s not something people can just force. The best thing to do in a scenario such as this, at least this is what I did, is to lay low and just do your job, which I did indeed enjoy doing, despite what some of the other mods might have thought.

In fact, that’s what all 4 four of us agreed to do, just lay low and do our jobs as advice-giving roleplayers. Mod Akane was given an important role in the server, where she would stay on all of our butts about getting our asks done in a timely manner. And, that’s all fine and dandy, but she explicitly stated that she wanted to watch the blog crash and burn (along with the rest of us) after the events that transpired the day before. None of us, aside from Beep, had any sort of actual hatred toward the admins and mods themselves, only what everything was becoming.

We were all fine with this arrangement for the most part. We even, all five of us, created a separate blog, where we could roleplay as characters that we wanted to, and it was quite fun. We were all planning on leaving Dangan-Happy after it got up and running, but it never quite took off. We were all busy with our lives, and subsequently, toward the beginning of this month, October, Mod Akane had a falling out with our friend group. We both made separate servers and invited who we wanted and that should’ve been that, fair enough right?

The very next day, Mod Kaz direct messaged me and told me I was kicked from the blog. The reasoning given was that he didn’t want to work with people that hated him. To quote him: “I'm sorry to say this Tea. I had a great time working with you but due to some unforeseen circumstances and some review of your behavior I must ask you to leave the blog. I'm not going to keep fighting to run a positivity blog with someone that holds so much contempt for me. Leave the blog, I'm not going to argue or budge on this.”

In response, I told him fine. I’ve literally never held any contempt for this man, but he really deeply thinks that I’ve hated him this entire time, no matter how much we bonded over similar interests. That’s the part that bothered me at first, being kicked off a blog I loved writing for over someone thinking I hated them. Then, the bit about “review of your behavior” caught my eye. I told him I had barely said a word in the server purposefully so that I don’t hurt other people with my perceived “negativity.”

Then, I realized the problem might actually lie with the “unforeseen circumstances” portion of their message. A day earlier, there was a falling out between Mod Akane and the rest of my friends. I connected the dots, Mod Akane must’ve told Mod Kaz about everything that happened, about my friends and I getting upset over things happening surrounding the blog. It just makes no sense otherwise. I personally believed I wasn’t a problem at all concerning the blog. I tried my hardest to get my asks done on time and in character. I was good at what I did, and I loved doing what I did. And, I was outcasted, thrown out for seemingly no valid reason.

I’m not asking you to harass people, I’m just trying to explain my side in a way that these mods will see and understand. I’m just angry and confused, and I want a real, genuine answer, because I never hated Mod Kaz ever up until this bullshit. Sure, I was upset at the way things were run, I was upset with some decisions that were made, but I never hated him. And, if Mod Akane told him otherwise, I have the screenshots to prove she did the exact same as me.

This post is far from perfect, I apologize. My friends and I are just very upset and hurt. We put so much time and effort into a blog we cared for, and it turns out it’s all bullshit behind the scenes. A fake environment ruled by a toxic positivity, if you have different opinions in the way things are run, you just get removed. It’s fucked.

[elaboratedbee]

Bigby x Reader

Request For: @awfullest​

Rating: E

Summary: The Mundies think that there are five love languages, and Bigby’s going to need to learn how to speak every single one of them if he’s going to get you to understand how he feels.

Word Count: 4623

Note: i loved this prompt!! i thought it would be super cute to come up with all the ways bigby could try and get the reader’s attention without being obvious :’) big thank you to @punxgal​ for teaching my dumbass what a taglist is, so i started one! just hit me with a message if you want to be added (or just want to rant about bigby lmao) ily guys!!

Taglist: @punxgal​

Five Ways To Say I Love You

 “You know, the Mundies think that there are five love languages,” Snow informed him, watching with a faint smile of amusement as Bigby quite literally banged his head against the wall of the Business Office. While usually she didn’t enjoy dispensing love advice; after all, she was a very busy woman, watching Bigby experience any kind of emotion, let alone love, was more than worth it. His pining was probably the most amusing thing that had happened in Fabletown in a long while, so she was happy to be his confident. 

“And I can think of five ways to tell Mundies how that sounds fucking stupid,” came Bigby’s gruff response, but he did finally move away from the wall and come around to join her at the desk, which she could only assume was Bigby Speak for her to continue. 

“Words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch.” After Snow had revealed them, the wolf repeated the list under his breath as he committed them to his memory, before he huffed in frustration. 

“Nothing I do works! Nothing I say comes out right and they’re just so –”

“ – perfect, I know,” Snow cut him off, more than familiar with this particular rant, “maybe if you ever did something about it and made it clear that you were interested, they might actually respond positively. You’ve been pining for months, Bigby! It’s getting embarrassing.” His scowl was lost on her, as she was more than used to dealing with an angry Bigby and his frustration at his own love life certainly wasn’t the worst she had dealt with. 

“Fuck off, it’s not pining,” Bigby growled at her, as he produced a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. Snow didn’t bother to argue the point, because she could tell by the long and hopeless drag he took of his cigarette that the Sheriff already knew that it was true. “I’ll try that Mundy thing.” Bigby admitted after a long time, before he nodded at her and stalked out of the office to patrol the streets of Fabletown, or whatever else he got up to whenever there wasn’t some major emergency that he contacted her about. Well, that was about as much thanks as she could expect. She sighed, and rolled her eyes as she watched him retreat. Men. 

Words Of Affirmation

Bigby was head over heels for you. Since Snow had become the Deputy Mayor, there wasn’t much about Fabletown that hadn’t improved. Not everything had changed drastically of course, and there wasn’t a night that went by on the job that the wolf didn’t wish that things could be better for all of the Fables that lived here, but he could console himself with the fact that they were getting better. Slowly was better than not at all, after all. He supposed that he should apply that same philosophy to his feelings for his current infatuation, since he did think that he was making slow progress. You had taken a job casting spells and creating glamours on the thirteenth floor almost half a year ago, now, and it had taken barely any time at all for Bigby to realise that you were everything he had ever wanted.

Every so often, a crime occurred that could benefit from the help of someone who was proficient in magic, such as covering up the scene of a particularly noticeable crime from Mundies or assisting with the aftermath. Bigby had recently found himself running to you every single time a matter like this befell, with the whispers and teasing from some of the other staff at the Business Office being more than worth the chance to spend so many prolonged hours working with you and witnessing your gift. This often came with the additional bonus of being able to show you that he was made the Sheriff for more than his strength. Most of the Fables thought that he was given the position purely due to his violent streak, so to be able to display his prowess at investigating crimes made a nice change.

Tonight, was one of those nights and the two of you had ventured out to cast a spell over a building that had been set on fire by an arsonist. Although the fire had been combatted with the help of some water nymphs, the plumes of black smoke obscuring the horizon were sure to pique the interest of any Mundies within a couple of miles radius. It struck the Sheriff that now was the perfect opportunity to use the first of Snow’s techniques as he walked you back to the Business Office, enjoying the pleasure of hearing you rant and rave about howof all of the possible crimes, arson was certainly the most pointless and dangerous. Bigby loved how passionate you were, how you could probably form a strong and justified opinion on almost any topic. He loved the way you used your hands and gesticulated wildly without even realising, like you were always casting a spell. It certainly felt like you had cast one over him, after all, he was constantly thinking about you. The first thought on his mind in the morning, and the person running through his mind whenever he attempted to sleep.

The two of you reached the business office and entered the deathtrap elevator. He took the opportunity to employ his first method as you had fallen silent when pressing the button for the thirteenth floor, before hitting the one for Bigby’s Office, too. The wolf felt a spark of happiness as he noted how well you knew him, his routines and habits. Although he hadn’t known you for very long, it was obvious that the Sorcerer was the kind of person that noticed the little things, that cared for each and every person that came into the Business Office looking for help, whether it be a standard glamour or something with far higher stakes. The dedication to their job was something that Bigby could very much relate to, and the fact that you often complimented the Sheriff on his duty to Fabletown made his heart warm in his chest – not many people did.

The only problem was, every time Bigby had tried to compliment you back, he failed miserably. Either it came out completely wrong, or it didn’t come out at all. But this time, it would be different. He had used the entire walk to plan what he was going to say, and now was the time to implement it. As the elevator rose, Bigby removed his cigarette from his mouth and met your eyes, trying not to focus on your mesmerising beauty. “Thanks,” he managed to get out, his voice rough, “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the best Sorcerer I know.” The words were genuine, even if they were a little bit gruff and came out a little fast, and the Sheriff internally celebrated. Finally. He watched closely as your eyes lit up with joy and pride and you stood up just a little bit taller than before. It had made every bit of stress worth it, in Bigby’s eyes.

“Thanks, Bigby. I’d say you were the best Sheriff I know, but you’re sort of the only Sheriff I know,” you teased him with a smile, and leaned forward to punch his shoulder gently. God, everything seemed to come so easily to you, he noted. The way you spoke and joked with him, managing to drag a smile out of him even on his darkest days, the way you touched him so casually. Perfect. The elevator doors slid open, and you flashed him one more bright smile before you were gone.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Bigby slumped against the elevator wall and luxuriated in the feeling for a long moment. On some level, he could recognise that it was mildly insane to feel such euphoria over such a minute interaction, one that you probably wouldn’t even remember when tomorrow arrived, but he didn’t care. The elevator arrived at the Business Office and the door opened to reveal Bluebeard standing there. His eyes narrowed when he saw the Sheriff, and his mouth opened, but he was cut off as the wolf walked right past him, dropping his cigarette at the man’s feet.

“Fuck off, Bluebeard.”

Acts Of Service

“Bigby, you really don’t have to do this,” your voice came from behind him as continued his way down the hall, carrying the large wooden desk in his arms. Considering your hard work, it was really only a matter of time before they got promoted, and Bigby was incredibly pleased that your talent was being recognised. Along with the promotion came a brand-new office, that Bigby was currently help you move your things into.

“It’s no trouble, really,” he insisted once again and that was telling the truth. The desk was really no problem for the wolf to manage, but the praise made it feel even lighter. You followed along behind him with a box of personal affects, pictures and stationery, along with a little cactus that, to quote you, ‘even you couldn’t kill.’

They entered the office, which, like most of the Business Office, was somewhat in a state of disrepair. The lighting was dim, the window dirty and the paint a faded, peeling yellow. Even still, he watched you regard it as if it were a silver palace, a spark in your eyes. Unlike Bigby, you were an optimist, always able to see the bright side of life and the best in people. It was a refreshing change to the wolf, who very rarely had a reason to give people the benefit of the doubt in his line of work. You saw the best in him, having never been afraid of him for a second, and throwing him a bemused look whenever he tried to pull his ‘big, bad wolf’ act around you.

“Thanks for helping me,” he felt a hand on his arm and the warm pressure grounded him, causing him to meet your eyes, “there was no way I could’ve dragged that heavy ass desk down this hallway. You’re handy, you know that?” The compliment was strange, and Bigby huffed at the word. Handy. There was something almost domestic about it, which caused a warmth to spread through his chest.  

“Yeah, well, I’m only downstairs if you need me,” Bigby reassured you, the feeling of being needed satisfying the more primal parts of his nature. To be able to help you, provide for you, was what the wolf inside him desperately craved.

“Good to know you’re not just a pretty face,” you teased him with a wink and Bigby almost choked on his own spit. He felt hot under the collar all of a sudden and he cleared his throat before he was able to answer, much to his enchantment's clear amusement. Even though you were clearly fucking with him, the implication that you thought he was attractive was enough to imprint this very moment on his mind for what he was sure was the rest of all time.

“I’m a man of many talents,” the Sheriff managed to reply, his voice rich with sarcasm as he bumped his cigarette packet, making one shoot up out of the box. He raised it to his lips, quirking his eyebrows at the other Fable as means of asking for permission, a very rare honour that was not often bestowed upon. You nodded their approval and the wolf sparked up, taking a deep drag. After all, he was fairly sure that if he didn’t find something to focus his thoughts on, he was going to kiss you here and now. The way that you were leaning against the desk, the one that he had moved for you, was testing his self-control in ways that he hadn’t expected. What he wouldn’t give to just push you over the desk and –

“I think it just needs a new coat of paint,” your voice (thankfully) interrupted his thoughts before they could spiral any further. Bigby grunted and exhaled his smoke.

“I can help with that.”

Receiving Gifts and Quality Time

It had taken him forever to find, but Bigby didn’t plan to admit that to anyone else. He held the cassette tape in his hands, remembering so clearly the first time you had showed him one. One late night, he had caught you leaving the Woodlands as he approached, bruised and tired after a long day. He wasn’t particularly happy that you were here at such a late hour, you work ethic concerning at times; it made him worry that you didn’t get enough rest, which was more than ironic coming from him. Despite how battered he must have looked, it didn’t stop the smile from breaking out on your face at the sight of him, and it made his long day seem just a little less long. As you walked through the glass doors, Bigby noted a strange device in your hands, with wires that followed all the way up to your head.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, amused at the sight of it. It was cold on the street, but the Sheriff was more than happy to linger outside for a little more time as long as it meant he got to speak to you.

“It’s a Walkman,” you informed him brightly, and it was immediately clear from your tone that this little device brought you no shortage of joy, “it plays cassette tapes.” The wolf had some vague recollection of what a cassette tape was, although he had never heard of the “Walkman,” so he could gather that it had something to do with music at least. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the little thing, when suddenly you were stepping forward into his space. With bated breath, Bigby tensed as you pulled off their headphones and held them up between the both of you, leaning close.

Don't leave me this way.

The music played and provided him with something to focus his mind on and flood his senses with, which was a welcome release now that your scent was flooding his nose so distractingly. When you were this close, Bigby could see every little detail of your face, and he found himself committing every last detail to his memory. The faint scar you had just above your eyebrow that he so desperately wanted to know the story behind, the permanent imprint on your lower lip that you had left from biting it so much, every shade in your eyes.

I can't survive, I can't stay alive.

You met his eyes, clearly waiting to hear his judgement, but Bigby didn’t offer one, wanting to prolong the moment of intimacy for as long as he could get away with it. He couldn’t help it, after all, having you so close to him was intoxicating. It was a feeling of pride and accomplishment to him, that you had chosen to share this part of yourself  with him.

Without your love, no baby.

“I like it,” he admitted, although what he really liked was the way his approval made a smile emerge on your face, illuminated by the soft yellow lights of the Woodland. The simple praise was enough, although Bigby wished that he could find better words, more impressive ones. You had a way of making him feel like that way; of making him feel that for all of his inadequacies, he was enough. It was a more addicting feeling than smoking his damn cigarettes.

Don't leave me this way.

Bigby knew that if he stayed stood there for much longer, he would inevitably do or say something that was going to get him trouble, so he cleared his throat and stepped back, watching you click a little button the stop the cassette from playing. You looked almost disappointed that you had to go, but it was late and cold, so Bigby was glad you would finally go home and get some rest. The song’s words came back to him as you bid him goodnight and retreated into the night, hailing a cab. Don’t leave me this way.

He didn’t want you to leave at all.

The Sheriff had laboured over finding the perfect gift for you after that, stopping by many Mundy places whenever he had a spare moment, or his work brought him close to the edge of Fabletown. Gently, he placed the cassette down on your desk, wrapped carefully by Snow after she had seen Bigby’s attempt at it and laughed outright.

Even better, it had become a habit of yours to sit side by side in his office every so often and listen to whatever song had become your recent obsession. He would listen to you talk about what made it good, or why you loved the band and enjoy your company much more than he enjoyed the songs themselves. It had been a long time since Bigby had done something just because he enjoyed it. Not to escape, or distract himself, or to forget, but something that made him grateful for the here and now. Sometimes, he was in a good mood and he offered his opinions, which slowly became more informed over time as you listened and asked for his favourites. Other times, he was exhausted and broken after a day of dealing with the worst that Fabletown had to offer, and he would sit in silence, letting the sound of your music and your voice wash over him. It was like the tide, eroding a jagged stone smooth, corroding away all of his edges and damaged parts so gently that he hardly even noticed.

Stepping back, the wolf smiled proudly to himself and propped a cigarette between his lips. This whole love languages thing was getting easier all the time.

Physical Touch

For all his success, this was certainly the one that Bigby was most nervous about. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for his ability to be gentle. A good chunk of the Fables probably thought that the Sheriff was directly synonymous with bruises and a ringing pain in their heads after he had used force to encourage them to comply with the law so many times.

The ballroom spread out before him, as picturesque and charming as it was every year. Bigby was so nervous that he regarded it more like a battlefield than a ballroom, the polished wood floor masking countless traps and landmines, the spinning and smiling Fables his enemies, waiting for him to slip up. The many twinkling lights gave the room an iridescent glow, but he felt like they were interrogation lights, his nerves rising in his stomach as he waited for you to arrive.

It had been the first year of the Remembrance Ball that Bigby had been the one to convince somebody else to go, considering he was usually the one to be dragged along so unwillingly by Snow. Not this year. This year, he was prepared. He had sacrificed his pride and given up far too many evenings to twirling around the Business Office with Snow once the building quietened at night and while he still lacked a fundamental sense of grace, he was now at least proficient enough that he wouldn’t stand on your feet. For the first time in centuries, Bigby had sought out a brand new suit, one that wasn’t as terribly dated as his previous one, although it was still a simple and understated design. Goddammit, Bigby had even been extra careful on the job the evening before, carefully avoiding taking any hits to the face, so that he wouldn’t be bruised and bleeding. There was nothing else he could do; he was ready.

At least, he thought he was. But no amount of preparation could have prepared him for seeing you walk through the ornate doors. He imagined that the feeling he experienced must have been akin to being struck by lightning, as it travelled through his entire body within the span of a second and paralysed him. It completely broke his brain trying to process how completely and utterly perfect you looked when you were dressed to the nines and he suddenly understood why the other Fables enjoyed this damned dance so much. For in that instant, Bigby would have done it all over again, a million times and lived a million miserable lives just to be given the chance to dance with you tonight.

To his delight, your eyes scanned the crowd and settled on him, so he lifted his glass as a means of greeting, beginning to cross the dance floor so that the two of you could meet in the middle. He quickly lost sight of you in the crowd, but eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Well, you clean up nice,” the voice was familiar and teasing, which made Bigby feel hot under the collar.

“I could say the same about you,” he returned easily, gesturing to your elaborate clothing. The Sheriff wanted to vocalise it so much better. You looked positively divine, to the point where the other Fables within a visible radius had their eyes stuck on you, either jealous or starstruck. Bigby was overcome with the overwhelming desire to make sure they all knew who you had come for and it was the push he needed to step forward and take you in his eyes. He watched your eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised that Bigby had been so forward and so confident in leading you into an, albeit very simple, dance. All those evenings were certainly paying off.

Emboldened, Bigby made a second and better attempt, “you’re breath-taking. Nobody can take their eyes off of you.” Watching the blush break out on your face, coupled by your closeness, was enough to make Bigby feel that he was in heaven. Your scent was in his nose, even sweeter tonight with whatever scent you were wearing, and you were safe in his arms, his and only his, even if it was just for tonight. Physical touch, he thought, was quite possibly his favourite love language in the world.

It wasn’t enough, he could never get enough of you. He wondered if he would ever be fully satiated, surely not when felt like he wanted to drown in you. Pulling you close, he could feel how rapid your heartbeat was in your chest, and a smile crossed his face. “I didn’t take you for a dancer,” the surprise was evident in your tone, and not at all unjustified. After all, the Sheriff had refused to dance at this damn thing for quite literally centuries, so he supposed he was equally responsible for the stares they were receiving as you spun on, unphased.

“Like I told you, I’m a man of many talents,” Bigby repeated the sentiment from one of your older conversations, which earned him a laugh that he could feel resonate through his body, which was even better than simply hearing it.

“Alright, alright, be all mysterious, then,” you didn’t push him for a real answer any further, which filled him with a sense of relief, because he was certain that once he admitted to begging Snow for lessons, he was never going to live it down. His reputation as the big, bad wolf was already sure to take a large enough hit just from the fact that he had now been seen by almost every Fable dancing, so he really didn’t think it would be able to survive that on top of it all. Slowly, he could feel you relax into his arms as one song turned into two, then three. The orchestra played beautifully, but after a few songs, he felt a murmur in his ear.

“Man, they should have let us pick the music for this thing,” you joked quietly, as not to offend anyone in the near proximity, and Bigby fought to prevent himself from laughing too loudly and causing them to gain any more attention. The novelty of seeing the Sheriff dance had mostly faded by now, the whispers and comments over with for the most part, so he was eager to retain your low profile. He nodded his agreement, struck by how pleasant he found it that you were so similar to him in some ways and different in others. You were not the type to be overly enamoured by the illusion of glamour that the Fables created for Remembrance every year, but more the type to focus on the simple and understated beauties of everyday life. That, Bigby thought, was something truly rare and special and he intended to never let it escape him.

Bigby knew that he wanted to be with you forever. For the first time, he could imagine waking up next to someone every day and falling asleep with them at night. He wanted to be the person on your mind at all hours of the day and the one to comfort you after a terrible day or listen to your stupid jokes after a good one. Bigby wanted to come home to music blaring out of the tape player, instead of the silence and damp of his apartment. He wanted to part ways not just with a smile when you shared the elevator ride to the Business Office, but with a kiss. God, he was head over heels, and no matter how he said it, any one of the godforsaken five ways, he no longer cared. He just had to say it. He needed you to know.

You moved your hand from his shoulder to straighten his tie with a fond smile and that was it for Bigby. Pulling you close, one of his rough hands came up to cover yours, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could probably feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong. The other cupped your jaw, his touch gentler than he ever thought a monster could be capable of. He watched a thousand different emotions flicker through your eyes as he leaned in, too fast for even the Sheriff to be able to process and recognise them all. Your lips met and everything just stopped. It was like Bigby’s mind went completely blank of thoughts and all he could do was feel. His arms tightened around you as he tried to put all he had into it – every last word that he could never find, every smile that he had wished were a kiss, every song that he would never be able to hear and not think of you and this very moment.

Eventually, you pulled back from one another, but not far. You stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you recovered, breathing together. “The Mundies say that there are five ways to show someone you love them,” Bigby informed you, after a long moment of silence, not entirely sure why he had said it.

“That’s so fucking stupid,” you replied, your voice much breathier than it had been a minute ago, and Bigby grinned widely at how closely your response had echoed his own. It was stupid, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care because it had worked, and he had you in his arms and he had kissed you, and he was never going to let you go. You began to sway again, finding your way back to the music and to reality, as much as he wanted to stay wrapped up in that moment forever.

It didn’t matter how many ways there were, Bigby thought, because he was going to discovery every, damn one.

[obi-wan-kanbonemi]

Say It

Darth Maul x Reader

Summary: You run into Darth Maul years after him showing mercy to you amidst being caught between the battle of him and a crime syndicate while trying to collect a bounty. The question is though, will he be as merciful as before? Gender neutral except for the term ‘lady in waiting’ but that can be ignored.

Warnings: Just some dark, angsty, kind of flirty stuff???? I don’t know, but I do know I was jamming to some sad, angry, and emotional Star Wars songs to get myself in the mood, so thanks Spotify lol

A quote from my favorite movie is hidden away somewhere in here lol

Word count: 1,854

———————————————————————

So much pain radiated from your chest, your sides pinching and burning with a stabbing sensation. You couldn’t stop now, not with the fear that pelted your body and the adrenaline rushing through you. Your legs continued their sprinting, trying to get your breaths in and out of your body as you zipped past trees, dodging anything that was in your path. Blasters shot past you as well or blasting the ground where you had just stepped upon, enticing you to further run away from what felt like your doom, the end drawing ever so near as you looked to the group you were with. You watched them trip or get hit, one by one.

The tears had begun to stream down your face, your cries threatening to make you pass out from the lack of breath within your lungs. You were in over your head on this one. You had taken a bounty, someone wanted a crime lord dead and you needed the money, but someone else was also after either the crime syndicate they had running or had foreseen the value of taking them down would bring which ended out in a full scale battle and you and your crew were stuck in between. It was just you now though, the bodies of your crew left behind on the forest floor that they had once tried to run upon to escape the blasters.

Your heart dropped to the very depths of your stomach as your foot had come to a painful halt upon a tree root that stretched out across the dense, forest floor. It sent you smashing onto the ground, hands being scuffed up and clothes being stained from the grass you had slid upon. Shoe now long gone in the crevice of the tree root, you twisted yourself to your back, beginning to crawl in vain away from the armored goons of the crime syndicate, your sobs wracking your body as you raised your hands in mercy as they surrounded you, blasters aimed at you.

“You! Execute them, we have no time for this, we got that crazy Zabrak on our backs!” Shouted out one of them, causing you to further sink to the ground in dispair. This was the end for you which you never would have thought would be you scuffed up and covered in grass stains and sobbing in front of a crime syndicate. How embarrassing. Though the yells, screeches, and the last gurgles of dying men reached your ears as your eyes were closed tightly in anticipation for your final seconds. Upon your eyes being opened, you saw the Zabrak man they were all wary about slaying them like a Jedi would to a whole army of droids. He even had one of those laser swords.

You took this as your only hope as you got up, other shoe being ditched behind to now run full speed on the route you were once running on to an unknown destination. With the fear that had resonated in the goons that had spoken of the Zabrak, you did NOT want to be caught by him either. Though you could hear his growl echo through the forestry around you as you halted, body frozen in fear as you now whipped around to look around you. The forest was now quiet....the sound of blasters and yells now in the far distance behind you.

You cursed yourself for having stopped and continued forward, but came to a halt at the sight before you. The double ended, red laser sword now ignited in the hands of the crimson, tattooed Zabrak whose yellow eyes stared at you with such an intensity it made the air in your lungs totally disappear. Stupidly you snatched a rock from the ground below you, throwing it at him with all your might, but his weapon cut through it with such ease. The sight brought despair to you as you turned to try and run again, but he was soon there too. He was every which way you turned.

You were captured...everything was over.

“There’s nowhere to run, love...” his voice seemed to rumble throughout the forest, throughout your mind. That voice brought your heart back to cower in the pit of your stomach once more as you stood shaking before him. The end was finally here to take your in it’s embrace as you coward before the truly terrifying man before you.

“Please....have mercy...” your shaky voice was barely above a whisper, your feet taking their small steps back to try to distance your from him, but those strong legs of his only carried his powerful being close to you. He seemed to relish in your fear, taking pleasure from your cowering form before him. His steps stopped though, head moving to look off to the side, as if someone was speaking to him. The Zabrak’s laser sword was now back to his hip, leaving him to stand before you.

“Oh...mercy is what I have shown you now, but remember, it may not be the same if we cross paths ever again.” His low voice almost growled out as you turned away, disappearing back the way you were just running from, leaving you to fall to your knees, heart pounding within your chest.

Years had flown by and you found yourself drifting from planet to planet, system to system in the search for whatever odd job would buy you a few weeks to rest comfortably without worrying if you would be able to sleep under a roof or even have anything to eat. Though upon disembarking a craft in Mandalore you seemed to finally have caught yourself a break from the constant move from place to place as you landed a position of being Duchess Satine’s lady in waiting, or something of the sort. It was all too good to be true though, you realized, once Mandalore was under attack by crime syndicates. Though many things were wrong...and strange. Things weren’t making sense. Your gut had been correct when you were thrown in a cell, left there to rot.

Why was it you were always so unlucky? You sighed as you paced your cell, waiting for your fate to be revealed. And it was. Your ears were filled with an all too familiar growl. Your body froze as the memory of that crimson Zabrak with the intricate black tattoos filled your mind. Upon slowly turning to the door...you saw him. Those yellow, bloodshot eyes stared at you quizzically, hands held behind his back. It seemed to have finally clicked as he studied you, seeming to now remember.

“Oh....now isn’t this just delightful...,” he spoke with a smirk upon his face. The cell door opened, further revealing him clearly to you, showing you the mechanics that now made up the lower half of his body. “I knew I felt a presence all too familiar on this planet, my my, it’s been years since the last I saw you, my sweet,” you hung your head at his words that teased you, body shaking in fear as you caught sight of the handle of the, now known to you, lightsaber that hung at his hip. You knew he could slice your head off at any second, or to just make you suffer at his hands.

“Oh no, love, there won’t be any torturing....” he spoke with amusement as he circled around you, shock filling you as he seemingly read your mind. His hand reached out to give your hair a careless twist, causing a shiver to wreck your body as you closed your eyes in anticipation. “You can say that I’m.....a bit of a different man the last you saw of me...,” he said with a sigh as his hands rubbed at his chin in thought as he stood behind you. “I can show you the mercy that your whole being desires of me....be it as I am your new ruler, sadly others didn’t receive it,” the back of his fingers gently trailed down the side of your cheek, soon moving to toss your hair over your shoulder with a tut of his tongue as he looked you over.

Finally you gained the confidence to look at him with your wide, fear filled eyes upon the reveal of him being the new leader of Mandalore. Though you quickly looked back to the floor, the fear so heavy within your body as he drew himself closer to you, one of his arms draped over your shoulder, a hand reassuringly on your shoulder closest to him as he pulled you close, almost in front of him to allow his lips to hover next to your ear.

“I just have one request...” he hummed out into your ear, eyes looking down at you. You could basically feel those eyes of his boring into you and through your body. You did not give him a response, only standing there in the thickness of fear, but he took that as his permission to continue on with his words. “Profess your service and loyalty to me...and I might just show you the mercy that you want. Do as I say and I will be your slave. A slave to your needs, wishes....desires.” He whispered out.

He now stood before you, so tall and powerful before you as those eyes bore into your bowed head. What other choice did you have as you stood before the powerful man before you? You weren’t ready to die, you didn’t want to die at the menacing blade of his light saber. You didn’t want to be tortured at his ruthless hands.

“I...shall forever be loyal to you...” you finally whispered out, though he shook his head at your response, a seemingly playful pout upon his lips.

“No....that simply won’t do....I want you to say it differently....say ‘I shall forever be yours....a loyal follower to you, Darth Maul....’, I want to hear it...,” he now whispered into your ear, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His breath sent shivers down your neck and tickled your ear. An embarrassed blush crept upon those cheeks of yours as his hands delicately took your chin to move your head to finally look up and at him, those terrifying eyes boring into yours. “Say.....it...” he growled out, those fingers applying more pressure to your chin as he waited for those sweet words to flow from your lips.

“I shall forever be yours, a loyal follower to you......Darth Maul,” you finally managed out in a fearful quiver, a smirk growing upon the face of Maul before you who finally released your chin, allowing you to finally look away again.

“That’s right...and I will not disappoint, my sweet....” he almost purred our, stepping out the cell, leaving the door open behind him, but instead of moving to your new found freedom...you sunk to your knees instead, eyes watching his metal legs carry himself away from you, chuckle and a purr echoing in the walls of your head.

[a-medvezhonok]

Part 13 Sterling x April

After some time of kisses, giggles and wandering hands they pulled apart, breathless.

-I can’t, not with my parents and Blair so close by, I keep worrying that one of them will walk in.

-I know, we should be careful.

They lay side by side on the bed, April tentatively reached over to hold Sterling’s hand. Sterling started to speak.

-So we’ve done truth or dare, what else do girls do during sleepovers, oooh I know, a makeover.

-Not even if there was a gun against my head, no.

-First of all, come on it would be fun. Second of all, ouch too soon.

April realised what she had said, and quickly turned to look at Sterling.

-Oh, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot, I-

-No, no it’s ok,… but you know what would make it up to me.- April groaned and turned back.

-Sterling, please don’t do this to me.

-Come on, I was thinking plaits for you, maybe some green sparkly eyeshadow.

-I would like to suggest a compromise.

-The floor is yours.

-I do your makeup, and you don’t even think about plaiting my hair.

-Hmmm…I’ll consider it.

April got up and walked over to the makeup bag on Sterling’s desk.

-You’re done considering - she said as she gestured for Sterling to sit up in bed, whilst April sat down next to her. -So what do you want? An elegant evening look, church ready, a clown?

-Wait, you’re actually doing this?

-It was either that, or you turning me into some kind of Pippi Longstocking so yeah, what do you want?

-Ummm… -Sterling was keenly aware that April was going to be looking at her face very closely.- whatever inspires you.

-Just warning you, I’ve never been the best with makeup- said April as she started to apply the foundation onto Sterling’s face with a makeup sponge.

-It’s fine, neither have I. I was never sure what the limit was on how much makeup you could wear before people would think that you are going against God.

-Exactly. Mothers wear so much makeup and style their hair for hours, but a soon as a teenager does the same, it’s too much and going against your God given natural beauty. It’s all just a patriarchal tool of oppression for women to never feel comfortable in their own skin no matter how much foundation they wear or how old they are. –As April was speaking she was dabbing concealer on, and as she got further in her rant she dabbed it on more and more aggressively.

-Ow!-Sterling flinched.

-Oh sorry, I got a bit carried away.

-No, I liked it- April looked puzzled.

Sterling quickly expanded what she meant – No, not the aggressive concealer action, the being ‘carried away’. When you talk about something you care about the passion is tangible. Your thoughts flow so well when you talk. I always stumble over what I’m gonna say next, but with you, it’s like your mind is razor sharp, like a laser, so focused.

-Well if you don’t stop talking so I can actually colour in your eyebrows, not that you really need it, they’re perfect, then maybe I will end up having to use a laser to get you to stop. – April softened- but thanks, I like your mind too.

They sat for a bit in silence, as April moved from eyebrows to eyeshadow. With her eyes closed, Sterling felt like her other senses were on high alert. She could feel April's hand gently holding onto her face whilst she applied the eye shadow, but more distractingly she could hear April's quiet breathing.

-Have I ever told you how much I like your eyes? - said April.

Sterling leaned back and opened her eyes, scrutinising April’s face for any sign of mockery.

-I like how they dart everywhere as if trying to capture everything around them. But what I especially love, -At this April leaned closer, speaking slower- is sometimes when I talk, like now, they don’t dart at all, and that’s when I know, I’ve managed to capture your full undivided attention. – She kissed Sterling, and then pulled away smiling. –That and they are gorgeous.

Sterling felt like her face was on fire, apart from her lips, which felt numb, April had started to apply lipstick to them which did not help. April was puckering her lips as if to help make Sterling do the same so it was easier to apply the lipstick to them. But the only effect it had was for Sterling to not be able to tear her eyes away from them. Before April could finish applying the lipstick, Sterling felt like she was going to burst if she didn’t say

-I love your lips.

-My lips? Also, stop moving.

-Yes, your lips, when I look at them too long I get all flushed and flustered. … “You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.”

-Did you just quote the bible to me as a pickup line?

-Depends, did it work?

April kissed Sterling delicately so as not to smudge the makeup. –Perhaps.

She finished applying the makeup and handed Sterling the mascara.

-I don’t want to poke your eye out, so you can apply it yourself.

Sterling stood up to go check her look in the mirror.

-Oh, so you ended up with going for Sunday church chic?

-I did say I wasn’t the best.

Sterling turned around and gave April a reassuring peck on the lips.

-I really like it, I really do, but it’s time for bed so I’m gonna wipe it all off now. But it’s really good.

-That was way too many “really’s” for it to be believable.

Both girls quickly got ready for bed and snuggled up under the blanket.

-Thanks for letting me crash at yours, you made the evening a lot less miserable than it could have been.

-Yeah, we had a proper sleepover…. Oh, but we forgot to talk about boys.

Both girls laughed.

-Maybe next time. – said April.

-Maybe, although I somehow strongly doubt it. - mumbled Sterling as she wrapped her arms around April.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Eight: Here's To Hoping

(Image not mine)

Rated: PG

~You see I had this crazy dream last night, this man he talked to me He told me everything that's good and bad about my history

He told me that you are, you are the future

And the future looks good The future looks good to me~

"Jack," Sam sighed, checking his watch, "You gotta face the possibility that Marty may not be coming."

Jack was pacing back and forth across the motel's parking lot, trying his best not to slip on the crystallized asphalt. Dean had called the frozen tarmac 'Black Ice' and Jack felt that the term was quite accurate, it did feel like he was trying to walk on ice. But Jack just couldn't stand still. It was seven thirty-five A.M. and Marty still had not showed.

"No, she's coming. I'm sure of it!" Jack said with conviction, wringing his hands before shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. The small amount of force he applied was enough to throw him off balance. Jack's feet slipped out from beneath him and his head smacked against the frozen tarmac.

Sam flinched in sympathy but didn't move from the spot where he leaned against the Impala. He made no move to help Jack up as this was the sixth time he had bashed his head on the black ice in the last fifteen minutes. That fall and the five others before it would have been enough to kill or at least critically injure your typical human being.

So naturally, or rather unnaturally, Jack sat up and rubbed the back of his head. The blood soaked his hand as the wound quickly mended itself. Soon all that was left of the injury was a puddle of blood, nearly identical to five others on the ground that quickly began to freeze. Jack scooted on his knees to the edge of the parking lot and used the snow gathered there to wash the crimson substance off his hand. He stood carefully before beginning yet another round of pacing that would most likely end the same way it had the last six times.

Jack wished he could be sitting in the Impala with Dean and Cas but he found that waiting for Marty was more important to him, so he kept pacing. He wouldn't have to wait much longer. Dean had said that they would wait until eight o'clock before going to look for her. That arrangement had taken quite a while to agree upon. When Marty had failed to show up at six o'clock, Jack had immediately feared the worst.

"What if-what if she's hurt, or something? What if she got kidnapped?" He had worried.

"Jack, I'm sure everything is fine. People have different versions of what 'bright and early' means," Dean had reassured him, taking a long sip of coffee. He did not want to be up, but one thousand miles was a long way to go, so it was best they got up early. Besides, the earlier they checked out, the less they would have to pay, the motel charged by the hour and the rates weren't cheap.

"I know, but you saw what happened last night! What if those guys came after her again?" Jack had leaned back against the Impala's seats. The only reason he had gotten into the car in the first place was for the air conditioning. He was deeply worried that Dean might just decide to take off without Marty.

"Jack raises a valid point, Dean. The odds that those men from the bar should come after Martina, are considerable," Cas noted.

"Fine, if the shrimp doesn't show by eight, we go looking for her, and if we can't find her by ten, then I don't care; we're leaving without her," Dean decided. That was when Jack climbed out of the vehicle and began his trek back and forth across the parking lot. Sam had just followed him.

"I dunno, Jack. She seemed sorta skittish, don't ya’ think?" Sam now spoke.

"What are you saying?" Jack asked, turning to Sam.

"I'm saying that maybe you freaked her out. Maybe she got scared and ran off. Maybe- I don't know- maybe she's hiding, or something." Jack's eyes narrowed.

"You think she's scared of me?" He asked, though it sounded like more of a statement than a question. "What did I do wrong?"

"No, no. Jack, you didn't do anything wrong. I think, maybe she's just scared of coming with us- of what that might mean for her. I don't think she's scared of you, Jack. Marty doesn't seem like the sort of person that scares easy," Sam reassured. A smile tugged at the corner of Jack's mouth.

"You're right. She doesn't."

"If she doesn't show, we'll go looking, but you have to be ready in case she's changed her mind."

"She-she wouldn't do that, she promised!" Jack insisted.

"Sometimes people break their promises," Sam warned.

"She's coming. I know she is."

"Okay, Jack." Sam ducked back into the car, leaving the young Nephilim to wait in the cold. Jack turned on his heel to resume pacing.

He forgot he was standing on the ice.

Down Jack went. Yet again. Bashing his head on the asphalt. Yet again.

This time, Jack decided to just stay down for a bit and closed his eyes. He could hear Dean's obnoxious laughter echoing from inside the Impala. Jack came to the conclusion that black ice, and ice in general, was hard, impossible to walk on, and absolutely unforgiving when you slammed your head against it. Jack decided that he didn't like the black ice, he decided that he didn't like ice at all. This was fortunate as seemed as though the feeling was mutual.

There was a skidding noise somewhere off to his left and Jack opened his eyes. He turned his head towards the sound and directly beside him was Marty's amused looking face, only eight inches from his own.

"That was the most graceful thing I think I've ever seen in my life. You should consider ballet, Jack," She said.

Marty lay on the ice next to Jack with her head propped up on her elbow. Her mouth was twisted in a smirk and she held an eyebrow in a raised position. The expression appeared condescending, but Jack could see the sparks of affectionate mirth gleaming in her eyes.

Now, the reason why Marty was laying on the ground was a mystery to Jack. He was also baffled as to how she had managed to sneak up on him the way she had. If she had been walking down the street, he would have seen her coming, but he hadn’t, and it wasn't as though he had been laying on the ground for very long. If she had been close enough to see him fall, then how had he not seen her? Jack sat up and his brows pulled together in slight confusion.

"Where did you come from?" He asked. Marty followed his lead and sat up with a shrug. A large, overstuffed backpack was slung over her shoulders, yet she carried it with ease.

"From over there," She said, causally gesturing to the thicket of trees just behind the Motel as if it was a normal thing for people to go bushwhacking to their destination instead of simply taking the road.

"Why?" Jack wondered. Marty shrugged again.

"Cause' it's faster and way funner than using the road," She answered. Then she blinked and her face sort of scrunched up and she shook her head, laughing to herself. "Funner? Funner? That's not even a word! I think I need to use the sleep." Jack laughed with her for a moment before glancing to his feet and frowning. "What's wrong Jack-Jack?" The line between Jack's brows deepened and he looked to Marty.

"Why do you call me that?" He asked, temporarily distracted from his cold, slippery problem. Marty's mouth twitched with a tiny laugh.

"Jack-Jack is a character in a movie about superheroes. Have you ever seen The Incredibles?"

"No, I haven't."

"Oof, buddy! I'll have to show it to you one of these days, just remind me. Anyway, Jack-Jack is a baby with, like 50 different powers that he just uses willie-nillie and, yeah; it's a pretty funny movie and when you said you had powers and that you're, like two, that's just what I thought of," She explained. "And I'm rambling again, sorry!"

"I don't mind. I like knowing what you're thinking about," Said Jack. Marty ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a shy sort of way.

"Nah, you'll get tired of it eventually." Marty tapped her forehead. "Up here is nothin' but a random mix of movie quotes, song lyrics, and paradoxical questions."

"I don't think so," Jack said, shaking his head. Marty made a face.

"Well I do! I live up there, dude! Anyway, what was the long face for?" Her change of subject brought Jack to his problem.

"I don't like ice," He said, as if that explained everything. Marty raised an eyebrow in question, "It's impossible to walk on!" Jack exclaimed.

"Ah, I see. I guess that explains why you look like a homicide victim." Marty gestured to the frozen pools of Jack's blood on the tarmac and the blood coating the back of his head. "Want some help getting up?" Jack nodded.

Planting her feet on the icy surface, Marty stood and extended her hand for Jack to take. He used her arm to pull himself up, doing his best to replicate what Marty had done to stand. He wobbled a bit and almost fell back down, but Marty caught and steadied him before that happened. When he was vertical again, Jack glanced toward the Impala and realized that now he had to get over to it without falling. Marty was quick to notice his worry.

"Come on, Jack. It's really not that hard, look!" Letting go of his hand and sliding out onto the ice, she twirled once, jumped into the air and then twirled again, lifting her foot to her knee. Her foot touched back down and dragged her to a stop, facing Jack who looked like he'd seen a miracle. "See?" Marty did jazz-hands.

"I don't think I can do that," Jack said, sounding a little intimidated.

"Oh, no way. That took me years, I was just showing off!" She explained with a wave of her hand. Moving back to him, she reached down to pick up an instrument case and wrap a gray plastic grocery bag around her hand.

"You should teach me!"

Marty chuckled and pulled some of her hair away from her face. Her black-to-grey-to-white hair was down again today, descending all the way to her knees. Jack had never met anyone with hair that long, but he thought it was amazing.

"Alright, just remind me take you ice-skating and movie bingeing, kiddo."

"I don't think you can call me 'kiddo'," Jack said with a frown.

"Why not? If you don't like it, I'll stop saying it."

"Well, I am biologically older than you, right?" Jack pointed out. Marty chuckled.

"Where does a two-year-old hear a word like 'biologically'?"

"I heard Sam use it."

"Makes sense." Marty shrugged. "Anyway, you're right, but I call everyone 'kiddo' age doesn't really matter. I call people all sorts of things."

"Like what?"

"You'll find out, honey-bunches-of-oats."

"Is that one of them?"

"Yup!" Marty snatched Jack's hand and helped him over to the car where she knocked on the driver's side window. Dean rolled it down and she glanced at the men inside. "Hey guys!"

***

"H-hey, Marty! You-you came!" Sam greeted me, he sounded surprised.

"I promised I would!" I said, I didn't miss the 'I-told-you-so' look Jack shot at Sam, "Dean, could you pop the trunk? I've got precious cargo." I raised the instrument case with my violin up into view.

"Yeah, sure." Dean climbed out of the car and skidded a little getting to the back where he opened the trunk.

I swallowed deeply. There were a LOT of weapons in there. Dean pulled on a tab and a panel came down, covering the arsenal in the truck's false bottom. I placed my case in carefully and slid it all the way to the back. Taking off my backpack, I positioned it between the case and the truck's door so my instrument wouldn't slide around. It was the most valuable thing I owned; I couldn't have it getting damaged. I then nodded to Dean and he closed the trunk. I was really doing this.

Jack opened the Impala's door for me and clung to it like a lifeline as I gathered my hair and slid into the backseat next to Cas. The boy followed after me and pulled the door shut.

"Here we go." Dean put the car into gear and rolled it out onto the road.

"So, where are you guy's taking me?" I asked, shifting to get comfortable in my seat.

"Lebanon, Kansas," Dean answered.

"Ooh, that's a long way away. I'm sorry I was so late. Did I make you very late?" Dean shrugged.

"Doesn't really matter, but yeah."

"I'm really sorry, I just wanted to say goodbye to somebody," I apologized, "But I brought chocolate! Will that atone for my sins?" I raised the bag of goodies Dan had given me.

"Hell yeah!" Dean reached back and opened his hand for the brown gold. I dropped a truffle into his palm, tossing one into Sam's lap and handing another to Jack. I held one out to Cas but he turned me down.

"No thank you, Martina," The angel said, gently.

"It's Marty, remember?" I corrected him and shrugged, unwrapping the candy. "Well, more for me, I guess." Dean reached his hand back again, asking for seconds. "Dude, this is gonna be a long ride, we gotta save our provisions." I declared, dramatically slapping his hand away.

"Aw, man!"

"Suck it up, butter-cup." I was about to pop the candy into my mouth when I noticed something on the wrapper. "Does anybody here like nougat?" I asked. Jack's head snapped up, his eyes begged for the truffle in my hand.

"I do."

"Oh good! I can't stand the stuff!" I passed him the chocolate. Jack looked at me like I was insane.

"Oh no, Jack. She doesn't like nougat, are you sure you guys can be friends?" Sam joked. At least I was pretty sure he was joking.

"You say that like I committed high treason!" I chimed.

"I dunno, I do feel betrayed," Jack said with his mouth full. I faked a gasp.

"I don't believe this! Jack, are you breaking up with me?" Dean burst out laughing, Sam snorted, and Jack just gave me his lopsided grin. My comment even won a quiet chuckle from Cas. I took that as a good sign.

"Yeah, I think so." Jack chuckled.

"Can we still be friends?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my every word. Jack pretended to think about that.

"Only if you teach me to ice-skate," He mock-decided.

"It's a date! Wait, no its not, you broke up with me." I reached out and shook Jack's hand, sealing our satirical deal. The car shook with laughter and I gave myself a mental tally mark as I tied up my treat bag, placing it at my feet. When the laughter died down, Castiel was the first to speak up.

"Was that an instrument case you brought with you?" He asked.

"Yeah it is. Why?"

"I'd just like to get to know you," He answered simply.

"We all do. So, what instrument do you play, Marty?" Sam turned in his seat to look at me.

"Uh, I play the violin," I answered timidly.

"Are you very good?" Sam wondered.

"Um, well, I don't know. I'm sorta out of practice, but I started playing when I was eight," I replied. Sam chuckled.

"I'll take that as a yes." His tone was warm, despite his previous distrust. It made me smile, maybe I was winning him over.

"Okay, my turn," Dean spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"What's with the hair? I mean, that's a lot of hair. Why don't you cut it?" He asked. I bit my lip and nodded, trying to think of an acceptable answer.

"Well, my mom loved to braid hair, and my sisters, Bree and Jackie, hated having long hair so they cut theirs real short and my mom couldn't do anything with it, but I liked having my hair long. My mom would spend hours working on my hair, that was our time together. See, she always got so sad when I would cut it and now I just-" I stopped and looked at the floor of the Impala. "Now I just can't bring myself to cut it. Not without her. I don't want to make her sad. It's all I've got left of her." With a start, I realized I was crying and quickly wiped my tears away with my sleeve.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" I cut Dean off.

"It's okay." It had to be.

"Well, what about the color, what's that about? Or does this have a tragic story behind it too?" Dean asked, trying to make a joke. I cracked a smile.

"Oh, I've always wanted to have it like this. I love the fading colors, so hiding from a blood thirty vampire just gave me the motivation to actually go through with it," I shrugged.

"So, what's your real hair color?" Dean pressed.

"Black."

"Wait, that's natural?" He sounded stunned.

"Yeah!" I giggled a little. "The black is real, only the grey and white parts are dyed."

"You're lucky, black hair is cool. Looks good on you too."

"Thanks’ Dean."

That was when we passed the small, wooden sign on the side of the road. The paint was old, faded by the sun, and chipping away but I knew what the words said.

Now leaving Copper Harbor We'll get you back soon enough!

As I watched the town I'd called home for so many years fade from my view, I found myself hoping that I'd never return. I looked forward at the road ahead of me and the hunters beside me.

I looked to the future.

The future was looking pretty good.

~See, I had this crazy dream last night, this man he talked to me He told me everything that's good and bad about my history

He told me you are, you are the future

And the future looks good The future looks good to me~

Lyrics from: The Future Looks Good by One Republic

[julies-butterflies]

I must admit, sometimes I do feel like a ye olden solider, sending letters to my beloved across the waves during wartime. Oh my dearest Lydia, I hope the kudos and comments crops have been plentiful this season. Your last letter left me weeping. Why must you put poor Reginald through such pain?

(I gotta admit, I still can't believe that I'm talking to you. I've been looking up to your work for so long...it just feels a bit surreal, even now! Glad you like hearing my ramblings! And that you liked my vampire prompt! Did not realize you'd write back when I sent that in. Look at us now, huh?)

(Speaking of prompts, I sent those jukebox and willex ones too. And I loved them both so so much, I shall scream about them more when it is not 2 am because I need sleep)

(Oh and the update of If I Was You!!! Amazing, Stellar, Incredible, Reggie, Carrie, Julie shenanigans is my new favorite thing, DID YOU JUST DOUBLE THE CHAPTER COUNT, and I'm like 90% sure Trevor is in deep trouble with a certain angry jazz ghost. Seriously loving it)

I actually do not remember what it was like to send in 1/5 asks, because I did not get a Tumblr until very reccently! I've always been a nerdy person, but Jatp is my first time being really in a fandom. You gotta do something new in quarantine, right?

Ah yes. Luke and Emily. To me, it just seems obvious that there's so much love between them. Even with all the pain. You get it. You put it down so eloquently.

As for what kind of stories I like to read...it seriously depends on my mood.

I like niche aus, passion projects. Stories where you can just feel the author's love for the world they're inventing. But I tend to lean towards cannonverse. I like ghost stories, it's what drew me to this show in the first place. And I love exploring that concept. (Being forever gone, and always the same...it's just fascinating to me)

Platonic goodness is just WONDERFUL for this show. I will read anything with cuddles. I am touched starved and these kiddos are too, and I will cry about them puppy piling every damn day. Plus there's just some much POTENTIAL for future friendships! I love ones where Flynn and Carrie get to interact with the boys as well. And 90s content, from before and after the orpheum, just hits hard.

I really wasn't expecting to get invested in the couples on this show, but something about them is moving to me. So I do love to read about them. Watching two queer kids who lived during incredibly important areas of queer history find love together after death really hit hard for me, and there's just something so bittersweet about a girl and ghost deciding to love each other for the little time they're given.

I love family dynamics too. Anything with Ray and his seven disaster children, the band and Trevor.... I think Julie and Emily is one of my favorite dynamics to explore. A girl who lost her mother and a mother who lost her son, both grieving but with one able to speak to the dead...it's just very powerful to me.

(And of course, Luke and Emily, but I figured you already knew that)

Mostly...I like seeing the messy stuff. The unexpected consequences, the baggage. I want to see the messy emotions, the grief and anger, the jealously, the disorientation. I look for those glass shards, that might be too sharp to ever be addressed on the show. Not even the big, monumental plot lines just... the harder pieces of life, the little moments that don't fit neatly into a nine episode arc.

I just want to see them live you know? Love, laughter and loss all mixed together.

(One of my all time favorite tropes is "found family gets broken apart by trauma, only to find each other again and come back stronger than ever." I feel like this explains a lot of my taste in fiction)

Thank you for the writing advice. Your words were very motivating. I am trying to begin! I got up the nerve to start working on a little piece. Who knows if it will go anywhere. But it's been nice, to finally put some words on the page.

The POTC au is so freaking good man. The character dynamics are just on FIRE. Everything is broken and messy and the relationships genuinely tug at my heartstrings. It's such a fascinating story. Highly recommend, even with the cliff hangers.

OH HOW COULD I FORGET PAWPRINTER? Man oh man I love all her work. The wheelies art and steals universe is freaking amazing, not an avacado had me in tears (of laughter, till things got surprisingly sad). And All that Remains...slow burn Willex perfection. Jedi Alex and Pilot Willie have my HEART.

I don't think I've read firefall and weneedglitter (or if I have, I'm just not connecting the names to their pieces. I don't always remember author names. it's a problem). I will go look for them though! Cannot wait!

For more recs, I recently binge read We Found Wonderland. I was not mentally prepared for the sheer amount of feelings that gave me. Highly recommend, if you ever want an emotional rollercoaster with an incredibly satisfying end.

Going on to more serious subjects...I'm sorry your family doesn't see your grief for what it is: honest. Better to feel everything quietly, than make it an easily understadnable performance. Fake grief is so easy to spot.

I think of that scene from "Forever," when Buffy breaks down and tells Dawn that she has to keep busy, because if she stops, it means Joyce is really gone. There's a lot of truth there.

On a tangent here but.. there was a very long period in my life when I was told the ways I expressed my emotions were "incorrect". And I found that sometimes, no matter how you show your emotions, you'll always be criticized. Numbness can be called disinterest, but sobbing can be called attention-seeking too. Too big, too small: that jury was impossible to please This may not apply in your situation but...it's okay to feel however you can. It's the only think you can do, really.

As I've said before, Grief is such an odd trickster.

Don't you ever get tired of missing people... This past year, I've been so weary of grief. Sometimes it can be so sharp, but it's that dull ache. That ball and chain, no longer cutting through your skin, but rubbing it raw, weighing you down.

And people don't like to talk about that part, because it's long and tiresome, but oh, is it there. I find it hard to talk about my grief, because sometimes there's just so much of it. I could drown in it, and that fear keeps me from looking to close. To incorrectly quote Jane Austin: "If I missed you a little less, I might be able to talk about it more."

(Sometimes it's faceable. But sometimes you just can't bear it. And that's okay.)

But what you wrote in that eulogy...the love is there. It's in every word you write. I cried reading that section. I feel honored once again to see some of your jagged pieces. You're sharing your heart, and there's just so much love.

In the wise words of an author I know, "Love is like the snow Reggie. It never goes away."

And don't worry, I'm always with you.

Sending Love,

-LydiaStan7845 (aka Vampire Anon)

So...that Reggie and Nicky prompt

my god

my GOD

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

I think it's safe to say congrats, you've officially destroyed me! I was not prepared for that at ALL. I should know better by now I guess.

I can't get over that even though they all take place in very different universe, all your stories just feel so connected! The way this talked about those headphones, which you mentioned in the first chapter of Kill Your Heroes...it's just so cool. All the characterization and backstory is just so well thought out, and it genuinely blows my mind.

I didn't think I could love Nicky Peters more. I was wrong. The way you write about him...even though you never go into exactly what happened to him after Reggie's death, you can just feel how much it's shapped him as a person. And the trauma around his father, and how he fears becoming like that, was just so beautifully written. He's just so lovable and flawed and trying so damn hard and you made my heart ache for him. Again.

You always take these genuinely crazy situations and...you just make them feel so real. I love you explore the strains such a revelation would put on Nicky's own life, it just makes everything so compellingly messy. It seriously feel like I was watching a real-life account of a family trying to deal with such a massive complication.

That porch scene had me in tears both times I read it. Reggie's just always a big brother, even though Nicky is more than twice his age now. My heart was shattered, and then you slowly mended it, piece by piece. And for absolutely no reason at all, you wouldn't happen to have a reference for the porch, would you?

Just wow. Hope you're doing well. Sending love and applause

-Vampire Anon

i’m not even gonna reply, but i want these documented... on my blog... for posterity.  ( for any curious onlookers, i’m dating this anon now!! )

[nct-perrie]

Insight to Perrie

Personality

Perrie is an introvert. At first glance many see her as shy and quiet, which is how she feels around new people. However, as she gets comfortable around someone, she becomes much more talkative and loud. She tends to feed off of the energy of those around her, meaning if someone is more quiet and enjoys a peaceful atmosphere she will change to suit that. Whereas if she is around someone more outgoing and loud, she will become more like that as well.

However, her personality changes very often. Her emotions are very rarely stable and they tend to change very quickly. Growing up she was called overly emotional, annoying, unstable because of these changes. When she does feel emotions, they are always really strong to her and can lead to her being overwhelmed or she can overwhelm others. Therefore, when it comes to certain things, it seems that she is being overdramatic but that is actually how she is.

These feelings have led to some unhealthy attitudes or coping mechanisms. Its better now but when she was younger, she had a hard time with anger outburst and a lot of negative emotions. These feelings could lead to her being in a very bad mindset for a long time but luckily those around her know how to get her out of that and keep her from falling into that mindset. However, because she feels everything extremely, it also applies to the more positive emotions. When she is happy, she tends to be very cheerful and gives off a very positive aura.

She tends to have a fight or flight reflex very often. She can either be very blunt and almost hurtful without meaning to or she can get scared, anxious, etc and push people away. She know that this is not a good thing to do and she is working on it but it is still a very hard things to control. Despite her emotions being in a lot of different places, she can be a very good shoulder to lean on. She is very good at detecting other people emotions and can be very empathetic. She is also one of the first ones to stand up for those she cares about. When it comes to protecting those important to her, she doesn't care if it cast a negative light on her as long as the other people are okay and protected.

Because it is hard for her to verbally express emotions, she tend to be very physically affection with people and she gives a lot of attention to them.

She is also really honest and blunt. She may not be one to always voice herself but when it comes to standing up for others, she is always the first one to act. She's a big supporter of the LGBTQ community and does not shy away. She is very vocal about things that piss her off like animal cruelty and racism. Many of these things have led to her being labeled as a troublemaker but it all comes from a good place in her heart.

Piercing's

She has always enjoyed anything that gave her the ability to express herself. Piercings were one of the first things she got for herself. These are something she doesn't tend to think through or get her member to talk to her before she gets them - unlike with tattoos - because she figures if they close up, they close up and if she really wanted that piercing back she can get it re-pierced.

― Ear Piercings she has too many to count. She likes trying different designs and ideas with the earrings, so she has a few holes that she rarely used and some have closed up. However, she almost always has atleast 4 or 5 in each ear all the time.

― Nose Piercing she only has one on the right side of her nose. She got it when she turned 18. She usually has a small golden hoop through it but she changes it quite often.

― Snake Bite Piercings she originally was just going to get the left side of her lip pierced but she saw some pictures of snake bites and decided shed get both. She usually has two black hoops on her lip, but will sometimes interchange them with silver hoops. There are also times, usually during promotions that she will wear only one of them. She got this during the Simon Says promotions.

― Eyebrow Piercing this was one piercing she always wanted and she was planning on getting it late 2019 but unfortunately couldn't. She ended up getting is early 2020 with Yuta when he got his belly piercing. It is on her left eyebrow. She has two different kinds. She has the regular silver and black studs and usually changes them every few months.

Tattoos

Tattoos are something Perrie always wanted. She liked the idea that they allowed for a person to express themselves and also the fact that they can showcase important things in a person's life. Unlike piercings, she tends to make sure her members keep her from getting a tattoo until she thought about it for a month or two just because she know that she can be kind of impulsive. This responsibility usually falls on Yuta, Johnny, and Doyoung.

She has over 20 tattoos, but they all represent very important things to her and she knows they wont have any regrets about them even in the future.

― Culture/Family tattoo These four tattoos are actually a set that goes together. They are cultural tattoos that represent the important parts of a life. The signs of the hands represent handiwork and tools. They basically emphasis the importance of doing your own work. The chest/rip tattoos are suppose to represent your heart and the feelings you carry around with you. The tattoos on the feet represent staying connected to the Earth and staying down to Earth. The final tattoo is on her back. This tattoo represent a support system. Overall, all of these connect Perrie to her family and are important to her culture.

―Smaller Tattoos The feather, semi-colon, and bow are on her right wrist. The feather is on the inner side of her wrist, the semi-colon is one the outer side of her wrist, and the bow is on the the inside of the wrist right next to the semi-colon. The breathe is on her left wrist on the inner side of wrist. The drawing of France is is one her right ankle on the outer side. The small elephant is on her left inner ankle.

» Meaning » The feather is in honor of her paternal grandfather. When she was younger, they used to collect bird feather together. The semi-colon represents her choice to move forward even when she wanted to stop. The bow represents her childhood and her fans. When she was younger she had the biggest obsession with bows and when her fans found out a lot of them gifted them to her. The outline of Paris represent her home which is in France. The elephant was actually her very first tattoo. This one was done with a little spite towards it because so many people were saying that she shouldn't get a tattoo. However, she was going to get one anyway and this one was a test run to see for the future. 

― Right shoulder and Tricep Tattoo This is actually one whole tattoo that is connected. It starts on her right shoulder and goes down and around her tricep. The saying means "In death, may they find peace"

» Meaning » This is for her mother who died in 2018. She designed it herself and made sure to add her mothers favorite flowers. 

― Quote/saying Tattoo The first tattoo is on her right foot on the inner side. The second tattoo is on the front of her left thigh. The third tattoo on the far upper right corner is on her back just underneath the cultural tattoo. It is a little pass her mid-back. She has the "no matter what" tattoo on her left outer forearm.

» Meaning » The first tattoo she got when she got her eyebrow pierced in 2020. She got it after her car accident and wanted to remind herself that life is precious. The second tattoo is a quote of what she is trying to learn herself. She wanted to be happy with you she is and she is working really hard on doing things for herself. She got the third tattoo to represent how the public sees her. How they only really see what they want. The fourth tattoo she got with Haechan. He said he wanted a tattoo but was a bit nervous so Hannah went with him and they got matching ones. The last one represents her own feelings. Perrie has always looked down on herself because of her feelings and how fast they change or grow and this tattoo is to tell herself its okay to feel what she is feeling.

― More Tattoos The tattoo with the flower pattern is on the front of her left forearm. The butterfly are on her right side. It begins on her side a little bit behind her armpit and moves towards her ribs. The third tattoo is on her right tricep on the outside, just above her elbow. The mountain tattoo is on her left inner tricep. The fifth tattoo with the female sign is on her left inner forearm just under the elbow.

» Meaning » The flower pattern is in honor of her maternal grandmother who also died in 2018. It is actually a replica of one of her grandmothers drawings. The butterflies represent change and how Perrie has gone through her own changes to become who she is. The third tattoo actually had to do with the abortion laws and she wanted to show that she supports pro-choice. The mountain and moon tattoo is a matching one she got with San. The mountain represent him, the moon represent her, and the star Gemini sign represents the month and day they met. The final tattoo represents her love of women and also that she loves being a women. 

― Final Six The first tattoo is on her left hip bone. It is usually hidden by pants. The flower design is on her righter outer thigh. The third tattoo is on the back of her right calf, just underneath her knee. The love tattoo is on her inner right forearm, underneath the crease of her elbow. The fifth tattoo is on her left outer ankle. The final tattoo is behind her left ear.

» Meaning » The first tattoo is pretty obvious. Its a little reminder she set for herself. The pink flowers are for her maternal grandfather. This flower is one her grandfather used to paint. The third tattoo represent her love for reading. Growing up there were not many things that kept her attention, but books and reading was one of the rare things she always found joy in. The love is love tattoo is fairly obvious. Perrie has always shown her support and she want to let people know that she is on their side and that she will support them regardless of who they love. The red band tattoo is one she got with her childhood best friend. Its based on the legend of soulmates. The final tattoo is another obvious one. It represents her love for music.

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (ii)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): alcohol, swearing, general banter, kissin’ boys, oh and stephen tries is drunk word count: 4k  a/n: part two of five, part one can be found here / things!! get!! interesting!! so we have finally began the rising action part of the story and things get a bit heated in more ways than one ;) this was one of my favorite parts of the entire story for the longest time. anyways i hope you guys enjoy x 

London, England December 2019

“I don’t know what I’m gonna wear!” 

“A dress! A skirt! Those denim shorts you bought last week-”

“It’s December, Cleo,” 

“And you were the one who bought them in December!” She called out with an eye roll. “And you know, a hoe never gets cold,” Cleo said, mimicking the video that plagued the girls’ group-chat every Friday night from October until May. 

(Y/N) groaned at the infamous quote and pulled out the first article of clothing she spotted on her wardrobe rack - a black bodysuit, bought months ago while lounging on her sofa with a hangover, but that didn’t stop her from planning her next party outfit. It came in handy during the times she had no idea what to wear, just like this night. 

Sliding on the black bodysuit and into a pair of denim jeans, she looked at herself in the mirror, spinning around, looking over her shoulder, posing, trying to catch herself from all angles to deem it worthy. 

“Have you seen my- oh, you look hot,” Cleo cut her own self off when she barged into (Y/N)’s room, welding a tube of mascara in one hand and an eyelash curler in the other. Panic written across her face as their eyes met. “Have you seen my mascara primer?” 

She nodded and pointed to the vanity across the room. “Had to borrow it. It should be with mine.” She said and Cleo slid over, searching through the makeup bags on the counter.

“Ah, found it,” Cleo said before looking back at her best friend who was posing in the mirror while tugging the shoulder-less top down to reveal more of her chest. She rolled her eyes. “If that top gets any lower for Adrian tonight-” 

“Oh shut it. I’m not wearing it for him.” 

“Who’s it for then?” 

“For myself, thank you,” she said, turning and grabbing a tube of lipstick off the small table, applying the finishing coat. “It’s my first night out since we split and I plan on looking good for no one else other than myself. So,” she paused, raising a brow, “hurry up so we can go.” 

“You can't rush mascara or perfection, love,” Cleo groaned before swiftly leaving the bedroom to her own.

The girls met in the living room fifteen minutes later, five minutes after they originally planned to leave. After sliding into heels, throwing lipstick, their own drinks, and IDs into their bags, they left their flat, whisking down to catch the Uber that had been waiting for them. They were usually good with driving to James’ flat, taking turns with drinking each week, but this Friday both girls planned to drink more than they could handle. It was supposed to be Cleo’s week to drink and (Y/N)’s turn to drive, but after a bit of heartbreak no less than 72 hours ago, Cleo gave her some slack and they split a drive across the city. How they would get home later was just up to the party gods. 

The vibrating bass of an Oliver Tree song led the girls right to the front door of James’ flat. 

The door was open, people popping in and out from the hallway, and they found themselves among those heading inside. They dodged the unfamiliar people that littered the space in the foyer, pushing inwards until they reached the center of everything and everyone in the living room - the multicolored lights revolving around the room, the drinks pouring behind them, dancing bodies filled the space between the sofas and next to the foosball table. Most house-parties didn’t truly start until 11 o’clock, but the height of these parties hit at 10 p.m. - better drinks, people not yet on the verge of blacking out, and better music. It beat going to a nightclub and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with people you didn’t know while downing an eight pound drink and dancing to yet another Rihanna remix. 

Like she was trained, her eyes instantly scanned the familiar space for Adrian, only for her mission to be cut short when James found her first, breaking away from his own girlfriend to greet them both. 

“Heyy!” She could tell he was already tipsy, borderline drunk, just like how the host of a party should be when everyone started to arrive. Laughing, she threw her arms around him and pulled him close, rocking from side-to-side before pulling apart and allowing him to hug Cleo, who stepped around from behind her. 

It was when she pulled back that she spotted him, but not because she was looking for him, but because he was looking for her. Adrian saw her come in, a light shine down onto her like she was the only person in the room, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she wore that off-the-shoulder top for him. 

Taking a step back while Cleo and James clashed in laughter and hugs, she looked at him, and her eyes followed his head as he looked down while a petite brunette leaned up to whisper in his ear. She felt her heart drop into her stomach and felt dumb for talking herself into believing he would come alone. Hell, the first time she met him at a party he had brought a date.

It was just a glance, tenths of a second, but it felt like an eternity. She needed something to distract her. Standing there, she decided that the pre-game bottle of rum wasn’t enough. She needed something a lot stronger in her system - she needed something that would make her dance, make her forget. 

When Cleo and James pulled apart, she grabbed Cleo’s hand and their eyes met through the flashing lights. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.” 

Cleo, the friend who was known to always be down for a good time, followed behind with no hesitation. She allowed (Y/N) to guide her through the bodies and straight to the table. They grabbed cups and made a concoction out of vodka and fizzy drinks, more vodka than anything else, and then downed them in just a few gulps. 

They poured another, this time to the rim, and carried the drinks to the floor while finding the rest of their friends with the intentions of working the room. Cleo spotted Becky in the hallway and nearly jumped over everyone to get to her and say hi, while leaving (Y/N) to sit on the kitchen island and talk to whoever came by. She chatted with Tobi and Josh and eventually Callum, and then Stephen stumbled (literally) around - it was Stephen who had his fair share of tequila shots, his eyes wild and laughter heightened, which made him much more ten times more fun than normal. 

“We just got back like two days ago!” Stephen called out as they talked about his trip to New York. “I’m still fuckin’ jet lagged but there’s no better time to get smashed then, aye?” 

She shook her head and his girlfriend, Zoe, leaned into her to speak over the music. “He won’t admit it but he threw up in the bathroom of a Broadway show after betting me he could eat an entire pizza by himself in half an hour.” 

While laughing, she raised her head and looked over everyone to see yet another familiar face, not uncommon in the flat, but this was one she hadn’t seen all night.

“William!” (Y/N) called out above the music, her face brightening, mostly due to the alcohol in her system, half due to the fact that she hadn’t talked to him since yesterday. The friend group was so close they often never went over 12 hours without talking to each other, barely 72 hours without being in the same room. 

She watched him, hovering above everyone else, push past circled groups and stop straight between her knees. He was tall enough to just be a few inches shorter even while she was perched on a tall kitchen stationary. 

“I didn’t know if you were coming or not.” She said, an arm sliding over his shoulders while he placed himself between her knees. His arm slipped around her torso, innocently letting his hand rest on the band of her jeans. 

“Ah, couldn’t resist it in the end. Had to come.” 

“Because you knew I would be here.” She teased with the biggest smile, digging a finger into his dimple, drawing a cheeky smile from him before he swatted her hand away. “Seriously glad you’re here though.” 

He leaned against her for support, “yeah, I was too,”

“And then Hanna walked in.” Stephen piped up, taking another sip from his drink, and Zoe slapped him on the arm. 

(Y/N) brow scrunched as the cup of vodka fell from her lips, glancing from Stephen and then back to Will. “She’s here?” 

Will let out a deep breath, using his hand to motion to the floor, but shrugged it off a second later. “With some bloke.” 

Using the height of the stationary to her advantage, she scanned the party, over each head, every face, until she finally spotted Hanna and her date. They were standing next to the coffee table, his arm around her waist while they talked closely, sharing a drink between them among the others who were dancing. 

“Well that’s a bit fucked,” she said under the music. 

Will nodded and looked up at her, pulling her apart from the conversation with Stephen and Zoe. “I saw Adrian too,” he said and she looked down at him, noting the way his hat shifted on his head, “now that’s a bit fucked.” 

She snorted at his repeated words. “Tell me about it,” 

“So how about we,” he paused, grinning, “go get some tequila shots?” 

It was normal for Will to pretend that things didn’t bother him, that he never let things get to him. Even though this time it was obvious he wanted to avoid all talk of his ex-girlfriend, they let it slide. The question wasn’t even really a question for her. Drinking and drinking and taking shots was the only thing in her agenda that night. 

“That’s a hard bargain you drive, William..”

“Stop talking like that and come on,” he said through small laughs.

He grabbed her hand and helped her hop down off the island, leaving her cup and the couple behind as they pushed through the throngs of people back to the drink table. It was actually a dining table, but tonight it served one purpose and one purpose only - the insane abundance of alcohol brought in to be stored and mixed. While allowing him to guide her, the effects of all of her drinks were starting to hit once and for all. The music was suddenly louder, the lights became blurry, her steps were a bit lighter.

It was the time in the night when it truly felt like a party scene from a movie - everyone dancing and laughing in slow motion, drinks spilling, the music becoming overpowering and propelling them forward. It was the moments that (Y/N) cherished the most. 

In the back of the room, she shouldered her bag and watched Will pour tequila into two small shot glasses that looked like cacti. He sat the bottle down and handed her a glass, keeping the other for himself. 

“To fuck all,” he finally said and she laughed, raising her arm. 

“To fuck all,” she repeated, clinking her glass with his. 

Bringing the small glass to her lips, she turned the bottom up, allowing the rich alcohol to slide down her throat, burning all the way down to her stomach. Her face twisted at the taste and so did Will’s, both laughing at their reactions seconds later. 

“Okay,” she said sitting the glass down and wiping the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, “again,” 

“Again?” His voice was heightened, face still scrunched from the taste. 

“I need something that will get me to dance here. And no amount of beer is going to give me the courage.” 

He smiled, popping the top off the bottle again, “okay, okay, one more, and then we’ll dance, yeah?” He poured the shots, handing her the same glass. “Here’s to… dancing?” 

“To dancing until someone plays Aitch?” 

“We’ll be dead asleep on a floor way before then.” 

It was only 12:30 a.m. to be fair. But more hours of drinking like this until someone played Taste would surely have them landed in a hospital. 

“Alright, to just dancing then, you knob,” she cursed back at him and he chuckled. 

They clinked their glasses together and slammed them back with no problem. On top of the drinks already in them, it didn’t take long for the effects of the tequila to take over. In the midst of the bodies, they were on the makeshift dance floor, dancing to the beat of every song as the alcohol coursed through their veins, as their heads spun. 

James had regained control of his own speaker from Alex and played from his playlist, which at the moment was filled with nothing but The 1975. He had saved all of their songs again in preparation for the upcoming show they were all attending, and this would have been good to practice to learn their songs if everyone going to the show wasn’t already pissed out of their minds.

The bass of She’s American thumped against the walls, surely granting them a noise complaint in the future, but the party carried on. (Y/N) danced among everyone, her hips rocking to the beat while she sang loudly. On the floor between the sofas, she could feel Adrian’s eyes on her. To be fair, his eyes hadn’t left her longer for three minutes the entire night - he was watching how she laughed with her friends, how easily she downed shots, and how she danced with the people she always told him were “just friends” for months.

She was well aware Adrian was looking when she turned to Will - Will’s hands shooting out to take hers as her body teetered and they laughed while she steadied her stance. Over Will’s shoulder when he stepped in closer, she could make out Hanna standing by the patio door, her eyes trained on them while they moved freely together.

“They’re watching us.” She thought out loud when the song changed to Give Yourself A Try. Gasps and shouts of excitement filled the room before more bodies filled the space between the two sofas, pushing everyone closer together. 

Will stood back to his normal height, eyebrow raised. “You want to give them something to watch?” He asked and she nodded innocently, not clear of exactly what his intentions were until he touched her waist. 

She followed his lead, allowing him to turn her around and step behind her, hands gripping her hips, guiding her back against his lap. The heavy beat of the song replaced the lyrics in her brain, and she rocked her hips against him to the fast tempo, the lights moving rapidly across their bodies. The idea of both of their exes watching drove them to make irrational decisions, and that included allowing them to dance this closely.

Leaning back against his chest, her arm snaked around his neck. Every move was a bad decision that night, so she was going to make all of them if it meant a little bit of revenge. 

“They made us jealous,” she whispered, head tilting back against his chest. Their breath was hot, mouths close. His eyes focused down on her, and her eyes flickered between his and his lips, then back up, “so let’s make them jealous.” 

His hand raised from her hip and grabbed her face, her hand on the back of his head, and they allowed their mouths to meet in the middle. He tasted like lime and she tasted like cherry chapstick and the tequila they had downed fifteen minutes ago, their heads were swirling. 

It was a harmless kiss, it wasn’t the first time they kissed after all. Another time, almost two years ago on a trip to Barcelona, they had too many drinks and spent the entire night after the club making out on the chaise lounge of their Airbnb while everyone else was asleep. It didn’t lead to anything and it actually became a running joke between them, because whatever attraction they had to each other, was only brought out through alcohol.

This night included. 

Because (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she would have turned around and pressed herself harder against him to deepen the kiss if there wasn’t a bit of something in her system. When she began to taste the alcohol on his tongue, the threads of her own sobriety started to weave together, and she knew this was a bad idea - kissing him like this, in a fit of petty revenge on their own exes who couldn’t help but watch on, their own anger boiling inside of them. But she didn’t care, in fact, she liked it.

When she stumbled back into the coffee table and their lips broke apart, it’s less than a second later that Will grabbed her arm and pulled her to the outskirts of the room, and her back was against the wall and his lips on hers again. That’s when she realized that maybe, just maybe, he liked it too.

***

When her eyes flutter open no less than five hours after she and Cleo stumbled back into their flat, the sun was already flooding her room through her sheer curtains. She closed her eyes again, shoving her head under the white duvet in an attempt to shield herself and her hangover from the world. No amount of painkillers or blue raspberry sports drinks was enough to fight off more or less than a dozen shots and a few drinks over the span of a few hours. 

From under the layers on her bed, she could hear Cleo down the hallway in the kitchen, flipping knobs on the stove, getting out plates. Cleo had always been an early riser no matter what the last night consisted of, and frankly, it was the worst part of being flatmates with her. She was just thankful that she made it to her bedroom and wasn’t on the sofa again, waking up to the sound of cupboards slamming at the ungodly hours of 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning. 

Cleo had found her under the covers an hour later - pushing her way into the bedroom with a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of Advil in the other. She laughed at the small ball bundled under the covers that was nursing a hangover and an upset stomach. 

“Hate yourself?” 

“What’s new,” she huffed, throwing her arms out and throwing the blanket off her. She squinted at the lights again, but her eyes adjusted quickly soon after. “What time is it?” 

“Almost ten,” Cleo said with a mouth full of toast, sitting down on the edge of her friend’s bed, holding out a plate of food. “Take a piece. I know you don’t want it, but you need it.” 

She knocked a couple tablets out of the bottle and handed them to (Y/N), allowing her to take them with the sports drink leftover on her nightstand. “Why are you up early this time?” 

“Because I didn’t drink as much as you did,” she said, taking the bottle back, holding it in her hand while she watched her shovel bread into her mouth. “And I think you are still drunk.” 

“Feel like hell,” 

“Yeah you’re still drunk.” Cleo laughed. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the traffic on the street outside their flat, to the crunching of the toast that made them laugh together a few seconds after. “So are you going to talk to me about it?” 

She raised a brow, knocking the crumbs off her hands off the side of her bed and placing the plate on the nightstand. “About what?” She asked, her mouth still full of bread. 

Cleo deadpanned, not believing the way she was playing off the events that happened just a mere few hours ago. The entire party was talking about it, or those who were stone-cold sober anyways, and on the nightstand her phone had been blowing up for at least an hour with texts and calls about it.

“Whatever happened between you and Will last night.” Cleo continued, remembering how she found them making-out against the wall in the living room. “Because I, for one, would like to know because… what the fuck, love?” 

Moments from last night flashed in the back of her mind - the burn of the tequila, the beat of the song, Will’s hands on her hips, her tongue in his mouth - and she slid down further into the bed, hands raising up to cover her face.

“No, no,” Cleo laughed, hopping up on the bed, straddling her friend’s waist. “You have to tell me. All of us are so confused because we all saw it and we have no idea what happened. One second I was banging back a shot and another second you were banging Will.” Cleo tried to pull her hands away from her face but only received a slap to her own hands and they both laughed. 

“Because I’m not sure either,” she said as Cleo dropped her hands. “It just… happened, you know?” 

“No, love, I don’t know. I don’t know how one goes from being a strong, independent single lady to making out with one of their best friends within well… an hour?” 

“It was the tequila shots, I tell you. They never did me well.” 

Cleo shook her head and rolled off the bed, her slippers hitting the carpeted floors. “Whatever, I’ll just tell everyone you did it to make Adrian jealous.” She said walking to the door. “And come eat breakfast, I didn’t bloody slave over a stove for you to not eat.” 

Her body stilled in the bed listening to Cleo’s explanation because in truth, that’s exactly what it was. A harmless kiss to make their exes jealous did turn into much more than that, but they were successful in the attempt. 

After seeing his ex-girlfriend kiss the friend she had always been closest too, Adrian and his date stormed out to the patio, and Hanna tried mimicking them, throwing herself onto her date in a desperate attempt to get Will to notice, but he was too busy with his own agenda to even give her a glance. 

When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hands flat against her lower back, the way his mouth slid against hers. It reminded her of the trip to Barcelona, but it felt different. It felt like this time they were more than just two drunk friends making out on a whim. And now that she was (slightly) sobered up, she didn’t know exactly how to feel about it. Her already fucked up emotions were thrown in a loop of denial, repressed heartbreak, and confusion. 

When the door clicked shut, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and pressed the button to see the screen light up with notifications - texts, phone calls, tweets, anything and everything from those trying to reach her. 

Cleo Gallagher hi hi are you awake if you are come eat also what the fuck happened last night

Jorge Why the heck is will saying you snogged him 

James + epals alright who stole the inflatable penis from the bathroom 

She also woke up to a hefty Instagram block from Hanna, which made her double-check Adrian’s Instagram too, but his private profile (that she unfollowed in a petty fit three days ago) came up like normal. She had unblocked his number last night too in fear that he would text her after the party and she wouldn’t know, but as of that hour, nothing had come from him either. 

And in an odd sense, she was okay with that. 

Tossing the phone down on the bed, her hands met her face again and she let out a deep breath. 

[kzspbrak]

Montgomery De La Cruz Masterpost

Before I start his, I want to warn for spoilers obviously, and also say that I do not condone what Monty did to many of the characters, and he is by no means a good person—and I will not be trying to argue that. However, I will be analysing his character to the best of my abilities and show how he is one of the most complex the show has to offer. I’d also like to say that if I’ve missed anything or anyone disagrees with anything I’ve said, please add it below or carry this on!!

I also might carry this on if I realise I forgot anything or have any new ideas, this will probably be quite messy too—so apologies in advance.

Abuse

It is made very apparent to us that Monty is abused throughout the show as a whole. His dad beats him to the point where he has to run away relatively frequently to hide from his dad. We also see in season 3 that his dad is exceptionally homophobic, which comes in more later.

Some of the effects physical abuse can have on a person include behaviour issues, criminal behaviour, depression, drug and alcohol problems, issues at school, and anxiety. Montgomery shows that he has many of these traits—even if it’s just minor, showing us that the abuse he has received for his whole life is what shaped him into the monster he can be.

Parallels with Justin

The physical abuse also draws some heavy parallels with Justin, especially when you look at the two’s friendships with Bryce. Both boys felt the need to protect Bryce until the end and heavily depended on him (even in season 3 we see Justin still have communication with Bryce). Their friendships with Bryce are also similar because of how little Bryce needs them in return, and how easily he drops them both.

It is very clear that Justin is jealous of Bryce throughout season one—we see him walk around his house and get extremely upset over his seemingly perfect family life and home environment. We don’t get this with Monty, but the already drawn parallels can suggest that he felt the same, or even stronger towards Bryce. The abuse that both Justin and Monty receive at home is what draws them to Bryce, he was their protection, their only family and the one person they thought they could trust. This, as we know, leads Justin to lie to Jessica about Bryce raping her to protect Bryce, and we see Monty go even further to protect him throughout season 2 as he threatens and torments the people testifying against Bryce.

Sexuality and Self Hatred

Internalised Homophobia

The root of Monty’s internalised homophobia is his dad, and then isn’t helped by the toxic masculinity and homophobic attitudes his friends also hold. Many people, that I’ve seen, are unhappy that they made Montgomery gay, because it takes away from or redeems what he did. If you pay attention to the little screen time he’s given in the previous two seasons, it isn’t that difficult to work out. He is the very realistic homophobic bully that’s actually gay. It’s sadly a common thing, and anything but a simple redemption arc. Montgomery’s whole character is rooted in hatred—hatred towards himself and his desires, his peers for being happy and comfortable with themselves, his dad and family life, and at the people trying to take away the one person ‘protecting’ him. The root of this hatred is shown to be internalised homophobia in season 3.

The internalised homophobia he has also shows through somewhat anxious behaviour at times, as well as violent outbursts. For example him getting worked up in the car with Bryce, worried that Winston would speak up after taking the money—Bryce just sees that as him not wanting the police to get involved, but as the audience we know it’s about something much more terrifying to Monty.

Winston

Montgomery’s first interaction with Winston also links into his self hatred. He gives into his desires/urges and has Winston suck his dick, again I’ve seen people say that this scene was bad—and Monty was a bad person for the way he treated Winston. I disagree, if you watch the scene Winston is going along with the situation, and shows no signs of being uncomfortable. Monty, however, is very obviously mad at himself for giving in—and later lashes out on Winston as a way to cope with it.

Later on in the series, after Bryce is done with Monty for good, and calls him a coward, Monty runs into Winston again—this time he’s nice to him, and they enjoy the weekend together. You could say that in a way, Bryce calling him a coward is what lead him to go through with seeing Winston again, Montgomery obviously knew he was gay—he was just scared of it and hated himself because of it. He knew he was a coward, and tried to get over the internalised homophobia.

“You can be whatever you want to be.” / “No, I can’t.”

This line really stuck with me, and I think is because of how many things it could mean. It sums up Monty as a character in a sense.

You could interpret it as him wanting to be happy in who he is as a gay man, but knowing he won’t allow himself to be, or his friends and family won’t. It could mean that he doesn’t want to be gay, but he has to except that he is. Or it could go a lot deeper, Montgomery wants to be happy, have a family, have his friend back, be with winston, not be with winston—so many things, and in reality he knows he can’t have any of them.

There is also the context of him raping Tyler, he knows he did it and he also knows that Bryce knows, so he’s probably already aware that Tyler will come forward at one point.

I personally like to interpret the line, after talking about it with a few friends, as him wanting to be happy in who he is. He knows he’s gay, he knows that he likes winston to some extent, and he knows that his family and friends would disown him if they found out. He wants to have everything he doesn’t that Bryce and everyone else seems to have, but knows that it’s impossible. He wants to not be a coward, essentially, he doesn’t want to be the coward who followed Bryce, got beat by his dad his entire life, the coward who was always so scared of himself.

Friendships

Bryce Walker

I’ve already established how dependant Monty was on Bryce, however there is a lot more too it. Monty’s dependence on Bryce also turns into a form of admiration for his friend (and with the new context of his sexuality, could be interpreted as repressed feelings as well). This, as I’ve said, leads Monty to harass and threaten those on the tapes by either physically harming them or anonymously threatening them. Bryce didn’t know Monty did any of that, and when he finds out is disgusted with his friend. He ends their friendship, as he didn’t need the friendship nearly as much as Montgomery did, which leaves Monty devastated and angry. This is also what partially pushes him to later assault Tyler.

“If I sell out Bryce or lie, either way, my whole life falls apart. I got no one else on my side. I can't run home. That team's my home. Going to playoffs, winning state, being an athlete, that's not about fun for me. It's about survival. It's all I got. It's everything. So you wanna shoot me? Shoot me.”

This quote shows us everything about his and Bryce’s relationship—he has no one else. Bryce is the only person he truly feels like he can trust and will therefore do anything to protect him.

Scott, Justin, Charlie and Alex

All of these people are former friends (Alex less so, but pretty much the same anaylisis applies to them all). Before and during the tapes/before it was revealed Bryce was a rapist, he had a group. He had his place as a jock and his family, so as these friends slowly leave him as things go on, Monty’s circle becomes smaller and smaller—pushing him to protect Bryce even more.

Tyler Down

When most people think of Montgomery, they think of what he did to Tyler. I think it’s fair to say that he didn’t rape Tyler purely down to just being a monster. Him and Bryce contrast extremely in this situation, Bryce raped the girls he did because he felt entitled to them, he was so used to getting anything and everything he had little regard for anyone, causing him to do monstrous things.

Montgomery raping Tyler had nothing to do with sex or entitlement however, and he even refused to see it as rape throughout the 3rd season (probably down to having to accept that meant he had sexual contact with Tyler, consensual or not.)

And I’d like to clarify, I’m not here to justify what he did or say that he’s a good guy despite it. What he did obviously requires being an awful person—however, I would like to break down what made him the monster he was.

The abuse didn’t help, violence was all he knew, and as the show carried on he got more and more violent with his peers, as his dad presumably did with him. It is also made clear to us as the viewers that football is all Monty had: he was failing classes, had no support from anyone and couldn’t do anything with his life after high school. So, Tyler taking away football from him caused him to snap, and then Bryce ending their friendship due to being disgusted by Monty’s attempts to protect him only added to the fuel.

I personally, despite believing the rape was necessary for the plot and to show male sexual assault also happens, don’t believe Montgomery should’ve been the one to do it. It makes perfect sense to a degree, especially when you see him refusing to call it what it is in season 3, but I wish they had either kept the scene the same but stopped at the mop bit (and maybe have one of the other boys do it to Tyler after Monty left), or show it in a different way.

Montgomery was always an awful person, but he was capable of redemption, and I think seeing him change and accept himself as he started to towards the end of season 3 is an equally important story to show.

However, he did rape Tyler, and despite being his decision and completely his fault, you have to look at what pushed him to do it. It has a weird parallel to Tyler almost shooting up the school, except Montgomery didn’t have anyone to stop him and help him recover like Tyler did.

Conclusion and what I think should’ve happened with his character

I know that many people will disagree with me on this, because in some ways Montgomery is worse than Bryce. But I would argue that he is just as much a victim as Tyler. They are both filled with self hatred, and both turned to extreme violence to try to make themselves feel better, but ultimately Tyler had support where monty didn’t. Rape and shooting up a school are obviously very different things, and the crimes show the difference between the two characters. Montgomery took all his self hatred and put it on one person, and did the worst thing he could to that person, whereas Tyler projected his everywhere, and was prepared to do a far more damaging crime because of that.

Personally, if I could rewrite Monty’s story I would have him not rape Tyler, despite not being out of character, I think there were better ways to do it. The scene could’ve been the exact same except stop when Monty grabbed the mop, either because he realised it would be rape and he didn’t want to be any type of sexual with other man, or because he’s a ‘coward’ and couldn’t follow through with it.

I think his developments in the third season should’ve remained the same, and instead of having him framed as the murderer at the end, maybe he was a suspect throughout the show? And the audience is convinced it was either him or clay. Monty didn’t have an alibi because he was with winston, and refused to admit that’s where he was because he still refused to accept he was gay, and didn’t want anyone else to find out.

I know this doesn’t count as character analysis, and is much closer to fan fiction. However, I do believe that the homophobic bully who’s actually gay is an important trope. Many people see it was offensive and bad representation, which I get, but the trope can be done well. And example of a poorly done homophobic gay character is Adam in Sex Education, I think it would’ve been fine as long as he didn’t bully Eric specifically because he had feelings for him. That’s why I don’t see Monty’s gayness as a bad thing, because it’s not like he bullied Winston for being gay the previous two seasons, he acted generally homophobic (to an extreme in some cases) because he was petrified someone would find out about his secrets.

In conclusion, they could’ve done far better with Montgomery as a character, and I am disappointed in how they ended his story—but it was predictable from the start and still makes sense with the plot. I do wish that the general audience would look at his character with even a sliver of the sympathy they have for every other character. You have to remember that no one in 13rw is an innocent or good person—they have all done awful things. Should monty be forgiven for raping Tyler? Of course not, but should Alex be forgiven for killing Bryce? Should Tyler be forgiven for almost shooting up the school? Should Ani be forgiven for lying and framing Monty as a murderer? Should Justin be forgiven for lying to Jessica? Should any of them be forgiven for any of the crimes they committed?