#right from the word go

[heph]

The tech guy in movies

[balimaria]

I just realized I can cross over my favorite characters and literally no one can stop me. This is way too much power.

(these captures are from gll99's GX fansub! you can find it free on their blog @/kaiowut99)

Part 2

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Maybe we never had a chance.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[atelierlilae]

In Book 7, that scene of Yuu watching Malleus as he was visibly angry and made it rain after his conversation in the cafeteria with Lilia & the others left an impact on me ever since it happened

Now it’s making me think even more

The way they noticed him during such a vulnerable moment (for that matter, it was one of those few times he actually showed his emotions), the way Yuu fully stopped in their tracks and looked at him, probably wanting to reach out because that’s their friend, or even worse: they were the only one in the crowd who saw how Malleus actually felt, that deep down he was just a frustrated and scared boy

And Malleus didn’t know there was someone (besides Diafamily) who saw him, way back then, and cared about his feelings

He has been having what he’s always wanted, it just hasn’t bloomed yet - all he saw was a seed buried in soil

Though I still feel so proud of him reaching out to Yuu regardless, and opening up about such an impactful & vulnerable moment to him; he has shown he trusts them, even after such a short time of friendship

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about not only the specific people lucanis pulls in to represent the 'locks' in his psyche, but the storytelling that happens in the structure/order of them. the underlying ideas are presented something like:

the lucanis who went into the ossuary never came back out again; he died down there (the boy caterina raised is gone forever) -> you're putting yourself in danger doing this (by being close to me), you should leave because I can't bear it if you get hurt because of me -> it doesn't matter even if we do try this, it won't work anyway (again because of me) ('you know what he's like, you can open the door but he won't walk through it' :'( oofie doofie) -> what if the real secret is that there was never anything but the monster in here from the beginning. you should leave, there was never anything here worth saving in the first place. (implicitly: what if I deserved what happened, all along.)

it runs pretty cleanly from outward-oriented attachment anxiety ('caterina won't even want me back like this, she won't recognize me (the same way I no longer recognize myself)) and gradually deeper inwards until we reach self-image and self worth. or you know, the harrowing basic lack of it lol.

"careful -- they'll know we're not right," spite says in one of their first scenes... but clearly, some very deep part of lucanis has feared or suspected for much longer than that that there's something inherently not right at the core of him, way before any demon entered the picture. and the voice he gives those lines to is the person who should know him better than anyone in the world, who he has loved more than anyone in the world -- and who deliberately chose to hurt him so horrifically anyway. 'It's better if I'm just a monster and deserved what happened than it is to allow for the idea that the brother I love doesn't really exist and maybe never did'. it's better if he's fundamentally flawed in some way that needed fixing to help him survive, and that's why caterina chose to hurt him again and again -- out of love. (this one I think he might have a very sad wakeup call on one day if he ever ends up with the responsibility and care of a child of his own in some way and realizes just how alien the idea of ever intentionally hurting them for any reason is to him. oh buddy. also interesting that he keeps caterina as the outermost lock -- there IS a distance he keeps there that he hasn't with illario. he doesn't resent her 'anymore' he says, but he also keeps her carefully further away from his deepest self.)

as far as I could tell the only note in the mind prison that's fully hidden and needs to be uncovered is the sad painful helpless stupid little truth that even after all this, even knowing what happened... he still loves his brother. is there anything illario could ever do that would make lucanis completely stop loving him, do you think? sometimes the trouble with unconditional love is that it is, well. unconditional, even when some terms and conditions probably would have been in order haha.

that's the pattern you see there again and again; he would rather destroy and abandon and imprison himself at every turn than let go of love, even when it's just scraps, even when there's only ever enough of it to hurt him. it's only when rook shows up and as it were takes his hand and walks along with him that he can entertain the idea of changing the story of what walking out the door might mean in the end.

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[seawing-vibes]

I'm home, with moonlight on the river, saying my goodbyes

I'm home, there's moonlight on the river, everybody dies

I can’t stop myself from adding one (1!) “Read more” so heres the og sketch so you can see Noct’s face <3

[trans-axolotl]

i think one of the things that was most helpful for me in considering my own relationship with drugs prescribed by psychiatrists was meeting and talking to people who used those same drugs for fun. i was able to get a lot more accurate information on what those drugs actually felt like and what parts people liked and why they sought those drugs out. being able to know that people took xyz drug because they liked the way it was a downer, or that xyz drug was great for feeling relaxed and they liked the combination with other drugs they chose, was a lot more accurate and helpful information then anything that had been provided to me by a psychiatrist (pretty much exclusively the disease model of psych drugs, where psychiatrists told me that i was deficient/chemically imbalanced/etc and that this drug was manufactured for specific diagnoses and could target an underlying "disease process." none of which is particularly accurate or helpful information.)

and don't get me wrong, i don't want to take any of the psych drugs that have ever been prescribed to me ever again, i very recently was forcibly instituionalized and forcibly drugged due to my refusal to take meds. but talking about psych drugs like the other drugs i do choose to use was helpful for understanding the actual ways these drugs function and then identifying the multitude of harms within the prescription of psych drugs (forced drugging, coercion, lack of informed consent, misleading explanations of function, lack of explanation of side effects, low threshold for "effectiveness" on the research + development side of psychiatry, the ideology of cure as eradication, irresponsible polypharmacy/refusal to manage withdrawal, denial of prescriptions +labeling patients as drug seeking for wanting stimulants, etc etc etc).

anyway. solidarity between drug users of all sorts forever and always.

[batwynn]

I’m seeing a weird uptick in people commenting nasty stuff on people’s non-cat/dog pet stuff again and not so gentle reminder:

Your phobia or dislike of certain animals does not give you the right to harass and bully people who love and share them.

Use the blacklist tag like a normal human being, and leave people who love rats or snakes or bugs etc. the fuck alone.

[mamawasatesttube]

my ideal timkon don't get together until they've both already done some queer realizations and dated other guys a little bit, in part because on tim's end, i think he's been in love with kon since he was 17, but at 17 tim didn't even know he was bisexual, forget anything else. and his feelings for kon were so big but also so constant that he didn't even realize they were there or significant because they've always been there and been huge. for years. so he putters along and does his time in the torment nexus (the closet) and languishes a bit but slowly starts to figure it out.

meanwhile kon dates someone, mostly like omg im dating a guy this is ALLOWED !??!?! and its pretty lowkey and casual and doesnt last bc like . super identity issues, right. kon would Never just tell someone, but secrets and casual relationships dont last long etc etc. but just the entire principle of kon dating someone and then being like yeah idk im not really feeling it like hes nice and all but i think hes more interested in like… yknow, my hot bod, than me. its whatever tho. and tim just being SOOOOO mad that someone would date kon and not absolutely adore him. tim will not be unpacking why hes so mad about kon having a shitty boyfriend. obviously its just bc kons his bestie and deserves better. (😶)

so he's just grouchily tinkering on some upgrade for his car to get the grumpy energies out. like WHATEVER! (angrily turns socket wrench) he's not saying kon should dump the guy or anything (angrily turns socket wrench) but he's just SAYING, kon can do BETTER!!!!! (angrily turns socket wrench) and kon DESERVES better!!! kon deserves someone who will treat him RIGHT!!!!! (angrily turns socket wrench) like if TIM was gonna fuck kon he wouldn't do it like a goddamn quickie and just fucking leave (angrily grabs the next size socket and scoots further under the car) like kon OBVIOUSLY doesn't like that so why won't this guy GET THAT!!!! (angry tinkering noises) if he's that shallow he can go find himself a sexy body pillow to screw!!! leave kon alone!!!!

and cassie sitting on a chair nearby is just like. sorry what was that? "if i was gonna fuck kon"? did you just say--hey tim? hey. can you go back a step?

and tim's just. obviously this is a hypothetical everyone considers about kon. look at him he's . you know. besides, tim's just talking as his best friend who wants the best for him! ugh stop trying to read into it cassie, that's not the POINT--

[mychemicalbrromance]

#1 like a prayer fan none of you understand (insane)

[deswhomst]

See You Again (Will I?) — @black-brothers-microfic — WC: 1366 | Warnings: implied (sacrificial) suicide

Hogwarts circa June, 1978.

“Regulus,” Sirius said, the name foreign on his tongue, the sound wrong in his ears.

The younger boy gave a short nod. “Sirius.”

Oh—his own name sounded wrong, too.

It was a well-established fact that Sirius hated the Blacks and that included the hollow shell of a brother he once knew—who was now staring back at him with a razor-sharp gaze.

Regulus used to be such a soft kid—annoying and snobbish, yes, but polite and sweet, too. It was like Sirius had blinked one day and Regulus had shattered into a mosaic of broken glass, all jagged edges that threatened to leave the deepest cuts. A part of Sirius knew that he had missed out on his brother’s life by his own choice but he couldn’t help the wound that opened up in his heart at thought.

Sirius decided to speak up. “I’m leaving.”

Regulus raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I mean—” Sirius grimaced at the wording. “Hogwarts. Seventh Year done and whatnot.”

“A bit surprised, if I’m being honest,” Regulus said. “I always imagined that you would get expelled.”

Why did he speak like that? Absolutely zero emotion on his face. He had changed so much in the last two years—him arguing with Sirius and being a little bitch was much better than … whatever this was.

“Yeah, well,” Sirius shrugged, passing him a toothy grin. “Came close once. Or ten times.”

“I’m sure.”

Usually, Sirius would be mean to Regulus. He would look at him and turn away in pure contempt. Today, however, with all the goodbyes and a war looming ahead, Sirius found himself overcome with a fondness for his brother that hasn’t been there in … six years? Longer?

Sirius has heard the rumors about Regulus already becoming a Death Eater. He knew that even if it wasn’t true, yet, that was still the path Regulus was heading down. That has always been his big goal in life. The thought of it brought back some bitterness but the more prominent cloud in Sirius’ mind was a heavy reminder that he would be on opposite sides of a war with his own brother.

He had no confirmation that Regulus had actually taken the Dark Mark and as long as he didn’t, Sirius reasoned, he had one last chance to say the goodbye they had put off for two years.

Sirius didn’t think much about it. Words were failing him, anyways, and so he moved forward, bringing his arm around Regulus in a hug that neither of them were prepared for.

Regulus went rigid instantly, his entire body locking up as if he had been petrified. The hesitation, the instinctive recoil, it all vibrated through Sirius’ own body, but then—slowly, stiffly—Regulus started to return the embrace. In all honesty, it was not much at all. There was no warmth—in fact, even under the glare of the summer sun, Regulus felt colder than ice. But it was there, he was there, and Sirius decided that this would have to count. It would have to mean something, and it does.

Sirius exhaled through his nose, gripping the fabric of Regulus’ robes for just a second longer before pulling back. His hands lingered on his brother’s arms, giving them a brief squeeze before letting go entirely.

“This is the last time,” Sirius said, voice not as steady as he had intended.

Regulus blinked, something flickering across his face but it was gone before Sirius could place it. “Hmm?”

“This is the last time,” Sirius pressed more firmly, “we will ever see each other.”

Regulus did not argue. He only nodded, paused for one second, then promptly turned on his heel and walked away.

This time, Sirius watched Regulus leave.

Knockturn Alley circa August, 1979.

Regulus stepped out of Burkin and Burkes, the replica of Slytherin’s locket safely tucked into his pocket. Time was moving slowly for him tonight, which probably made sense since he was quite literally on his way to trade his life for the real locket.

For someone who was about to die at eighteen, Regulus didn’t have much that he wanted to do. He wished that things had been different but, honestly, even without the war, Regulus Black would not mean anything to anyone. That was his reality, it was his burden, and he will rot the water with it soon.

Perhaps the universe wasn’t done punishing Regulus, though, because as he turned down an alley, he came face to face with his brother. The estranged, disowned brother he hadn’t seen in a year. The brother who was actively fighting against him.

Where the light bled into the dark, where the flickering streetlamps didn’t reach, that’s where Regulus saw Sirius again.

One last time.

“I don’t want to fight,” Regulus found himself saying, immediately, voice small. He was exhausted—bone-deep and soul-deep. There was nothing left in him to give anymore. “Please, Sirius.”

Sirius was accessing him carefully, jaw clenched tightly, but Regulus caught the hint of concern in his unforgiving gaze. He must look like a special brand of shit for Sirius to put aside his hatred.

“You look like hell,” Sirius muttered, confirming that theory.

Regulus huffed. “Don’t we all?”

Sirius didn’t smile. Regulus hadn’t expected him to. With that, a silence settled over them, and calling it uncomfortable would not do it justice.

None of it mattered, anyways.

Regulus was already dying.

He was dying, and Sirius hated him.

He was dying, and no one loved him.

“I know we’re on opposite sides,” he admitted, keeping his gaze fixed on the cold stone wall behind Sirius’ shoulder. “And I know what that means.”

“Do you?” Sirius’ voice was sharp, edged with something dangerous. Something awful, something hateful. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here.”

Regulus shook his head, a bit desperate. “I do,” he hesitated, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t expect you to understand, but this—this is something that I have to do.”

Sirius’ expression twisted, frustration flickering across his face. “You’ve never had to—”

“Listen,” Regulus cut in, digging crescents into his palm. “I meant what I said about not wanting to fight. Please, Sirius, don’t be mean to me today.”

It was unfair. It was pathetic, too, but again—Regulus was dying so nothing mattered. What was Sirius going to do? Leave him again? Kill him more?

None of it mattered.

Regulus didn’t matter. He never had, never will.

“Reggie—”

And maybe it was simply the fear of dying alone or maybe it was the use of the nickname the Regulus hadn’t heard in years that made him pull Sirius into a hug in that moment.

Regulus had never initiated an embrace with anyone before—and he never will after this. This had been his last chance to do so and he has done it. Now, at least, Regulus can claim that in the eighteen years he got, he had given one hug.

It was warm despite his own inherent coldness. Unlike Regulus, Sirius didn’t hesitate before retuning it, arms circling around his shoulders. It was then that Regulus realized that he had grown taller than Sirius. The older Black seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his response being a tight squeeze.

In another life, Regulus would have teased him about this. In another life, Sirius would have been annoyed by this.

Regulus didn’t let go of his brother for what felt like an eternity. He wished that Sirius would ask him to stay, but how could Sirius know where he was headed? Would it change anything, Regulus wondered? If Sirius knew that Regulus was going to give up his life to bring down the Dark Lord, would he stop him?

Will he mourn him?

Will anyone?

“Alright. Alright,” Sirius sighed. He was the first to pull away and it had to be him because Regulus wasn’t brave enough to face reality again. “Stupid question but … are you okay?”

Regulus supposed that’s something he hasn’t done yet. Be okay. He pulled back further, shrugging.

“You were wrong, Sirius,” Regulus muttered. “This is the last time we will ever see each other.”

Sirius had left once, so Regulus had to be the one who left at least twice.

And for good this time.

Edit: Moodboard I made inspired by this

[alexjcrowley]

I don't think you understand how Italian is the "Stai bene? (Are you well?)" from Lawrence and Tedesco answering "Mah, no one is ever well at our age". I'll try to explain, it's like an italian thing, especially if you're from the South. That if somebody pays you a compliment or hints at things going well for you, you downplay it because by complimenting you they're "cursing" you. It's a folkloristic thing, the kind of thing that my grandmother would say to me: beware of people complimenting you and be careful not to share the good things going on with you, because the moment you do people might "curse" you. Very difficult to put this thing into words, but Goffredo Tedesco I see you. I see you a Patriarch of Venice on the road to papacy and still believing in grandmother's (pagan) superstitions because that's how religion, especially for old people, works in Italy. Again, difficult to put into words, but I know in my heart that he is answering Lawrence's question the same way my grandmother would answer it. I see you outrunning malocchio, Cardinal Tedesco. And I respect it.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

hoptal

[mataurin]

Shoutout to @jamjoob who so subconsciously inspired my Selina design I did not realize it was theirs until I was about to post smsodhsidb