#please help us murder the new worst character

[completeoveranalysis]

[8]

Listen 

Phoenix Wright conditioning is a hell of a thing

No-one is safe

Ok 

I gotta say

Despite everything

Lava Lamp just full on face planting from twenty feet in the air is the perfect comedic timing 

IVE could never

Oh! Did Syaoran follow them in?

Did he jump into the gaping hole to chase down Kyle Rondary? Off screen?

Will Kyle Rondary be murdered in the formless void between worlds?

I HAVE MY FINGERS CROSSED!

#All things considered this is a very ODD place to end a chapter #But god sure I’ll take it #So much happened and HALF OF IT WAS KYLE RONDART #I had completely forgotten about this man and yet here he is #Once again #To ruin a sakura centric plotline #Fantastic #IS NOTHING SAFE??? #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 179 #KYLE RONDART #SAKURA #SYAORAN #LAVA LAMP GUY #내일 내게 열리는 건 BIG BIG STAGE #I am also inordinately mad that Kyle's design is SO GOOD #Like HE DOES NOT DESERVE TO LOOK SO GOOD #Seishirou and Fuuma you're officially off the hook #please help us murder the new worst character

[wormsin]

"Bruce’s protective control and Dick’s perfectionist caregiving are core dysfunctions for their characters" oh this is such a beautiful, and perfectly fitting, way of describing them that ive ever seen! and it's really interesting to note that, their dysfunctions are.. how do i say it, 'complement' the other's? giving a 'perfect' looping feedback?

like, bruce's protective control pushes dick's perfectionist self to work even harder--to achieve the impossible and essentially makes him more desperate to take care of bruce, and in return this pushes bruce's protectiveness to another whole new degree which then lead to his need to keep everything under his control become even worse. and that makes it harder for them to break from the cycle (am i making sense? i hope im making sense)

hold my beer, I'm using this as an excuse to write the Bruce & Dick enneagram meta in my head.

"He's so determined to prove he isn't like Master Bruce it scares me. In their own way they are so similar that I thank heaven for the differences." - Alfred Pennyworth Batman 1940 #438

I've mentioned before that I use enneagram typing to characterize Bruce and Dick. like all personality typing, it's unscientific bogus. (this one is sold as a business tool lol.) but i find the types compelling.

first of all, their types

Bruce is an 8, the challenger or protector. an 8's ego is attached to the idea of vengeance—destruction of self or others out of a sense of injustice. if the person has a huge ego, has a deluded perception of the world, it is tied to the idea of vengeance. their "holy idea" is truth, which is basically a core value and potential. their trap is justice, which they think is the right path, but it will actually keep them stuck in their bullshit.

[Dick calls Bruce out on going too far as he's breaking down after Jason's death. Batman 1940 #439]

an 8's deepest fear is being controlled, harmed, or violated. their base desire is to be influential, self sufficient and protect themself. their temptation is to think that they are self sufficient.

like, you see why I like this for Bruce.

Bruce saw his parents being murdered and his reaction to that trauma was to control himself and create a powerful alternate ego that gets vengeance on Gotham's criminals and protects the innocent.

[Bruce appealing to family court to take in Dick. Batman 1940 #439]

at his worst, Bruce is a control freak who doesn't let anyone help him and has a warped sense of justice. so much emotional armor.

[Bruce possessed by Antithesis and lashing out at Dick, which Dick correctly identifies as a fear reaction. Teen Titans Year One #3]

at his best, Bruce is a strong leader, is willing to do what is right even at personal cost, wants to protect and help others fairly, and strives to create a better world.

[Bruce creating a victims advocacy program. Batman 1940 #217]

tl;dr Bruce is driven by fear of loss and compensates by controlling his world and protecting himself and others.

Dick is a 2, the helper or giver. 2's ego fixation is flattery, pleasing and giving to others in order to be liked. their "holy idea" is freedom/will; there's several interpretations of this but for Dick I see it as wanting others and himself to be free of metaphorical shackles and to fly. the 2's trap is also freedom: from having personal needs and needing others.

2's fear is being unlovable and their base desire is to be loved unconditionally. their temptation is to deny their own needs and be manipulative.

[Dick hiding his sadness as he leaves Wayne Manor for college. Batman 1940 #217]

[Hugo Strange psychoanalyzing Dick's relationship to Bruce. Batman Gotham Knights #11]

Dick is constantly pushing himself to the limit to be the perfect hero and mentor, and wants to help others but doesn't accept help himself. he maintains an image of being the bringer of light. I think being raised as a performer made him associate doing well and making people happy with love and family; after losing his parents he searched for that unconditional love from Bruce, being a hero, and romantic partners.

at his worst, he's prideful, and both ignores his own needs and sacrifices himself for others in order to get those needs met.

[Dick killing himself to save people in nuclear-bombed Bludhaven and feeling good about it. Nightwing 996 #116]

at his best, he is compassionate, helpful, parental, and warms the hearts of others.

tl;dr Dick is driven by fear of not having love and family, and compensates by caring for others and being perfect.

[Dick having a nightmare during a month's long mental breakdown. Nightwing 1996 #117]

you are correct: Bruce and Dick's personalities complement each other at their best and worse.

at their worst, Bruce is emotionally withholding and pushes Dick away. this is out of need to protect himself; any emotional intimacy or love is a threat because what if they die? Dick interprets this as not being good enough for Bruce's praise or a place by his side, and tries to be better. no matter how far gone Bruce is, Dick has to be the exceptional one who stays and loves him. the fact that Dick always comes back to him and gets under his skin makes Bruce lash out or become more controlling. so the cycle continues!

"That's what eats away at you at night—not just that you're forever in his shadow—but that you love him. That you're the loyal son who has never been allowed to truly help—never permitted to save him from himself." - Hugo Strange, Batman Gotham Knights #10

at their best, Bruce uses his own traumatic experience and leadership to better Dick's life. Dick is a ray of light for him. their fears are eased in relation to each other, they both help others and improve their world.

[Alfred remembers Dick early in his Robin career. Batman 1940 #438]

I think they have a lot to learn from each other. but they can also be deeply stuck in this dysfunctional cycle because they can both hold onto their negative delusions.

"I love Bruce. He's my family. But I couldn't bring him out of the past... I was sacrificing my own future. I don't want that for you... Trust me, Tim. At some point... you have to set yourself free." - Dick, Batman Urban Legends #10. demonstrates a healthy Dick's relation to an unhealthy Bruce.

#long post #bruce wayne #dick grayson #meta #brudick #batman #ask worm #i have so many panels I could pull as evidence #like half of my saved lore panels are about this #god i spent so much time on this #i'm right about them

[loki-hargreeves]

An Eye For An Eye

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader, Steven Grant x f!Reader, Jake Lockley x f!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Kidnapping, graphic descriptions of violence, death threats/thoughts of dying, mentions of body mutilation [doesn’t happen though], using a gun for self-defense, character death [murder], mentions of blood, dark undertones, hurt/comfort, angst, vulgar language, some references to Moon Knight comics, Marc is very sad, loads of crying, somewhat of a fluffy ending

Word Count: 13K [oops..]

Summary: Raul Bushman has a personal grudge against Marc Spector and he takes it out on you. When he kidnaps you, he taunts Marc by sending a video of you as his hostage. With the help of Khonshu, the Moon boys come to your rescue - which is unfortunate for Raul. Once you’re safe again, Marc can’t bring himself to face you because of the guilt so Steven and Jake take care of you.

A/N: Ok I realize it’s a bit bloody and teary but I had to get this out of my head. I hope you enjoy it! <3

DISCLAIMER! Please do not proceed to read this if the mentioned warnings and tags include topics that could possibly trigger or harm you. Take care of yourself.

“Darling, I’m home!” Steven’s cheerful voice replaced the silence of your shared flat as he finally came back home from work. The new museum he worked at was wonderful and his first week of being a tour guide had just come to an end. Steven was over the moon and knowing he was coming home to you only made him feel even better, as if he was literally walking on sunshine.

For once in his life, all seemed to be going so well. Steven felt invincible in a way. Little did he know of the drastic turn that would take place much sooner than anticipated.

When all he was met with was silence, Steven began to worry. Since you had told them you’d be home before them, it was odd that you weren’t there.  Refusing to jump to conclusions, Steven pulled out his phone from his pocket and searched for you name in his contacts, calling you as he made his way further inside the apartment to inspect everything. The only sound he heard was the beeping dial tone. 

You’d pick up and have an explanation. Everything was fine. 

Steven turned the lights on and looked around the place. Your phone or wallet weren’t anywhere to be seen and the note he had left for you on the kitchen counter had been completely untouched. That was definitely odd. Usually you left a note for him too, especially if you were going somewhere. The bright, little notes were some of Steven’s favourite things.

“She’s not answering,” Steven said out loud, staring at the phone screen that let him know you hadn’t picked up the call. Marc and Jake were aware of what was going on, both of their minds racing to different places. Neither of those places were good. 

Call her again, Marc demanded, trying hard not to let his fear get the best of him. Then again, Marc knew you. He knew that you would let them know if you wouldn’t show up when agreed. Perhaps for an ordinary couple, this wasn’t a big deal but Marc had enemies. Jake had enemies. Steven had them too, now. It was one of their greatest fears that one day those enemies would find you. 

As Steven walked around the flat frantically, his heart began to beat harder all the way in his throat, it felt like. The dial tone was taunting him, making seconds feel like minutes as it kept on ringing. 

“Pick up, pick up...please,” Steven made his way to the window, looking down at the London street that was illuminated by the yellow street lights. Darkness had swallowed the blue sky and you were somewhere out there, not picking up the phone. This was so unlike you and it gnawed at Steven’s heart. He didn’t even wish to imagine you in any sort of danger. 

Shouldn’t have let her walk home at this hour alone! Jake had jumped to the worst conclusions. Steven looked at the man whose reflection showed up in the nearby mirror. Jake looked like he was about to explode from worry and anger, barely containing such intense feelings.

“Don’t say that!” Steven couldn’t bear it. There was no way he would let them assume the worst so soon. “Maybe she’s staying late. Let’s meet her half way, yeah? Come on, out we go!” 

Steven was glad he hadn’t taken off his shoes yet as he rushed back outside, making sure he had his keys after the fact he had closed the front door and he was already in the elevator. The mirrors in the small space made it easy to see all the alters, yet somehow it wasn’t very comforting. Not when all of them were so clearly concerned over your safety. It was almost as if they just knew you weren’t staying late. This was much worse than that. There was a sick feeling in Steven’s gut as he stood there, waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor. 

The feeling was growing worse by the second, spreading like fire and tugging at his guts until he felt nauseous. What if Jake was right? What if you were hurt? Lying in a ditch somewhere, cold and beaten, all alone. 

The notification sound of his phone snapped Steven out of his thoughts. He ripped the phone out of his pocket and felt a wave of relief crashing against him when he saw your name on the screen. 

“Oh thank heavens,” Steven almost felt like laughing as he thought about how worried he felt. Overreacting never did any good for anyone. There he was now, unlocking his phone and waiting to see your message. In all honesty, Steven expected something short and simple, just letting him know you’d be able to call him soon. When he saw a video file with a pitch black background and no other message, the relief was stolen from him just as quickly as it had arrived. 

Steven knew he had to open it but every cell in his body told him not to click it. He froze, brown eyes glued at the screen in terror as he anticipated what would happen next. 

It was Marc who fronted next, taking control of the body as Steven took too long to think about his next actions. Marc pressed the play button and then took a deep breath, but nothing could’ve possibly prepared him for what they were all about to see. 

The video began and immediately chains were more easily visible, leading up to you. There you were, chained to what looked like a bed in a dark room. The volume was on full but no sounds were heard. Whoever had filmed the video zoomed in on your face, eyelashes resting against your bloodied cheeks. To believe you were just asleep would've been foolish. Someone must've knocked you out one way or another, a realization that made Marc sick to his stomach. Blood was boiling in his body, so much so he could hear it in his ears and feel how his skin was set on fire with rage. Whoever did that to you would pay for it with their life. That was certain.

Suddenly, the person who was filming it flipped the camera and revealed his face. The man was smiling cruelly since he knew exactly who was watching the clip and how he was reacting. Marc recognized that evil gleam from anywhere since he knew this man extremely well. That was Raul Bushman. A mercenary, just like Marc used to be although these days Raul Bushman was better known as a fucking terrorist. Marc had hoped the past would stay in the past but evidently, it had not. Life wasn't ever that simple. Now Raul was there, in the present with you as his hostage. Knowing how wicked Raul was terrified Marc because he couldn't be sure he would find you in time.

Don't go there, you have to focus! Jake was already in action mode, planning on how they would track this man down and bring you back home safely. If they let panic overtake them then it could cost you your life. There was no way any of them could let that happen. Steven was dead silent for once, not finding a single thing to say at that moment. Fear had completely enveloped him, but not fear for his own sake. Steven was scared he'd never see you again and for what? Because a sick man wanted to hurt you? How was that fair?

"Marc Spector," Raul addressed Marc in the video, simultaneously letting Steven know that this was personal. Jake had recognized that tattooed face as well. Steven hadn't as Marc's memories of his mercenary past weren't something he could personally recall.

Marc was thinking about ripping Raul's face off as he anticipated what he was going to say next. Did he want money? That didn't seem likely. Whatever he wanted, Marc was willing to give it if he could get you back. The killing could happen afterwards.

"I've got your girl," Raul chuckled, enjoying this for some sick and twisted reason. "She's not very chatty anymore. You should've heard her earlier! Did you teach her to speak like that or did you find yourself a sailor? Very vulgar, Spector. So naughty."

Marc who is that? Steven's voice barely carried above a whisper as he stared at Marc from the reflection of the elevator mirror. The elevator had reached the first floor but they had no intentions of leaving just yet. Running around in circles with no leads would be a waste of time.  

Marc ignored Steven and forced himself to keep watching the video, his grip on the phone so strong it was a miracle it hadn't snapped in half yet.  That's when Jake began to explain things to Steven in the background, their words turning into a haze as Marc stood there, in utter shock and disbelief at it all. He could only watch as Raul flipped the camera over to you once again and that's when the tears threatened to spill. How could he have let something like this happen to you? The love of his life, the sweetest and most wonderful person that had ever walked the earth. Marc felt so guilty. If you were to die now he would never forgive himself. Not in a million years and more.

"I'm sure you'd love to hear some conditions or whatever but the truth is," Raul sighed dramatically as he caressed your cheek, wiping away the blood, "I have none. The only reason I'm doing this is because of you. I'm curious to know what made you so soft and pathetic. What a waste of a man you are."

Just like that, the video ended. Raul's words echoed in Marc's head loudly, drumming into his skull and every beat made him feel worse. Marc could hear Steven and Jake yelling but none of their words made sense. The overwhelming worry and anger were over-spilling and Marc couldn't take it. He turned on his heel and punched the mirror as hard as he could, letting out a pained and frustrated shout and most likely alarming everyone else in the building but he couldn't have cared less. The smashed mirror showed Marc thousands of small reflections as glass fell on the floor. Crimson red was running down his knuckles angrily, most likely dripping on the floor. Marc didn't care. He only cared about finding you.

So did Jake who took control, needing to work on his plan immediately and not let Marc or Steven waste any more time. Jake pressed the elevator button back to their floor, leaving blood on the buttons. Whoever walked into the elevator next would have a surprise awaiting them. Raul Bushman, on the other hand, had something much worse awaiting him. If he thought for one second that he was more powerful than them, he was wrong and Jake was going to hunt him down no matter what it took. Touching you was the biggest mistake the poor excuse of a man had ever made.

                                                            The first thing you noticed as consciousness was coming back to you was the dreadful headache you had. It made you whine in pain as you tried to roll over, only to realize you were unable to move your arms. Horror spread throughout you as you remembered what had happened, eyes popping open as you took in the dark surroundings. The room was dim and quite small too, with only a bed and a dresser. It didn't have a window so it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night. As creepy as it was, it didn't smell bad. You had expected the thick copper scent of blood to linger in the air or of something foul and rotting. Perhaps the cleanliness meant you weren't in a creepy dungeon but instead in a preoccupied building? Was that a good thing or not? You didn't know.

Stay calm, you repeated that to yourself as you took a few deep breaths. Freaking out wouldn't do you any good but it wasn't easy to steady your breaths either. As the memories came back to you, you could feel yourself slipping onto a world of doubt and worry. The man who had found you was absolutely terrifying. Not only was he tall enough to tower over you with ease, but his teeth also looked sharp and metallic. The man had scars all over his body and a look in his brown eyes that had told you he wasn't merciful at all. Years of hardships decorated every inch of his skin but he didn't seem to let that drag him down. He used it as armour, which made him evermore dangerous.

Just as you had feared, the door opened, allowing artificial light to pour inside for only a moment as he walked in. The door shut loudly and with a click, which meant it was locked. The tall man turned on the ceiling light, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling allowing you to see better, only to realize his cold eyes were glued to you. When he made his way further inside the small room, you could hardly hear his footsteps as your heart was thudding so loudly against your rib cage. How were you supposed to remain calm when a scary man had you chained down like an animal? What was he going to do? What did he want from you?

"You're awake sooner than expected," He finally spoke, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Thought you’d be weaker.”

"What do you want from me?"

The man didn't reply instantly but judging by the stern look on his face, he had clearly heard you. For whatever reason he actually took his sweet time thinking about his reply as he circled the bed, never tearing his eyes off of you. As he reached the wooden dresser, he dragged a gun out of a holster and placed it on the surface with a loud thud, making sure it was pointed directly at you so even when the gun was untouched and simply resting on the dresser, it kept you on edge.

"What do I want from you? That's a silly question," He finally spoke, much more relaxed now that you were chained down and silent. "Nothing really. You're here because of Marc Spector," your lover's name was spoken as if it was poison on his tongue, every syllable tasting rancid.

"Why?" You decided it was better to talk to this man instead of being tortured. The more time you wasted like this, the better were your chances of survival. Surely, they were coming for you. The moment you thought about them, you felt a pang of guilt in your gut. Marc was probably freaking out by now. Steven must've been so scared. Jake? Oh Jake, he wouldn’t show it but you knew the protective man was ridden with anxiety. You didn't even want to imagine how stressed they must've been. Did they know you were there? Or did they think you had abandoned them?

The tall man pulled an old wooden chair next to the bed and sat down, being so close to you now that it made you worry. What was he going to do?

"Long ago, Marc and I used to be pals, if you will. He was a great mercenary. Unstoppable, quick, someone that a man like me could respect. Then something changed and he turned on us. Marc became soft, that rat," He spat angrily, slamming his large fist against the wall so hard you flinched, half expecting him to hit you instead. Your heart leapt to your throat and your eyes squeezed shut which you instantly regretted.

"Are you scared, love?" He mocked you, leaning closer to you so his foul breath landed on your skin, causing your hairs to stand on end. Stay calm.  

“Anyway, I wanted to know what changed him and all leads came back to you. Funny how the same thing that made him soft is the same thing that makes him hard,” he laughed at his own wordplay, his belittling words making you feel dirty. What he was talking about was none of his business and you wanted to let him hear your thoughts, but decided to bite your tongue for now.

"W-What's your name?" You ignored him, focusing on your one and only task right now. Keep him talking. Nothing else mattered.

"You can call me Raul," He introduced himself while caressing your cheek. That's when you noticed it, his left hand only had three fingers. Raul caught you staring.

"Wanna know who did this to me?" Raul grabbed your jaw forcefully and made you face him. There was no warmth in his eyes, only deep and dark coldness that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was rough and it stung but you assumed it was better than whatever else it was he was capable of doing. Without knowing what else to do, you simply nodded, encouraging him to go on. By now, you felt your body betraying you as your limbs quivered underneath his touch. That's how easy it was for him to terrify you. At that moment, you wished you had abilities such as Khonshu had granted your lovers. You wished you could've broken free from these chains and returned home safely but alas, you couldn't. There you were, forced to look at this man and hear his stories, not knowing what was true and what wasn't.

"Marc did this," Raul revealed eventually, something about it making your gut twist in horror. Picturing Marc severing a man's fingers off was sickening. If it were true, you had to believe there was a good reason behind it. Khonshu only made him punish people who had already done evil things. This man was no exception.

"Tell me, sweetheart," Raul tilted his head slightly, "have you heard of the phrase 'an eye for an eye'?"

Who hadn't? You thought but kept that to yourself as you didn't wish to set him off. Somehow, it seemed like nothing was truly needed to set this man off as your silence alone was enough to push him into action.

Everything that happened next was surreal. You could only watch as Raul reached for something in his pocket, something that turned out to be a knife. It reflected the yellow ceiling light and you noticed just how sharp it was. There was a carved symbol on the blade which you didn't recognize but it didn't seem to matter when he grabbed your left hand that was still chained to the headboard.

"No! No, please! Please don't do this!" You screamed in shock when he pressed the sharp knife against the base of your index and middle fingers, not enough to cut your fingers off but your skin broke under the edge. "Please don't!" Panicked tears rolled down your face as you tried to wiggle free. It was of no use though and you both knew it.

"If you stop moving it'll be over sooner!" Raul yelled at you and then had the audacity to smile. The curve of his lips was sadistic, something straight out of nightmares. He enjoyed this.

Just as blood began to trickle down your palm, the hot liquid reminding you of how doomed you were, a phone rang in his pocket. That was your phone.

"Fucking hell!" Raul sighed, annoyed by the interruption but you were forever grateful because he stepped away and put the knife on the table next to the gun. So far, your digits were still intact but the ghastliness of what had almost happened shook you to the core, making you feel nauseous. The cut at the base of your fingers stung. Even without seeing it, you knew it'd leave a scar. A scar that would be much better than losing your fingers. As you were still recovering from the shock of what Raul nearly succeeded with, you didn't even realize what was happening.

Raul had answered the video call because Marc's face had shown up on the screen. He had anticipated a call again. As he picked up, he instantly turned the camera to you, letting Marc see what was happening.

"You have perfect timing, Spector. I was just about to cut her pretty little fingers off," Raul revealed casually as if he had no care in the world. He wanted to piss off Marc and it didn't seem like it frightened him at all. Either he was a fool or extremely powerful.

"Don't you fucking dare touch her!" Marc growled with wrath in his voice. You realized you had never heard him so angry ever before. His voice was alien, but at the same time, you found comfort in it. Was he going to find you? If so, would he be there in time? Would you see him again?

"If I do, what are you gonna do about it? There's not much you can do to stop me," Raul laughed again, grabbing the bloody knife and waving it around as he spoke. "I'm here, she's here and you're god-knows-where! Even if you do find us, you'll be too late! I will make you watch as I kill her, that I promise you!"

This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. If you had been able to, you would've pinched yourself. You felt so helpless as tears streamed down your face and you struggled against the cold chains that were wrapped so tightly around you that the skin beneath the metal was bruising at an alarming rate. Staying calm after hearing his morbid threats seemed like an impossible task.

If he was truly going to kill you, this could've been your last chance to speak to any of them. As much as the realization terrified you, you had to find the courage to speak again.

"I love you, baby, I'm so sorry," You sniffled, trying to see the screen but Raul didn't grant you the satisfaction of seeing Marc. "I'm sorry!" The apology poured from your lips quietly as the guilt was eating you alive. The violent sobs caused your lungs to feel like they were on fire and burning you up from within. Had you been more careful, this would've never happened. You were sure of it. If this twisted man took your life tonight, the happy future you had dreamt of would be ripped away from not only you but from them as well. It wasn't fair in any way.

"Don't interrupt me!" Raul shrieked all of a sudden, angered by your attitude. As he leapt toward you, phone in hand, Marc yelled something that got lost as you let out a startled scream. The next thing you knew, Raul hovered above you with the knife dangerously close to your neck. "Shut up! I don't want to hear this lovey-dovey shit, okay? Just be quiet!"

Beep beep beep

The call ended. Whether Raul accidentally ended it or Marc, it didn't matter. The line was lost and you feared that just like that, you would never hear from him ever again. Not another 'I love you' from Steven that he would tell you first thing in the morning. No more endearments from Jake in Spanish that always made your heart flutter with joy. No more vulnerable love confessions from Marc he would whisper to you when no one else was around.

                                                            For once, Khonshu was being useful. It was actually the Egyptian god who helped locate you. There wasn't anything that could happen at night that went by his sight. When even Jake was going bollocks over worry he felt for you, the god couldn't just let them run in circles and desperately try to find you. Raul Bushman was smart, unfortunately, and he made it near impossible to find him. Tracing the calls hadn’t worked and studying the background of the video revealed nothing. 

Raul Bushman was well prepared, but Raul didn't have Khonshu. When the bird-headed god told Jake how to find you, he wasted no time getting a move on. After the video call where Raul revealed what he was about to do to you, it was urgent they got these as quickly as possible.

Khonshu wasn't too fond of you - or so he made it appear - but he was even less fond of Raul Bushman. There was no way he would let a worm like that kill you and also make his avatar distraught. The god knew that the loss of you would be detrimental. It would destroy his Moon Knight for good.

The Moon Knight suit came in handy as Marc soared across the starry sky, past the tall buildings in the city with one destination in mind. It wasn't the time to think about anything else than his next few moves. One wrong thought and his demeanour would falter. Your life was on the line here and he wasn't going to mess up now. And to think Raul Bushman had come back to haunt him and he didn't even bother to hide further away than the other side of London. The man was confident he could overpower Marc but that was a grave mistake. Marc would stop at nothing to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again. Had he been wiser, he would've killed Raul all those years ago during their run together in Cairo.

The location turned out to be a townhouse in the fancier parts of London, a mighty building that had stood there for hundreds of years. To people looking from the outside, it was beautiful and nothing about it really screamed that it was used by criminals. Marc's gut twisted painfully when he remembered you were in there, most likely scared for your very life. The way you had apologized to him over the phone as if any of this was your fault had killed a part of him inside. If anything, Marc felt as if this was his fault. You had done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing at all.

Getting into the place wasn't hard at all. Instead, the trickier part was to be quiet. Marc wasn't going to risk your life by being loud and giving Raul a chance to finish things off before it was too late. The lights were all turned off, which led Marc to believe no one else was there but you and Raul. The people who owned the place rarely used it as it turned out the house was used for criminal gatherings every once in a while. No one lived there. As a hideout, it would've been wonderful if it was only used for hiding from regular people. Hiding from gods and their avatars on the other hand was much trickier.

By now, blood was boiling in Marc's veins. He felt like an enraged animal that was hunting for prey, following its bloody trail with a deep hunger. Nothing could possibly get in his way now. He squeezed the golden crescent moon darts tighter in a desperate attempt to remain calm, steering away the dark thundering clouds in his head that carried with them his deepest fears. With somewhat of a clear mind, silent for once as none of the alters dared to make a peep, Marc navigated down the stairs and toward where he believed you were. His pounding heart was the only sound he could hear, for now, the muscle convulsing dangerously and so hard it wouldn't have been too much of a surprise if Raul could hear it.

               "Nooo!" You let out a deep cry, riddled with pain caused by the weapon that had just made contact with your temple. Between all the threats Raul directed at you and your own fears, you felt lost. You didn't know what you were begging of or asking him not to do. There wasn't time for you to gather your thoughts as this scary man was losing his patience with you and with Marc who still hadn't shown up. Despite his claims of not using you as bait to lure him here, you didn't believe him. Raul was looking for revenge and he was willing to kill two birds with one stone.

Knowing you were used as bait to lure your lover into doom only strengthened the guilt. Somehow that hurt more than the physical pain he had brought upon you. No amount of blood or bruises could amount to the realization of how sick and twisted this was and what part you played in it all.

The most recent blow he had delivered to you had been worse than the others, causing your vision to blur and you to feel ill. Your stomach was bubbling in a nauseating way and you weren't sure if you would be able to keep your lunch down for much longer. The throbbing headache was only getting worse and you noticed that you couldn't focus your vision on anything anymore. Was your body giving up this easily or was it trying to defend you from what was to come by numbing everything out quicker? At this point, thinking felt too difficult of a task. Raul was pacing around the room in his rage, probably filming you still but you didn't make any sense of it anymore.

Blood coated your tongue and that was what you focused on as you rested against the thin pillow, wishing you were at home instead. At home, in your bed, next to the man you loved. Instead of tasting the iron in your mouth, you wished you had a cup of hot chocolate that Jake was surprisingly good at making. He usually added a pinch of chili to the sweet drink and it tasted divine. You wished you were in a warm bath with Marc, getting your back rubbed by his loving touch after a long day. You wanted to listen to Steven's voice as he read you to sleep. Who was the god he was reading to you about last night? Taweret? That must've been it. The goddess of fertility and childbirth. Thinking of that in such a dark moment was oddly comforting, bringing you the tiniest amount of peace in the midst of fear you had never felt before, fear that made your bones shake and your heart heavy with sorrow.

Little did you know your last act of consciousness had alerted Marc of your whereabouts. Just as you slipped into unconsciousness, your exhausted body unable to take any more of the pain, you caught a glimpse of a pair of white, glowing eyes. He had found you.

Raul hadn't heard Marc arriving and none of the alarms in the building had alerted him. However, when the man wrapped in mummy bindings and with bright, glowing eyes attacked Raul, he could only feel excitement. This was his chance to defeat Marc once and for all, make him suffer like how Marc had made him suffer. An eye for an eye. Raul took that very seriously.

Marc grabbed Raul by his torso and launched him against the wall so hard it sent the man right into the next room. Dust from within the walls exploded into the air, making it hard to see into the other room for a moment but that didn't stop Marc who followed Raul without any hesitation.

"Took you long enough!" Raul got up from the floor just in time, spitting blood on the floor as he braced himself for Marc's next move.

Marc clenched his jaw together and threw both darts at his former acquaintance, not surprised when all they did was scratch the surface. Marc grabbed more darts from his chest, glad he wasn't going to run out of them anytime soon as they magically reappeared thanks to Khonshu's powers.

As Marc leapt at Raul again, the taller man grabbed him and rolled both of them around. When Marc fell to the ground with Raul, he rolled over and lunged the sharp moon dart right into his chest, ripping a string of curses from his enemy's mouth.

"You're gonna regret ever laying a finger on her," Marc growled eerily, twisting the sharp dart that had sunk into Raul's flesh, feeling how the man's blood soaked his white glove. Having mercy was the last thing on Marc's mind now. He was going to make Raul pay for his mistake.

Meanwhile, you were slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to stay in the dark when you heard crashing and screaming nearby. As you opened your eyes and blinked a few times, you realized what was going on and it sent a rush of adrenaline through you. Marc was there for you but you were still chained to the bed. Trying to free yourself hadn't worked earlier but now that your hands were covered in sweat and blood, you decided to give it another try. Desperately, you tried to wiggle and pull your hands free, biting your tongue when the action hurt. The chains were pressing against your thumbs painfully but you knew you would be able to pull yourself free if you just tugged a little harder.

"Fuck..." You cursed under your breath and then yanked your hands toward your chest. To your surprise, your hands slipped out of the chains. The adrenaline that coursed throughout your body concealed just how much it had hurt. With all the strength you had left and with worry for your loved one who was fighting this monster all alone, you limped to the dresser where the gun was. Bloody fingers wrapped around the weapon and you were surprised by how heavy it felt in your shaking hands. There was a hole in the wall and as you narrowed your eyes looking through it, you saw... Steven? Yes. Steven was definitely the one in the suit, giving Raul a piece of his mind with the help of his truncheons.

"You messed up big time, mate," Steven's choice of words didn't match the hatred in the tone of his voice. He didn't sound much like himself as he was blinded by rage, acting the opposite of the sweet and loving man you knew. As Mr Knight, he used all his strength to deliver a blow against Raul's gut, not finding an ounce of pity as the grown man cried out in pain. The sight was surreal but you couldn't look away. Whether this was a dream or not, you were glad to see it. Perhaps it was wrong, you just didn't care. Your moral compass had been shattered by the hands of the man who had hurt you the same way just moments before.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself now looking at Jake who didn't let Raul fall on the floor. Instead, he held him by his crimson covered shirt and pressed his fingers into the deep wound Marc had made with his dart earlier, feeling how the blood oozed out of it. "That is for just thinking about her!" He pushed Raul against a bookshelf, the impact knocking the books all over the floor and the shelves snapping in half.

"And this is for hurting her."

When Jake proceeded to attack him again, you had to look away. Part of it was because you felt lightheaded and standing on your own proved to be much more difficult than it should've been. The other part was that Jake's violent ways were not for the faint-hearted to see. As you stumbled on the floor, it alarmed both of the men. For a split second, Jake was distracted as he hadn't noticed you getting up and Raul used that to his advantage.

As Raul tried to bite Jake with his sharp, metal teeth, something within you snapped. You pointed his own gun at him and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the leg before you even knew what you were doing. The loud bang made your ears ring and you dropped the gun, stunned when you watched Raul freeze on the spot. The bullet had pierced him and stopped him from going absolutely feral, yet it didn't seem to put an end to his wrath. Raul turned on his heel and tried to run toward you despite his injuries, seeing red now that you had shot him. Before he could take one too many steps, Marc stopped him.

All you could do was watch from the cold floor as Marc did his job. You had just shot someone. The gun was laying on the floor and you stared at it in disbelief, replaying the moment in your head like a broken record. All your pain was gone and you felt numb. When you looked at your hands, your own blood no longer felt like it belonged to you. Sure, you had shot a horrible man who was about to possibly hurt Jake but it still felt repulsive. A sickening feeling poured all over like thick goo you that you couldn’t shake off. It was useless trying to focus on the fight that was taking place right in front of your nose. The sounds of furniture breaking and bones cracking were completely shut out of your head.

Everything that had happened in just one night was too much for you to handle. There was only so much you could process at once. You had never hurt anyone before. Not like that. This was never supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

When suddenly Marc was kneeling on the floor in front of you, you finally snapped out of it. The passage of time confused you as you didn't know if ten seconds had passed or ten minutes. Marc looked at you with nothing but concern all over his face, every trace of anger far gone. Had he been talking to you?

"Oh baby thank god you're alive," Marc wanted to hold you but he was terrified of hurting you. He viewed you like an ancient artefact that could turn to dust with one touch. Seeing the evidence of Raul's abuse against you was tearing his heart apart in his chest and he felt each and every tear on a molecular level. You looked so out of it as if your mind was far away although your eyes gazed right into his. The innocent gleam had been chased away from your soul. Marc noticed it immediately and that was crushing. His sweet angel was hurt and he could only blame himself for it.

"Is he...?" Dead was the word you were looking for but couldn't say out loud. Would you be responsible for a man's death? Had the bullet torn apart important veins and caused him to bleed out?

"No," Marc shook his head. Not yet. Raul wasn't far away from it though but Marc was more worried about you than the man who was surely taking his last breaths anyway. The moment he had a chance to see how you were doing, he had taken it. What Marc hadn't expected was how bad everything was. Had it been wishful thinking to imagine he would've made it in time before Raul had hurt you? How foolish had it been of him to imagine Raul fucking Bushman would wait to hurt someone? Marc knew better than anyone what that man was capable of.  

"Can you walk?" Marc inquired, not sure if he really wanted to hear your answer though. He wanted to make sure you weren't there to see what he was about to do in a hopeless attempt to grasp onto the remaining purity of your heart and soul. Besides he knew seeing death changed a person in more ways than you'd think. The last thing he wanted was for you to have to witness that.

As you remained quiet, now staring at your trembling hands, Marc knew he wasn't going to get through to you. As gently as he could, he wrapped his strong arms around you and helped you to your feet. Marc saw the gun on the floor next to a phone that was still recording everything, only now facing the floor so it only recorded sound. It was your phone and it was gnarly to think Raul had recorded everything with the ambition in mind to send it all to Marc. Ever so carefully, Marc guided you out of the room that would surely be in many nightmares to come and into the dark hallway. No one else had joined the party as far as he and Khonshu were aware so Marc felt it was safe enough to leave you alone for just a few more seconds.

There was a leather armchair in the hallway and Marc made you sit down on it, which you didn't mind. Everything happened in a blur and it was difficult to focus on anything in that state. He began ripping his Moon Knight costume, the magic bindings reappearing seemingly out of nowhere as he used it to wrap the deepest wounds he could see on you. At that point, Marc had to fight hard against his own body to hold back his tears, trying to stay strong for just a little longer. It was really difficult though when he was wrapping your fingers together to stop the bleeding of a wound that resembled something he had inflicted upon someone else years ago. Marc thought he had seen enough shit for one lifetime but this? This was crushing him in every possible way.

Unbeknownst to you, Khonshu was looming over Marc's shoulder and keeping guard - not that the god would say that out loud. It wasn't that big of a deal for him to make sure his avatar didn't get ambushed, right?

"He is still breathing," Khonshu broke the heavy silence in the townhouse that allowed Marc's thoughts to spiral into a dark place. Khonshu wanted Raul to pay the ultimate price for his actions and waiting patiently for Marc to get a move on was boring. The sooner they got it over with, the better.

Marc nodded to himself and then tightened the material in hopes it would stop the bleeding. "I'll be right back, I promise," He assured you softly. Marc didn't need to say what he was about to do for you weren't stupid. All you could do was nod, feeling nothing at all as Marc stood up and retraced his steps back to the room in which Raul was bleeding out. Not even fear as you sat alone in the dark hallway as your own thoughts drowned out the world around you. 

Raul had severely underestimated Marc Spector, not knowing to expect the full wrath of a man enhanced by the powers of an ancient god. Not only that, he had enraged Marc and the two alters who all fronted to show him their rage. In his final moment on the cold, dirty floor, he was staring down into the barrel of the gun and then the man holding it, unsure exactly who he was looking at. Perhaps in some way, all three of them were holding that gun, all three men wanting the same thing - to end this man's life. Raul would never know who truly pulled that trigger.

The very last thing he ever heard was the scolding words of a man who took vengeance very seriously, especially when it came to injustices against the woman he loved;

"You fucked up the moment you decided to go after her and I'm not letting you make that mistake ever again."

                               Getting home and the entire process of getting washed and your wounds patched up had passed you near completely as you zoned out. It wasn't until Steven was putting one of his t-shirts on you that you really seemed to grasp where you were. Sure, you remembered glimpses of Marc getting you out of that building. He had insisted on taking you to a hospital as he seemed to have lost all care for himself, not giving a damn if the staff would've called the police on him and found out why he was covered in blood. But you didn't want that to happen. You didn't want to see any more people. All you wanted was to go home and be sheltered away from the rest of the world.

Jake was the one who cleaned your wounds. Luckily, they weren't too bad, nothing that would hold you back forever. What had hurt you the most was the mental toll of what had happened. Healing within would take so much longer and Jake was going to stay by your side the entire time. After he had cleaned your wounds, stitched you up and given you a bath, he wasn't sure what to do. It was late, the clock nearing the morning by now but neither of you felt like going to bed.

Steven was fronting at that point and he was worried sick about you because you barely spoke. Not that he was surprised or that he wanted to push the words out of your mouth, he was simply concerned. No one could blame him. The love of his life, the human version of an actual ray of sunshine who was never supposed to get hurt, was scarred so deeply. If he could turn back time, he would've done it in a heartbeat.

"Darling," Steven slipped the shirt over your head gently, making sure to stretch the fabric in order to avoid touching the deep, purple bruises and stitched up wounds. You barely lifted your arms to make an effort to ease the job. You didn't mean to be difficult or distant, it just happened. Every time you tried to focus on the present, a wave of utter pain threatened to crash against you and you didn't want that to happen, so you pushed it away. Prolonging it was most likely only making it worse but you were so scared of embracing what had happened. When you blinked, you could see the man's dead body on the floor, a picture your brain cruelly created to taunt you. Marc hadn’t let you see Raul’s corpse, but your mind was creative enough to give you a front row seat one way or another.

Although Raul had hurt you and stated he wanted to kill Marc, knowing he was dead made you feel strange. That man had been a monster yet you felt shaken by his death somehow. How much part did you have in it? Would they find his body and throw you in a cell? Would his friends come after you? After Marc?

"Hey," Steven could feel his heart continuing to break as he watched that empty look on your face, "talk to me, love. Please. Just please don't bottle this up, I'm here for you." Steven knew that if you kept all of these thoughts to yourself, that eventually it would break you furthermore. It wasn't healthy and yet at the same time, he was aware of the fact talking about it was possibly just as difficult but in the end, it would mean so much.

"He wanted to kill you," You finally managed to say something more than just a word or two. Raul had kidnapped you because he wanted to kill the man you loved that badly. Trying to accept that was hard as you couldn't picture hating Marc so much. Marc was wonderful. One had to be a true monster to find him so despicable.

"But he didn't," Steven reminded you, taking a hold of your right hand and he gave you a gentle squeeze as he intertwined your fingers. You could only watch as Steven brought your knuckles to his lips and he placed a soft kiss on your skin. The tender touch went straight to your heart, pulling at the strings that made you tear up. God you loved him so much and it pained you deeply to shut off like this. If only you knew how, you'd let him back in instantly.

Steven noticed the glistening tears in your weary eyes. "Oh love," it was difficult to keep his own tears at bay once he saw you like that. When you leaned against his chest and wrapped your arms around him, it took the man by surprise. Steven hadn't anticipated that but he was happy to hold you too, knowing you were finally letting your emotions out. Determined as hell, Steven was going to be your rock. In his mind, it was the least he could do.

When you felt his hand between your shoulderblades, caressing you gently and lovingly, you felt yourself relaxing against him. Tears kept spilling from your eyes and you were coughing in-between sobs, but letting it out felt kind of good as well. The tangled web within your soul was unraveling with every tear and every caring touch patched a crack in your heart. You were safe and nothing could happen to you now. They made sure of it.

As you thought of what they had done for you, an enormous amount of gratitude surged from within. You held Steven even tighter, wanting to thank him but you couldn't get the words out of your mouth, lips quivering as you wept. They hadn't only come to rescue you but they made sure Raul would never hurt you or anyone for that matter again. Having only shot him, you felt horrible. No matter how well Jake washed your hands, you couldn't shake off the sticky feeling that coated your skin. It seemed impossible to imagine how taking a life must've been like yet they had done it. For you.

Steven's cologne filled your lungs as you pressed your tear-stained face against his chest, probably leaving marks on the fabric but neither of you really cared. The familiar, clean scent was oddly calming and eventually, the rough and painful sobs calmed down. Your fingers clung onto his back tightly because you longed to stay close to him. His tender embrace and familiar scent was grounding you and every once in a while, Steven would whisper reassuring things to you. Being loved by him made you feel so lucky.

"Thank you," You managed after a while, barely finding your voice after screaming and crying so much in just one day. Your throat felt as dry as the desert but it seemed to be the least of your worries.

"You don't need to thank me, love. Not at all," Steven was genuinely surprised to hear that. He was shocked that you weren't running away from them actually. Why you decided to stay when their presence attracted such horrible people was beyond him but there you were. But you were together, even if you were to leave Steven was terrified more mysterious boogeymen from the past would come after you. Just thinking about it gave him an even worse headache than he already had. All he knew was that he couldn't make you thank them because truth be told, Marc wasn't the only one who felt guilty.

"You saved me," You looked up to him with red and puffy eyes, feeling sick of crying at that point. If only making it stop was that easy.

"You shouldn't have needed saving in the first place," Steven acknowledged, the words feeling like a punch in the gut. He hated that it was true.

They were all blaming themselves and you hated it. Sure, you had blamed yourself for this too but at the end of the day, Raul Bushman had been the one to initiate everything for his own selfish desires. There was one person to blame for this and that person was dead.

Steven felt a tear rolling down his cheek which he didn't even bother to wipe away as he looked at you with such deep love and compassion on his face it was almost overwhelming. What he seemed to tell you with his eyes did more justice than what a thousand words ever could've.  

"Steven, my love,," You took a deep shaky breath and then lifted your arm to wipe his stray tear away, noticing how Steven leaned ever so softly against your touch. Hours earlier he had feared he would never be able to do that again. "Don't blame yourself. None of you should."

Steven didn't say it, but he instantly thought of Marc who had completely shut himself off. Not even Jake could reach him. Marc was loathing in guilt and no one knew when he would front again as he had made it very clear he felt as if he was a curse upon you. A wretched old affliction that was destined to continue causing you harm no matter what he attempted to do to stop it.

Steven blinked as the tears just kept coming. He felt awful because he thought he was supposed to be the strong one to be there for you but as time passed, he too began to process everything that happened. Had they been late, you would've been long gone by now. Tonight had been too dangerous, the worst possible scenario had been too close to coming true.

As you felt Steven shaking underneath your touch, you swore you wanted to bring Raul back from the dead just to kill him again. Seeing the kind man that you loved so much being in so much pain over worry he felt for you was like walking on burning shards of glass. You were just both two people who had been terrified of losing one another and you both carried guilt that you absolutely shouldn't have.

You cupped Steven's face, pulling him toward you as he willingly let you do so just to press a kiss on the bridge of his nose. Then you guided him to the crook of your neck, wrapping your arms over his shoulder and allowing Steven to pull you closer by the waist. The two of you held onto each other as if you were scared of letting of. The only comfort in the world you could find was in each other's arms. Steven inhaled your scent, convinced he could find paradise in the soapy fragrance. It was safe because it was you. You were alright.

Eventually, the exhaustion caught up to you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you leaned against Steven, not sure if you were about to yawn or sob as your lips parted. A yawn ripped from you and you somehow relaxed even more, unaware of how tense you had actually been. If Steven had let you, you would've fallen asleep just like that, in his arms where you felt separated you from everything else, the rotten outside world. The bubble he created for you was soothing, a place where one could stay forever and feel okay.

The last thing you remembered before passing out from pure exhaustion was Steven ever so carefully guiding you toward the pillows and tucking you in. Whether he kissed your forehead or you just dreamt it, you didn't know but it didn't really matter. After that, everything was filmy. Pitch black unconsciousness swallowed you whole and for a moment, the misery that had soaked into your every cell was far away.

                       Jake couldn't sleep. Steven had dosed off into broken sleep but it was Jake who woke up and stayed awake afterwards. It wasn't a difficult task for him to keep his eyes open as the sun began to rise outside. He had made sure the front door was locked and that no shady people were around the apartment complex. Jake had even gone out of his way to make sure their tracks were covered. All seemed well, at least on paper. No one could prove what they had done and no one was coming for you. All seemed well yet you were far from well as far as Jake was concerned.

He sat down on the bed eventually and tried to relax, making sure he didn't disturb your much needed rest. Jake knew the danger had been dealt with but part of him couldn't relax. Something cruel within told him people were out there, waiting for the first chance they'd get to harm you. So there he was, guarding you and at the very least giving you a chance to rest. As Jake's dark brown eyes focused on the steady rise and fall of your chest, he felt how deep, sharp claws sunk into his heart. Anger bubbled within him but to his surprise, that wasn't strong enough to push away the sorrow he harboured. Someone had hurt you and Jake couldn't comprehend it.

As you looked at your sleeping figure, studying the way your lashes touched your cheeks and how your lips parted a little bit when your cheek squished against the soft pillow, he struggled to comprehend how anyone was capable of harming you. Dark eyes roamed down your body, scarring every little bruise and cut on your exposed skin. Eventually, Jake looked at your fingers that clutched onto the blanket. He remembered when Marc had taken Raul's fingers as a wicked warning to keep his hands off of people. It had been a mistake to simply warn a man like that. They should've gotten rid of him then and there.

Raul hadn't just hurt you. All those years ago, while on a mission in Cairo they had come across surprise witnesses. People who weren't supposed to be there. People that the higher ups who paid them wanted to get rid of. Marc hadn't had it in him to kill a child but Raul almost did that. Almost, as Marc had stopped him just in time. That's why Marc had done what he did, hoping it would keep Raul from ever even thinking about hurting kids. Surely there had to be a line drawn somewhere, right? Not for Raul. Raul didn't care about who he had to get rid of in order to succeed with his ambitions. At least, he would never get another chance to do anything ever again.

When you yelped, breaking the silence that had lingered in the flat, Jake nearly jumped to his feet. He had been deep in thought that he hadn't heard you waking up so afraid. For a moment, you felt panicked and you had to pull your hands to your chest to make sure you weren't chained to a bedframe. Being able to move freely was so relieving but it didn't last long when you noticed the dull ache in your every bone and muscle.

Jake took a hold of your hand, wanting to comfort you in any way he could as you woke up to a new day. "You're safe, mi vida. I've got you."

Hearing Jake's voice made you feel so much lighter instantly. Although you had been able to sleep for a few hours, you somehow felt more tired now than you did before falling asleep. But it didn't matter. You enjoyed the fact that you were safe, just as Jake promised. Being home and completely shielded from any danger was a wonderful feeling and you focused on that instead of the sense of impending doom that was trying to shake you off balance. Nothing bad would happen now.

"Have you slept at all?" You mumbled tiredly as you sat up, trying to rub the weariness from your eyes. It felt like your body was on fire, not in a good way. Last night, the adrenaline had managed to dull most of the pain but now that you knew you were safe and had been able to relax, the discomfort seemed to have intensified.

"A little," Jake shrugged as he stood up. He could tell by the way you were moving that you were hurting so he decided to grab painkillers and a glass of water. As he returned from the kitchen with them, he gave you the pill and made sure you drank enough water. Jake knew how to be caring and attentive too, he just wasn't too verbal about it. Words didn't come easily to him, or when they did the timing wasn't the best either. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, he thought.

                       That day you didn't manage to get much done, not the next few days either for that matter. As the shock from the horrendous night still rattled you all, you could only stay inside. As the third day came around the corner, you were still mostly in bed or on the couch, unable to pull your head out of the dreadful place it found itself in. Jake and Steven had both fronted many times but it was mostly Steven who kept you company and tried to cheer you up. Marc hadn't shown up not even once after he had brought you back home. He hadn't come back as he promised. Not even when you were asleep.

Steven had gotten out of bed for the day, leaving you to slumber in hopes you were able to relax at least in your rest. You fell asleep again several times, only sleeping for a few minutes at a time when sudden fear woke you up again. It always seemed to come out of the blue and it passed just as quickly. The more it kept happening, the worse it felt. Around the time the sun was setting again and you still hadn't gotten out of bed, your anxiety was threatening to get the best of you.

Steven was in the kitchen, making something for you to eat since you hadn't eaten much at all yet. He wanted to take care of you and covering the basics such as making sure you ate was the least he felt he could do. As he stirred the pasta sauce, Steven had to really keep fight to keep his negative thoughts away. He hadn't slept well, obviously, and it seemed to take a toll on him now. He had almost lost you. No matter how many times he reminded himself that you were alright, he felt rotten to the core. What had he done if Raul had actually succeeded in his plan? Steven couldn't even imagine the scenario. That was too sinister.

The next time your anxiety awoke you, it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing at your throat. You sat up in bed and could physically feel your stomach turning upside down in distress. You bent over and dug your nails into your thighs, trying to drown your whimpers by biting your lips together. Only one thing repeated itself in your mind like a chant, you shot someone. You almost died and you shot someone. You did that.

As a sick feeling within you only grew worse, you forced yourself out of bed and to the bathroom. Unsure whether you'd get sick or not, you decided to sit down on the cold tile floor near the toilet just in case. That's when the tears got to you again and it was frustrating, making you entangle your fingers in your hair and scratch at your scalp. Why couldn't you stay calm? Why couldn't you accept that it was over? What happened had happened and now everything was fine. Why was it so damn hard to stay calm?

Marc. You missed Marc. He had shut off completely and it was devastating. Was he angry at you? Could it be? Raul had done this to anger Marc specifically. Did Marc blame you in some way? As wrong as it seemed, you weren't sure if anything could surprise you anymore. The longer he stayed hidden, the longer you were left to make your own conclusions.

"Love? Are you in here? I've made dinner," Steven's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Hearing him was like music to your ears. He was like a warm blanket that chased away the coldness that threatened to turn you to ice. Your heart swelled in your chest with love for him because you were sure you'd be a wreck without the sweet man.

"Yeah," After taking a few deep breaths, you felt somewhat better and got up from the floor. As long as you tried getting out of your head, you were sure you'd feel better. So you walked out of the bathroom and let Steven serve you a plate of pasta although you were certain you could've helped yourself too. Steven was going out of his way to be thoughtful and as nice as it was, it made you fear he was doing so out of guilt. How long would this last? How long would you all be broken because of one man?

The two of you sat on the couch as you ate, mindlessly watching the TV that filled in the silent gaps. Usually, you and Steven would be talking nonstop and probably pissing off the neighbours too. Now conversation was hard. Just existing felt like a chore but at least every day that passed made it a little bit less awful.

"Steven?" You were nervous about what you wanted to say so you avoided facing him, instead focusing on the pasta that swirled around your fork.

"Yes?"

By now, you could feel the familiar heavy thud of your heart. "Have you heard from Marc?"

Steven wasn't a fool. He knew you noticed Marc's absence as well as he and Jake did too, if not even better. Until now, neither of you had mentioned it though. Steven didn't want to upset you any more than people already had. For a split second, he thought of brushing it off with a somewhat cheerful statement, but discarded that quickly. You didn't deserve that. You were hurt, not stupid. Treating you like a child and walking on eggshells around you couldn't possibly do any more good than it would do harm.

With a sigh, Steven put his plate down on the coffeetable right next to a book he hadn't touched in days now.

"No, not really," Steven admitted and dared to glance your way. "I'm sorry."

“‘s not your fault.”

“Well I’m still sorry, love.”

"Is he mad?" You mimicked Steven by placing your plate on the coffeetable, too agitated to focus on eating the rest of your food. The queasy feeling from earlier was creeping right back to you at an alarming rate. To say you were discouraged was an understatement, going through a cycle of sickness and dread ten times an hour. 

Steven couldn't believe you honestly thought so. "Mad?" He had to be sure he heard right. When he saw the fearful look on your face, he knew he had. "No, not at all. He's just... well, if he's mad at anyone it's at himself."

"He can't blame himself for what happened!" You hoped that somehow, someway, Marc could hear you. "Gosh he's so stubborn sometimes," You didn't mean it in a malicious way, not at all. You loved Marc and you wished you could just speak to him and convince him he wasn't blameworthy of anything. 

"Yeah," Steven pulled his lips into a thin line, side-glancing at the reflection in Gus' tank. Marc was there but he certainly wasn't saying anything. The man seemed out of it, his usual demeanour completely shattered. Jake was trying to convince Marc to just talk to you. Steven wished you could hear and see what he was seeing sometimes. 

In an attempt to ease your mind, Steven moved closer to you on the couch and invited you into a hug. The people on the television were overly cheerful and giddy considering the gloomy atmosphere in the flat as bright colours flashed from the screen, painting the otherwise dark room in pinks and yellows. You leaned against Steven's welcoming frame and tried to stay calm, knowing Marc was in there somewhere. He'd have to show up sooner or later, right? He couldn't hide from you forever.

                             For once, it was you who was awake and Steven was asleep. Or at least you had been cuddling with Steven just moments earlier. It was a dead giveaway he was finally sleeping when you heard a light snore every once in a while between the deep and calm breaths. For a moment, you focused on that alone, letting the simple sounds of his breaths and heartbeat chase away the rest of the world. To you, sleep didn't come easy that night and neither were you sleepy. Just tired in every other possible way.  

"I wish you weren't so hard on yourself, Marc," The words left your mouth as hardly louder than a whisper, as you did not wish to wake him up. The longer Marc stayed hidden, either too ashamed to face you or too heartbroken to front, you felt so sorry for him. It was killing you to know Marc couldn't bring himself to talk to you.

Fingers carefully traced the blanket that weighed over his waist. You rested your palm against his chest, needing to feel the subtle movement that kept you grounded to this moment. Slowly you got closer so that you could pepper kisses along his shoulder, inhaling his scent and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. Even if you couldn't sleep, being close like this brought you some sort of relaxation and peace.

"I love you." Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was exactly what you needed, you closed your eyes and held onto him tighter, picturing a night from many weeks ago that reminded you of Marc. In your mind, it was that night and nothing horrible had happened yet. You were just close to each other, just two lovers enjoying the calm night after a lovely day together. There was no pain or guilt to be seen or felt.

The next morning, it was Marc that awoke to a new day. It was still early, way too early to actually get out of bed but he quickly knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. Your body was pressed against his and Marc felt his heart sinking to the very bottom of his stomach. He hadn't been able to speak to you or even really look at you since that night. Now there he was, with an arm wrapped around you and panic stirring within him. Although part of him longed to hold you and make sure you were alright, it almost physically pained him to be there. He saw the healing bruises on your skin, now tinted in a yellowish hue. They were scattered all over you, each small and bigger bruise making Marc enraged. How had he let this happen?

Gently, Marc pulled the blanket aside more, revealing your thighs and seeing the damage all the way down your legs. He saw the cut Jake had stitched in the bathroom that night. Marc traced his fingers over your skin so softly he wasn't even sure he was really touching you. Memories of that night came back to him, visions he had been stuck thinking of for a week straight with seemingly no break. He remembered how scared he felt when he first saw you chained to that bed. Marc had been terrified when he learned it was Raul who held you captive. That night was easily the worst of his life that was full of horrible days and nights. That night he almost lost you, the light of his dark and gloomy life.

"Marc?" You hadn't been in deep sleep so when you sensed shifting next to you, it was easy to tell you weren't the only one awake. It had been wishful thinking to picture it was Marc but sometimes wishful thinking turned out to be correct.

You saw it in his eyes. There was a familiar look in those brown irises, a light that only shone for him. Then you saw it in the way he carried himself. There were small things that gave the truth away. It really was Marc. Instantly, you felt wide awake as you faced your lover, nearly afraid to blink in case he would disappear again. "Marc..."

"I didn't mean to wake you," Marc failed to meet your gaze, holding himself together by a thread that was just about to snap. He thought about how he had carried you, how your blood had stained his clothes and how he was convinced you would see him as the monster he thought he was after everything that happened. You were all he had and despite being right next to you, Marc felt as if he had lost you already. After everything that happened, he knew nothing would ever be the same and he blamed himself for it all.

As he moved away from you, throwing his legs off the edge of the bed so he was sitting with his back facing you, it was clear he wanted to be anywhere but there. The bed felt colder and despite being so close to Marc, it felt like there were worlds between you. 

Quietly, you got out of bed, the white t-shirt being the only fabric that covered you from the night. Carefully, you sat down on the edge of the bed next to Marc, relief washing over you when he didn’t get up and leave. Instead, Marc sighed deeply and turned to face you, now with tears in his eyes. Tears. As if you all hadn’t gotten sick and tired of those by now. The fact you hadn’t drowned in them yet was a miracle. 

“Marc,” You searched for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his for the first time in what felt like a small eternity. “I missed you.”

The words affected him more than you’d ever know. Marc could still not believe you weren’t angry at him. Knowing you wanted to be by his side after everything was simply mind boggling.

“I missed you too, baby,” Marc admitted, finally beginning to speak about what had happened. Perhaps it was the closeness that made him feel like it was time or the fact that keeping everything bottled up was slowly killing him, either way Marc was encouraged to go on. “Fuck, I...I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re still here. I thought I’d lose you.”

“Marc-”

“What happened was never supposed to happen. I should’ve made sure of that long ago!”

“Marc!” You couldn’t let him sit there and keep blaming himself. Eventually the load he was carrying would break him and that would break you too. 

He looked at you wide eyed, resembling a lost puppy. Seeing Marc like this was so unusual, he looked at you for guidance and forgiveness although forgiveness was something he never needed to ask for. It wasn’t needed in the first place but even if it were, you knew in your heart you’d forgive him a million times. 

“What happened was not your fault,” Each word you said was clear and loud so that he couldn’t possibly mishear you. “The only person to blame for it is now dead and gone. Raul chose to do this. Not you, not me. He is the only one who should feel guilty.”

“You could’ve died,” Marc still didn’t budge, holding your hand a little tighter as he stated that. There was a deep desire within him that made him long to feel you even closer just as a reminder that you were alive. 

“But I didn’t. I’m here thanks to you,” There were two sides two every situation. Marc could only see what almost happened and you were there to remind him of what actually happened, something he didn’t seem to consider at all. 

“I could walk into traffic and get run over by a car tomorrow. I could get targeted by a random robber in a sketchy alleyway. Bad things happen and we can’t predict that. No one knows how much time we have but I know that no matter what, Raul’s actions weren’t your fault,” You didn’t mean to sound cruel but your words carried truth in them. No one could blame themselves for the unseen actions of the future. No one. 

Like magic, something finally seemed to click in Marc’s mind. His shoulders relaxed and you could feel the tension melting from his muscles. When he let go of your hand just so he could envelope you in a hug, you wanted to thank whatever deity or god that must’ve given you this miracle. 

Soon you found yourself on Marc’s lap, breathing in the subtle hints of his cologne as you rested your face against his shoulder. Marc held you tightly, but he was aware of your injuries so the man was mindful, not aiming to hurt you. His rough hand - now ever so gentle - was caressing the back of your head as his arm wrapped around you, keeping you close. Then at last, Marc let his tears rain down his face. The lid of the bottle was opened and you had knocked it over, letting it all spill out.

“I love you so much,” You whispered to him, repeating the confession a few times between soft kisses against his warm skin. You comforted Marc to the best of your abilities, playing with the dark curls at the nape of his neck and ever so often wiping away the tears that were running down his throat. 

“I love you too,” Marc had to return those words, his heart set aflame from love and passion that he felt for you. It was a fire no one could ever put out.

Marc held onto you for dear life, wanting to feel your heartbeat against his, to feel your chest expanding with air. Your scent calmed him as he let his sorrow out. Although only a few days had passed since you two last spoke, to him it felt like months. Looking back at how scared he had felt made him feel sick. It worsened when he couldn’t shake away the image of you in that fucking room. That was something no amount of words could ever clean from his memory. 

But there you were. Not in a creepy room at the mercy of one of the most dangerous people Marc knew of. No. You were in his arms, in your bed and no one else could possibly bother you right now. 

To Marc, this was all that mattered.

You were safe.

A/N: Okay so I definitely didn’t intend for this to be this long but here we are. I hope you liked it! :)

#Moon Knight fanfiction #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #Jake Lockley x Reader #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #angst #hurt/comfort #raul bushman

[monimccoythings]

Miguel O’Hara headcanons

Warning: This contains slight spoilers for Across The Spiderverse

I’m a new person after watching Across the Spiderverse. Words cannot describe how much I loved this movie. But the things I loved the most was how the characters were portrayed, like, you could tell their actions were wrong and that they were taking the worst approach to the situation, but still understand why they behaved like that and empathize with their reasoning behind their actions. Another thing I truly loved was their approach to their supposed love triangle, they mostly took the same route they took in Venom, Miles was a bit jealous at first, but the supposed love rival (Hobie my beloved) was just a cool guy who genuinely wanted to help and there was never any rivalry or hostility between them and that’s very healthy. I also loved Oscar Isaac’s portrayal of Miguel O’hara, absolutely wonderful.

I usually try to make the reader as gender neutral as possible, but this time I decided that this time reader would be fem!reader, but please feel free to use any pronoun you feel more comfortable with.

Imagine Miguel who after the incident with his alternate self’s daughter closed his heart off to everyone else, genuinely believing that to be Spider-Man you need to suffer and vowing to never love anyone ever again.

Imagine Miguel finding a carbon copy of his alternate self’s deceased wife in his real “home” universe and realising that he could have had a family here after all.

Imagine Miguel deciding not to pursue you and start a family, thinking that it would all end in more heartbreak and pain for them.

Imagine Miguel keeping tabs on you despite everything, because he wants to make sure you are safe, happy, well cared and surrounded with good people.

Imagine Miguel’s shock when you start working at the same laboratory as he as a lab assistant and having to self restrain himself from holding you against his chest and never letting go.

Imagine Miguel having to become cold and aloof towards you to save you both the suffering, thinking it will be easier if you hated him even if it’s killing him. Nonetheless, you still see through his façade and realise that behind that cruel and cold mask there is a scared man. Because you always do see him, in every universe.

Imagine Miguel pretending to not care whetever  you are dating someone or not, but still tearing his private lab into pieces in the middle of a jealously induced rage fit.

Imagine Miguel finding and beating the shit out of the date when they inevitably break your heart.

Imagine Miguel’s walls slowly coming down no matter how much he wants to keep them up because that’s the effect you always have on him.

Imagine Miguel’s learning to appreciate and love your version’s differences with the one from his deceased counterpart universe and value you as your own individual.

Imagine Miguel’s sudden understanding as to why Miles was so adamant of protecting his family when he sees some thugs about to shoot you.

Imagine Miguel losing it and becoming a rabid beast ready to murder those thugs.

Imagine that the only way to calm him down his to hug his broad back and whisper soothing and reassuring words to him. Even if you are trembling with fear, you find more important to hush him before he does something he will surely regret.

Imagine Miguel finally deciding to pursue you romantically and open his heart. He is not risking losing you ever again.

Imagine Miguel always fearing something bad might happen to you so he is a bit overbearing and overprotective. He always is expecting the worst of everyone. But you are always there to reassure him you are not going anywhere.

Imagine Miguel almost expecting a canon event to take you away from him again. But as time passes, your romance blossoms, you get engaged, you get married, have beautiful babies, and nothing happens. Not like Miguel isn’t there to make sure something bad happens, as mentioned, he is very overprotective.

Imagine Miguel being kinda worried that his children may inherit his “special traits” and you comforting him, telling her that no matter what you love them all.

Imagine Miguel waking up one day and realising nothing bad is happening because this is the future he was meant to have, a happy one.

Imagine Miguel stepping down from his role as leader of the Spider Society and giving it to more capable hands to spend more time with his family.

Imagine Miguel finally allowing himself to relax and enjoy life and his role as Spider-Man with his family by his side. Healing from trauma once and for all.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader

[yanderes-galore]

I said you wouldn't be hearing from me until the 16th, but I am a peepaw enjoyer, I must confess 😌 Can I please request romantic yandere Otto Hightower? Sorry this doesn't use any prompts, but you can choose between a general concept or an alphabet. Thanks!

🕊️ anon

Was originally making this a concept, but now I want to experiment with an Alphabet to see if I can get his character right. Not proofread, may contain mistakes. I appreciate feedback!

Yandere Alphabet - Otto Hightower

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Arranged marriage, Mentioned age gap at times (Otto is in his 30s I think), Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Controlling behavior, Toxic relationship/marriage, A section mentioning pregnancy/need for heirs (If you're Female), Violence, Blood mention, Medieval concepts, Death mention, Attempted murder mentioned, Physical punishment (It's Westeros... I kept it vague to not cause discomfort but think whips/something similar), Dubious/Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

When he does manage to fall for his arranged spouse I imagine he's more physically affectionate than anything. He knows eventually (if you're female) you two will have heirs together. As a result, he wants to earn your trust instead of ignoring you.

Otto has times where he can be intense. He is manipulative to many, including you. There's no doubt he'd manipulate you into giving him affection when he feels like it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

In ASOIAF and the media it inspires, getting bloody isn't anything new. Despite that... Otto isn't really one to get all that bloody. He prefers manipulating others into doing his dirty work.

He likes control.

So if he wanted someone around you gone, he can just order it done. That or he'll redirect you away, chastising you for speaking to other men.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He doesn't abduct you, but I guess I can count this as when you two are arranged to marry. He starts off cold and demanding, but soon tries to create a warmer (yet controlling) relationship between you two. He wouldn't really mock you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, he would.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He isn't vulnerable in general and starts cold. However, over time he does realize you have made your way into his mind and heart. Now he can't help but want to hold you close....

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Otto would reprimand you before ordering in a punishment for you. You can assume what that may be... it was very common for men to do to their spouses in Westeros.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not really and he doesn't.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The punishments I would assume. Westeros is very physical with their punishments. By the end of it you'll probably have some bruises or lashings. However, Otto prefers to refrain from that. Especially when his obsession settles in.

He plans to cultivate your loyalty with words, not anything too physical.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He plans to make you his loyal spouse. If you're female/have ovaries... he'll make you bear his heirs. Then Alicent can have some half-siblings, yeah?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Yes but he disguises it. If you make him jealous he definitely makes the other man (or woman) disappear. They'll be gone, perhaps in a bloodbath or well planned assassination.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

At first he's Cold, Distant, Controlling, and a bit Derogatory. Although as his obsession grows, he becomes more Affectionate, Manipulative, Possessive, Obsessive, Selfish and Overprotective.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

I personally think Otto met you in an arranged marriage after his unknown wife died. He's pressured into finding a new spouse and decides to marry you. As a result I feel Otto starts cold and distant with you.

Over time he begins to give in and at least try to communicate with you. Soon he finds you to actually be appealing company. Even more so when you interact with Alicent well.

When he starts making an effort to know his spouse, he ends up attached. You're no doubt younger than him as most arranged marriages go. Despite this he doesn't mind.

Although... soon he finds himself unable to part from you. He wants you always by his side. He wants you to himself.

Maybe he does really love you... more than he thought.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

I want to keep this vague but it's definitely physical. Think things like whips since it's Westeros. Although... he may also do something more intimate if he feels it.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Most if not all of them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can be patient, although he seems like his patience would be limited.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He probably would... but he finds it odd how he's more connected with you than his previous wife. Your death would affect Otto quite a bit. He doesn't want any other spouse but you now.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and no.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Duty and curiosity.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He usually gives you your space, but maybe he decides to pull you into his lap and hold you. Even if you struggle he doesn't really care. He doesn't like his spouse throwing a fit.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

There isn't one that I can think of, unless you plan on having him assassinated or something?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No, not usually. He'll respect you that much unless you're purposefully trying to fight him.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere but he goes to great lengths to keep you under his control as his spouse. As said before, he likes control. So he wants you to listen to his every word.

He's your husband, isn't he?

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It takes him some time but he doesn't pine all that much. In this case it's an arranged marriage... but it may take a few months before he begins to obsess over you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

It isn't really his goal.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #yandere asoiaf #yandere a song of ice and fire #yandere otto hightower

[howtofightwrite]

In real sword fight, kicking the sword to the enemies is just plain impossible right?

No, it's completely possible, it's just a terrible idea.

So, there's a practical stunt, where one performer picks up their opponent's discarded weapon and tosses it to them with their foot. That is completely doable. It's a popular, and fairly easy, stunt to perform. The actual motions could easily be executed during a fight by a skilled duelist, though, you wouldn't want to do that.

You also probably wouldn't want to throw a sword to an ally mid-fight, since there is a risk of them missing the incoming weapon, and being hit by a flying sword, or catching it poorly and injuring themselves. Cuts to the hand and fingers are really nasty in a fight, and something you'd want to avoid if at all possible, but if it's a choice between a risked injury, or death, you might decide to take the risk.

Passing a weapon to someone who is actively trying to kill you is not an appealing option for, what I hope are, obvious reasons. In case they're not: Your foe is trying to kill you. You just gave them a weapon that will help them kill you. This is a bad thing. Things were better when you had all weapons and they had none. Don't kick their sword to them, pick it up and kill them with it. You're both there for the same reason; just get it over with; kill them before someone gets seriously hurt.

This is a fairly common element in duels where the hero returns their enemy's weapon to them after they've been disarmed. It's supposed to illustrate how noble and principled they are, however, in a serious fight (which these almost always are), it's a show of dangerous naivete. If you've ever read something to the effect of, “why is good so dumb!?” this is an excellent example of the behavior which provokes that question.

In a formal dueling environment, or during training, this kind of maneuver starts to become less self-destructive. If this is, “a proper duel,” and killing an unarmed foe would be grossly inappropriate (and criminal), then yes, kicking their sword to them becomes a reasonable middle ground between handing them the weapon and resorting to murder. Especially because the risk of hand injuries turns into a boon rather than flaw. (Actually, flipping the script a little and having the villain return the hero's sword this way, specifically with the intent of letting them catch the blade, is a dick move with reasonable deniability.) Of course, in a proper duel it would probably be better form to hand the fallen weapon to the seconds, let them shuffle it between them, and return it to the other duelist by hand.

In a training environment, particularly with non-sharpened blades, a teacher could easily kick the weapon back to their student to maintain tempo. It's a little unusual, but not that out there, and learning to safely catch a blade without suffering injury isn't the worst trick to have up your sleeve. You'll probably never need it, but there's no downside to being able to catch a thrown weapon by reflex.

It should also go without saying that simply kicking it across the floor is another option. In my experience, kicked weapons don't tend to travel quite as far as you think they would. Obviously, if you practice kicking weapons around, this isn't going to be a problem, but why would you practice that?

This whole scenario tends to be a bit contrived, one of the participants in a duel is disarmed, by some means. This exists to extend the sequence and, in theory, let the characters express themselves a bit, but that expression suffers from this being a fairly rote sequence, rather than behavior that is unique to that character.

So, can it be done? Yeah, it's absolutely doable, however, in serious combat, it is a really bad idea.

-Starke

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#how to fight write #Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #swordfighting #practical stunts

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

The hazbin hatedom is getting out of hand for me it's really cringe. Your thoughts

I have mixed opinions on this. So beforehand, I am going to say that this is a longer post from me, and I appreciate the anonymous message! <3 I will be talking about this specific question, as well as my interpretation, thoughts, and overall feelings on this matter. Please feel free to reblog, like, and comment your opinions and keep it civil. I want to have a friendly discussion, no matter how brash I seem: this is brutal honesty coming from my heart.

For those who have ZERO clue: Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are dark "comedy" shows for an adult audience, created by Vivienne "Vivziepop" Medrano, originally airing on YouTube. Helluva Boss is currently in its second season, while we have yet to find out anything else on Hazbin Hotel, as it is now a part of A24 and BentoBox. They center on the same setting, Hell, but have two different plot lines.

Hazbin Hotel is redemption focused, led by Princess Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. She wants to help the sinners in Hell become good and go up to heaven to avoid the yearly Exterminartion, aka a Purge. Helluva Boss, however, is about a murdering business called I.M.P., with Blitz, Millie, Moxxie, and Loona, going up to Earth with a grimoire that is provided by Stolas of the Ars Goetia, a prince. So here we go, into the Depths and reasoning of this post: the Hatedom. So lo and behold, my answer below.

On one hand, yes. The Hazbin Hatedom is a bit over the top. Yes, people are assholes. However, the Vivziepop stans who don't want to admit their precious senpai Vivziepop has done some pretty fucked up shit in the past. The hate can be unnecessary, but you know what else can be unnecessary? The toxic stans. I follow #vivziepop for certain analysis portrayals and criticism, or just general news. Sometimes people are tiresome. This is no exception.

I am falling out of the fandom because it can be toxic. I enjoy most of the characters, but other than that? Helluva Boss's current writing is NOT good. At all. The latest episode irked me to no end. I'm unimpressed with Seeing Stars. I am not very happy that they are forcing Stolitz down our throats as an "uwu pwease wove us" type of bullshit ship. I would much rather prefer Blitz and Stolas to be friends. I wished Stolas had his pilot personality and not the "uwu im a gay, tragic prince with a shitty wife, feel bad for me" bird we know in the series.

Moxxie in the latest episode is bitchy. He got on my nerves and was pissed at Millie being happy. This girl deserves more screentime (and I'm glad she got some of it) but seriously...Millie is always there for Moxxie, and Moxxie needs to reciprocate.

They made Stella seem stupid, when in reality, and if written properly, she can be a cunning and calculating villain with her brother. We've yet to see how Octavia and Stella interact, but I'm unsure.

I have definitely tried to keep my mouth shut as much as I could on this matter, because when I finally openly admit how I feel, it's not a pretty thing, especially with something that I'm so passionate about. Animation takes time, writing takes time, scripting, acting, everything takes so much time, and this is wasted potential. We can have so much better than just a fan-ficcy type rom-com, dark humor, sexual humor schtick. It's getting annoying, and I fear the worst when it comes to Hazbin Hotel.

Criticism is welcome here! Let me know what I left out. I'm willing to hear other opinions, so long as they're nice. If anons start flooding my inbox and getting mad, anons are off. Anon is a privilege, not a right.

#y'all this is the first time i really sat down to contemplate this #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #critisism #original post

[the-bjd-community-confess]

TW: Discussion of CSA

I'm Sick of This Shit

Sorry Mod, this is off-topic and heavy stuff, but I'm fucking sick of this cutesy little internet trend of insinuating the worst about people over fucking nothing. This is going to get heavy but I'm not sitting down and shutting the fuck up this time.

Please put a read more here? I don't want to trigger anyone, I just want to try and give a wake-up call to people who do this shit.

I cannot believe I just read a callout post for someone as a "dangerous individual" and it's about them drawing some fictional character. Or rather, I can, because it keeps happening, and it's the dumbest new trend I've ever seen. As a victim of that specific kind of abuse? As in, someone who's fucking tapes have a hash in the ICAC database? (Do you even know what that means? Do you even care to find out? Do you actually care about victims or do you just want some moral gotcha over the person you don't like? Because I have a feeling it's the second one!) Someone who's been really fucking impacted and harmed by this shit in my actual flesh-and-blood real life?

Shut the fuck up. No, actively, antagonistically fuck you. How fucking dare you equate the seriousness of my and others' real-life physical harm to someone finding some stupid WORTHLESS, UNIMPORTANT, NOT REAL ANIME CHARACTER HOT. Who in the absolute fuck actually sincerely CARES?? Do you think authors who write about murder want to secretly kill people?? Do you think people who make horror movies can contact the dead? You are so obsessed about thought crimes and unimportant bullshit to the degree that you are accusing people of being the absolute worst type of person over anime. OVER ANIME! Who the fuck cares if someone draws a fake person doing something sexual. I, as a victim, do not give a shit. I don't care if they draw a fake person getting dismembered. I don't care if they write about a fake person being subjected to death by 1000 paper-cuts! Do you know why?

They're not fucking real!

Somewhere along the way people seem to have forgotten that the reason abuse is bad isn't because it's "icky" and "gross" and makes you uncomfortable to think about.

It's bad because it's fucking hurtful to people who are actually really alive. It's bad because if you cut a real person we fucking bleed. It's bad because if you do things to our body, it leaves fucking SCARS. It's bad because WE LIVE WITH THE FUCKING TRAUMA AND CONSEQUENCES OF WHAT IS DONE TO US YOU STUPID EMOTIONALLY BEREFT ASSHOLE, YOU FUCKING MORALLY STUNTED BRAT. DO YOU FUCKING COMPREHEND THAT? DO YOU ACTUALLY HAVE THE CAPACITY TO UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN REAL LIFE AND FICTION? LIKE DO YOU? ARE YOU AN ACTUAL CHILD? BECAUSE IF SO, YOU SHOULD NOT BE ENGAGING IN THESE DISCUSSIONS IN THE FIRST PLACE! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??? AND IF YOU ARE AN ADULT, FUCKING ACT LIKE ONE. This isn't a slag against someone who does have empathy issues or anything like that- ironically they tend to have no problem differentiating real life from fiction crimes, at least in my experience. No no, this is against the specific type of person who willfully chooses to libel against someone because of what usually boils down to """fandom crimes."""

I am in a support group for people like me. Do you know what we bitch about lately? You motherfuckers. Clogging the actual fucking hotlines by reporting drawings of cartoon characters, do you even realize that there are real consequences to your moral crusade? The time these people are forced to spend deleting anime art from their email literally costs real-life children -- AGAIN, REAL PEOPLE BEING HURT, YOU FUCKS -- precious time from getting the help they so desperately fucking deserve. Do you even think before you act? Do you? Do you fucking consider for a moment the real-world consequences of your behavior, or do you just raise your head and preen over your moralistic victory against the nastybadwrong person that wrote a story you don't like? I hate you.

Sure. Maybe this person who was submitted about really is the scum of the earth, an absolutely toxic bastard of an individual who does deserve a callout post. Wouldn't surprise me, because lots of shitty people are out there. So then, if that's the case, how come you didn't present that proof? Because all I read (images didn't work) is that they drew some anime character horny. People have been doing that for decades. The fucking Disney animators have drawn Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse going at it. Who gives a shit. It's fiction. You are having a moral panic over nothing and blinding yourself to the real consequences of your actions and I am here on my hands and knees BEGGING you to have more concern for people who actually exist than you do for your stupid goddamn anime boy.

I actually HATE people like you, I actively fucking do not feel SAFE around people like you. People who create fictional works, even dark and fucked up ones? They generally know the differences you seem to miss: that thoughts and actions are different things. There was a post going around where some guy got thrashed on social media for getting a leg amputation for fetishistic reasons where he was called every name in the book and probably some new ones yet to be added to the Merriam-Webster's dictionary. Turns out he actually had cancer and the amputation was for medically necessary reasons, but one (1) minor looked at THE TYPE OF ART HE DREW and made assumptions about his whole entire character from that. And thus someone going through some incredibly emotionally challenging shit was forced to further stomach the trauma of an internet hate mob because of baseless accusations just like these. Don't fucking do that. That shouldn't even need to be said! And yet. So I'll say it again. Don't! Fucking! Do that! Fuck!

This is wildly out of the scope of this blog and I'm really sorry to Mod for having to see it, but I'm sick of seeing this everywhere online, I do not need it in my fucking safe space hobby. Actively go fuck yourself if you do this or participate in this. If you care about victims- if you have actual compassion for people who are real, and don't just want to control how others portray fictional characters for reasons of moral outrage, then don't do this. And if you've done this in the past, just... fucking try to do better from here on out, at least. The world is fucked up enough without needing to rip each other apart over, and I cannot stress this enough, goddamn cartoons.

And if I get sassed in the comments as "not a real victim" or some shit, go ahead. I've heard it before, I don't care. I've been told by people in my life that what happened to me was 1) a misunderstanding 2) deserved because I in some way asked for it 3) that I'm lying for attention, etc etc. Does not matter that mine was one of the cases that actually made it to court and resulted in a sentencing... victim-blaming is incredibly ingrained in my country's culture. I honestly don't care if I'm believed or not, I just... want to say my piece. I want to confess, to air my grievances, with a current trend everyone on the internet and this hell-site in specific. So, thank you for reading if you have, and fuck you if you dismissed it all because your precious fictional little meow meow matters more to you than the victims of the real-life atrocities you're so motivated baselessly to accuse people of perpetrating.

And mod, stay safe and practice self-care. To all the victims, I hope your abusers die horribly. You deserve the world.

~Anonymous

Mod: thank you so much anon for your response, nothing is out of scope here (kinda, I like tangents, just need to follow the rules too) so anons, don't be afraid of expressing yourself as you so rightly did here.

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #Community Confessions

[youwouldmissmeinyourbones]

I'm fairly new to Klaroline. There are so many incredible looking fics, it's hard to know where to start. What would you rec as the absolute must-read fics in the fandom? Any length, any rating. Thanks!

Welcome to our crazy little corner of the internet! We are definitely blessed with a lot of amazing fics, so I'll summarise my absolute favourites for you!

These are all on ao3, so please make sure you check the tags/ warnings before reading because I'm not sure what you're comfortable with. You'll also need an account on ao3 to read some of these if you don't already have one.

You may have already seen me raving about make them bow, which is absolutely amazing.

Other than that, we have:

Everything, Everything by Anyaparadox

Caroline and Klaus wake up human in another reality due to a spell. Oh, and they're married, which is absolutely the worst, until it isn't.

This fic was beautifully domestic, and the bitter-sweet ending has me in tears every time I read it. This is 100% one of my favourite fics EVER and I would go as far as to say it's the fic on this list I most highly recommend.

Words: 68, 491

Colored You In by @lalainajanes

AH-AU. Kol's broke (he scammed his trust executor, but don't ask, okay?). Elijah's playing the tough love card, Rebekah has no room (and Kol doesn't want to overhear his little sister having sex, thank you). And Klaus? Klaus will murder Kol inside a week if they're forced to live together. Caroline had a spare bedroom (now that Stefan's moved in with Rebekah) and Rebekah knows Caroline's weaknesses. A pair of Louboutin's and two days later Kol's moving in. It might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or possible the making of two mortal enemies. Time will tell. But suddenly Klaus is always around. Planted on her couch, offering snarky commentary, eating their food. Seriously, who invited him?

I'm not the hugest fan of AH AU's but this would have to be one of my favourites. It's hilarious and showcases relationships between all of the characters. (Especially Kol and Caroline, which you've gotta love)

Words: 85, 440

Someone That'll Look Like You by @cupcakemolotov

When Caroline Forbes finds herself barreling down the highway with no real memory other than her name, her only clue is the dead body in her backseat. To complicate matters, she's pretty sure that body isn't human. And neither is she.

This fic is super sweet with a healthy dose of Carenzo friendship for good measure.

Words: 23, 214

Sweet Present of the Present by VintageLilac

Time was a human constraint, and Caroline was immortal. Klaus had told her to explore humanity, to do all the thing she wanted in life, and he also told her it wouldn't be enough. She hated that he was right. And so when Rebekah Mikaelson showed up on her doorstep, asking her to take Klaus' daughter, Caroline said yes. -- In which Caroline raises Hope while New Orleans is at war.

Although this fic is absolutely fantastic, you should probably note that it's still ongoing (we're at 21/25 chapters right now) so if you only like to read completed fics you'll want to hold off a bit longer on that one. The author is still updating though so I don't think you need to worry about it being abandoned.

Words: 133, 068 (as of right now)

This is a Harvest by but_seriously

“Ask me to choose you, Caroline,” Klaus continues heatedly, “go ahead, and I will, with everything that I have. But in return, you’re going to have to do the one thing you’ve been fighting since the night I sat on your bedside and fed you my blood. You’re going to have to choose me back. It’s only fair,” and he spits these last words out.

I haven't read this one in a while but I remember really enjoying it so I've added it in. Really, I would suggest taking a look at everything by this author.

Words: 20, 104

I hope this list helps you find something you enjoy. There are so many talented writers out there and a bunch of them just happen to churn out the most amazing stuff for us to read!

#klaroline #klaroline fic rec

[tarisilmarwen]

Please, if you want, DUNK on the blue bastard.

Oh? I am being given permission to shittalk Thrawn? *rubs hands* Listen, I love the guy as the Affably Evil villain he is. He's imminently polite and respectful towards his adversaries, sharp as a tack brilliant which makes him a formidable foe, he appreciates good work from his underlings, he's hilarious bouncing off other characters. He's a fully three-dimensional, rounded, likable character.

Who also happens to be an authoritarian nightmare bastard.

He is at best apathetic to the Empire's atrocities, at worst, willingly complicit. He genuinely believes in the fascist tyrannical system as the best status for the galaxy, because they put up a "stronger", "ordered" front. He might bemoan some aspects of the Empire but only because he sees them as wasteful, ineffective, inefficient, and he absolutely thinks he could run things better if given the chance. He is the epitome of Machiavelli's Prince, deluded into believing himself some kind of benevolent tyrant, or willing to serve at the behest of one. He is Might Makes Right and The Ends Justify The Means and fits right in with the modus operandi of the Sith Code and the Empire's whole overarching philosophy.

The man is part of Palpatine's personal Triumvirate with Vader and Tarkin. You do not get that high up into the upper echelons unless you are a true believer.

Which is why fandom's constant excusing him because of his supposedly sympathetic and noble motivations is so damn irritating.

Oh Thrawn is doing everything For The Greater Good? He just wants to protect the interests of the Chiss? His first priority is to his own people?

None of that shit matters.

He still willingly inserted himself into the infrastructure of a fascist regime that was installed by genocide and regularly murders its own people and tried to help said regime run better and oppress the galaxy more effectively. He depersons and dehumanizes beings he doesn't consider useful, and sees the useful ones as "assests" ("allies" at best). He is perfectly willing to do horrible things if it suits him or gets him the results he needs. And he sees nothing wrong with his own actions. He is self-serving and self-righteous.

He. Is. A. Villain.

Doesn't matter how cute you think he is with Eli or Ar'alani or whoever or how sad you imagine him or how sympathetic and likable you find him, he is not a good person. He is a Bad Guy, and it's laughable that y'all wring hands over that fact. You're allowed to like the bad guy. You're allowed to find the bad guy hot and sympathetic and likeable and funny. But it annoying as hell when you insist he can't be a Bad Guy because "Oh he did it for a good reason!" which is, again, irrelevant.

And no, Zahn writing him with more sympathetic backstory and likable moments in New Canon doesn't mean he's no longer a villain. It does not mean his alignment has changed. It just means his time with the Empire becomes a corruption arc, as we see how a supposedly good person can become more and more fanatical in the pursuit of their goals.

And Zahn is on thin freaking ice anyway, if the hearsay about his asinine empty buildings headcanon is true.

I hope when August comes and the Ahsoka show has Thrawn being the magnificent bastard fascist asshole he is, fandom comes around to appreciate him properly, as the awesome villain he is.

#dunking on the blue bastard #askbox #that's all i'm gonna tag for now #watch me get anon hate for this lololol

[tangerinesgf]

Speak No Evil (Tangerine)

Summary: Tangerine used to think that dying was his worst nightmare. But ever since Tokyo, Tangerine had been living a new sort of nightmare, one he couldn’t seem to wake up from. (5.8k words)

Cross-posted on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: angst (lots of it), mentions of blood, language, BSL, Tangerine being an asshole, non-speaking character, anxiety, denial, delusion, self-hatred, in short Tangerine is not having a great time here, Lemon is the best brother though, fluff at the end, happy ending?

A/N: This story has been my baby for almost a month now and I’m so excited to finally share it with you guys. It’s a lot of angst, but it gets worse before it gets better :) Sorry in advance, because I know it broke my heart just writing this. Another thing is that I have decided to make this a little universe so there will be more, since this is mainly Tangerine adjusting to his new condition and he doesn’t use a lot of BSL yet.

Also please a round of applause for @friedcheesemogu my beta for this fic, again thank you so much!!

Alright I’ll let you guys get on with it now, have fun!!

Tangerine used to think that dying was his worst nightmare. Countless sleepless nights plagued by the thought of leaving this life and especially his brother, Lemon, behind. He knew their job was dangerous, hell they dealt with all sorts of murderers and psychopaths on a daily basis. He knew that the risk of getting hurt or worse, dying, was always lurking around the corner. Still, he loved his job and he was really good at it. Everyone in the business knew "The Twins" and they were feared, especially after they pulled off that job in Bolivia. It gave Tangerine a sense of pride. 

Growing up in foster care meant neither he nor Lemon had a lot of money or belongings. So when both of them got recruited as ‘outside contractors’ and started making a ‘decent’ amount of money, Tangerine wasn’t afraid to let people know he had it. The luxury lifestyle suited him, the suits, the jewelry, and especially not having to worry about anything but his next job.

But high-end living aside, if Tangerine had anything, it was confidence. He was confident that he and Lemon could complete any job thrown their way. Sure they could be a bit messy and chaotic, but they always got the job done no matter what. Most of the anxiety came from his unconscious mind. The intrusive thoughts and repeated nightmares never stopped plaguing him.

Taking all of this into consideration Tangerine was pretty satisfied with his life. Or well, he used to be. Ever since Tokyo Tangerine had been living a new sort of nightmare. Everything about that job had been one enormous clusterfuck that had ended with both of them on the verge of death. And while Lemon’s stomach wound healed nicely, Tangerine wasn’t so lucky. 

When he woke up in the hospital the first thing Tangerine noticed were all sorts of tubes sticking out of him, making it almost impossible for him to move without damaging them. 

The second thing -- or better said the person -- he noticed was his brother sitting next to him. Lemon was fast asleep, but that didn’t stop him from holding Tangerine’s hand in a death grip.

When Lemon finally awakened, he couldn’t help running his mouth about everything that had happened during the time Tangerine was out, stopping multiple times to tell him how he had thought he’d lost him forever and how thankful he was to have him back. Not that Tangerine could say something back, because there was still a tube stuck in his throat helping him breathe. And even if he could, he didn’t feel like complaining about it. When he felt the blood spewing out of his neck, Tangerine himself had thought that would be the end too. 

“Seriously man, you have no idea how worried you had me.” Lemon said one last time before finally taking a breather. As much as Lemon kept on repeating how happy he was, he still had this sort of ominous/scared look in his eyes as if there was something he wasn’t telling him. 

He found out what that was soon enough. 

The bullet had not only hit part of his artery but had also chipped one of his vocal cords. When Lemon had brought him to the hospital they rushed him into surgery. The surgeons had done everything they could to repair/ replace the cord and add bulk to it. Unfortunately at this time in the process, they weren't able to tell if it worked and if it would heal properly or not, making it uncertain if Tangerine would ever be able to speak normally again. 

--

When Lemon heard for the first time while his brother was still unconscious he was terrified. Not necessarily terrified whether Tangerine would make it or not -- he was stubborn enough to survive a bullet in his neck --, but about how he would take the news. Tangerine always said everything that came to mind. He had no filter and everyone who knew him learned that fact the hard way. 

Lemon watched as whatever color Tangerine had left drained from his face when the doctor told him what the damage was. Between all the fancy medical terms neither of them understood, he could see his brother’s eyes widen at the words ‘vocal cord paralysis’. You didn’t have to be a doctor to understand what that meant. 

After only a few days in the hospital, Tangerine was getting annoyed. The only extra freedom he had gotten was sitting up because the doctors didn’t trust him enough to breathe on his own yet. Meaning he was stuck in his bed with that bloody tube down his throat for a week or two. In the meantime, Lemon had come to visit him every day, catching him up on whatever was on his mind. 

He’d spoken to Ladybug, said that he’d asked if he could come to visit. Apparently, he was ‘really fucking sorry’ and wanted to apologize. The very mention of that fucking prick made his blood boil, let alone the idea of seeing him. Lemon seemed to notice and quickly dropped the subject. 

Since talking was out of the question for now Tangerine had to find another way of communicating for the time being. They had originally started with a notepad, but Tangerine’s handwriting was unreadable to anyone but himself.

“I’m tellin’ ya man, this shit's just a bunch of squiggly lines. Who taught you how to write?” Tangerine had thrown his hands up in frustration as Lemon continued decoding his handwriting. 

The next day Lemon came to visit again, only now he had brought a tablet with him. That way Tangerine could just type what he wanted to say and they would be spared a lot of frustration. 

He wasn’t at all surprised when the first thing Tangerine typed was; This clear enough for ya, you fuckin’ muppet? 

Two weeks later, they finally decided to see if he could breathe on his own. It took Tangerine some time to adjust. The combination of the still-healing wound on his neck and having had that tube down his windpipe for a month didn’t exactly do miracles for his throat. Swallowing and even breathing hurt like hell. They advised him to breathe through his nose for now, to minimize the pain. It could take 4-6 months before they would know for sure if it was fully healed or not. In the meantime, he had to attend voice therapy to strengthen the damaged vocal cord and increase the chances of a full recovery. 

After 3 months of barely any improvement, Lemon started to worry about his brother. When they returned home from the hospital in Kyoto, he decided to move in with Tangerine to keep an eye on him. And although he could breathe through his mouth nowadays, his breaths were short and noisy. Week after week he watched Tan come home from his therapy appointment with that same look on his face. He was starting to lose hope. God forbid he admit that to anyone though.

“ ‘m fi-” Tangerine tried to get out, but got caught in another coughing fit as he always did when he attempted to talk. Even when he did manage to somehow push words out of his mouth it didn’t sound like him anymore. His voice was breathy and hoarse, it made him feel weak and he hated it. Lemon kept telling him to shut up and let his vocal cords rest, but Tangerine was as stubborn as ever, even without his voice. He knew the pain in his brother’s throat must be excruciating from the way he was holding onto his neck accompanied by the pained look on his face. It sounded like he was about to cough up a lung. 

When he finally calmed down Lemon offered him a glass of water along with his tablet so he didn’t have to speak. Even swallowing took much more effort than it should. The doctor had told them that because of his disfunctioning vocal cord, his windpipe couldn’t close properly while swallowing. Meaning it was easier to choke on water or food. Tangerine had to put all his effort into not choking while drinking. He didn’t always succeed at that, resulting in a similar coughing fit. 

“Please just give it a look, it might help you in the long run..” 

Lemon had tried to get Tangerine to learn BSL, British Sign Language. Since it seemed more and more likely that he wouldn’t fully recover from this, Tangerine would need some other form of communication. Something that didn’t require him to strain his vocal cords. Therefore, Lemon bought him a BSL book for beginners, just to get familiar with it. Unfortunately Tangerine refused to make any sort of effort to even look at it, still too proud to give in to what seemed to be inevitable right now. 

‘Don’t need it.’  he typed.

Tangerine held on to the fact that he was going to recover and therefore didn’t need to learn any sort of sign language -- at least before his next doctor's appointment. He’d thrown Lemon’s book in the bin where it belonged, not knowing Lemon had fished it out again just in case. 

It had been about 6 to 7 months since Tokyo now and this was the moment of truth. Although improvement could never be written off in the future, today they would be able to tell them whether or not Tangerine would make a full recovery. 

Tangerine was surprisingly positive going into this appointment, still hanging on to that spark of hope despite the lack of improvement in his condition these last months. How he did it Lemon had no idea, because was already preparing himself for the worst-case scenario. Of course, he didn’t want to exclude the fact that his brother’s vocal cord might heal, but it seemed unlikely to him at this point. He had tried to tell Tangerine that it might not work out and that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he had brushed him off. 

‘I’m gonna be fine, don't worry, always am’. Tangerine typed, combined with a look that was meant to calm Lemon’s nerves but did the exact opposite. 

It wasn’t a complete lie though; anytime Tangerine got hurt he always came back from it no matter how bad it seemed to be and he sure had the scars to prove it. He had deluded himself into thinking nothing could touch him and if it did, that it wouldn’t have any lasting consequences. 

“Right…just don’t get your hopes up too much.” 

Tangerine dismissed his comment completely, shaking his head. With his attitude, Lemon was worried about how his brother would take it if he, in fact, couldn’t come back from this. 

--

Tangerine felt his blood run cold. He completely zoned out. 

It was like every emotional and physical feeling was drained from his body. He completely disappeared from the conversation with his doctor, who after another exam had told them that the chances of a full recovery were less than 30%. He knew that the progress had been slow or, well, almost non-existent, but Tangerine still believed he could pull through on this. He’d done it before. 

A strange feeling of fear settled in his stomach as the reality of his future sank in. 

No. 

No this couldn’t be it. It can’t. He won’t let it. 

When some feeling returned to his body, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder carefully shaking him. He snapped out of his trance as the shaking became more violent, causing him to inhale too much air at once. Fuck, not this again. He’d gone almost 2 months without a coughing incident. Apparently, it took only one setback to undo all of that. 

Lemon gently patted his back, while the doctor went to get him a glass of water. 

The younger brother tried to pay attention as Lemon repeated what he missed while spacing out. Again the subject of Sign Language came up, but Tangerine still wasn't having it. Deep down he knew it was his only option if he properly wanted to communicate with people again, but something inside him just refused to do it. 

Who needed sign language when flippin’ people the bird said enough. 

--

In the days after that Lemon watched his brother completely shut down. Tangerine didn’t make any effort whatsoever to communicate with him. Lemon had offered him the BSL book again when they got home, but he acted like he was allergic to it. He had hoped his brother just needed some time to wrap his mind around the whole thing. It was a big change, he understood if Tangerine just needed a few days. But a few days turned into weeks and Lemon seriously started to worry. Whereas before he’d constantly get annoyed with everyone and everything, and tried to talk even though Lemon specifically told him not to, now Tangerine just seemed to exist. That’s all he did, just mindlessly living. He didn't eat, barely drank and Lemon could see the clear weight loss. 

However, the thing that worried him the most was his lack of expression on his face. Tangerine was a very expressive person, especially with his face. He might not always talk through his emotions, but his face has always been an open book. Lemon was always able to tell what was going on in his brother’s head, except for now. Since the car ride home Tangerine has been completely blank. There was nothing going on on his face, which meant he was bottling everything up. It scared Lemon. He had never seen Tangerine like this before, not even after their first kill. 

Lemon had tried talking to him, of course, but was met with nothing but blank stares. Even talking about Thomas & Friends did nothing for him. All Tangerine really did was read, at least he hadn’t also discarded that. 

Lemon still went on jobs sometimes, nothing too difficult. Tangerine on the other hand never left their apartment. Besides each other, The Twins didn’t have a lot of friends. In their business it was really hard to trust people, never knowing if they had ulterior motives or not. Lemon had run into Ladybug a couple of times since Tokyo. Sure his inspirational quotes were annoying, but he had started to warm up to the man. Ladybug had asked about his brother multiple times, but Lemon didn’t tell him much, sensing that Tangerine wouldn’t want him to. All Ladybug knew was that Tangerine was alive and currently recovering. Knowing their job and luck, they’d run into each other sooner or later, but for now Lemon tried to postpone that as long as possible. Seeing Ladybug would set off a bomb Lemon wasn’t sure he would be able to contain. 

Sooner or later Tangerine was gonna break, he could feel it. It wasn't healthy to keep pushing everything down, especially for someone who used to talk as much as his brother. The longer he was gonna shut everyone out, the bigger the fallout was gonna be. For now Lemon could only watch as the brother he loved so much became a shell of the person he once used to be.  

--

There was nothing going on in his mind. No thoughts or anxiety, nothing. Tangerine had gone absolutely numb, almost emotionless. Pushing all of his feelings away had felt like his only option. A way out of his mind that kept on torturing him every fucking second. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Every irritation, every fear was pushed down. There was no room for those anymore. Whereas before his mind plagued him with anxiety and intrusive thoughts, now there was absolutely nothing.

He had no trouble falling asleep anymore with his mind not running a million miles per hour. Tangerine knew that probably wasn’t good, but he wasn’t complaining. For once his mind was quiet, just finally fucking quiet. To him, it felt like a blessing. 

The only time he allowed himself to feel something was while reading. Transporting himself into this other world, with other people and their problems forced him to focus on that and not on himself. Within the first few days after he’d heard the news Tangerine had already bought all of the books on his list. He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t deal with his own issues, so he had to find other ways to keep his mind busy. But even those didn’t spark his emotions as he hoped. 

Lemon had kept offering him that bloody book, kept trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t get himself to interact with him. He buried the book in the back of his closet along with his tablet. Out of sight, out of mind, right? 

And when it was out of his mind, he could pretend none of this was actually happening.

He didn’t understand why Lemon was so concerned about him anyways. Tangerine could feel his eyes on him every time they were in the same room, they were filled with that look of pity. He hated it. If he couldn’t even get him to care about himself, why should Lemon? But he couldn’t exactly tell him to leave.

No- don’t go there. 

It was currently 3 am, and Tangerine sat staring into space. He couldn’t sleep, the pain in his throat burning more than usual. Where on the one hand, he wished he would just fall asleep, on the other hand, he wanted to wake up. Wake up from this nightmare that never seems to end.  

He was aching for a smoke. He missed the feeling of a cigarette hanging on his lips, how the smoke filled his lungs, and the calm he felt while blowing it out again. However, the doctor had strongly advised him not to smoke, noting that it would only decrease the chances of recovery and further damage his lungs. When they came home Lemon had scoured the house for cigarettes and threw them all out. Tangerine thought it was a bit overdramatic, but in the end, he was grateful for it, knowing that he couldn’t have resisted the urge. 

After another hour of nothing but purposeless staring he finally decided that maybe a glass of water would calm his throat and finally help him sleep.

As Tangerine stumbled into the kitchen he saw the light of the fridge brightening up the room. Shit. He had really hoped Lemon would be fast asleep right now. It was almost 4 in the morning, what the hell was he still doing up?

Then again he’s here too. 

For a minute he hesitated if he should continue, not in the mood for Lemon’s chit-chat, but then decided to just get it over with anyway. He really wanted to sleep and that wasn’t going to happen with the still-burning feeling in his throat. 

He tried to draw as little attention as possible, hoping he could be out of there within seconds. But of course, Lemon never failed to strike up a conversation with him. 

“Hey I was just thinkin’ maybe you could make some breakfast in the morning, I bought bacon and eggs.” 

Tangerine made no sign for Lemon to think that he had even heard the proposition, grabbed a glass of water, and walked away without any sort of reaction, leaving his brother alone in the kitchen once again.

What was the point of making it if he wasn’t going to eat it anyway? He supposed Lemon was looking for some form of normalcy that they once had. Before Tokyo, before-

He forced the memory out of his mind.

“You can’t keep this up forever you know. It’s gonna break ya.’ he heard Lemon yell from the kitchen. 

Fuckin’ hell. 

Why’d he have to go and say shit like that? Why won’t Lemon just leave him alone to deal with his misery on his own? He wasn’t going to break, he wasn't a glass that shattered when you put just a little bit of pressure on it. The whole shutting himself off was precisely to avoid dealing with all this shit and prevent anything from happening. Tangerine felt anger starting to emerge inside him as he slammed his bedroom door closed a little harder than necessary, a bit of water spilling over from his glass onto the floor. 

Deep breaths, Tan. Deep breaths. He thought to himself.

Even after the ache in his throat disappeared he wasn’t able to sleep. He just lay in bed, while staring at the ceiling. When he checked his clock again it was already 7:30 in the morning. 

Fuck it. He could try again tonight. Right now he needed a shower, a nice hot shower. He grabbed a new pair of sweatpants and a shirt and made his way over to the bathroom. The sound of running water already started to calm him down. After he had stripped himself from all his clothing, he stepped in, he hot water on his skin washing away all the anger from before. 

Hot showers wouldn’t solve anything, but they sure made him forget about it for a second. After washing his hair followed by another 10 minutes of just standing there, absorbing the warm water onto his skin, he finally decided to get out. Normally the mirror in the bathroom was foggy because of the shower, making it hard to see anything in it. Tangerine was usually already outside before the steam cleared, purposely avoiding looking in it. 

Today however it wasn’t. 

The mirror was right in front of the shower, making it impossible to miss your reflection while stepping out. Tangerine froze as he caught himself in the mirror or well… someone that looked like him. He could barely recognize the man staring at him through the mirror. 

Before, he regularly looked in the mirror. Always checking if every hair was properly slicked back and that his mustache looked nothing less than perfect, much to Lemon’s annoyance when they were on the clock. It was part of his look, part of who he was. He even had a full-length mirror in his room. That particular mirror was now covered up with blankets.

Right now he had no idea who he was. He looked pale, too pale, making the contrast in color between the bags under his eyes even bigger. Tangerine looked himself over, disturbed by the amount of weight he seemed to have lost. His once perfectly fitted pants, now hanging low on his hips. Since he was barely eating enough to keep him alive it was an expected consequence, still, really seeing it was different. He looked so small, so weak.

But that wasn't even the worst thing. No, the worst part was the huge scar on the side of his neck. A constant reminder of everything he had lost. Tangerine stretched his neck to the side putting it on full display in front of the mirror. Slowly he brought his shaking hand up, tracing the scar along the side of his neck. 

How did he become this? This…empty shell of his former self. 

It felt like all the emotions Tangerine had been pushing down for the past few weeks came rushing back up, hitting him like a truck. Every trace of the person he used to be was gone and it was his own fault. He had been shutting Lemon out since they came back, when he had done nothing but try and help him. A sudden feeling of guilt hit him. Had it been the other way around Tangerine would’ve done the same thing for him, only Lemon wouldn’t have been a complete arsehole about it.

Lemon is the closest thing to family he had, the only person who he truly cared for and he has managed to fuck even that up. Tangerine had never been especially good with people, (mostly because he just couldn’t stand them.) and that trait only grew with age. Though that didn’t include dealing with clients, he knew how to do that. In fact, they always preferred to talk to him instead of Lemon. He was a professional after all, or at least he had been. 

Not talking to Lemon had been a dick move, Tangerine knew that, but it made sense for him. In his mind, he chose not to talk to people. He chose to. For him, it was a conscious decision to keep his mouth shut, not a disability holding him back. 

If he was Lemon he would have given up on him by now. Hell, he’d already given up on himself if the state of him was anything to go by. 

What ensued was a staring contest with the mirror. The longer he kept glaring into the mirror the angrier he got, the walls he had put up for himself slowly breaking down. Until he finally couldn't take it anymore. All his emotions boiled over and he could feel tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, but his legs didn’t listen to his brain. Unable to walk away, Tangerine fell back on how he usually solved his problems; violence. 

With as much power as he could muster Tangerine threw his fist at the mirror, breaking it into a million little pieces. 

--

While his brother was in the shower Lemon was in the kitchen making breakfast. Usually Tangerine cooked some bacon or eggs in the morning, but he hadn’t done that in weeks. Given the fact that Lemon wasn’t a great cook, he had switched to breakfast cereal, which was edible. Tangerine didn't mind, but then again he usually only drank a glass of milk in the morning these days.

His attempt at conversation last night didn’t exactly work out as he had hoped either, resulting in Tangerine slamming his door. However Lemon took the small display of anger as a win for now. He has no idea how long he was planning to keep this up, but it was getting really fucking annoying. He didn’t want to be angry at Tangerine, he knew that what he was dealing with was a real struggle, but Lemon was just about done with it. He wanted his brother back.

He just sat down when he noticed Tangerine was still in the bathroom even though the shower was shut off at least 15 minutes ago. Normally he was out of there as fast as he could. 

Before he had even taken his first bite, Lemon heard what sounded like shattering glass coming from the bathroom. Tangerine.

“Fuck.” he sighed. He dropped his spoon back into the bowl and walked over to his brother. The door was unlocked per Lemon’s request, just in case something like this happened. Tangerine hadn’t said anything about it when he had asked, however to Lemon’s relief he had actually left his doors unlocked.

“Tan?” he asked through the door. When all he got in response was labored breathing he decided to go in. The only positive point he found walking onto the scene was that Tangerine, thankfully, already had his pants on. 

Tangerine was leaning on the sink, face in a pained expression as he let cold water run over his bloody hand. The water in the sink quickly turning red. Lemon’s eyes moved from his brother to the broken mirror. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. 

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow at him, giving him that ‘I told you ya’ look he always had when he fucked up. Tangerine was avoiding eye contact, knowing full well what Lemon was doing. 

“Gonna start talkin’ to me now, eh?” He asked.

Tangerine shot him a glare, finally meeting his eyes and clearly not appreciating the choice of words, but at least it was a reaction. Being angry was better than nothing at all. The barrier Tangerine had put up for himself had broken down and Lemon hoped that he could finally start picking his life up again. 

Lemon took the death stare as a yes, turned the water tap off, and ushered Tangerine out of the bathroom. “Go sit in the kitchen, I’ll grab the first aid kit.” 

“Don’t step in the glass!” he added once Tangerine slowly started to make his way over.

He snatched the medical supplies out of the cabinet and while he was busy he also grabbed the tablet and BSL book from Tangerine’s closet. He thought he had hidden it from him, but Lemon knew everything.

He found Tangerine sitting at the kitchen island slumped over the counter, holding his injured hand in the other. Lemon placed the book and tablet in his line of sight and took a seat next to him. He saw Tangerine look at it, but didn’t make any move to either throw it away or smash it into a wall. Progress, he thought. 

While Lemon started to remove the remaining pieces of glass that were stuck in his left hand, Tangerine grabbed the tablet with his uninjured one. Once he was done typing he slid the writing pad over to Lemon. 

‘I’ve been a real twat’ 

He refused to make eye contact with his brother. Tangerine had never been one to apologize. And even though this still wasn’t really an apology, it was a big deal for him. Lemon knew that.

He let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, you were.” 

Tangerine winced when the rubbing alcohol connected with his hand. He’d been through this a hundred times already but never got used to it. While Lemon disinfected his wound, he debated whether he should say something else or not. He probably should. Weeks of ignoring any sort of contact had him wanting to pour it all out. Only thing was that he couldn’t. Not really. 

Tangerine grabbed the tablet from where he had given it to Lemon. He erased the previous sentence and wrote a new one, again sliding it over to him.

‘why?’ 

He didn’t need to elaborate.

“‘Cause, you’re my brother, man. You’re stuck with me, even when ya act like a fuckin’ prick.” 

Tangerine takes a moment to take it all in, a comfortable silence falling between them. He didn’t know how, but he must’ve done something right in his previous life to deserve someone like Lemon. Because despite the fact that Tangerine had been a complete and utter asshole, he didn’t hesitate to stay by his side. He grabbed the tablet again, then slid it back over.

‘I’m sorry´ 

There was a beat of silence before Lemon answered him. “It’s okay, not like any of this is fuckin’ easy. Just…let me help you, okay?” 

Finally Tangerine looked up, meeting lemon’s eyes. There was a mix of sadness and hope in his eyes. “I know you believe you can do this on your own, but if today was anythin’ to go by…well.” 

He looked down again, ashamed that he let it go this far. It took him completely shutting off, ignoring his brother, and disregarding his own well-being, resulting in a complete breakdown for him to finally get the message; as much as he wants to, he can’t do this alone.

Tangerine slowly nodded his head, finally accepting his brother’s help as Lemon finished bandaging up his hand. He let out a sigh of relief, happy that Tangerine was finally ready to move forward. 

After he cleaned up the table Lemon sat back next to his brother and reached for the BSL book. Tangerine still looked hesitant, but leaned in anyway. 

“Let’s just start easy, kay?” again Tangerine nodded in response.

So that’s what they did. The brothers spend the entire rest of the day learning the basics of sign language. In these last few weeks Lemon had taken it to himself to already get familiar with sign language. He knew you couldn’t just learn it in one day, so he gave himself a little head start for when Tangerine would come around. It would be easier for his brother to learn it with someone who already knew some of the basics instead of starting from scratch. He’d also make sure to learn all the names of Thomas & Friends in BSL, but that could wait for now. 

Tangerine picked it up surprisingly quickly in the months after that, much to Lemon’s relief. On the other hand he could have seen it coming. Tangerine never did anything half-assed; if he set his mind to something it was gonna get done no matter how long it took. To Lemon’s surprise he’d even signed up to classes every week, and once in a while he went with him. It was really effective. Of course he wasn’t fluent yet, neither of them were, Lemon read that it could take years before someone was really fluent at sign language. For now though it was enough that they could properly understand each other. 

One of the first things Tangerine had done after Lemon insisted on teaching him the signs of those fucking trains was learn all of his favorite insults. He made sure that Lemon knew them too, cuz there was no way that he was gonna insult someone without them knowing exactly what he was scolding them with.

‘If I find your dirty fucking socks laying around my house one more time, I will throw them out the fucking window, you read me?’ 

His hand movements were still a bit slow, his brain still getting used to the fact that he needed to think of what he wanted to say and then translate that to his hands. However there was so much emotion on his face, that Lemon couldn’t help but feel as if he was actually saying it. 

Lemon was very chuffed to see how Tangerine seemed to regain his confidence and attitude a bit more everyday. He would have never thought he’d miss that eye twitch whenever he managed to piss him off. It put a beaming smile on Lemon’s face. 

‘What are you smiling about?’ he signed, giving him the usual ‘are you fucking serious right now’ look. 

He was dead serious about this, as he usually was over these stupid little things and Lemon found it adorable. It reminded him of how they used to share a bedroom when they were younger and how keen Tangerine always was on keeping in neat. The thought made his smile grow wider, failing to contain it no matter how sharp his brother was staring at him. Tangerine was still that little brother of his, no matter how many years had passed. 

Eventually Tangerine gave up trying to get Lemon's attention. He rolled his eyes and flipped him off before walking away, quite literally throwing his socks out of the open window. 

“Ah man, those were my favorites!” Lemon yelled after him. 

Tangerine didn’t look back, but he was sure that he was wearing that same old cocky grin on his face. Even though a lot of things have changed since Tokyo, he couldn’t help but be grateful that no matter what life put them through, they’d always come out on the other end. 

Together. 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Like I said, I do plan on writing more stories in this ‘universe’, so if you have anything you want to see/read, please let me know. Next up: Tangerine and Ladybug meet for the first time again after Tokyo.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @bratdoll666 @assmaster37 @wrendermeuseless @waiting4ff @kpopgirlbtssvt @earth-elemental18 @sisterslytherinog @dontknownameauthor @avocado-writing @thegremlinofransei @sugarpenchant @notfrom-outerspace @stinygirl009 @violetexpress1 @thenarryparable @pugperson99 @ozym4ndi4s @thirstyfortangerine  (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

#tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine #lemon bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fanfic #tangerine #bullet train fanfic #bullet train movie #fanfiction #mute tangerine

[emberfrostlovesloki]

New Beginnings Fic Master List

Photo credits: Left (@cumulo-stratus) Center (@lilacprentiss) Right (@tokyocyborg)

Good morning/afternoon/evening loves! I hope you’re having a great Friday so far. The lovely @imagining-in-the-margins has asked me to make a small master list of all the New Beginnings Fics I’ve written during January and February, and I’m more than happy to do that. Although I haven’t written as much as I did for my last prompt master list: Meet-Cute Fics (linked), I am still proud of all the writing I’ve done so far this year. It’s been pretty busy with work, and writing sometimes feels like the only thing keeping me sane. So thank you again @imagining-in-the-margins for the prompts that keep on giving, and to all of my readers. You make me love writing for these characters so much; I hope to continue loving them for a long time still. Even if you’re just a silent reader of my work I really appreciate you. If you like any of these fics, likes, reblogs and comments are appriciated. I hope you all have a good day and if you ever want to talk, my messages are always open. ❤️ 

You can read the master list below the cut. You can find my full master list, with a lot of my older Spencer content and my academic work, at this link (or it’s just the pinned post on my page.)

✨ = most popular 

❤️  = personal favorite(s)

* = smut 18+ Minors DNI

∆ = must read A/N before the fic 

** = drug use

Aaron New Beginnings One-Shots 

Roses and Sparkling Water: Aaron surprises the reader by stopping by her apartment after work to celebrate her first month of sobriety. (link)

Dead Center: Aaron wards off a creepy man from the reader at the shooting range and comes to realize that the reader is dealing with a lot more than just one man making inappropriate advances toward them. (link) 

Spider-Man(?) ❤️: Aaron hires the reader to come and be Spider-Man at Jack’s fifth birthday party and ends up offering the reader some comfort and advice at the same time. (link)

The Cherry on Top ✨ */**: When the reader gets drugged on a case, she inadvertently tells Aaron about all the dreams she’s had with him. He then has to decide how he’s going to move forward with information that leaves him needy and wanting of the reader. (link)

Day One, One Day: The reader is called to join the BAU from their team to help them solve a string of kidnappings and murders in a high school. To say the reader's first day and the case was eventful was an understatement, and Aaron can’t help but be drawn to the new face, even though he shouldn’t be. (link)

Space-Time Continuum❤️: Aaron and the reader take down the last of the Christmas decorations. As they work and spend a relaxing afternoon together, Aaron realizes he wants to ask the reader to move in with him and Jack. (link)

Lighthouse ✨: Hotch notices some distressing signs from the reader when he bumps into them at the grocery store. He doesn’t say anything, but something tells him that the reader isn’t well. He goes to their job and finds them just in time. Aka, when Aaron and the Non-BAU!reader get a chance to heal together. (link)

Emily New Beginnings One-Shots 

Count the Cost ❤️: An unspoken conversation rocks Emily and the reader's relationship when Prentiss gets shot on a case. (link) 

Not Your Girl: When the Non-BAU!reader has something big to tell Emily, they pick the worst way to tell her. (link)

Spencer New Beginnings One-Shots  Fatigued: The reader has made one New Year’s Resolution this year, get out more. Spencer is happy to help her with this, but tonight the reader just seems too tired to want to do that. However, Spencer is flexible and is happy to change plans to let the reader rest. (link)

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag List: @tgskitten @geminitapestry @silk-spun @criminalskies

Want to be added to my tag list? Please see this post, CM Tag List (linked)

Want to request a fic or mood board? My requests are open. Please see this post before requesting, CM Request Post (linked)

#aaron x y/n #aaron x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch #emily x y/n #emily x reader #aaron x gender neutral reader #aaron x fem!reader #hotch x fem!reader #emily x nonbinary reader #emily x fem!reader #aaron blurb #hotch drabble #hotch blurb #emily comfort #emily prentiss #emily drabble #hotch comfort #hotch angst #dr spencer reid #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #emily angst #jj criminal minds #reader insert #fanfiction #cm

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Several Sunlight Daylights: a week-long tribute to Hinny through the power of Taylor Swift. There is a new prompt everyday starting on Taylor's birthday! The title of this celebration is taken from the "several sunlit days" that Harry kissed Ginny, and the song Daylight by Taylor!

Tag your works with #SeveralSunlitDaylights and tag me @GinWiz to help share your work!

December 13: Red. The color of Ginny's hair and the title of one of Taylor's best albums. Be inspired by any of the songs off of Red the album or a lyric that includes the word "red."

December 14: Based off a Bridge. Taylor Civil Engineer Swift is a master of bridges. Create something based off of a bridge! Songs with some great bridges recommendations: Cruel Summer, Death By A Thousand Cuts, Daylight, Dress, King of My Heart, Champagne Problems, Out of the Woods, Getaway Car, Hits Different

December 15: Folklore/Evermore. In 2020, Taylor released two albums that were based off of fictional stories. Let the fictional world of a teenage love triangle, murder of an abusive husband, a wild neighbor, a broken engagement, and many other storylines inspire you.

December 16: Featuring. Taylor has recorded a variety of tracks with many famous artists from Kendrick Lamar to Phoebe Bridgers. Be inspired by a song with a feature (or a song she is featured in!) Bonus points if you feature a suprise character in your work as well.

December 17: In the middle of the night. A recurring theme in Taylor’s music is being haunted by things in the middle of the night, specifically 2 AM, and, most recently, Midnights. Be inspired by the album Midnights or a lyric about night time.

December 18: Lyric as dialogue. Use Taylor Swift lyrics as part of your dialogue. Some lyrics to be inspired by:

"I once believed love would be burning red, but its golden like daylight."

“You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath”

"Back when I was living for the hope of it all"

“You taught me about your past, thinking your future was me”

“Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first”

“I don’t like that falling feels like flying, til the bone crush”

“I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

“I’m a mess, but the mess that you wanted”

“All these people think loves for show, but I would die for you in secret”

“Is this the end of all the endings?”

“For once you let go of your fears and your ghosts”

“One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses then says “You’re my best friend”

“Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere”

December 19: Your favorite Taylor Swift song. Write a story based off of your personal favorite Taylor Swift song!

Thank you all to everyone who suggested prompts. I am so excited for this event to get started! Let me know if you have any questions.

#hinny #hp #harryxginny #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #taylor swift #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #writing challenge #severalsunlitdaylights #Please please please reblog to spread the word!

[musingsofalovelymillenial]

Final thoughts before Dead Friend Forever Finale Part 7

Mr. Keng:  I think Keng, while a character I dislike and disgusts me, also intrigues me. Plost wise I think he is a character that shows how seemingly good people can also be horrible and the reality that those that hurt us are not always creepy monster people that most of the time they are nice looking. Keng is seemingly trying to get info regarding the money laundering but we are never given an answer whether he is a reporter or a secret cop and why he is trying to bring them down. Also while we know Tee’s uncle has his watch we never see his body it is heavily and definitely implied he is deceased however he could very well be alive and I am curious why only Jin hallucinates Keng. Everyone else sees the masked person or Non but Jin hallucinates Keng. Which I have a theory about. Overall Keng is trying to stop Tee’s uncle and “help” Non but all of that comes at price and shows that while people commit good deeds it does not mean they are not responsible for the darker things they do.  

Final thoughts:

I enjoyed this show and I am excited to see how it ends. I think it has the potential to let people down because it may not end how everyone wants it to end and hope they can deliver a satisfying finale ( you can’t please everyone) Now I have several theories for things that could happen.

Non is alive and in the woods. Maybe Por did not hallucinate him or even if he did it sure looked like someone purposely lifted that branch for him to run into. Now the question of would he be helping New or Phee?

Phee does not love Jin like he loves Non and if Non is alive it may be that he and Phee are in on it together. Someone had to leave evidence around the house like the paper about Tee’s uncle and the knife and also in the episode when Phee and Non are talking after Non is with Keng but before Jin sees them walk away Non ( according to the subtitles) says to Phee “our friends, you know I am not comfortable with those people” and then Phee and him walk away with Non’s arm around Phee’s shoulder  and when Phee is alone with Jin headed back to the house in the woods Phee looks off into the woods and then tells Jin after touching his shoulder and lacing their hands together that “our friends need our help”; he also later drops the axe outside the house. The framing of the scene between Jin and Phee feels nowhere near as intimate as when almost same exact scene with the same phrasing is said between Non and Phee. Also Phee is suspicious because of his guessing that New hung the wire or deleted the footage or even what went down between New and Top. Phee has information he should not have and he did get out of Jin a confession, something they have been trying to get since the starts. Not to mention the axe dropping and the woods scenes in general but also the framing of the scene between him and New with the murder board in the flashback. Phee is standing with his arms crossed looking very serious, probably the most serious look we get besides when his father told him to prepare for the worst. There is also an interesting dynamic in terms of conveying power because New is sitting down while Phee is standing and Phee physically takes up more space in the screen than New does. In this frame of New sitting and Phee standing it is what looks to be a combination of an over the hip shot and low angle shot which not only suggests a power imbalance between the two but is also indicative of potential conflict between the two who take up the shot. I think no matter what I will be suspicious of Phee and his motives until the finale ends.

White like I said is either going to die tragically or live to the end and maybe there will be a twist with him, I am not counting it out.

I do not think New will survive the finale either because if this leads back to punishment for those who have wronged Non, New does not escape that and often in many movie the person who divulged from the plan or as “given up” morally tends to die.

If non is really dead  I think Jin will be the final survivor. 

Questions I want answered: the hand with white and tee on the balcony, is mr keng and non 100% dead, why is Jin hallucinating Mr. Keng, was the land Tee’s dad talking about the land where the cult and Por’s family home is, does the Janta cult play a bigger role, did Por actually see something supernatural when they filmed with Non the very first time, why does New know about supposed herbs that the Janta cult uses unless it is a real cult but then did he google it or go there and asks ( I have questions about that), and finally why did White hallucinate not only being watched by the masked figure but also the rash?

My theory about Jin and Keng is that one either Jin had a secret crush on Keng, Keng assaulted Jin the way he did Non or Jin did hit Keng with the car and left him there to die not knowing that the mafia snatched him up alive so maybe in Jin’s mind he “killed” Keng.

Sorry it was a long post but I had a lot to say and I haven't been this excited for a finale episode in a long time. I look forward to seeing more fan theories and when it airs reactions to the finale!

#dead friend forever #dff the series #barcode tinnasit #be on cloud #copper phuriwat #dff spoilers #fuaiz thanawat #jj chalach #jjay patiphan #mio athens #bump pawat #us nititorn #ta nannakun #jet jetsadakorn #dead friend forever the series #dff series #dff theory #dff meta