coffin lid


Have we talked about this scene yet? Because I want to talk about this scene and why it’s important that this is the memory Steve is thinking about right before he has to face the Winter Soldier again.

We all know how out of place and unhappy Steve feels in modern society. The movie doesn’t make any bones about it. Even though good ol’ Cap exudes positivity, we see how he uses his time. When he’s not at work for SHIELD, he’s grasping at straws, trying to catch up, trying to make sense of how he fits in a world that’s moved on without him. When Steve starts to feel out of place even when he’s playing soldier for SHIELD, Sam tells him that he could do something different, anything at all; but Steve looks blank. Sam asks him what makes him happy, and Steve doesn’t know. 

The only thing that keeps him going is knowing that his sacrifice helped save the world. As he says to Peggy, he always wanted to do “what was right,” and at least he can take some comfort from the fact that he helped save countless lives from Hydra by losing everything that meant a damn to him.

That is, until he and Natasha find Zola in the underground bunker and they find out that Hydra is still alive and well – thriving, even – within the ranks of SHIELD. 

This is the moment Steve learns he gave up his life for nothing.  

So. The flashback scene.

I’ve heard some people say that they think the scene is extraneous. That it’s enough to know that Bucky and Steve were friends way back when, only Bucky doesn’t remember (and if you want more skinny!Steve and scenes of Bucky and Steve being chummy, go back and watch The First Avenger). On the surface, it may seem like this scene is rehashing old territory, but it’s actually telling us quite a bit more than that. 

Bucky is walking Steve home after his mother’s funeral, and Steve is obviously vulnerable and shaken. His parents were the foundational figures of his life, and they’re both gone now. Before Bucky can even get the question out, Steve rejects the idea of moving in with Bucky. He insists he can get by on his own. Then he fumbles clumsily in his jacket looking for his key, but he can’t find it. Bucky casually picks up the spare and hands it to him. 

This moment.

It’s such a simple gesture, but the camera focuses in on that key like it’s the freaking Tesseract. Why? Why is this moment with Bucky so prominent in Steve’s thoughts? Why not something out of their days together with the Howling Commandos? Or why not something from when they were kids running around on the playground? 

This moment is an echo of exactly what Steve’s feeling in the future: lost and alone. Everything that means home is shut behind the locked door of time (or a coffin lid).

But against all possibility, Bucky is alive. And, to Steve, Bucky doesn’t just have the key back home, he is the key back home.  

“I can get by on my own.”

“But the thing is, you don’t have to.”

Suddenly that promise is everything. If Bucky is still alive, then Steve isn’t alone. He didn’t make a mistake putting the plane in the water. There’s a meaning for him to be in this time and place, and Bucky is that meaning. That’s why Steve has to believe Bucky will remember, why he desperately doesn’t want to fight him. Steve wants them both to be able to go home again.

Ok but watch The ILY Scene™ when Sherlock first sees “I Love You” on the coffin lid and realizes who it’s for and he walks back to the coffin and leans his hands on it. He is a heartbreaking combination of grief and horror. His gaze is sad and terrified and theres a moment where you can see his shoulders kind of slump with an exhale and all I can think is that he looks like his worst fear has just been realized. Like, in that moment it truly looks like he’s thinking, “No…no, please not her. I’m not strong enough for this.”


Molly Hooper was so precious to Sherlock Holmes, he kept her safe from the world. Safe from Moriarty. Safe from Magnussen. Safe out of harm’s way. No one really knew. Just how much she meant to him. He kept it hidden from everyone. Even from himself. Until that one fateful day at Sherringford. As much as he tried, he couldn’t keep her from being targeted by the people who wanted to hurt him. He lost. He failed. (Look what you did to her). And Molly wasn’t safe anymore. She is always going to be in danger now. Because of him. Because of what he feels for her. Because of how much she matters to him. So, he takes the coffin lid, gently places it back on top of the coffin, slightly strokes it, and lets out a little sob. The thought of Molly in the coffin, the thought of losing her. No. No! He can’t lose her. He will protect her. He wouldn’t let any harm come to her. He would smash her coffin to pieces with his bare hands. He will always save her. Always. Always… Just like she saved him.

A little more of the presently untitled vampire Hannibal fic. Though I guess now it’s more of a vampire Will and Hannibal fic..

[part one]

Will lay on Hannibal’s sofa, burning hot with fever.

“When I was first afflicted, I thought myself sick with a common case of food poisoning,” Hannibal said. “Until the sun came up, that is.”

“Couldn’t you smell it?” Will asked through gritted teeth. “The… affliction.”

“The meat carried no unusual taste or smell. In hindsight, it should have given me pause that the man had been just as cold in life as in death.”

“He wasn’t alive. Even before you killed him.”

“No. He was not.”

“I’m dying,” Will huffed out, almost amused.

“Yes. You are. I’ll take you to rest in my coffin soon.”

Will laughed then, right through his burning pain. “You sleep in a coffin. Of course you do.”

“I have a certain fondness for the tradition, though any light-tight place will do.”

“Where will you rest?”

Hannibal smirked. “It’s quite a large coffin. Plenty of room for two. Unless you object to my company.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his pulse stutter, now just a thready vibration in his neck. “I don’t object,” he slurred, comforted by the notion that he wouldn’t be alone. That Hannibal would be there with him, in the dark, as he slipped so carefully into death.

Too weak to open his eyes now, Will felt his body being lifted, carried, cradled in Hannibal’s arms. A door creaked open. The steps groaned as together they descended into Hannibal’s basement, and Will’s heart choked out one final beat.


Will woke to darkness, Hannibal’s shoulder pressed up against his own. He had the sensation that he was very cold, though it didn’t really register, like reading out the temperature of some far away place.

He pressed his fingers to his carotid and felt nothing. His heart sat empty beneath his breastbone. He was very hungry.

“Good evening,” Hannibal said. “It should be alright to go outside now.”

Hannibal pushed the coffin lid upward and helped Will to his feet. They made their way up to the kitchen, and Hannibal disappeared into the pantry, emerging minutes later with a decanter half-filled with blood.

“You must be starving.”

“I am,” Will said, following every movement of the blood as Hannibal filled a glass.

“Drink it slowly.”

Will smiled. “Afraid I’m going to give myself a vampire tummy ache?”

“Not at all. You should savor the first meal of your new life.”

Will’s hair stood on end as he lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled, overwhelmed with the scent of life. Honeyed-copper that dripped across his tongue at first taste. He wanted so badly to down it in one long swig, but settled instead for sipping it slowly as Hannibal eyed him from across the counter.

“You said it was better fresh and warm,” Will said, his glass now half empty, though his ravenous urges had not lessened.


Will licked the blood from his lips. “I think I’d like to try that.”


Professor Layton Locations | Folsense

Folsense. The gilded ghost town. Though from a distance it appears dark and abandoned, step through the train station and it suddenly dazzles under the glow of a thousand colorful electric lights. Smaller buildings give way to skyscrapers in the distance and beyond them a dark castle perched above a gaping crater. This vision of Folsense is only an illusion, however, created by a powerful hallucinogenic gas that pervades the entire area, bringing the town to life, as well as the nightmares of those who still live there. These few remaining residents are frozen in time, trapped in a town that has remained unchanged for fifty years, ignorant of the fact that they are aging while the streets and buildings around them crumble away (for my theory that the residents of Folsense are actual people and not simply illusions, see here). 

This Folsense of fifty years ago was a wealthy and booming town, reflected in the opulent architecture, especially those buildings commissioned by the Herzen family, stewards of the town, responsible for its prosperity and its destruction. Anton Herzen remains duke of the town, a shut-in at his castle who has spun rumors of his vampiric nature to keep the townsfolk fearful and distant as he festers with anger and longing for one who will never return. As Dropstone and Sophia mirror one another, so do Anton and his town. Both maintain an air of glowing health and grandeur on the outside, while in reality they are both withering, dying, rotting away. Folsense is nothing more than a tomb, a coffin with a golden lid and Anton­—its chief occupant. Symbolically, the town could also represent the hollow nature of wealth and the futility of greed, which led to Folsense’s demise in the first place.

The true nature of Folsense is hinted at in the somber music, almost dirge-like, and its mostly deserted streets that belay the festive lights. The townsfolk go on with their lives as if nothing has changed since the day Sophia left but even they can’t help but notice the town is not what it once was. It is now somehow cursed, plagued by ghosts and vampires and brief glimpses through the mist that veils their eyes. When Castle Herzen is destroyed, sealing the mines beneath it, this mist dissipates and the true Folsense is revealed to be an empty husk just as dawn breaks. The artificial lights of Folsense have gone out, but the rising of the sun brings with it the truth. Now that the town’s true nature has been revealed, Folsense (and by extension, Anton) can finally step forward from the past and find renewal in Sophia’s legacy: Katia and Dropstone.


Vampire!Taehyung X Sorceress!Reader

Rated M: Smut 

Notes/ Warnings: Blood, Vampire!Seokjin, Implied TaeJin

Word Count: 4655

Request: Hi there! Can I request a Vampire!Taehyung au? (i’m also really particular to his red hair from Save Me, so could you mention something about that?)

A/N: Anon here’s your request for redhead Vampire Tae. This was such a good request.  If there’s anything I love more than werewolf Yoongi it’s Vampire Taehyung. It was the only request so I took a week to really think out a nice story.  You didn’t say if you wanted smut or not so I hope it’s okay that’s where I went with it.  Let me know if you liked it!!

Kim Taehyung has never been a normal vampire right from the day he was turned.  Not simply because of his unique personality.  Rather because of a genetic mutation he was unknowingly born with.  A type of Hemogenic Melanin disorder.   

Thirty four years ago your friend Kim Seokjin came banging on your door at quarter past one in the morning.  The first mistake of that evening was letting him in.  You blamed it on the rude awakening and not quite having proper brain functions when you opened the door.  You can’t even say you’re surprised to see him standing on your doorstep with an unconscious man on his back.  It hadn’t been the first time.  

Your old vampire friend has a terrible hobby of turning pretty boys into one of his kind.  Every once in awhile Seokjin will find a charming boy that suits his fancy.  Taehyung is the thirteenth or fourteenth victim from your estimates.  

Jin told you it’s to make the future heir of his fortune seeing as vampires can’t produce their own progeny.  Beside the good looks you haven’t bothered to ask what the other criteria are and you’re not sure you want to know.     

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“It’s such a simple gesture, but the camera focuses in on that key like it’s the freaking Tesseract. Why? Why is this moment with Bucky so prominent in Steve’s thoughts?…This moment is an echo of exactly what Steve’s feeling in the future: lost and alone. Everything that means home is shut behind the locked door of time (or a coffin lid).  But against all possibility, Bucky is alive. And, to Steve, Bucky doesn’t just have the key back home, he is the key back home.” (x)


And when did you last see your father? Was it when they burned the coffin? Put the lid on? When he exhaled his last breath? When he sat up and said something? When he last recognised you? When he last smiled? The last time he was healthy, active? The last time he had an argument about something? 

I’ve been trying to recall the last time I actually saw him.
The last time he was unmistakeably… there

Blessed Curse

A continuation of Cursed Blessing, featuring @justwritingscibbles‘s Lightiplier. 

Originally posted by ofallingstar

“I have to admit,” Dark said, pulling blankets up around you, “I do feel lucky to have you.”
“Me too. You’re exhausting, but I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” He smiled and kissed your forehead firmly, protectively.
“Sweet dreams, pet.”


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So, I’m editing this Sherlolly video and I ended up pausing it at an interesting point:

his eyes close when he approaches the coffin lid as if he’s trying to deny sentiment one last time because he knows this is it. or maybe he was just willing himself to not believe Molly was in danger.


buznook31  asked:

I would love a meta explaining Sherlock's reason for placing the lid on the coffin while John and Mycroft leave to do the next challenge. Gatiss said they wanted Sherlock to destroy the coffin as a release after that emotionally tense scene. But why do you think he puts the lid on and caresses it before wanting to destroy it? What does it symbolize? Thanks! You're amazing!

Amazing? Aw shucks, thank you! :D

Ok so the coffin lid…I do think there’s some possible symbolism there. I think the fact that he places the lid on, slowly slides his hand off it, but then can’t quite walk away and says “no” before ripping the thing to shreds would indicate that he tried to achieve closure. I think he hoped that by taking a moment to physically place the lid on the coffin, he would be able to sort of put a lid on the experience. Close it up and be done with it so he could walk away and move on. Not that I believe he wanted to forget it in general, but he was about to face more difficulties with his sister and I think he was trying to set that particular one aside for the moment. But he couldn’t quite do that. And it really seems like it was his last glance at the actual “I Love You” plaque that sealed the deal. That’s when he says, “no.” It was like he was actually saying, “I can’t stop thinking about saying those words. I can’t accept that they were said in a context that was so painful to Molly. I can’t just walk away and let it go. No.” And upon realizing that, he just had to let it all out. And then bye bye Molly’s coffin.

That’s my take on the scene, hope you like.😉 Now excuse me while I just drown in some fresh feels lol.

Originally posted by phil-molestermoon

Weeping Stars

Hetalia: Axis Powers | English | APH Romania/APH Belarus | 708 words | T | Natalia has flowers to offer to Vladimir


(You are all going to yell at me and I seriously encourage you to. This was written for the APH Rare Ship Week with the prompt ‘Flowers’.)

She was night that day, Lady of Night, as Natalia slowly walked through the dusty grounds with a thousand eyes upon her.
She was white that day the Lady of Night, terribly pale. Her cold countenance embelished by her dark blue eyes, so dark they were.
She was black, her egregious long black dress deeply ornamented with dark silks and embroideries, would drag along her steps. But she never lost her dignified stance.

Clashing with her nightly gown, she carried in her left hand three white stars in the shape of flowers. A precious lily, iris and orchid. Then on her right hand, as if Natalia had plucked the queen of flowers, she carried a single and perfect white rose.

There walked Natalia amongst dust and twilight, Lady of Night announcing that darkness soon would come. And yet, before the last rays of the day disappeared, she searched incessantly for someone.
Finally she spotted Vladimir between two men, waiting patiently for her.

Without saying a word to the strangers, Natalia approached Vladimir that seemed to smile at her with one of his ever enigmatic but discreet smirks.

How she adored his smile with his pretty mouth and soft lips. Enchanting words were often spoken by him as well as terrible ones if the situation called. But also humourous ones as he had a sharp tongue very talented to the art of snark and irony. And kisses, heated kisses that he always gave her.

One iris for your lips Vladimir.

In that rare occasion he was not wearing his beloved leather gloves and she gazed upon his long, thin fingers that she loved to observe as he feverishly wrote on loose papers while observing her laying on her bed.

And what are you writing about this time?” - she asked.

Vladimir chuckled, slightly shaking his head negatively but never raising his gaze from his writing.
Natalia lightly kicked him on his leg.

Iubita mea please be patient, a good artist never reveals their work until it’s finished. That being said it’s not my fault that your breasts are such an interesting and enticing subject.”

Obviously that he showered her with kisses after that. So much that Natalia could not remember if he indeed finished his work. But she could perfectly recall his fingers, tender and beautiful.

One orchid for your hands Vladimir.

And his eyes, deep crimson always bright and vivid, sometimes they shone in a dangerous brilliance as if he was ready to raise hell and have the time of his life, other times they shone excitedly in pure happiness what was the sun compared to him in those times?
And when his precious red eyes would drown in tears of sadness and rage it seemed to eat all the light. Ah but with Natalia no, oh no his eyes were different, they seem to engulf her in warmth and unbridled passion, untamed love. How much he loved and wanted her.
How much she still loves and wants him. If only he looked at her one more time.

One lily for your eyes Vladimir.

And the rose, the white rose, now resting close to her shivering lips, catching her tears that stubbornly insisted in falling for her pain had to be released from her heart and soul in some shape.
He had always been a strange unique person. Sociable by nature and yet with a love for the macabre and witchcraft. Rumours said that he used to rise the dead from their graves at night, which he quickly confirmed and added even more exciting facts to that story.

Ah he was terribly peculiar and she loved him for it. He understood her and believed in her, she adored his little quirks and encouraged even more his magical talents, she could spend hours listening to him talk enthusiastically about the occult. Together they were quite the couple.
How could his heart hold such a magnificent person as him? It was almost too much for Natalia to comprehend.

One perfect, singular white rose for your heart Vladimir.

At last, after taking her time looking at her love with a terrible scream at the edge of her mouth, Natalia made a gesture to the two men.
And the coffin lid was closed.

Dance Alone To The Tune Of Your Death

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Summary: Request fic for @chloethebinch.  “I was wondering if you could do a fic where the reader is Frank’s friend and he suggests that she could be Helena in the music video and he gets a huge crush on her in the Helena dress?”

The dance studio at your college’s fine arts building was empty, except for you. You weren’t surprised. It was past midnight. What other student besides you was crazy enough to be pirouetting at this hour? 

Maybe other people would think it was weird, but, when you were stressed, dancing always calmed you down. You slid on your ballet slippers, tying the ribbons tightly so they wouldn’t slip down your ankles. You put a CD onto the stereo and hit play. A normal ballerina would have used classical music. To be honest, you should probably be using the soundtrack to Swan Lake, since you were going to be performing in your school’s production of that ballet later this year. Instead, for some reason, all you wanted to dance to was your friend Frank’s post-hardcore band, My Chemical Romance. 

Frank had dropped out of college to be MCR’s rhythm guitarist full time. At the time, you were worried he was making a mistake (and, of course, sad that he wouldn’t be your classmate anymore). But, his decision seemed to have paid off. His band had been signed to a major label, and last summer, they’d traveled the country as part of Warped Tour. Part of you wondered if Frank was going to forget all about you now that he was getting rich and famous. 

Don’t worry about that right now, you told yourself. Just dance

You pointed your toes and began a spin as the opening notes of ‘Helena’, the first track on the CD, began to play. You did a demi-plie as you let the sound of Frank’s wild instrumentals wash over you. The vocalist, Gerard, was great, too, but when you listened to MCR, your focus was always on Frank. Maybe it was because you had a bit of a crush on him.

So do ten thousand other girls, at this point, you frowned, and threw yourself harder into the dance to distract yourself from your negative thoughts. You whirled and twirled across the floor to every song on the album, and by the time the last track concluded, you were panting, brow streaked with sweat. 

You froze, and gasped, when you heard the sound of someone clapping. 

Who the hell is in here?! you wondered, turning around in shock. Your jaw dropped when you saw Frank Iero standing there in the doorway, grinning at you. 

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