#munn

wanting to take it back

fixing everything in rewritten memories (featuring the recognition of failure and of fantasy)

destroying yourself

despairing under the weight of a being whose sole purpose you believe is to harm

"Line Without a Hook," Ricky Montgomery / "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out," Richard Siken / "breaking hearts is getting old," MUNN / "verónica," Leo Alanis / "Something in the Orange," Zach Bryan

Bonus because I couldn't just leave you with all of that and no solution or grace:

Note: I am NOT making this AU any easier on you~

Billy’s conscious was well and alive, he could see, he could feel… but he was a prisoner in his own mind. It was as if there were two of them, one, as he had always been, and another, upon who he had no control over.

To anyone looking at him from outside, he wouldn’t be Billy. He’d be Drakkon’s minion, the despot’s left hand, where the Ranger Slayer was right. He’d appear brainwashed, he’d appear someone who wasn’t a master of their own mind, following blindly everything Drakkon ever said.

They wouldn’t be wrong.

Because after all, there he was, holding a blade to the throat of the boy who— many, many years ago— had been his best friend, and saved his life risking his own. He had no will, no way to fight this monster in his mind, who was doing everything Drakkon told him to.

He needed someone to pull him out of it, snap him out of it, to build him back up, to have faith in enough in him, to save him.

Eugene Skullovitch, Red Sentry, and someone who had turned out to be a double agent for the Coinless, was staring at him through his perpetually tired grey eyes, as if studying him, through the visor of his suit.

He looked like he was seeing past the barriers that held Billy chained inside his mind, and something inside him felt breaking.

He smiled, “I know you’re in there, behind all of that.”

Billy wanted to shout, say that he was coming for him, but instead, what came out of his mouth was a loud grunt, “what are you talking about, traitor?” In a voice gruff enough for it to sound forced.

“You know what I mean” he smiled, looking as if he knew everything.

Maybe he could see the shifting confusion in the ex-blue Ranger’s eyes, or demeanour, and his smile transformed into a full fledged smirk.

“At least I get to die at your hands, Bones”

Something broke, at that moment, because Billy, Skull’s Billy, suddenly found an insane amount of strength, as if he’d go insane if he didn’t run to Skull yet, he’d die. His metallic fist clamps let go of Skull’s neck from one, and the knife off the other, the red Sentry fell to the floor, and smiled back at Billy, and then seconds later, scurried away.

Billy found himself facing the backlash of resisting the magic, crumbling onto the floor, in eternal agony.