#AHAHA WTF

[samdeancrimespree]

there’s something about wincest in the pre-slash era (whenever that is) where i think the dynamic is: one of them does not have sex with men. doesn’t think of them that way, because it feels too dangerous, too easy to slip into those fantasies he keeps locked away. and the other one fucks guys, but only ones who are eerily similar, carbon copies to his brother. the type of resemblance that would turn most siblings off. and the roles could go either way, for either of them. just… the dynamics of the different types of desperate “unrequited” feelings and the way they try to get away from them.

like. dean getting drunk and making out with some tall, long haired guy at a bar. nasty desperate hands down the back of the guys jeans, stifling a sigh that his ass isn’t quite round enough to be sam’s. he has blue eyes, not brown, but dean isn’t looking at his face anyway. fucking not-sam rough in the back of the impala, moaning baby and cutting off before brother, saying sam’s name when he cums, trying not to stare at the army figure in the ashtray. hating himself for it, swearing off it, but always crawling back, chasing the high like an addict. feeling deep in his soul that sam was right to leave, that he’s better off without his sick freak of a brother.

sam being into girls with short hair, accidentally hitting on lesbians because he struggles to be attracted to anything not wearing a crew cut, flannel and work boots. he’s sick, he knows, that’s part of why he had to leave. frosh week drunk, he lets a guy flirt with him, because he’s just tall enough, just different enough, that sam can give himself plausible deniability. his lips are too thin, he’s too gentle, he smells like axe and fake leather, but sam needs something, and this is all he can get. it’s going fine, until the guy— too late now to ask his name— goes for sam’s belt and sam feels like he’s going to puke. the wrongness of it comes over him all at once, like a fever or a hex. clarity pierces his drunken state: not dean’s hands, not dean’s voice, not dean, wrong. at least it gives him an excuse to back out, a good reason to lock himself in the bathroom and sit on the floor, trying to determine if the dry heaving is cheap beer or grief.

girls are— safe. long hair, soft hands, sweet and gentle and nowhere close to 6’1. this way, there’s nothing reminding sam of the absence, nothing pushing against the barrier he’s made around what he really wants. he can be normal.

he knows it’s dean after the first strike, knows his footsteps and his breath and the outline of his shoulders, even now, even in the dark. but sam doesn’t stop fighting, because he’ll have to stop touching dean, and sam can allow himself this one thing, after so long. dean’s leather jacket on sam’s bare arms is making him dizzy, and sam lets dean take him down, the beginning and end of sam’s understanding of desire. a reminder, familiar like dean’s rough palms on his wrists, his weight pinning sam, his shit-eating grin and drawled easy, tiger; sam has never been normal.

[trirocksalt]

Found these little doodles in my sketchbook that I completely forgot about.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 22 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

So one minuet I'm cackling laughing and then the next I'm blubbing like a baby. Giving myself whiplash over here! Just to be warned, I barely re-read this cause I want to get it out. So if something doesn't make sense, whoops, I will do a proof read later, I'll fix it ahaha. OMG yeah no this chapter is all over the place, my bad!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)

I tossed and turned, my brain in overdrive, wouldn’t let me go to sleep. The soft snores of the men filled the room. They all instantly fell asleep as soon as they laid their head on the pillow. I was jealous, my body was exhausted but my mind was wide awake. I kept replaying the fight I had with Don. Then how he was in the kitchen. Like he wasn’t upset by it, maybe he wasn’t. I rolled over trying to get comfortable but nothing worked. I reached down grabbing my canteen from beside my bed. I unscrewed the lip, tipping it back. No water entered my mouth, I shook it over my face. It was empty. I huffed. There was a water supply downstairs. 

I pulled back my covers moving very slowly. I didn’t want to wake the men, knowing they needed their rest for the patrol. I placed my feet down on the floor, it was cold but I didn’t want to put on my boots. I would be down and back in seconds there was no need. I got off the bed, wincing at every creak and squeak from the mattress and the floor. I tip-toed slowly out of the room pausing every time I heard a noise. I could briefly make out shapes in the dark, the large holes in the wall providing some luminance from the moonlight.

I snuck down the stairs, cringing with every creak they made underfoot. I made it to the third step from the top, stepping down on my toes, when my ankle gave way underneath me. I flailed my arms trying to reach for something to grab onto but the steps didn’t have a handrail. I tipped forward, my body careening down the stairs. I seemed to hit every single step on the way down. I winced, but not from the pain, from the amount of noise my body made as it bounced down the stairs. So much for being quiet. I barrel rolled down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom. I lay still, panting from the fall. Maybe if i just didn’t move no one would notice. I wasn’t in pain, probably from the adrenaline that was now coursing through my veins, yeah that’s going to help me get to sleep. I heard movements from upstairs. 

“What was that?” 

“Was that a bomb?” 

“What was that noise?” I heard the men upstairs whispering to each other, trying to figure out what all the crashing was from. 

“Who’s there?” Even though I was laying on my front sprawled out with my hair covering my face, I could see the shine from the flashlight land on me.  

“It’s Emily.” I said weakly, raising my hand over my head. “I fell.” 

The sound of footsteps sounded coming down the stairs. Babe was at my side in seconds. 

“Jesus, of course it was you who fell down the stairs.” Babe chuckled. I groaned. “Sorry, are you ok?” He asked, I gave him a weak thumbs up. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

I got to my hands and knees, my head spinning slightly. Babe grabbed my hands pulling me to stand. I winced in pain, oh no there it is. My whole body screamed in agnoy, especially my back which took the brunt of the fall. I clung onto Babe’s shoulder’s. As he helped me back up the stairs again, the rest of the men waited at the top, some of which had gotten back into their beds. 

“Can we take you anywhere?” Grant asked with a playful smile. 

“I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet.” I felt so bad for waking them all. 

“Are you ok though?” Joe asked from his bed. I gave a nod as Babe gently placed me back onto the bunk, lifting my legs for me to swing into bed. I wasn’t that injured but he had done it before I could say anything. I let him tuck me back in. 

“You’re such a goose.” Babe said to me before climbing back into his own bed. Everyone fell asleep quickly including myself. 

—----------------

I was up with the men as they prepared to leave on the patrol. I gave a hug to Babe and Grant who left with the men. All we could do was wait. We made our way into the basement, where the men would bring the prisoner if it was a success.      

The sounds of footsteps clunked into the room, surely they weren’t back yet? Cobb, Skinny and Garcia walked in dripping wet. 

“What the hell happened?” I asked, standing from my seat, making my way over to the shivering men. 

“We took a dip.” Cobb said sarcastically. I moved forward to the men who stood in front of me. 

“Here, take off those clothes before you catch your death. Can we get some blankets and dry clothes over here!” I called helping Skinny pull off his jacket since his hands were shaking so badly. I ensured the other men took off their wet clothes as well. Once they were in dry clothes I draped them in blankets and put them by the fire. Skinny was still shivering, I passed him the warm coffee I had made for him.  

Then it was a waiting game again. Everyone else was out to help with covering fire. The men who had fallen into the water and I waited in the basement. I could hear distant gunfire and explosions. I could hear the sound of the whistles being blown, they were on their way back. I paced around the room, anxious to see how it went. I flinched with every explosion, come on why aren’t they back yet.       

The door burst open as the men poured in, “We got wounded. Come on!” They carried in the soldier. It was chaos, the men shouting orders, the gunfire that continued outside, the bustle of people that made their way in. The once empty room filled with four people was now teeming with life and noise. 

I made room on the table, instructing them to lay down the wounded man. It was Jackson. His face was badly injured as well as his upper torso. He gasped for breaths as he shook in pain. His face was burnt and disfigured. 

“It was his own grenade, he ran in too early.” One of the men told me. 

“Hold him down.” I yelled at the soldiers as Jackson squirmed around, making it harder for me to see. I pulled out my flashlight, opening his mouth. The inside of his throat was burnt. Shit. This wasn’t good. We were losing his airway every second, as it swelled shut. I needed an Oropharyngeal, but I didn’t have one, no one did. 

“Does anyone have a tube?” I asked, looking around at the men, they shook their heads. I tilted Jackson's head back trying to open his airway as best I could. But it would be no use in a matter of minutes when it swelled shut. 

“Does anyone have a pen?” More shaking heads. God fucking dammit. I wanted to try and do a tracheostomy, if I had a scalpel and a tube or even a pen I could create a new airway. But I had nothing in the way that I could perform the procedure. I flicked my eyes to Jackson, as he tried to fight, sitting up and moving. He was panicking, he was losing his breath faster, gasping and choking. 

“Jackson, lie still, don’t panic.” I tried to reassure him, but with each gasp he took, less air was entering his lungs. He was slowly suffocating. I didn’t have anything with me, no intubation kit, no scapula, no pen. I couldn’t keep his airway open. He was going to die if I did nothing. I could save him but I don’t have anything, I have no supplies. 

“Gene, do you have anything to intubate with, a pen, anything?” I asked as he rushed into the room. I watched him scavenge through his bag, he shook his head. 

“We need to move him, I don’t have the supplies to keep his airway open!” I told him. He nodded. 

“Let’s get him moving.” Gene called, the men helping him onto the stretcher.

“I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die.” He cried as he gurgled on his saliva. I held his hand as he was transferred. He looked right at me, “Don’t let me die.” I shook my head. “I won’t!” We moved him off the table. A bomb shook the house, making all of us duck, the men laying him on the floor on the stretcher. I kept his head tilted back as he choked on his blood and spit. I could hear him struggling to draw his breath. He writhed around gasping for air that wasn’t making it into his lungs. 

“Jackson! Jackson! Please, you have to hold on, please!” I begged trying to keep his airway open. He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth and onto my face and clothes. He stilled. 

“No! No!” I said bending down pressing my mouth on his as I gave him rescue breaths. I could taste his blood in my mouth as I pulled back. I bent down again giving him two more, I blew into his mouth, turning my head to look at his chest. I waited for his chest to rise and fall, the feeling of his exhale on my cheek, listening intently for the sound of him taking a gulp of air. But I didn’t, his chest didn’t move, I didn’t feel anything on my cheek or the sounds of him breathing again. He was still. I hovered over his face, staring down into his now dull eyes. I pulled back, resting on my haunches, I looked around the room. Babe's eyes found mine, he shook his head in disbelief. Surely he didn’t lose another friend, another brother. The sad look in my eyes said it all. He had. We all had. 

I was so mad, I could’ve saved him, if I just had the supplies, anything, I could have sent this young man back to his family. 

I wiped my mouth that was covered in his blood. Martin approached, laying a blanket over the man, no boy. He was just a boy. 

The room that was once overbearing with noise, fell eerily silent. I hastily wiped the tears from my cheeks. I moved from my position walking over to Babe. I wrapped him in my embrace as he clung to me burying his head in my shoulder. 

I don’t think we slept the rest of the night. We made our way back to base, but we all stayed up. I sat in the middle of my bunk as Babe laid down smoking, resting his legs on my lap. I leaned back into the wall, still covered in the blood that wasn’t mine. Jones and Webster made their way back from dropping off the POW’s, wandering back into the room. 

“We heard you got two prisoners. Good work.” Don complimented Jones.

“Jackson’s dead.” Webster announced. Don and Lieb who hadn’t been there nodded, already hearing it from us when we got back. 

“Yeah, we heard.” Lieb said, laying on the top bunk behind Don.

“Yeah, well, they want another patrol tonight.” Perconte informed the men who had just joined us. When we had heard there was going to be another one, we were less than enthused, just because it went to plan didn’t mean we lost nothing. We lost a life. Why risk losing more? Why did they need more prisoners? The Germans were falling apart anyway. It felt like a waste to go over again. A risk we didn’t want to take. Just because it was a ‘success’ this time, didn’t mean the next one was going to be. What if we sent 15 men over there just to be killed. It was infuriating. I knew how this was going to end, hell it was all I learnt in history class. I knew that the Germans lost, and it was closer than they knew. I couldn’t blurt that to them, they would think I was crazy, or a spy. I wanted to shake Colonel Sink, tell him it wasn’t worth it. That these men were more precious than the German POW's they wanted so badly. Couldn’t he see that these men needed to be preserved. I huffed, patting Babe’s leg. He glanced over to smile at me. A small smile but it meant the world, I returned it. 

The men prepared nonetheless. Waiting in the same basement from last night. It felt tainted in that kitchen now. It wasn’t the same warm atmosphere it held before. Everything had been cleaned and organised but the feel of the room was heavy.      

I sat looking over the things in my medic bag. I wish I had more in it. It was almost barren apart from a couple of bandages, sulphur and medication. The rest of my bag was my personal items. I thumbed over them. The dress from Renee, a stone I had taken from the woods in Bastogne, the gloves I had had in my pockets the day I had arrived, the hand sanitizer bottle that was now empty, my wallet, my phone and headphones. It was bizarre to have those things in this time. These men had no idea who I really was. They believed I was a young girl from Boston who came over to help the injured and dying men. When in reality I had messed with someone much bigger than myself and got stuck. If I go home, or when I go home, these men will have passed. After I leave I will never get to see them again. I looked around at the group, they all looked weary and tired. Yawning as they cleaned their equipment. I glanced over to Cobb who stood in the doorway, raising a bottle to his lips and throwing back the drink. He swayed on his feet. He was clearly drunk. I shook my head. 

“Whatcha you looking at, Webster?” I heard him slur. I glanced up, Webster’s eyes trained on the inebriated man. Awkwardly glancing away after he had been called out by Cobb. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, college boy.” He taunted the man. I huffed, annoyed at his loud obnoxious voice. Everyone else was doing as they were asked, sure they weren’t thrilled but they never fussed. Cobb on the other hand had to be dragged to do everything and somehow managed to weasel his way out of it all. Moaning and groaning about doing the least amount possible. 

“Are you drunk, trooper?” Jones swivelled in his chair to face the drunkard. 

“Leave me alone.” Cobb snapped. But Jones didn’t flinch to his bitterness. 

“Answer the question.” Jones said again, tone more firm. The young boy who had wandered into CP yesterday was gone, he seemed more confident in his role. It fit him nicely. 

“Yes, sir. I am drunk, sir.” Cobb muttered. “Drunk, sick and tired of fucking patrols and taking orders.” He droned on. 

“Hey Cobb, shut up. It’s boring, okay?” Martin told the man. I hid my smile. It was nice to see him being put in his place. And Martin did give the best tellings off. 

“Taking his side, Johnny?” Cobb asked, looking butthurt. 

“Yeah, I am.” Martin said, turning away from him. We stayed in the basement preparing, waiting for our orders. 

I spoke quietly with Grant, Babe and Lieb who I was sitting with as they cleaned their guns. No one raised their voices over a hushed whisper. The tension in the room was solemn. 

“Do I need to do something about the situation?” Lieb whispered to me leaning closer so I could hear him. We hadn’t been talking before just sitting in silence. 

“What?” I asked confused, as the man had started talking like we were in the middle of a conversation that didn’t exist. 

“You and Malarkey.” He stated. 

“It’s fine Joe.” I shook my head, looking down at the floor. 

“Well it clearly isn’t, I can see that you’re upset. He also hasn’t spoken to you in days. Do I need to talk to him?” He asked concerned, ducking his head down to make eye contact with me. 

“What happened? This isn’t like you two.” I chuckled, when did he become so observant of me. 

“I have it sorted, I’m waiting for him to apologise.” I said. 

“Why does he have to apologise? What did he say?” He questioned me, the interrogator in him coming out.

“He just said that he didn’t have time for me, that he was busy.” I intentionally left out the part where he said he was my babysitter. I knew if I told that to Joe, he would try and fight Don.

“He’d better do it fast.” Lieb’s eyes falling on the man sitting across the room. He looked distant, staring off into space. 

“It’s fine Joe, plenty of other fish in the sea right?” I stated, trying to play off the hurt in my chest. Of course it wasn’t as simple as finding someone else, I didn’t want anyone else. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking he would do what I wanted him to do. Who knows he might be already done with me, before anything started. If there was nothing there like he said, he could be perfectly fine. He is just mourning his friends, nothing else. 

Joe gave me a sad smile, clearly not believing the front I had put up. His hand landed on my thigh and gave it a squeeze. I smiled, leaning into him. I rested my head on his shoulder as he lent his head on mine. We stayed like that for a while, not speaking, just resting. It was comforting. He was the older brother I never had. I didn’t think I would be able to smile again after losing Skip and Alex. I adored the two men. They had become my family. After I had lost them, I didn’t think I could trust and love someone as much as I did those two men. But somehow after the haze of it all, Joe waited for me. We were friendly, but never close before. Then suddenly he was everywhere I turned, with his charming smirk and witty banter. Same for Babe and Grant. They were just there when I needed them. They just took me in. I think that Alex and Skip had sent them somehow. I missed them so dearly. 

Grief was a weird emotion. I had experienced it many times before, but it was never the same. With my Nana, I was sad, but I was grateful, she was old and ready to go. I always thought of her fondly, never plagued too much by her passing. 

My mother on the other hand was a weight pulling me to the bottom of the sea. The heaviness of my grief was crushing. It was one thing to lose a parent, but to a disease where you had to watch them die slowly, knowing their fate, but secretly hoping for their survival. She was all I had left. I never fully am free of the sadness of her passing. 

Then here, losing lives everyday was hard, but it was manageable. Most of the men I didn’t know personally, I wasn’t tied to them. I felt sad for their death but was able to move forward. If I didn’t think of them too hard or how I had lost them, I was fine. 

With Alex and Skip it came in waves. The first a tidal wave, threatening to pull me down to the ocean floor just like with my mother. But I was dragged from the water, thrown a life saver. I had support. I would float on the top of the water, everything fine, happy and normal. Then every so often I would sink under the surface. The weight returned. It would hurt all over again, like a fresh wound. Just like lying in water, I would sink and float. Sometimes the sea was rougher than normal, or it was calm and tranquil. But just like the ocean it was unpredictable. 

I missed them all so much. 

“!0-hut!” Martin called. I stood quickly, focusing on the world around me again. I didn’t know how much time had passed, being so deep in thought.      

Winters, Nixon, and Speirs walked into the room. “At ease.” We all relax at Winters command. 

“This everybody Grant?” Winters asked.

“Sir.” Grant confirmed. 

Winters spoke to the men, telling them he was proud. My eyes wandered over to Nixon who hung in the archway. I smiled at him as he sent me a wink. I didn’t miss the exhaustion that lingered on his face. He motioned for me to pay attention, still smiling. I looked back at Winters who was telling the men there was another patrol set for tonight. Many heads hung low. Winters explained the plan, noting that not much was changing, other than the men would need to go further into town. More risk. I sighed, my leg bouncing nervously. Babe’s hand stilled my movements, he left his hand there. 

“It will be 0200 hours instead of 0100. Is that clear?” Winters asked, the men confirming. “Good. Because, uh, I want you all to get a full night’s sleep tonight. Which means in the morning you will report to me that you made it across the river into German lines but were unable to secure any live prisoners.” Winters paused as his words sunk in. He was going to lie. The men weren’t going to have to go on the patrol after all. I grabbed Babe’s hand under the table, squeezing it tightly. I channelled all of my relief into our clasped hands so that I wouldn’t whoop and yell. Babe held my hand as tightly as I did his. 

“Understand?” Winters asked the men, his eyes flitting around the room. The tension in the room had evaporated immediately, like a weight being lifted off our shoulders. 

“Yes, sir!” The soldiers said in unison. 

“Good, look sharp for tomorrow. We’re moving off the line.” He told the men as he gathered his supplies and left. I could’ve fallen out of my seat. OFF THE LINE! OFF THE LINE! 

“Did I fucking hear that right?” Lieb turned and asked me. I shook my head in disbelief. A smile pulling at my lips. 

“We’re moving off the line.” I uttered, Lieb and Babe grinning at me.

--------------------------------------

Chapter 23

[little-lovett]

sweeney todd was so good i got my period early

[mobblespsycho100]

not my previous opinion on firefly coming to bite me in the ass JAHDJSHJD

[no1ryomafan]

I love how I have a big crossover fic I need to be working on that me and my beta have been chipping away at this month and after that casshern fic I finally gain motivation to write again- but instead of using it on the crossover I went “what if I write ANOTHER non getter fic and it’s kikaider EHEHEHEH” and cue to nearly 1K words later I do this instead

[swiftfootedachilles]

i really really wanna participate in a fandom thing going on rn but everyone organizing it and half the people participating have me blocked. and it's a co-creator challenge :') so like what would i even do? just pretend everybody doesn't hate me and ignore the way i revert to being the weird kid again forced into a group project with the popular kids? yeah nah im good

[amiharana]

literally all of them AJBDJWBD ok but 15 has so many soft domestic vibes 🥹🫶 and 17 literally link seeing revali cry for the first time omgg revali finally learning how to be emotionally vulnerable w link

(ask game from here)

since i wrote more of a headcanon list of what both revalink's bedtime routines look like on this post for @noraiir-arts, i'll do a drabble kinda thing that's like a moment in their routines for 15 lol

🛌 15. Going through their bedtime routine.

"i just don't see why it's necessary," link says, watching revali cut open a second sheet mask. he already has one on his own face, carefully spread and applied across his gorgeous tan skin. link thinks it makes revali look like he's shedding a layer. "your skin's already nice."

"how do you think i keep it nice?" revali says, carefully removing the sheet mask out of its packaging. "my skin's very sensitive, you know, it requires quite a lot of maintenance to keep it this refreshed and clear. you're lucky that you only need to shower and splash your face with water to keep it that way. who knows how you survived using 3-in-1 body wash your entire life."

"hey, i didn't know that it was bad for you," link grumbles and crosses his arms. "i thought it was more efficient to have it all in one than have to buy it all separately..."

revali rolls his eyes. "mhm. now lay down, so i can put the face mask on you."

link complies easily, the tension leaving his body and his eyes falling shut as soon as he feels revali's fingers, gentle and warm across his jaw. then suddenly, he feels a layer of ice spreading across his face and he squeaks, flinching.

"stay still," revali says, tapping link's thigh.

"it's cold!" link whines back, squirming. "you didn't tell me the face masks were cold!"

"they're cold because i keep them in the fridge and your body is a piece of the sun that fell onto earth," revali replies. "of course it's going to feel cold."

link continues to shiver until he finally gets used to the feeling of the mask on his face. revali continues adjusting its application, smoothing or stretching it out in some places until he's satisfied with the way it sits. "there we go," revali says softly. "good?"

"mhm," link says. he can barely move his face with the mask on. "how are you able to talk with this shit on?"

"you get used to it," revali replies. he lies down beside link on the bed and intertwines their fingers together. "now, we wait for thirty minutes and let the serum sink in."

"does it really take that long?" link says, nose wrinkling. the mask shifts due to the movement and he reaches up to smooth it back down.

"i've fallen asleep with them on before. but it's better to let it stay on longer than shorter so the skin can absorb it."

link hums and they both fall silent. with their fingers still intertwined, revali rubs his thumb against the base of link's. their room is quiet, except for the sound of music playing softly from link's phone. he complains plenty about how revali takes way too long to get ready for bed, but moments like this where he can participate in it with revali are link's favorite.

"thank you," revali says suddenly.

"hm? for what?" link says. he struggles to enunciate it; talking with a sheet mask on is difficult.

"for doing this with me. you didn't have to." revali's voice is quiet, almost shy.

link wants to smile under the sheet mask, but he doesn't want it to get messed up again so he resists. "it's something you like to do, so i wanna do it with you too."

he feels revali squeeze his hand, a silent "i love you". "just don't fall asleep," revali says out loud instead.

this time, link can't resist smiling. "no promises."

💧 17. Link has never seen Revali cry, so when he does, Link struggles with how to react.

when link comes home, the house is quiet. which is usually how it is, even if revali is home before him, but at least his boyfriend is being quiet somewhere where link can see him as soon as he comes in. at least revali will call back when link announces he's home, but he hasn't and it's making him nervous.

"'vali," link calls, slipping his shoes off and pushing them onto the shoe rack they keep by the door. "where are you~!" still no response. it puts link on edge immediately. "'vali?"

revali isn't in the living room or the kitchen, so link moves further into the house. he's not in the office or in the backyard, but his car was parked in the driveway so he has to be home. the last place revali would be is the bedroom, so there link goes.

but he's not prepared for the sight before him when he does.

revali is seated on the edge of the bed with a leg tucked underneath him, a look of despair and tears marring his face. he turns his head to look up at link when he hears him enter the room, but says nothing, staring and tears continuing to streak down his face.

link feels like his lungs have been severed from his esophagus, the air he's so desperately trying to breathe in blowing his chest up like a balloon instead. he's never seen revali like this; revali, whose natural facial expression is a scowl and narrowed eyes. or revali, who reserves his softest, most loving looks upon link. this expression on revali's face now... it feels like the world has fallen out of balance.

he knows he should go to revali, hold him tight and close, and comfort him like revali would do for him, but link can't move. he's rooted to one spot, eyes wide but unable to tear his gaze away from revali.

link's throat is dry, but he gulps and still attempts to speak. "you okay?"

for a moment, revali continues to stare. then he sniffs and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "yeah, i'm fine," he mumbles, looking away.

moving feels impossible, like he's trying to swim through quicksand, but slowly, link moves forward towards revali until he's seated in front of him on the bed. "...you wanna talk about it?"

revali stares blankly into space, unresponsive. a streak of fear wraps itself around link's chest as he searches revali's face, for any change in expression because this is terrifying.

"'vali?" link tries again in a whisper.

and this time, revali looks at him directly. but his face is scrunching up, his eyes welling with tears as he sniffs deeply again. "sorry," he murmurs, "i— just, it's—" fresh tears roll down his cheeks again and a sound that link has never heard before escapes from revali's throat, one that should have never made a home within revali in the first place.

"oh, 'vali," link whispers and he lets his instincts take over. he crawls forward into revali's lap, wrapping his arms around revali's neck and legs around his waist, holding him tightly. that's when the dam finally breaks and revali lets out the most gut-wrenching sound that link has ever heard him make, beginning to shake and cry openly into his shoulder. he holds revali tighter, letting him cry as much as he wants; it's the least that link could do. "it's okay, i'm here, reva."

eventually, revali's crying comes to a stop, but he's still holding link tightly with his arms around his waist, breathing softly against link's neck. link just strokes his hair, pressing kisses to the side of revali's face where he can reach. it's still a couple minutes before revali can find the words to speak again.

"it's the anniversary of my parents' funeral," he murmurs against link's neck. and it makes link stop in his tracks. oh. "i realize that i never actually talked to you about them. i'm sorry."

"that's okay," link murmurs back, continuing to stroke revali's hair. "you don't have to if you don't want to."

revali pauses for a moment. "i want to," he says softly. "i want you to know about them."

his tone somehow makes link's heart flutters. "okay," he replies in similar volume. "i'd like to, as long as you're comfortable talking about it."

"if it's with you, then i am," revali says. he takes a breath before talking again. "both of my parents died when i was six years old. i... don't want to talk about how they did, but i remember being at the funeral. at the time, i didn't really know what was going on but even as a child i understood grief and sadness." revali's voice grows quieter. "they were all i had, but i can barely even remember them. it's pathetic, i know."

"no it's not," link says softly. "you were still really young and it's a traumatic experience. you can't fault yourself for not being able to remember."

"but they were my parents," revali whispers. "they're the people that gave birth to me and were supposed to take care of me, and all i have to remember them by are legal documents and pictures. i can't even do them justice in memories."

link doesn't know what to say at first. it's an incredibly difficult subject to broach, after all. "even if you can't fully remember them," he decides to start, "i think they would love to know that you're trying. they've probably been watching from above and are so proud of you, because you have so much to be proud of, you know? you're so talented and clever and very handsome, might i add—" revali snorts — "they probably would have been proud to see you grew up well even without them. they would still love you."

"you really think that?" revali murmurs.

"the great revali? uncertain about his greatness?" link says teasingly. he pulls back a little to look at revali's face, whose eyes are still red from crying but hold a fond look. "they would, 'vali. anyone would be proud to have you as a son."

after a beat, revali pulls him back into a hug, squeezing him tight. "thank you," revali whispers. "i appreciate it."

"of course," link replies and turns his head to press another kiss to revali's jaw. "i'm here for you always." they're both quiet for a couple more minutes, content with just holding each other close until revali speaks once more.

"i'm sorry, by the way," revali says into the skin of link's neck. "i probably worried you since i wasn't there to greet you."

"that's okay," link says, his eyes closed. "i get it now after you told me. so don't feel bad anymore, i'm here with you now and i always will be, no matter what. i love you, 'vali, more than anything."

"i love you, too, songbird," revali whispers back. "thank you."

link hums. "i'm gonna get some water for you and then how about cuddles?"

"that sounds... nice." revali's face shifts its position under link's chin. "do you have to leave to get the water, though?"

he giggles. "do you wanna come with me to the kitchen, then?"

"i think we should skip the water and go straight to cuddling."

"nuh uh, you have to rehydrate after crying so much. you do the same to me when i cry."

"...whatever."

link giggles again and then sits back, pulling on revali's arm. "come on, let's go. the sooner we get water, the sooner we can cuddle." revali rolls his eyes but stands up with link and complies. even after all that, revali is still too weak for link and for his cuddles.

[chenziee]

Get more info and/or play the Twine game hosted by @/truffyfest here!

The Devil card is the worst ending by the way; set during the Blackbeard vs Heart Pirates fight, it's gore and death and just overall no one is having a good time out there (except me). Very much Dead Dove; Do Not Eat (and it would be worse than it is in the Twine). Just so you know before casting your vote ahaha

The Devil Reversed is the good ending of the same scenario. No gore no death, complete with a cute bonus time-skip.

(Also by reworking I mean editing it so that it can be read as standalone and without the context of the Twine)

[kuwdora]

In Our Wake (TWN - Vilgefortz/Geralt)

music: “In Our Wake” by Atreyu (acoustic cover) source: The Witcher Netflix season 3 pairings: Vilgefortz/Geralt (minor Vilgefortz/Tissaia and Yen/Geralt, Vilgefortz & Ciri) length: 3:16

summary: We break like the ocean, we rise like the tide.

physical warnings: intermittent lightning clips 1:49-2:01 and 2:28 and 2:35

content warnings: Body horror, blood and violence, child abuse, canon-typical awfulness, brief reference to suicide. Spoilers for season 3.

download (right-click save as): 123MB/mp4 (zipped file)

also on ao3

[despairforme]

Ok so i just learned hollows dont celebrate valentines day but despite that, what if tesla asked you to be his valentine? Would you accept? *stands on tiptoes holds up mic*

UHM, Valentine's? Which one was that again? Humans had SO many fucking stupid holidays. Wasn't Valentine's the one where girls gave guys chocolate? - Didn't seem that way from how the question was phrased though.

❝ I dunno what 'da fuck bein' someone's Valentine's means. If it's a hassle, I'mma pass. ❞ What Nnoitra would refer to as a "hassle" was literally anything. Anything at all that demanded the slightest effort for him. In addition, he was not the easiest person to work with. Often, he'd just answer ' no ' to any question or suggestion, without even thinking it through. So, probably, if Tesla asked him to ( what the fuck? ) - be his Valentine's? Nnoitra would say no. He didn't like the thought of being someone's ANYTHING.

[normystical]

ughhh i spend ONE TIME thinking about tv heads (especially with suits hrhrgh,,) rly hard while listening to animation meme audios and now i have all these different ideas for these two ocs. i mean it's not a bad thing but like damn. how am i getting so attached to these guys. how much trauma do i really want to give the both of them. and how are things linking together so nicely, i literally just go "tehe this character is a ceo because i want to see hot tv man wearing professional suit" and the idea of him being a ceo kinda works in a way??? like lore-wise he's "inspirational" or whatever for even being capable of achieving to that degree with his condition. might even have his current state be inconvenienced. i mean if he didn't fucking have those antennae removed (unethically/unprofessionally at least?) he wouldn't have those glitches i might consider giving him but i mean y'know society do be what it do be man

[sparrow-in-boots]

this is my Bill Miles rant.

this is it. this is what you're about to read, yipee hurray! i'm about to rawdog this pustule of a man on a table, and i'm dissecting why he's such a tentative yet counterproductive evolutionary reaction to a shitty situation that ends up causing more problems than it fixes. yknow, like a pustule.

this is gonna be long and rough (honestly the innuendos just write themselves don't they), about 3.7k words long to be precise. this thing needed headings ffs. so take your time with it is what i’m saying xvx

also if you haven't already, I'd recommend checking out my previous Daniel and Lucy posts for further context as i'll bring back stuff from them in here. call it a series what the heck.

now, onto the Billiam

I could do a whole thing here where i explain and contextualize where he's coming from, and how the way he's worked for the brotherhood and later raised his son ultimately made sense from his point of view, etc etc. but i think we're all familiar with that exercise. 'Understandable' doesn't make it right or even smart, and anyone with some understanding of generational trauma and dealing with an emotionally stunted parent already knows the drill here. I'm not gonna break any new ground delving into it so i won't bother. We got bigger fish to fry here.

I will establish though, Bill is a man of action, few words and even fewer expression of emotions. I can draw a direct parallel to the Levantine brotherhood and their strict hierarchy and the ultimate authority of their grandmaster. Not mentor mind you, that's a title for later in the brotherhood's history. Al Mualim is the master, the leader, the head of the order, and his word is law and the tenets and maxim are sacred. If he tells you you should die for his will, then you will do it and gladly, because you're serving the brotherhood's higher purpose. I'm not here to argue the morals and ethics of that, just saying it like it is.

Bill may not be as strict as all that, in fact he's very much not and he couldn't if he tried (and i gotta say, i don't think he would try), but he certainly reflects that resolute certainty in the brotherhood's beliefs and what is needed to face their enemy. The templars are everywhere, they have their grasp in everything, and so you must be willing to give everything to push them back.

In his eyes, all the hardships that he put Desmond through in his youth were necessities. For the brotherhood, they are at war, and as such he saw it as an act of love and care to prepare Desmond for the worst. But he was so lost in a world of casualties and soldiers that he forgets all too often that people are, people.

Soldiers are human beings first and foremost, and to strip them of humanity may be argued as a necessity of war but it strips the brotherhood of its most fundamental goals. Human lives, human worth, humanity itself, are worth preserving and protecting in all its forms, that's the freedom they fight for. It's messy and complicated but it's beautiful and it's to be celebrated, not suppressed. To deny humanity for the sake of neat and clean order and hierarchy is what the templars want, and you can't fight that by becoming it. You fight it by opposing it. That's why Al Mualim turned, and that's why Altair had to kill him and rework the brotherhood from the ground up, even if he hadn't been twisted by the Apple. And that's why I wanna draw out the parallel between Al Mualim to Bill first.

BILL HAD A FARM EEAH EEAH YOH

In AC1 we're served a narrative that the templars and the brotherhood are not so different and they both want the same thing, "peace, in all things", but they have opposing views on how to achieve it and that's where their conflcit lies. Simple enough premise, and they do a pretty good job of showing how those two militaristic orders view the world and how to achieve their goals, and in what form those orders now exist in the modern world. Back then it made sense for the Farm to be an isolationist cult, it was a perfect mirror for the isolated Masyaf fortress and their secretive nature, but as the narrative developed in the next games, that contextualization just grew more and more flawed. The brotherhood had grown, branched out, coexisted in various time periods and cultural contexts, and it no longer made sense for them to be a remote cultish commune in the middle of nowhere.

Which leads me to believe that it was pretty much Bill's idea from the start. If you'll allow me to extrapolate some character beats, it's no secret that he's got a deep respect for the brotherhood, and I'd assume that includes Altair and Ezio given how their mentorship stirred the entire brotherhood into new eras. They are legendary figures in their history, they got statues of them in the brotherhood headquarters, it's really not subtle.

As such, one can see him trying his best to lean on their teachings, if not try to emulate them a bit. He's secretive, resolute, stubborn, all qualities we see of Altair and Ezio in the Animus and were likely exagerated over the centuries. In The Fall (comic), we see that the brotherhood had a whole secret library worth of knowledge before it was ransacked during the Great Purge, and it's not too far to assume that Bill spent some time digging through those archives in his youth. He was born in the brotherhood after all.

Grueling training, blind trust in your betters and the creed, secretiveness, emotional distance. All things we see in both the Farm and the Levantine brotherhood, a holdover from the smaller scope of AC1 that leads me to think this was a bit of Bill's bout of hero worshipping to maybe recreate the conditions that created the assassins of old. We don't know what the rest of the brotherhood thought of the Farm exactly, i can't find or recall any particular bit of lore that addresses it except from an outside perspective; all we get is Desmond's own comments on his experience based on his memories in ACR. Even when he speaks of it to others, they give no opinion of their own on the matter.

Bill might be so focused on the environment that created an assassin like Altair, that he forgets that the man then went over to rework the brotherhood to keep what happened to him from happening again. He fostered curiosity and understanding in his order, leading to many changes that carried on through the ages to the modern day. It was Altair learning to question and doubt his master, the man he'd follow blindly and without question once, that led to the survival and growth of the order. In fact, Altair puts his trust blindly in his assassins to protect him when he goes to confront Abbas, to keep him safe and help restore the order once again. Not the other way around. And when he saw that same curiosity and doubts in his son, he sought to stamp it out instead of seeing it for what it was.

Desmond left not just because he was terrified (his words not mine) of the training, the harshness, and the bland food. If we're being honest, he's found that in spades in the outside world too. No, he left because the Farm asked for blind trust and respect that was not shown to him in return. When he asked questions, they ignored or waved him away, and so as they dismissed his interest in truly understanding what was being taught, he gave them the same.

I'll give credit where it's due, he does apologize and offers a truce to Desmond. Grated, he doesn't get much of a chance to show how much he's changed exactly, especially in the minutiae of daily life with the team, and it's a rather wishy-washy apology overall. But it's something and more than most people get in real life. Desmond is gracious enough to take it and even does his best to give him a chance, which is more than most anyone would, and that says more about him than Bill.

Regardless, I want to chalk up this apology as rushed writing rather than Bill being actively manipulative by saying what Desmond would like to hear. I don't want to give the writers credit for writing some 4D chess mind game powers onto him. I'm not even a fan of the "two Bills on Lucy's emails" thing, that's just poor retcon to fit the "Lucy is a templar" plotline.

the tangent - YOU GOT MAIL

Speaking of, i wanna get into that for a moment. As far as i could dig up, we had no confirmation of why Lucy had to die besides fan theories, and then the ACR dlc dropped. It was further commented on AC3 and most importantly, several retcons that included Lucy being a sneaky templar were released in the Initiates web project. That included much of the Project Siren lore, reactions to her death among the templars, her leaving the memory core for Vidic's goons to find, and of course the retcon that she was in contact with two separate Williams. All this to say, we can't say for sure if the writers knew how they wanted to handle her cliffhanger death in ACB even when ACB itself came out. So this?

That was meant to be our introduction to Bill's character. Those are the words of a man who sent a 16yo girl into the world to fully fend for herself on her own against a corporation so powerful it's almost impossible to comprehend. And now that she's back among the community that dropped her into such a grueling situation, this is his reaction to her showing care and concern for another human being, who by the way is his own son?? Holding up all that she's suffered through over her head like compassion would invalidate all that?? I sincerely lack the words.

Well, actually Desmond said it best.

Right then, Bill really isn't better than them. He's just another cold calculating asshole who's so set on a nebulous future victory that he refuses to see the lives he's trampling on to get there. He's done it to Lucy, to Clay, to Desmond, and even to Shaun and Rebecca to an extent, and they are just the ones we know of. The Great Purge is no excuse for this behavior, that's not the time to grow apart, but closer and show sympathy and kindness to his fellow assassins. Some distant war general figure moving faceless pieces on the board is the last thing they want right then, or might even need.

We can see in this one email just how dire the situation is with how Rebecca even refuses to put a subject on the email. Opening up and being vulnerable is something to be done in quiet and secret, almost like it's a burden to show how much things are affecting you, and that's so messed up. Even in the army, you can see gallows humor and dark jokes to cope with the horrors soldiers go through, but we don't even get that amongst the team. When you approach Lucy as Desmond, it's often him showing her kindness and comfort and reassuring her through her doubts and fears, and she doesn't hesitate to share them with him and I think it has a lot to do with how they are both apart from Bill's influence. Lucy has her own cans of worms to deal with, but between her and Desmond, there's a measure of closeness and trust you don't see with the others.

I know, your boss is not exactly the person you might want to pour your heart out to, but come on! How powerful and rallying would it be to see your leader across the room and feel comfortable and safe enough to just sit together and talk?? It can't be overstated how much it matters that any movement that places itself against the current system must prove itself as... different from that system. It's the literal bare minimum here. If you say you care about humanity but you won't care for the humanity of your members, then... what are you even doing?

tangent done - BACK TO THE BIG PICTURE

I wanna take a quick step back for a bit. AC3 portrays Bill as a man who sees his actions as justified, who sees that his ends justify the means. It leads us down a doomed horseshoe theory that coupled with the deeply complicated historical time in the ancestral plotline, makes for a very murky and confusing narrative. The more you look at it, the less clear or discernible the themes get. It raises a lot of complex points but never closes or even shows where they are going with them.

Now, horseshoe theory is an erroneous concept that has been critiqued to hell and back, and to use it as a way to tie the modern and ancestral timelines in an attempt to create a "'we're all the same" theme is... the worst possible way to go about it. Doubly so when it’s often appropriated by right-wing pundits to vilify their political opponents. You can't make the protagonists ponder on how to hold hands and sing kumbaya with a death cult to avoid Armageddon while the writers are going "bUt ThEy ArE bAd ToO" because of one guy (who you're also attempting to redeem) who deems the inherent human need for connection as "being too weak". Even that is enough of a mess, but add to it the whole deconstruction of the war of independence and the sheer horror that the colonies were for the indigenous people back then and all the way up to this day... Where are the writers even going here??

We get more conversations about how allying with the templars is not a possibility than any proper address on Lucy or the entire situation that led to her turning, much less who's to blame, how can they avoid this in the future, how the protagonists even feel about all this. Just excuses for why it had to happen, there was no other way, let’s move along now, nothing to see here. In AC2 and ACB we got some neat and tidy convos that made sense to be bite-sized, concise little bits of characterization and presenting themes and concepts for the worldbuilding. But in AC3, we get convos that could have been entire cutscenes, whole dialogues amongst the characters to reckon with all that's been happening. Instead we waste cutscene time with fucking Juno and the Isu failed attempts that don't fucking matter to the story they should be focused on telling.

Which is why I want to talk about Haytham.

THE HUMAN PROBLEM

I bring him up because AC3 clearly wants to parallel his and Connor's relationship with Bill's and Desmond's. Which, personally i think it gives off the feeling that it's supposed to be a "hey it could be worse" at Desmond. I think we can agree that's a sucky attitude to have towards anyone who's suffered family trauma like Desmond did, and it also kind of diminishes the weight of the colonial era storyline. But since the game wants to talk about it, then let's talk about it.

Haytham is one more indoctrinated assassin-to-templar character, which is it's own mirror to Daniel and Lucy, but this is not about them. Haytham is cold, pragmatic, relentless and so calculating. He was warmer and kinder when he was younger, even a rather gray character, but all that is lost the longer he spends as the templar grandmaster. He did care for Connor in his own way and wanted to bring him to their side if only so that he wouldn't have to kill him, but if it came to it, he would have as we see in the game multiple times.

And as far as the game is concerned, that's also Bill. They are both two men who got worn down into their respective roles and lost sight of what's truly important. Except, we don't know that. We see it with Haytham plain as day in the prologue, but we don't know how Bill was in his younger years. We know about a few missions he took that involved the Animus project, but besides that we don't know what kind of man or even child he was. We don't even know what his dynamic with other people is, how he is with his wife, does he have family? Siblings, parents, cousins, anything? Does he even care? What about friends and colleagues? Hell, we don't even know what he's like in action, the Cairo mission happens off-screen and Desmond handles their escape with the Apple. All we see of him in AC3 is how he's an emotionally stunted bossy guy, and anything else is told, never shown.

Haytham however, gets a prologue and several missions in-game, and even a whole side novel from his point of view.

As such, I'm reluctant to extrapolate the kind of man Bill is based off of Haytham alone, because again they not only exist in very different times and contexts, but there's a severe imbalance in screentime. What I can do however, is compare their "ending" as it were.

Haytham dies by the hands of his own son. He had the chance to put his ego aside and listen to his son, maybe put his cards on the table and explain the misunderstanding about the attack on Connor's village, but he didn't. He decided to hold that information until it was the most convenient to him, and then try to use it to manipulate Connor into switching sides. He refused to put aside the grandmaster role and step up as a father, or even as a man who cared about someone else's feelings. Whatever his feelings for Ziio and his son, they came second to the templars and their goals, and that was his death sentence. To his dying breath, he held true to that mentality.

Bill however, despite apologizing, hasn't shown much of the work to change. He and the brotherhood remains stagnant and withering, and in the face of the person he's hurt the most and is still alive to make amends to, he remains distant and reticent. All the efforts to connect and deepen whatever there is between them needs to come from Desmond, and every attempt to reach out to the outside gets shut down. It's Desmond refusing to give up on him that saves his ass even! Given the state of their relationship, that fucking SUCKS.

It shouldn't be up to Desmond to fix what Bill wrecked back at the Farm, and portraying otherwise, like Desmond is the one who messed everything up, is ass backwards. The brotherhood and Bill should be bending into knots to convince him to stay and that things aren't as they were once, but Desmond decided to stay long before. Because one the templars suck, two Desmond got the proof he always had asked for as a child and three, Lucy showed him kindness and understanding. One might even go so far as to say that it was living Altair's own rebirth period is what reassured those questions he had and gave him true understanding, but Lucy gave him hope in a hopeless situation.

That's powerful not just as a narrative point but as a theme for the assassins as a whole. The games continue to portray the brotherhood as a beacon of hope against the oppression and tyranny of the templars (even for the modern days through the glyph puzzles in AC2 and ACB) but Bill, the face of the brotherhood as the de-facto mentor, is himself as a tyrant.

One would expect AC3 to show him either follow Haytham's fate or change himself to avoid it, but we're denied that kind of development. Even in the Initiates web project and subsequent games, Bill's change is kind of handwaved. He lost the will to fight and vanished but then he saw the desecration of his son he barely showed to give much of a shit for, and now he's back and Mentor again? He's awkward and trying to be approachable in Origins but he's still rather overconfident and posturing too much for his own good.

(I mean, sitting within range of Layla's blade before she's even out of the Animus? Bold fucker.)

If they truly wanted to grapple with Bill and his place and role in the story they spun us, which I assume they do since he's the one who does the intro to the AC3 game, then they should have DONE THAT. Make him face the consequences of his choices and actions, and make the team hold him responsible for it. Make him soften and change, not just give us a pitiable hug and a meek little "Son..." just before Desmond sacrifices himself. Seriously, what gives?

One of the biggest failures in AC3 is their horrid sense of narrative prioritizing with the modern timeline. They tried to close too many threads at once with not nearly enough screentime, and wasted time on needless fluff. But most importantly, I think that the games after ACB have a human problem, in that they refuse to acknowledge the humanity in the modern timeline.

Bill could have been an incredible display of change, that the templars aren't the superior mentality that can turn anyone who spends long enough around them like some brain-corroding virus. Show that the brotherhood still has a chance and that no one is above humbling themselves or beyond bettering themselves, and most of all that the brotherhood can indeed bring hope in a hopeless situation, and community and understanding can make a difference. And since they are so touchy about murder all of a sudden, also show that the assassins are capable of doing more than just killing people.

But we don’t. We don’t get any of that. We’re once again denied of any development that would make any kind of statement that would shift the status quo and make them pay attention to the modern timeline and what they’re doing with it. And worst of all, we're denied any development that would bring us closer emotionally to these characters and make us ponder our place in the world and in history. Cus god forbid the series that has “history as its playground” learn anything from it.

[lusi-raul]

Are we gonna have another sibling duo atleast in rp? Lol I still don’t know if Bagi is related to Cellbit in anyway. People spreading so much misinformation I don’t know what to believe or what’s true anymore 😂

[genspiel]

artifact farming for lyney and fischl is going about as well as expected (which is to say, terribly)

[crookedkingdom]

having to go back to my grandmother's for (likely her last) thanksgiving is just getting beat over the head with a bunch of memories. the last time we were here my brother got his dream job the day before thanksgiving. the last time we were here i helped him buy christmas presents for his girlfriend and he was so nervous about finding something she'd like since it was their first christmas together. the last time we were here we spent hours driving and complaining to each other about how ridiculous our grandmother and parents were being