#after escaping to a new life with pearl- who still loves and fights for her after finding out-

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

So, who's gayer? Vaggie "I regrew body parts out of love" or Marina "Not even Nintendo can censor me"?

I think Marina and Charlie would have a LOVELY chat together, i think Charlie "started a hotel to help her people regain their humanity and have a better life" and Marina "built a virtual reality to help her people regain their lost memories and sense of self" would gush so hard over each other, be so happy for each other over Sir Pentious and Dedf1sh / Acht, would join in most epic hand grip of understanding and respect the universe has ever seen-

i think Marina "used to only spend TWO hours talking to herself about machines" and Charlie "will sing whole arias to herself and make a stick note wall of madness trying to sort out her thoughts" would also have A Lot To Chat About-

especially their smol newly flight-powered and combat upgraded girlfriends

where ARE their girlfriend anywa-

(sounds of explosions) (sounds of gay laughter) NO WAIT STOP THOSE ARE THE LITERAL GATES OF HEAVEN PEARLIBOT AND VAGGIE NO!!!!!!

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown; Part 1

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: M

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (very brief, very not detailed BUT slight dom/sub dynamics), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment.

Series Summary:

The entire first half of Rolan’s life was spent feeling helpless and angry. Even after escaping his childhood home, Elturel and then the Grove, fate seems to be intent on reminding him of how small he really is.

Tav is the gallant hero, always swooping in to save him and it is infuriating. To add insult to injury, despite himself, he actually likes her.

Notes: hooooo boy. This got crazy. It was supposed to be vignettes leading to some smut and now we have a whole multi-part fic exploring both Rolan’s character as an outsider of the tadpole crew but still closely acquainted and the weight of responsibility on Tav during the entire narrative of the game. Smut will happen, promise, but first — some light whump and heavy yearning.

Read below or on Ao3

“Did you lose something, darling?”

Tav had upended her pack, a huge pile of random junk, valuable magic artifacts, potions and rations by the fire. She was

Frantically digging through it, sorting through jewelry and shoving it aside.

“You haven’t seen my necklace laying around have you? The one with the pearl pendant?”

“I haven’t stolen it if that’s what you’re really asking,” he replied.

“Sounds like something someone would say if they did steal it.”

“Ha-Ha,” Astarion snarked. “Last I saw it was when I fed from you last night,” he sighed, “such a lovely chain wrapped around an even lovelier neck.”

“It was a gift from… someone special. I can’t find it.”

“When did you last remember having it?”

“I wear it everyday,” she groaned frustratedly. “I noticed it was gone when I got dressed after my bath upstairs.”

“And before that?”

“We fought off that horde by the lake,” Tav frowned and then gasped. “Shit. It must have broken during the fight.”

In her mind’s eye she could imagine when it may have happened. She had been positioned directly in front of the portal in which Halsin had gone into the Shadowfell. Gale and her kept directly in front of it to hold off stragglers, while Karlach and Shadowheart flanked in front of them. A flock of undead Ravens had descended upon her and Gale, clawing a scratching and she had lost her balance careening into the water. Some undead Harper’s had made an effort to keep her from climbing back up on the stone outcrop.

She had made it back to her position, but only barely. Tav still felt herself tense and worn down after what was the longest five minutes of her life. The dead just kept rising, new apparitions of horror springing up when they finally had the upper hand.

“I’ll be back.”

Tav stood and left the camp they had set up near the docks below the Last Light Inn. Her feet took her to the same edge of the lake where even now there were remnants of their battle littering the ground. She checked up on the stone outcrop where the portal had been, dancing lights guiding her eyes as she scanned for a glint of metal from the lights.

Nothing. She danced the lights closer to the water but it was impossible to see through. Tav dug for the last dredges of her magic to cast detect magic, she felt something below. Not too far but hard to pinpoint exactly where with her magic so spent.

Tav examined the water. It was just as dark as the rest of this place, and who knew what lingered below its surface. With a sigh, she took off her shoes and stripped down to her small clothes. She dipped her foot in, the water was as cold as it was when she was pulled in earlier that day.

Then she leapt in. Darkness surrounded her, the muffle of the water creating a sense of pure nothingness around her. In a way, it was peaceful, and quiet, but she had to find her way to the bottom and find that necklace. It was not too deep, but she had to fully submerge herself to reach the floor and when she did she tried not to think about what she was grabbing as she blindly felt around.

With only the vague sense of detect magic to guide her, she grabbed blindly. She felt the metal of armor, maybe a rock or a long rusted weapon, but nothing that felt like a thin necklace chain. She had to thrust herself up to the surface to gasp a breath of air.

Just as she went to dive under again she heard a shout, “what the bloody hells are you doing?”

Her head whipped around to the stone she had jumped from. Tall and lithe, standing rigidly straight with fists balled at his side and eyes glowing slightly in the dark. It was Rolan.

“Are you insane?”

“I lost something!” She said back. “Just a minute!”

His call of, “wait!” Was cut off as she dunked under again. Her hands frantically searching, focusing on the detect magic spell that would fizzle out any moment now. She let it lead her, let it show her the pulsing of the magic it was picking up from the bottom of the lake. There was no way of knowing if it was her pearl, but she had to try.

Her hands dug into the muck of the bottom of the lake, pulling some up and bringing it back to the surface. She could barely see, but there in her hand the pearl sat amongst rot and mud. She choked on a gasp, her eyes stinging either from tears or the grime that no doubt was in the water. The chain was long gone, but the pendant was there.

The gold of the delicate clawed setting that held the Pearl of Power was dirty and dented, but the pearl itself seemed to be in good shape.

“I found it!” She called.

“For the love of — get out of the water!” Rolan yelled.

Carefully she tread towards the stone again, reaching it and dropping the pendant onto the stone so she could pull herself out. Just as she lifted herself up, something caught on her foot, and then tugged. She hit her chin on the stone, teeth clacking together and then she slipped into the water again, skin scraping against rock and her vision going dark as the depths.

Rolan’s hand delved deep into the water, clutching at whatever piece of Tav he could get a grasp of and pulled. Her hand emerged, his hand tightly around her wrist as he grunted with the struggle to lift her above the water's edge. When her face emerged she gasped for breath.

“Something’s pulling me,” she yelled.

Rolan had little time to think, and just kept pulling as Tav’s free hand grasped at the rock and started to get herself onto it. As she did, the rest of her torso was revealed, then legs where he saw a long dead, gnarled and rotten hand grasping her calf. He let go of her with one hand to cast magic missile, the angry red jets of magic landing each hit until the hand let go of her.

Tav crawled onto the rock, coughing up water, and catching her breath. She stayed on hands and knees, her hand coming out to grab the trinket she had dived in for.

Rolan turned on her in a rage. “What in the hells is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she breathed, “thanks to you. Appreciate it.”

“Weren’t you telling me not to go wandering off into the curse just yesterday?” He seethed.

“I told you not to go alone,” she clarified, “but I guess your point still stands.”

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I watched you and your friends hold off an undead army just here earlier, another truly noble venture I’m sure — “

“We were trying to help lift the curse—“ she stood.

But Rolan’s ire was truly raised and he trampled over her words without acknowledging them. “You cannot truly be this stupid,” he spat, “you know what lurks in this land, what could possibly be so important you need to jump into the accursed lake?” Despite himself he found himself saying, “another hero’s errand, no doubt, the long lost heirloom of a poor, pathetic creature that will simper and whine your praises.”

Tav looked like she might hit him. Instead she grabbed her discarded clothes and started to walk away.

“You’re welcome,” he called after her.

“I already said thank you,” she turned to snarl at him, a spark of lightning curling off of her in her anger. “Would you like me to stay so you can yell at me more or can I go? Will that make you feel better? Will it bring Cal and Lia back?”

Rolan was charging forward before he could stop himself. “They are only gone because you can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

Tav’s angry expression faltered, something he couldn’t quite parse flashed over her face. “Rolan -“ she started and then sighed, shoulders slinking into a hunch.

For the first time he noticed that she looked tired. The kind of tiredness that not even a good night's rest would fix. Bone -deep, mental and physical exhaustion written in the bags under her eyes, the downturn of her mouth. His stomach dropped, his jaw clenched and a new anger flared in him.

Prick, idiot bastard is what you are, Rolan, the thoughts set off in his mind, taking the flashing of rage with them. Can’t save the only family you have, and you kick the one person who can while they’re down. Useless. Idiot.

“Tav? Darling, are you alright?”

Both of them turned to find Astarion, accompanied by Gale who had a suspecting frown on his face. “By the stars, Tav, you’re soaked,” the other wizard said, coming forward, removing the cloaked cape he had and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“And quite underdressed,” Astarion quirked an eyebrow, “not taking advantage were you, little wizard?”

Rolan had hardly thought about her state of undress. Had purely been driven by whatever it was that made him run up when he saw her dunking into the lake. The worst case scenario had crossed his mind, she had fallen to the curse and it was pulling her under. It very nearly did.

Now he was very aware of it. Embarrassment and pure concentration to not look at her legs which were still bare kept him from saying anything in response.

“Rolan helped me, I fell into the lake.”

“You jumped into it,” he found himself saying.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Gale scolded.

“My pearl!” She held it up. “Chain must have broken earlier.”

Gale hummed thoughtfully, eyes slinking towards Rolan, then to Tav. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I believe another bath is in order.”

“Probably best,” Tav sighed, pulling some grime out of her hair. “Goodnight, Rolan.”

Rolan said nothing in return as Gale walked with her back to the shore, his eyes flicked up to the elf waiting for them. Astarion and him never spoke much, he was around and had a smart remark to provide at someone’s expense but they had rarely ever spoken.

There was something unsettling about the elf as he peered at Rolan while he waited for his companions to make their way. A stillness of his body that was unnatural, a look in his eyes that was half warning and half challenge. A predator, guarding its territory that almost immediately softened once Tav and Gale were next to him and they began their walk back to the inn.

Rolan rubbed his hands over his face, and made his way back to the inn. He needed a drink.

Tav had smiled sheepishly at Jaheira after requesting another tub of water. Gale and Astarion had slipped away after whisking her away from Rolan, and now that she was alone she found herself truly feeling exhausted. She bathed and went back to camp, found a chain from the endless piles of jewelry she had hoarded to sell for camp funds and slipped her pearl pendant back on.

The weight of it on her chest was comfortable, a sense of normalcy in a place that was far beyond her everyday life.

Tav played with the pendant as she laid in her bedroll, despite the tiredness her mind was reeling.

Rolan had been so angry with her. When they had rid the path of the goblins and held their little party she had comforted herself in knowing that the two of them parted on friendly terms. Her encouragement of his siblings to stay and help their kin had paid off, and she had spent a good chunk of the night talking with them.

The last time she saw him he was full of laughter, showing off his prowess which landed him a position as an apprentice with a well-renowned wizard.

Her mind played over their interactions. His drunken fury after Cal and Lia were taken, his resigned anger after they saved him from the cursed wraiths near moonrise - he was always so angry with her.

Perhaps he had a right to be. They had rid the path of the goblin threat and sent them straight into a horror beyond imagining. All her talk of doing the right thing, helping who you could and ‘playing hero’ as he put it was for nothing.

Laying in the dark with her eyes wide open became too much and she got up from the bedroll. She could grab some wine from their wares and head inside, not wanting to take anymore of the Last Light’s limited supplies.

“And where are you off to?” Shadowheart asked. They technically did not need a watch shift due to the Harper’s having their own but it was routine now.

“Need a drink,” Tav said. “I’ll be back.”

“No more dips in the cursed lake, if you please,” Shadowheart called after her.

Tav waved her off and headed inside. The Last Light was always somewhat active. Everyone’s sense of night and day was off kilter, at least one shift of Harper’s and the Fists were milling about at any given time. Healers were needed at all hours for returning scouting parties, and the bar with its meager offerings always had someone behind it.

She sat close enough to keep an eye on the children behind the bar, and look out at the space. There was still damage from the attempted kidnapping of Isobel, winged horror guts and blood stained the walls. Tav uncorked the wine in her hand and took a swig.

“You’re cut off for the night!” Umi said, head barely coming above the line of the bar with his hand pointing upward.

“I’ve had one glass, you little brat!”

Tav’s eyes slid towards the tiefling at the bar, robes still a little wet from fishing her out of the lake, and wearing his typical grumpy frown. At least he did not seem belligerent and the irritation in his voice held no bite for the child. Not like it had for her earlier.

“Give him a glass of mine,” Tav held out her own bottle. “He earned it.”

Rolan’s head snapped up and she immediately regretted speaking. It was meant to be a last ditch effort for a truce, but the way his face curled into snarl made her want to shrivel up and die.

“I don’t need any more charity from you,” he snapped.

Her heart dropped, her face got hot and she took a deep breath. Turning on her barstool, she leaned her back against the bar. She never could win with him. She wanted to apologize, she had been out of line by bringing up his siblings before. He had started it, but she was not too proud to own up to her own part in it.

It was clear he wanted nothing to do with her, so she turned her back to save him having to even look at her. She took a long swig of the wine, it was cheap and bitter, but it was what they had.

The scrape of wood made her look over. Rolan had sat in a stool on her side of the bar, not right next to her, an empty seat between them. He faced the bar, not looking at her as he held a tin cup out towards her. Tav leaned over to share some of her wine.

He was quiet, and that was better than yelling. And watching the activity in the inn was better than staring up from her bedroll all night. It would have to do.

“No chaperones with you this time?”

“They went off to… “ Tav trailed off, she didn’t know what Gale and Astarion were doing. Just that they slipped away as they had been doing more often lately. “Well, it’s not our business what they went off to do.”

Another stretch of silence. Tav played with her necklace in between sips from the bottle. They had to make their way to moonrise again tomorrow, finally entering the belly of the beast to figure out if they could free any prisoners and find a heading towards finishing all of this.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Hm?” She turned to Rolan.

His eyes flicked up from where he was watching her toy with her necklace. “The pearl.”

“Oh,” she said dumbly. “It’s a pearl of power.” She looked down at it, “an heirloom. Passed down from my father.” Her thoughts trailed off again, “when I thought I’d lost it…” she shook her head.

There was no world in which she imagined he wanted to know about her or her family. This was a truce, and he was being more gracious than she expected. She thought she may as well keep it as neutral as possible to prevent an argument.

Rolan was quiet again. For a long time neither of them spoke, at one point she heard the clack of tin on the wood and found he had put his cup out again. She poured him some more wine, and she felt at least relieved he was not unwilling to sit with her. Albeit quietly and only with her offering him wine, but it was something.

They sat quietly until the bottle was done. Tav felt her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. She thought she may finally be able to sleep if she laid down. Her heart still felt full of the weight of guilt, her body weak as if it knew only more horror awaited her the next day. But she didn’t get to rest more than one night, the chain of events of her life recently had made that very clear.

There was a lot she had to make up for, and a storm to weather before she could find harbor.

“If Cal and Lia are alive in Moonrise, I’ll bring them back,” she said, not having the courage to look at him. “I promise.”

She felt him staring at her but she still couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Guilt weighed too heavily on her, the weight of the journey ahead looming over her in the face of yet another promise she was not sure she could keep.

Bidding him goodnight, which was met by silence, she walked away from the bar.

Tav had left with a small group to head to Moonrise, leaving behind the Archdruid who was dead set upon helping out around the inn. This encouraged others to pitch in, Dammon was lending strength to fixing up the broken railings and doors at the inn. Rolan made himself useful, he had magic to spare and nothing else to do.

He employed two mage hands to help lift a beam of wood to repair one of the holes that had been created by winged horrors dropping through during the attack. Isobel chanted out on the balcony, while he and Guex worked. Tav had been in the room when it happened, he thought to himself, always in the right place at the right time.

Except by the lake. Even now he had no idea what possessed her to strip out of armor to get inside waters full of bodies in a place which undead walked so freely. In his mind’s eye he could see her bare legs, and though at the time he had not thought about her state of undress now he found himself trying to piece together any snippets in his subconscious of what the rest of her had looked like.

“Rolan,” Guex called. “Bit higher, mate.”

“Sorry.” He said, the mage hands lifting the wood up.

His mind kept drifting to her. The way she played with the pearl she had so desperately been trying to find. Her laughter as it carried over the sounds of the crowd from her camp. More annoyingly the glimpse of her legs he had gotten just a couple nights ago. She was pretty, objectively, he had noticed immediately, but he wasn’t a naive boy so easily distracted by a pretty face.

The storm behind her eyes as she had gone toe to toe with him at the lake seemed to haunt him. what she said had hurt, yes, but he was a little distracted by the vision of her soaking wet and looking at him with so much feeling.

“Rolan, if you need a break just say so,” Guex said.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head, “no, I’m fine.”

He was a wizard. He could control his own mind. He focused on the weave, the sensation of it taking shape into the mage hands before him. Rolan made it a point to close the door on any further thought of her while he went about his business.

Until the second day with no word from any of the party that had ventured into Moonrise. He had even gone as far to venture into their camp, where the remaining four of her companions were sitting around the fire.

“Rolan,” Wyll greeted him warmly. “How are you?”

The Blade of the Frontier was an invaluable asset during their time on the road into the grove. Rolan liked him, although he preferred him when he wasn’t doing his folk hero act.

“I’d rather not say,” he said. “I didn’t come here to dampen your mood.”

“Have the Harpers seen any sign of our companions returning?” Halsin asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. Your tadpoles, they can transmit to each other can’t they?”

“There’s quite a distance between here and Moonrise,” the half-elf Shadowheart said. “I’m not sure our tadpoles can connect to each other so far.”

“Unlikely,” the Githyanki grumbled. “Attempting to do so is an unnecessary risk.”

“How?” Rolan asked.

“The ghaik tadpole could reach anyone, and give away our location.” She explained, haughty as if he was an imbecile for not realizing it.

“If anyone can get your siblings out of Moonrise, it’s Tav,” Wyll said, making eye contact with him.

“If they’re even alive.”

“Take your self-pity elsewhere,” Lae’zel replied. “You chose to save the offspring.”

“Should I have let them get taken?”

“No.”

A strange pause happened, Lae’zel expressionlessly staring directly at him .

“I think,” Shadowheart said, “what Lae’zel means is you made the right choice. Your brother and sister would have done the same.”

The only confirmation was a single nod from Lae’zel. “Your offspring are weak. Untrained. In order to maintain the continuation of your species you must protect them.”

“That’s her version of a compliment,” Wyll clapped him on the shoulder.

“Chk.”

Shadowheart laughed softly, and Wyll stifled a smile. “Join us,” he offered, “we have plenty of room by the fire.”

On the third day, Rolan was at the bar. Not drinking, well, not drinking as much. He liked to sit around with Umi and Ide, it felt sometimes like watching them play a game of pretend. Acting like grown up barkeeps, as if they’d been running the Last Light for more years than they’d even been alive. Everyone was willing to play along, and Rolan found himself playing the part of the grumpy regular.

“Hey arsehole!”

Rolan’s hackles went up at the sound of Lia’s taunt. Prepared to be annoyed at his sister — until he realized that it was Lia. A rush of relief spread through him so thoroughly that it made him shudder as he looked over.

“Oh, thank the gods.”

Lia was beaming, and behind her Cal had a goofy grin. They were there, in front of him. Alive and whole as far as he could tell, no trick of the curse making them strange and hollow. Just as quickly as relief came over him, anger flared. Nights and nights of constant worry not even dulled by multiple bottles of wine.

“Is that all you have to say, to me? Did you enjoy yourselves while I battled that wretched darkness? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, we got captured by murderous lunatics.” Lia was just as ready to fight.

“I thought you were dead, you ass,” Rolan seethed. “Both of you!”

“We’re all safe, Rolan,” Cal finally said, trying to keep the peace as always. “That’s what matters.”

“Good thing you’re back!” Ide shouted from behind the bar. “He’s been drinking about it for a week straight!”

“I was just…”

Worried sick, grappling with the thought that I nearly lost the only family I had, rendered helpless and faced with my own failings.

“Overwhelmed.” He settled on. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” Lia folded first. “We should have been here.”

And how would they have done that? It wasn’t their fault they were captured.

“No - no,” Rolan winced. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry.”

Lia came up to hug him then. They were never very affectionate physically. Even when he had moved into their home he had shared a bed with Cal, Lia always teased them for the way they had to struggle for space as Cal grew stocky and Rolan grew ever more lanky.

But this was a comfort, to hold his little sister in his arms. Safe, and whole. Not even his pride could overpower the gratitude he felt to have them back, and as Cal’s bulky arms wrapped around them both in a steel tight hug he had to laugh.

“We thought the curse got you,” Cal said. “When Tav told us you were alive —“ his brother’s voice cracked and the rest of the sentence died.

Tav. He opened his eyes, half expecting to find her and her crew watching on as she seemed to be in every major upheaval of his life lately. But the only new faces were some deep gnomes, and a few other tieflings from their caravan from Elturel.

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Lia asked, rubbing Cal’s back as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Tav.”

“They needed to save face in Moonrise. Her and her friends had a big fight with the warden as a distraction while we got out.” Lia replied. “Apparently they’re posing as cultists.” His sister’s eyes narrowed, “why?”

“I — “ he started. “I owe her an apology. And thanks.” He cleared his throat, “but that can wait. I have a room upstairs and there’s baths, you two reek.”

“You’re such an arsehole.” Lia grinned.

“I’m starved,” Cal groaned, the only evidence that he was crying were some trails in the muck that coated his face. “They have food here?”

“We do!” Umi called. “But it'll cost you!”

The light of the inn was in sight. It had been a rough couple of days, but they had found their next heading. Tav was ready to debrief Jaheira, take a bath and sleep.

“The inn will be bursting now,” Gale said, “with the deep gnomes and the tieflings.”

“I hope they all made it okay,” Karlach said. “They’ve been through enough.”

“More than enough,” Tav agreed. “We will check in on them. Add that to the list.”

“Noted,” Gale tapped his temple.

As they passed through the barrier of light around the inn a weight lifted off of them. Traveling through the cursed lands was always exhausting, it was a suffocating darkness that covered the land and something always felt like it was lurking nearby.

After discussing with Jaheira and the rest of the camp, Tav took some time to check in with the rescued deep gnomes and tieflings. Barcus had bounded up to her before she could even take a mental count of who was present, dragging her over to Wulbren Bongle.

The leader of the Ironhands brushed both her and Barcus off, as if the former hadn’t just broken him out of a prison and the latter hadn’t begged so earnestly for her to do so. If she was not so tired she may have made a comment about it, but Barcus looked mortified and Tav didn’t have the energy.

As she moved on, she nodded to Lakrissa who was glued to Alfira’s side at the bar. There was no sign of Bex and Dannis, but she could only imagine their reunion was something they wanted to have in private. She saw the back of Cal’s head at the bar, heard Lia’s loud laugh and approached to find Rolan with them, leaning over the bar.

The two she had saved seemed better than she had found them. Clean, smiling and animated. Rolan’s shoulders were still an even line, but they seemed to have dropped a few inches, no longer settled up to his ears in tension.

“It’s you!” Lia grinned.

“I’m glad you lot made it back alright,” Tav smiled. “He’s been a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah,” Cal grinned. “But he’s our pain in the ass. Thanks for dealing with him while we were gone, we’ve got it from here.”

Tav just nodded. Rolan was staring at her, but she could not decipher his look. She awkwardly shifted and then said, “well, I was just checking in. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait,” Cal turned. “Thank you - for saving me. And the two idiots. I never thought I’d see them again.”

“It was nothing,” she shrugged.

“That black eye you're sporting says otherwise,” Lia said seriously. “I saw those hits you took. It wasn’t ‘nothing’. I’m not the best at showing it, but I love Rolan and Cal to death. They’re family - thanks for bringing us back together.”

Tav felt suddenly uncomfortable with the praise. Rolan had suggested before he thought she got off on playing the hero. His siblings' thanks felt like it would only prove his point further.

She just smiled, “I’m just glad you three are together again.” Clearing her throat, “I ought to check on my camp.”

Rolan stood suddenly as she turned, “Tav.” She waited, half expecting another comment about her heroics. “I’ve lashed out at you. Drunkenly and otherwise, and you helped anyway. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. And thank you.”

With a nod she took off for a bath. She checked in on camp, hearing any intel and updates she needed from those left behind. Everyone quickly began discussing strategies and next steps, they needed to find their way to this Balthazar and find Ketheric Thorm’s weakness. There was also the matter of finding Art Cullagh’s lute, seeing if they could find any hint that Arabella’s parents were alive and figure out how to finally put this curse to rest.

Even after a victory there was still so much left to do.

She slipped away to sit on the outcrop of stone by the lake again. Everyone at camp meant the world to her, but every once in a while she needed her space. It was dark and creepy, but if she closed her eyes she could hone in on the lap of the water against the rock. A soothing sound.

“Not thinking of taking a swim, are you?”

Tav jumped, and turned. Rolan stood not far off, a bottle in his hands and to her surprise a small smile on his face.

“Gods, you scared me,” she placed a hand over her heart. “I wasn’t expecting —“ she cut herself off. She wasn’t expecting anyone, let alone him and smiling no less.

“I’ve got a bottle of Arabellan dry, if you’re up for it.” He walked up and sat down next to her, showing her the bottle.

Tav considered him for a moment. “Is it poisoned?”

“Very funny.” He said sarcastically. “I would not waste poison in a wine such as this.”

“And where did you find it?” She looked at the bottle.

“I stole it from the cellar, the last bottle,” he said, popping the cork. “I brought cups, but I know pulling straight from the bottle is more your style.”

“I’ll try a cup,” she hummed.

He poured them each a cup, and held his up to clink against hers before the first sip. Rolan hummed in pleasure. “Gods, that’s so good.”

“It is,” Tav agreed. The flavor bloomed on her tongue, smooth and without the bite of the cheap stuff she had been drinking of late. “What’s the occasion?”

“An apology. A proper one,” He muttered. “You went out of your way to help us, it’s only right you get something in return.”

“You don’t have to —“

“You were right,” he said before she could finish. “I wasn’t really angry with you. I was angry with myself. Angry at the gods awful hands we’ve been dealt on this journey.”

“It’s alright if you were a little angry with me,” she admitted sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have used Cal and Lia against you.”

“That was rather wretched of you.”

“It was,” she agreed. “But I think I more than made up for it.” She was teasing, testing the waters in this new peace they had found.

“I thanked you once already,” he said haughty tone overdone and just as playful, “don’t be greedy.”

Something about the tone, about the smile on his face and the words themselves spurred her imagination into overdrive. Him above her, wrenching an orgasm from her only for her to ask for more. Don’t be greedy, she imagined him saying it again, condescending and admonishing. A truly mortifying high pitched giggle escaped her. She took a gulp of wine, her body hot and shocked at the instantaneous reaction.

She was very glad he did not have a tadpole.

A silence stretched between them that made her itch, he did not seem to mind but she felt like she would start to fidget if she didn’t say something. Luckily, he spoke while she floundered for something to say.

“I never asked, are you alright?”

She did have a black eye and possibly a concussion. She had left camp before Shadowheart could offer some healing. “Bumps and bruises,” she said casually. “Occupational hazards, nothing to worry about.”

“Hm,” he huffed. “That’s what you get for being a meddlesome hero. But I shan’t say more, you’ve done too much for me lately.”

“Karlach, Astarion and Gale were there too, you know,” she said.

“Yes, well, I won’t be sharing my favorite wine with them,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, and what makes me so special?”

He took a drink of wine, looking into his cup. “You are — “ he started, “particularly infuriating.”

“I’m special because I’m infuriating?”

He grimaced. “Yes.”

“You don’t make a bit of sense,” Tav laughed in disbelief.

“I make perfect sense,” he said haughtily. “You’re the one jumping into cursed lakes. Or risking your life for someone who has never been particularly nice to you.” He drank the last of his cup, pouring another as he added, “top up?”

She offered her cup for him to fill. “I told you why I jumped in the lake. A precious family heirloom was at the bottom.”

“And the gallant rescuing?”

Tav frowned, taking a drink. “I don’t know. I just… if I can help, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

Rolan didn’t seem to find that worth responding to. The silence stretched on again. He cleared his throat and held out his hand. For a moment she thought he was asking her to hold it, and she felt a strange tingle throughout her body. On his pointer finger was a ring, old and a bit scratched up, but with some kind of inscription in a language she couldn’t read on the flat surface.

“This was Cal and Lia’s grandfather’s ring.” He said looking at it. “Their mother gave it to me when I came to stay with them for good. It’s not enchanted, nor is it worth much but it — it’s proof. We’re a family, bound by something stronger than blood.”

That sunk in slowly for Tav as she pieced it together. She had questions: if Cal and Lia were not his biological siblings what happened to his parents? How long ago had he been one of their own? These felt invasive, and they had been getting along so she chose not to voice them; happy to have been trusted with a small tidbit of his past.

Delicately her fingers came out to run over the inscription. As she did her fingers brushed over his, and perhaps it was the wine, but she grabbed his hand to bring it closer to her face. The writing was maybe infernal, with some sort of emblem.

“What does it say?”

Rolan didn’t respond.

Tav looked at him, finding him very intensely focused on her. She dropped his hand, “sorry, I shouldn’t —“

“It’s fine,” he replied tersely.

An awkward silence filled the gap and she kicked herself internally.

Rolan cleared his throat. “It’s his title and rank, he was a Hellrider.” He pointed it out on the ring and she ran her eyes over it. “The Hellriders protected their lodges with wards, and could only be accessed with ward tokens. This was his.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Elturel?”

“Yes.”

“We had nothing there, even before it fell,” he said.

Tav nodded her head. “So, Baldur’s Gate was always in the plan?”

“An apprenticeship, regardless of where it was, that’s what I was after.”

“Gale says Lorroakan is a well-renowned wizard,” she left out the part where her friend called him a ‘cad.’ They were talking and getting along and she didn’t want to ruin it. “You must be excited.”

“When I get to the gates I'll be excited,” he sighed. “The journey so far has been one disaster after another.”

“We’ll get you there, Rolan.”

He looked at her for a long while. “Another promise, little hero?”

“I know how much you love when I’m gallant,” she smiled.

“That’s the problem with you,” he pointed at her with a smile playing on his lips. “I believe you. I believe you will get me there.”

Tav wasn’t sure what to say. Her face warm and her smile wide as she felt the need to look away from him. She drank the rest of her wine.

“So,” he said, “what’s the promise this time, Tav?”

“Rolan,” she began, “I promise that when we get to Baldur’s Gate, I’ll buy you a new bottle of Arabellan Dry. since you so generously shared yours with me even though I saved your ass from the Shadow Curse. It was rude of me to come to your rescue, and you’re being just so gracious about it.”

He laughed a rich deep sound that made her heart flutter, and the rest of the night her only goal was to get him to laugh again.

Part 2 will be out very soon! Thank you for reading 💜

[ryctone]

I just realized I never posted Hibbi's 'new' ref here? That's a crime???

Anyway doomed by the narrative siren my beloved;; more about her under read more with some slightly reworked story for her!

She's a siren now if you haven't noticed or didn't know, can transforms into a land cookie at will(no longer linked to her necklace), is still part of the Cookies of Darkness but not necessarily an official member; she owns D.E a favor... Kinda like Butter Roll Cookie's situation.

Has been alone since she was a guppy because sirens are often solitary creatures and often abandon their offspring as soon as they're able to swim.

As a guppy she managed to travel to the Duskgloom Sea where Black Pearl Found her and sort of adopted her, since B.P knew how powerful a siren could be with their hypnotizing songs, Hibiscus became like a 'henchman' for her to lure ships further into the Duskgloom Sea and sink them more efficiently. Dysfunctional merfolk family/J

As a teen she meets Praline Cookie, a girl part of a hunter monster organization and daughter of the head of that order, she got a crush on her for the longest time and actually became friends, but the moment she confessed it put a rift in their relationship since Praline was in love with someone else (Raspberry Mousse Cookie, who btw didn't return Praline's feelings) causing them to separate ways for many years.

After some years pass Hibiscus abandons Black Pearl to live her own life and would have a child; Sorbet Shark Cookie(who's part mermaid, don't ask who the other parent is that's not important /LH), since they were the only thing she had she decided to fight her instincts and raise them for as long as she could, best mom really.

However after going out of her nest to get food one day, she's captured by pirates and forced away from her child for days. And when she finally escapes, blood on her sharp teeth, she comes back to a destroyed nest, her child is just gone.

She's spirals into a manic state trying to search for her child, not finding them anywhere, telling herself they had to be alive. It came to the point where she ended up washed up to land, starving and alone... Until she's found by Dark Enchantress...

Bonuses facts:

Has a pet named Minty-pus, a salt rock octopus that has stayed by her side for a long time, good for emotional support.

'Hunted' by Praline Cookie as Hibiscus was marked as a 'monster' by the Praline Order Praline Cookie is part of.

Sort of sarcastic with those who annoy her.

Very protective towards Poison Mushroom and acts as a sort of mother figure to them, probably because she remains them to her own missing child.

She's now a popular singer, her songs can absorb the love from a cookie if she wants and store it in her necklace, transforming into magic power.

Sorbet Shark was very young went they went missing and doesn't remember Hibiscus at all.

Still has a crush on Praline and will 'jokingly' flirt with her went they have an encounter with each other.

Actually very scared of D.E.

If she was in canon maybe she meets Gingerbrave and co. at the beginning of the story trying to block their way like the other Cookies of Darkness by seducing hypnotizing Chili Pepper with her song and make her fight for her.

She's conflicted about serving the Enchantress but thinks it's the right way to find her child, and has developed a bit of a selfish personality.

[richincolor]

New Releases for the Week of October 29, 2024

This is definitely a fantastic week. There are five fantasies we're watching for in new releases.

For She is Wrath by Emily Varga Wednesday Books

A sweeping, Pakistani romantic fantasy retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, where one girl seeks revenge against those who betrayed her—including the boy she used to love.

Three hundred and sixty-four days. Framed for a crime she didn’t commit, Dania counts down her days in prison until she can exact revenge on Mazin, the boy responsible for her downfall, the boy she once loved—and still can’t forget. When she discovers a fellow prisoner may have the key to exacting that vengeance–a stolen djinn treasure–they execute a daring escape together and search for the hidden treasure.

Armed with dark magic and a new identity, Dania enacts a plan to bring down those who betrayed her and her family, even though Mazin stands in her way. But seeking revenge becomes a complicated game of cat and mouse, especially when an undeniable fire still burns between them, and the power to destroy her enemies has a price. As Dania falls deeper into her web of traps and lies, she risks losing her humanity to her fight for vengeance–and her heart to the only boy she’s ever loved.

The Witch of Wol Sin Lake (Sacred Bone #2) by Lena Jeong HarperCollins

In the sequel to And Break the Pretty Kings, crown princess Mirae continues to unravel her tangled future in order to save her queendom—perfect for fans of This Savage Song and Six Crimson Cranes.

After her fraught journey to save her queendom, Mirae has finally cast the Netherking back into his dark cage in the Deep.

But his imprisonment brings her no peace—because in his final schemes, the Netherking managed to possess her beloved older brother, Minho, and it is his body that languishes in the Deep, tormented by his possessor.

Mirae is determined to free her brother and destroy the Netherking once and for all. But when the Netherking steals the all-powerful pearl of Seolla, all of Mirae’s careful plans are destroyed. She must set out once more to stop him, slipping in and out of the future with her divine powers as she races a path to the heavens itself.

When she discovers the truth about the Netherking’s intentions and learns that the only way to destroy him is with a sacrifice larger than she can bear, Mirae begins to doubt her free will and even the fate of the entire peninsula and the gods beyond.

Dark and thrilling, this action-packed sequel to And Break the Pretty Kings pulls readers deeper into its captivating world of lavish, fantastical magic and dangerous secrets, as Mirae faces overwhelming odds to save her queendom—and an impossible choice.

The Ancient’s Game by Loni Crittenden HarperCollins

Alchemy and ancient spirits come to life in this debut fantasy inspired by African diasporic folklore and the 1920s World Fair, wherein sixteen-year-old Kellan DuCuivre, an orphan from a reviled class, must compete for a coveted apprenticeship among the nation’s elite in order to save her adoptive father from a twisted fate.

Sixteen-year-old Kellan DuCuivre is the descendant of traitors. She never knew her family members or which one of them betrayed the isle of Nanseau. But like all Du orphaned after the war, Kellan is forbidden by law from practicing makecraft, the trade of carving magic into metal that was perfected by the Guild of Engineers and their maker apprentices. No one can know that Kellan has been using makecraft in secret and that, in the wake of a tragic miscarve, she’s been helping her adoptive father, Edgar, run his celebrated makeshop.

But Edgar’s condition is worsening, and his shop is on the brink of ruin. On the eve of the Eighty-Fourth Annual Makers’ Exposition in Nanseau’s sparkling city of Riz, Kellan is thrust into the Guild’s twisted web of political intrigue and ancient secrets when she strikes a dangerous deal with one of its members to save Edgar and his shop. Now Kellan must compete in a rigorous gauntlet against the nation’s elite for a coveted spot as a maker’s apprentice.

But danger lurks at every turn. And as Kellan falls into a budding relationship with the illegitimate son from one of Nanseau’s most revered families, she’s put into the limelight when something sinister begins targeting the Gauntlet’s competitors and wreaking havoc on Riz. Amid a crumbling city and a ticking clock, winning the Gauntlet won’t just be a test of survival—it will mean pulling back the veil of secrets behind the Guild and uncovering the shrouded legacies of Nanseau itself.

Warrior of Legend (Heromaker, #2) by Kendare Blake Quill Tree Books

Reed is officially a member of the immortal order of the Aristene. She even has a new name: Machianthe. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of—so why isn’t she happy?

Maybe it’s because every hero she helps can only find glory at the cost of their life. Or maybe it’s because she can’t stop thinking about the prince she left behind.

Now Reed looks for any opportunity to help with low-risk hero’s trials. And a princess looking for a glorious marriage? Nothing could be less dangerous. But Hestion is one of the suitors, and while Reed is occupied trying to win him back, an old danger is gaining strength.

To battle the growing threat, the Aristene must band together, but the order has never been more divided. Will Reed be able to survive this war with her chosen family and her heart intact?

The Civilization by K.M. Mckenzie Iskanchi Press

At 17, Kadsa is tired of traveling with her grandpa in search of their lost, mystical home world. She yearns for college, friends, and a stable home. Discovering lies about her identity through online research, she decides to break free from her grandpa and seek the truth. Just as she embraces her newfound autonomy, her grandfather is kidnapped. On a perilous mission to save him, Kadsa enters a realm of dark forces, ancient deities, and looming annihilation. She must confront pressing questions: What role does her grandfather play in this world’s fate? Does she have the courage to be its savior? This tale is a transformative odyssey exploring resilience, the quest for truth, and the indomitable spirit of youth.

[cocrante]

Walking the Wire

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: The dreams at Camp Half-Blood have vanished. Gentle nights embrace the campers in their hours of sleep, but just as the dreams have disappeared, so have the prophecies. For a mortal, this might not mean anything—nightmares suddenly gone, sweet nights wrapped them in the warmth of the sheets—but for a demigod, dreams are the bridge that connects them between the mortal and immortal worlds, an annoying bell that keeps them constantly on alert, and without those to disturb their nights, it was like losing their compass. But not everyone is without dreams, if "dream" this can be called, one is still allowed to travel in the dream world, perhaps out of pity and compassion of the Fates.

note: this is the second part of the fanfiction "I Start Over with You" also quite old and written a few weeks after the release of the third book "The Trials of Apollo" series. It contains significant spoilers, so please do not read it unless you have read the books first. If you decide to proceed, I will not be held responsible.

additional note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Saturday. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[PROLOGUE]

BEING A DEMIGOD MEANS COMING TO TERMS WITH A FATE THAT ONE COULD NOT CHOOSE. Every half-blood has to come to terms with that as soon as they step through the camp gates. Each of them has their battles, their own wars to fight, and they're not always against monsters, often the worst battles are against themselves, and there's no retreating from those. You can't run from yourself, you can't hide, you just have to face your fears, face the person staring back at you judgmentally from the mirror.

Nico di Angelo had always faced such battles. He couldn't escape the shadow of his father reflecting in his eyes; he couldn't cling to fond memories because he didn't have any. For years, he had been alone, surrounded by ghosts and shades of the dead, searching among them for his lost sister, to see her again, to receive one last caress, to bid her farewell. He wandered alone through the mortal world, faced the Tartarus with his own strength, survived it, escaped the giants —children of Gaea— and heard the melodious voice of Cupid, which pierced him like a sword. For years, he had thought he was fighting alone, but he was wrong. He had been saved countless times by friends, reaching out a hand, warming him with a smile, standing by him when Cupid himself spoke to him and exposed him to who was a stranger to him. He was so angry with himself that he had to take it out on the one person who was with him that time, who was somehow trying to cheer him up, not knowing who he was facing "The only person who ever accepted me in my life was Bianca, and she's dead!" he yelled "I didn't choose any of this, my father, my feelings—" those words now swirling in his mind. Jason was there that day, the one everyone loved was there to help him, standing by his side, trying to be his friend. Jason had probably been a better friend to him than anyone else.

Yet Fatum in the life of a demigod can also be merciful. It sews small pearls of happiness into the colorful tapestry of life, allowing even the unluckiest of half-bloods a chance to be happy again, and Nico —that happiness— found it in Will's smile.

Will Solace, just one of Apollo's beautiful children, had managed to bring light into the darkness surrounding Nico with little effort. "You could have new memories" Will told him one afternoon at the bay, where they skipped stones across the flat surface of the sea. At the time, Nico almost laughed; the only new memories he had were definitely not the best ones to hold onto at night. Will knew this and was ready to be the architect of those new memories himself. He wanted to give him something to warm him at night, to embrace him in those moments of melancholy. He wanted to be the one, and only one, to bring him back to the light. They spent a month together at Camp Half-Blood, spending afternoons laughing, fighting in the arena, talking about themselves and the future that awaited them outside the camp. In those days, Nico felt like an ordinary boy, relieved of the burden every demigod was forced to carry. Will was a breath of fresh air, and Nico breathed in as much of it as he could: with Will beside him, he truly felt happy again.

Things were starting to go well for him too: he had friends who cared about his life, he had a friend to rely on and confide in when things got heavy, he had found new love, and one December evening he sealed that love with a kiss.

For a week at Camp Half-Blood, all anyone talked about was them, the new relationship between the Ghost King and a son of Apollo. Many bet on a quick end to this strange relationship, others watched with interest and curiosity, only friends congratulated them. Jason, who spent a few days at camp that winter, couldn't help but spill the paranoia Nico had long before meeting him at the bay. Will, with a smile, told the same of himself.

They spent wonderful weeks together, weeks spent getting to know each other, trusting each other, letting themselves cry. It was the first time Will saw Nico cry, and in those tears, there was nothing but the suffering of years spent repressing it, but with it there was also freedom; Nico was finally free to start again, and he was happy that Will was giving him this opportunity.

Slowly, December came to an end—some of the half-bloods had to go back to school, or so it should have been if one day Chiron muttered "The air is shifting" looking thoughtfully at the leaden sky, about to unleash a storm that didn't want to break.

The demigods now had a choice to make, to stay at camp and wait or to return to their homes. Chiron wouldn't stop them.

Nico knew he had to stay. Reluctantly, he informed Reyna at Camp Jupiter that he couldn't return to New Rome at the beginning of January, he didn't even know when or if he would ever be able to return. Then it was Will's turn to decide, it wasn't an easy choice for him either, but his place was with Nico:—"I'll stay" he said those words with the lightness of someone who hadn't had to think about it, squeezing the no longer so cold hand of the son of Hades. All of Apollo's cabin followed their head counselor, and they stayed at camp—if another war broke out, they would need archers and healers.

Most of the demigods stayed at camp to train, to wait for something or someone who would soon enter at Camp Half-Blood.

[CONTENTS]

prologue

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7

↬ masterlist

[mariacallous]

In the summer of 1941, the United States sought to leverage its economic dominance over Japan by imposing a full oil embargo on its increasingly threatening rival. The idea was to use overwhelming economic might to avoid a shooting war; in the end, of course, U.S. economic sanctions backed Tokyo into a corner whose only apparent escape was the attack on Pearl Harbor. Boomerangs aren’t the only weapons that can rebound.

Stephanie Baker, a veteran Bloomberg reporter who has spent decades covering Russia, has written a masterful account of recent U.S. and Western efforts to leverage their financial and technological dominance to bend a revanchist Russia to their will. It has not gone entirely to plan. Two and a half years into Russian President Vladimir Putin’s war in Ukraine, Russia’s energy revenues are still humming along, feeding a war machine that finds access to high-tech war materiel, including from the United States. Efforts to pry Putin’s oligarchs away from him have driven them closer. Moscow has faced plenty of setbacks, most recently by losing control of a chunk of its own territory near Kursk, but devastating sanctions have not been one of them.

Punishing Putin: Inside the Global Economic War to Bring Down Russia is first and foremost a flat-out rollicking read, the kind of book you press on friends and family with proselytizing zeal. Baker draws on decades of experience and shoe-leather reporting to craft the best account of the Western sanctions campaign yet. Her book is chock-full of larger-than-life characters, sanctioned superyachts, dodgy Cypriot enablers, shadow fleets, and pre-dawn raids.

More than a good tale, it is a clinical analysis of the very tricky balancing acts that lie behind deploying what has become Washington’s go-to weapon. The risky decision just after the invasion to freeze over $300 billion in central bank holdings and cut off the Russian banking system hurt Moscow, sure. But even Deputy National Security Advisor Daleep Singh, one of the architects of the Biden administration’s response, told National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan that he feared the sanctions’ “catastrophic success” could blow up global financial markets. And that was before the West decided to take aim at Russia’s massive oil and gas exports, which it did with a series of half-hearted measures beginning later that year.

The bigger reason to cherish Punishing Putin is that it offers a glimpse into the world to come as great-power competition resurges with a vengeance. The U.S. rivalry with China plays out, for now, in fights over duties, semiconductors, and antimony. As Singh tells Baker, “We don’t want that conflict to play out through military channels, so it’s more likely to play out through the weaponization of economic tools—sanctions, export controls, tariffs, price caps, investment restrictions.”

The weaponization of economic tools, as Baker writes, may have started more than a millennium ago when another economic empire was faced with problematic upstarts. In 432 B.C., Athens, the Greek power and trading state supreme, levied a strict trade embargo on the city-state of Megara, an ally of Sparta—a move that, according to some scholars, sparked the Peloponnesian War. (Athens couldn’t break the habit: Not long after, it again bigfooted a neighbor, telling Melos that the “strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must.”) The irony of course is that Athens, the naval superpower, eventually lost the war to its main rival thanks to a maritime embargo.

It can be tempting to leverage economic tools, but it is difficult to turn them into a precision weapon, or even avoid them becoming counterproductive. The British empire’s 19th-century naval stranglehold and love of blockades helped bring down Napoleon but started a small war with the United States in the process.

Britain was never shy about using its naval and financial might to throw its weight around, but even the pound sterling never acquired the centrality that the U.S. dollar has today in a much bigger, much more integrated system of global trade and finance. That “exorbitant privilege,” in the words of French statesman Giscard D’Estaing, enabled the post-World War II United States to take both charitable (the Marshall Plan, for starters) and punitive economic statecraft to new heights.

The embargoes on Communist Cuba or revolutionary Iran were just opening acts, it turned out, for a turbocharged U.S. approach to leveraging its financial hegemony that finally flourished with the so-called war on terror and rogue states, a story well-told in books such as Juan Zarate’s Treasury Goes to War or Richard Nephew’s The Art of Sanctions. 

Osama bin Laden is dead, Kabul is lost, Cuba’s still communist, and a Kim still runs North Korea, but the love of sanctions has never waned in Washington. If anything, given an aversion to casualties and a perennial quest for low-cost ways to impose its will, Washington has grown even fonder of using economic sticks with abandon. The use of sanctions rose under President Barack Obama, and again under Donald Trump; the Biden administration has not only orchestrated the unprecedented suite of sanctions on Putin’s Russia, but also taken Trump’s trade war with China even further.

Despite U.S. sanctions’ mixed record, the almighty dollar can certainly strike fear in countries that are forced to toe a punitive line they might otherwise try to skirt. Banks in third countries—say, a big French lender—could be forced to uphold Washington’s sanctions on Iran regardless of what French policy might dictate. Those so-called secondary sanctions raise hackles at times in places such as Paris and Berlin, prompting periodic calls for “financial sovereignty” from the tyranny of the greenback. But little has changed. Countries that want to continue having functioning banks have little choice but to act as the enforcers of Washington’s will.

What is genuinely surprising, as Baker chronicles, is that the growth of sanctions as the premier tool of U.S. foreign policy has not been matched by a commensurate growth in the corps of people charged with drafting and enforcing them. The Office of Foreign Assets Control, the Treasury Department’s main sanctions arm, is overworked and understaffed. A lesser-known but equally important branch, the Commerce Department’s Bureau of Industry and Security, struggles to vet a vast array of export controls and restrictions with a stagnant staff and stillborn budget. Post-Brexit Britain has faced even steeper challenges in leaping onto the Western sanctions bandwagon, having to recreate in the past few years a new body almost from scratch to enforce novel economic punishments.

Punishing Putin is not, despite the book’s subtitle, about an effort to “bring down” Russia. The sanctions—ranging from individual travel and financial bans on Kremlin oligarchs to asset forfeiture to sweeping measures intended to kneecap the ruble and drain Moscow’s coffers—are ultimately meant to weaken Putin’s ability to continue terrorizing his neighbor. In that sense, they are not working.

One of the strengths of Punishing Putin is Baker’s seeming ability to have spoken with nearly everybody important on those economic frontlines. She details the spadework that took place in Washington, London, and Brussels even before Russian tanks and missiles flew across Ukraine’s borders in February 2022, and especially in the fraught days and weeks afterward. It takes a special gift to make technocrats into action heroes.

The bulk of Baker’s wonderful book centers on the fight to sanction and undermine the oligarchs loyal to Putin who have helped prop up his kleptocracy. Perhaps, as Baker suggests, Western thinking was that whacking the oligarchs would lead to a palace coup against Putin. There was a coup, but not from the oligarchs—and it ended first with a whimper and then a mid-air bang.

There are a couple of problems with that approach, as Baker lays out in entertaining chronicles of hunts for superyachts and Jersey Island holding companies. First, it’s tricky to actually seize much of the ill-gotten billions in oligarch hands; the U.S. government is spending millions of dollars on upkeep for frozen superyachts, for example, but can’t yet turn them into money for Ukraine. And second, the offensive has not split the oligarchs from Putin: To the contrary, a Kremlin source tells Baker, “his power is much stronger because now they’re in his hands.”

At any rate, while the hunt for $60 billion or so in gaudy loot is fun to read about, the real sanctions fight is over Russia’s frozen central bank reserves—two-thirds of which are in the European Union—and the ongoing efforts to strangle its energy revenues without killing the global economy. Baker is outstanding on these big issues, whether that’s with a Present at the Creation-esque story of the fight over Russia’s reserves and the ensuing battle to seize them, or an explanation of the fiendishly complicated details of the “oil price cap” that hasn’t managed to cap Russian oil revenues much at all. More on those bigger fights would have made a remarkable book a downright stunner.

The Western sanctions on Russia, as sweeping and unprecedented as they are, have not ended Putin’s ability to prosecute the war. They have made life more difficult for ordinary Russians and brought down Russia’s energy export revenues, but they have not yet severed the sinews of war. “But, in fact, the West didn’t hit Russia with the kitchen sink,” Baker writes. Greater enforcement of sanctions, especially on energy, will be crucial to ratchet up the pressure and start to actually punish Putin, she argues. The one thing that is unlikely is that the sanctions battle will end anytime soon—not with Putin’s Russia, and not with other revisionist great powers such as China, whose one potential weakness is the asymmetric might of U.S. money.

“As long as Putin is sitting in the Kremlin,” Baker concludes, “the economic war will continue.”

[angelicdevil]

Commission info || Ko-Fi || Redbubble

Got some remade SU OCs, the pirates Space Krakens and two special guests that are totally new! Info under the cut

Bloom is the first mate and auxiliary engineer. She has a fascination with organic plant life and also her sword fighting leaves carnage that for a moment resembles a blooming flower. They were Lacey’s Pearl, tasked with keeping her on track with her work and calm. But eventually urged him to run away to be happy. They’re also Aroace and in a qpp with Lacey

Lacey is the tactical advisor. He loves lovey and gothic clothes, and is rather energetic and excitable for a Sapphire. She left the Diamond Authority to be more herself and so Bloom can indulge in their fascination with plant life. He’s bi and in a qpp and she has a crush on Eclipse

Eclipse is the pilot. She really loves space and thinks the word “Eclipse” is cool. She’s a bit of a gem heart throb. She was an Amythest guard in the human zoo, and left after being greatly fascinated with the one human that managed to escape. She’s a lesbian too. And Bubbles is her best friend.

Bubbles is the weapons expert. It chose its name because it just seemed fitting. It was hard to control so it didn’t do much until it was able to slip away to be free. They’re a lesbian. And Eclipse is its best friend.

Jade is the engineer and hand to hand combat expert. He kept his name as it was still important to him in his goal to reclaim his sense of self, Or rather build one up. He was a lower aristocratic gem, happening to be transported on a ship with the rowdy captain of the Space Krakens and decided to folklore them. He’s pan and has a crush on Eclipse.

Ash is my self insert of course and the captain. They were in the human zoo as a descendant of the originals, but when they broke their earrings came to the realization that they wanted out and are the reason for the door being one way. They’re a lesbian and both the rival and love of Emerald, who refuses to admit being smitten with them and daydreaming about running away to be a pirate with them. They were also captured and experimented on to try to create a human gem like Steven, but since that’s not how it works they became what they are now.

Goggles is a mad scientist Pearl, Originally stationed in the facility where Ash was changed. My friend’s oc, Shard, was in charge of that project and facility, and took credit for everything Goggles did (though he regrets a lot of it), as “no one will take it seriously if they know this was the work of a PEARL”. So she defected to be a solo scientist. He’s bi and in a relationship with my friend’s other oc, Hevy.

Rainbow Diamond was the second Diamond after White and the one Pink takes a bit after. She believed that expanding the Diamond empire was just wrong, and that gems, that diamonds, were no more deserving of life then the organics they were killing off. So, though she has loved White she left to start a place for runaway gems to go to, for rebellious ones to rest and strategize and to try to stop any ongoing colonies. She wishes she has done more and takes a lot of convincing to believe that White has changed, and time to come back to her. She’s also a very doting grandma to Steven

[joelywoely]

EHAT SPECIES IS GRIAN. IS HE A FUCKING RAINWING/RAIN HYBRID I;M GOIJNG OT K?ILY LO U

sorry i got excited i'm very excited. i'm very excited at this i loooove wings of fire so much what the fuck do you mean someone else out there has thought abt making a life series wof au.

i have a million thoughts about what species and hybrids they'd be but i don't think this is the place to share that..... Sigh........ grian is so Insanely sandwing coded. though. need to say this. need to spread and share my truth GOOD DAY! I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABSOLUTELY EVERY DROP OF INFORMATION YOU MAY HAVE ABOUT THIS AU!

HI!

okay so grians species is actually kinda complicated

he was born as game watcher, an animus nightwing working under his mentor, secret keeper. he helps to organize tournaments between tribes on the mainland, tournaments that frequently end up going to death, a bit like scarlet's battle arena. though, one day, he got too attached to a participant in the game, which is a big no no and secret keeper cursed him to become a "lazy, bumbling rainwing for the rest of his days"

he moves permanently to the mainland and into the rainforest, plotting his vengeance and trying to find out how to cure himself.

since he looks like a very. weird rainwing though jimmy and joel end up finding him and trying to recruit him to their little hybrid clique.

jimmy is a rainsea hybrid named canary and joel is a rainmud hybrid named leaf. they're kinda the weirdos of the rainwings and, because grian is 1. generally bad at "acting like a rainwing" and 2. looks like a weird sort of hybrid of some kind, they take him under their wings for a while.

while out one night, trying to find that portal to the nightwing island, grian is ambushed.

when he wakes up hes in the scorpion den, ran by cleo, a skysand hybrid named cobra. she gets to be nicknamed king cobra cause I think its it's fun. turns out theres a small bounty on his head, but cleo will spare him (for now) out of good faith, them both being hybrids and all.

scar is the one who kidnapped him. formerly named sahara, scar was renamed after gaining all his battle wounds. hes like the quibli to cleos thorn. scar doesnt exactly appreciate cleos generosity, but he doesnt do anything further. hes just tasked with showing grian around, hes essentially his assigned best friend. neither of them care to much for it.

one day the skywings raid the scorpion den, lead by martyn, who is named general mars. grians wing gets injured in his and scars escape, cleo is captured.

scar wasnt able to fly anyway, but he refuses to leave grian, carrying him away on his back.

they are left stranded in the desert and become closer, grian still trying to find a cure for his curse. jimmy and joel are still looking for him.

some extra things:

tango is an overcooked skywing with too much fire, though he isnt with the skywing kingdom, hes actually imprisoned there. his name is blaze. also gay rancher love

lizzie is the seawing queen who's name is axolotl. she and jimmy are half siblings and shes been searching for him since his egg was stolen from the hatchery. his egg was yellow, btw, so shes looking for a yellowy seawing. his name was going to be cod. she and joel meet and fall in love at first fight.

scott is one of her ambassadors and friends, helping her try to find jimmy. his name is seafoam.

pearl is grians sister, her name is, of course, pearlescentmoon, named that mostly just because she was born on a bright bright night. she can see into the future and she desperately wants to return her brother to a normal life.

cub is an icewing named polar (last name bear lol. cuz. cub.) and he and scar met when they were both taken as prisoners. they're besties but dont talk often. etho is also an icewing, his name is icicle.

ren is the skywing king, his name is just red. they call him the red king.

this is fairly new so I haven't done much work on it this is kinda all I got rn

also take some doodles

that jimmy is before I decided hed be a searain hybrid.

I'll totally take alternate hybrid ideas btw!! names too, lol

[yandere-sins]

Remember that Beast!Reader fic with the yandere prince? I loved that one! Can I please request ‘Tears’ from your prompt list for this please?

I was thinking that maybe a few years pass by while the reader is still stuck in beast form, but during that time the person appointed as an alternative caretaker for the reader (obviously the prince can’t be around ALL the time if he has to maintain his kingdom and keep up his image) slowly starts forming a friendly relationship and with even something as small as a forehead kiss to the beast, it is enough to break the curse. But the two don’t get enough time to celebrate before the prince barges in👀

I’m uncomfortable with nsfw and anything too sexual but I enjoy the creepiness and horror that follows a yandere character so I hope you can write it like that please😭🥺 Oh! And please let there be some hope that the reader will either be saved or she saves herself. Even better if the reader decides that she wants to save herself and the boy who broke her curse🤩

Thank you! So sorry if I’m requesting a lot😭🙏

Oh, my sweet little anons, when was the last time I gave you a happy end, huh? But thanks for requesting a continuation, I am glad you all enjoyed it so much ^-^ What a good idea you had there!

Tears - “Sweetie, don’t cry.. they didn’t love you as much as I did.. I’ll help you over the heart break.” 

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Panting, you urged your legs forward, always one step further than you made at a time. The chilly night air burnt in your lungs, and your bare feet were icy and wet from the forest ground, but neither you nor the person holding your hand so gently in his thought about stopping. Only wrapped in a big rag, you should have been cold, but when he squeezed your hand encouragingly, you believed you could manage it all.

It hadn’t been too long since you started your way on foot down the hill the old castle sat upon. Sooner or later, the prince would find out you escaped, and surely, they would also notice your Beloved having fled the scene. There had been no reason for him to stay. Losing you was enough to get sentenced to death, his lifeless body thrown into a bog rather than buried. So why wouldn’t he leave with you? There certainly was no reason for him to stay in the wretched service of the king. 

But sooner or later, they would come for you, that much was sure.

So, you two had to hurry, but even so, you couldn’t keep from smiling, especially when he looked back over his shoulder, his warm, green eyes shining without any regrets. You two had known each other far too little, but he never once hesitated to show you his affection for you, even when you still were the hideous atrocity that you had turned into to escape the prince for the first time.

Perhaps, everything that happened was fate. Even if it had been harsh and awful, it happened so that you two could meet and start a better life together somewhere new. Even if you wished now that you two could have met under different circumstances, now, you didn’t regret your life from before anymore. Now, you could simply look ahead to the future that waited for you.

Or so you thought; you should have known better.

The soaring of arrows pierced through the silence of the night. One hit the bark of the tree before you, fire spreading from its alcohol-soaked peak. Your eye widened, as did you’re companions, and you soon found yourself ducking as another one flew over your heads.

You couldn’t spare a second to look back over your shoulder as you two urged onwards, picking up the pace. Your legs were tired and shaking, but you knew that you had to go faster and faster, or else you or he would get hit. It were moments like these in which you wished you were still a beast. One which could run faster than any arrow. One that could fight and protect what was important to you. But that was no longer, true love’s kiss having sealed that specific fate already.

It was too late when you realized that the arrows so far had not been to stop you two from getting away. Instead, as they began to light up tree after tree, you realized they were there to banish the secrecy of the forest and make the dark disappear. At the same time, they made you two run into the directions your followers wanted you to go. If you looked back now, you knew who you’d see, no robbers smart enough to roam the forest around the prince’s castle, so there really was no reason for any other armed party to hunt you down.

And yet, you did, too afraid that if you didn’t, things would go way worse. 

The moment you looked over your shoulder, another arrow flew past you, grazing your cheek. You knew where it would hit way before your companion cried out in pain, his hand letting go of yours as a reflex. He sank to his knee for a moment, cursing under his breath as you hurried to his side, seeing the arrow lodged in his shoulder. “Oh god,” you stammered as you sank next to him, hands hovering over the wound. “W-We can fix it, I’m sure, we just have to--!”

“There’s no time!” he interrupted you firmly as if he hadn’t just been shot with an arrow. Without wasting even another second, he got up again, grabbed you by the wrist, and moved forward. You caught a glimpse at his face, determination brimming from his features, but pearls of sweat collected at his forehead. He was clearly in pain, showing it in the way he held his own shoulder with his free hand, but he hadn’t given up yet. He would move on until you two were safe, and though you sympathized with his pain, you were so thankful he didn’t give up yet.

You two ran as fast as you could, but soon you couldn’t ignore the sound of armor behind you anymore, hooves trotting closer while torches lit up the forest more and more. It was almost spooky that no words were muttered, and you expected someone to call orders every now and then, but you had seen the clothes of your followers briefly; you knew who they were. The prince’s guards, clad in the finest silver and trained to the point of being nothing more than human dogs. They ceased speaking if not absolutely necessary, their eyes were soulless, and their hearts without a hint of benevolence. Them being after you could only mean one thing.

The prince wanted you back.

Another arrow getting stuck in the tree you just passed. You knew everything they did wasn’t fun but coldly calculated tactics. They wouldn’t hurt you. They couldn’t. Your cheek bleeding would probably cause one of them to get degraded to a chair for three months at least, so they really couldn’t afford to hurt you more seriously. But they did know who they could hurt you with. Someone whose pain would hurt you more than your own.

The next arrow missed completely, lost in the leaves on the ground. You two were running out of all the adrenaline you had, slowly and surely having exhaustion catch up to you. No! Please no! You begged the entities above that this wouldn’t be the end! There was so much more to live for, so much to see and experience! You wanted to be with your former caretaker, the only one who ever took you and your feelings seriously enough. You two could build a house and keep far away from the hustle and bustle of the cities, farming and taking care of livestock until the end of time. So please! Don’t let this be the end of it!

However, against your expectations, the one to collapse first was him. This time, the arrows didn’t miss, one hitting him in the lower back, one scarily close to his spine. Teardrops pearled from your cheeks as you fell into to mud with him, your hands scrapping along the roots and stones of the ground as you crawled back to where he laid, softly whimpering. Reaching for an arrow, you wanted to pull it out in desperation, but he began to cry out in pain before you could even start pulling.

“LEAVE!” he screamed. “LEAVE AND RUN!”

You couldn’t hold back the sobs hearing these words. “Please...” his hand reached for yours as he tried his best to look up to you. “Go, find a safe place to hide! Leave for another country and never come back!”

“No...” you sobbed, bringing one hand covered in mud and blood to your face. “I don’t want to leave you...”

“They are after you, not me,” he tried to reassure you, but you knew better. The sounds of their heavy footsteps drew closer and closer, and finding him, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill this ‘traitor’. If you went, then he’d die. But if you stayed and got caught, he’d die as well. No choice you could make would end happily for the both of you. “Please, go. I want you to-- ARGH!” Interrupted by his own scream, you began to panic, calling his name and shaking his arm, only to look up as a shadow was cast over you.

“[Name],” the prince sighed, relief showing in his face. He had this small, exhausted smile on his lips, happiness in his features as he looked at you. However, the moment he looked down at your companion, his face began to contort into a hateful grimace, his leg lifting once more to give your Beloved’s back a not-so-gentle kick. “No! Stop!” you cried, latching onto his leg as the kicks came down, your partner’s screams echoing through the forest.

“Don’t worry, I will get rid of the scoundrel who kidnapped you. I will save you! Just like I always do!”

“No! You’re hurting him! Stop it! Please... Please stop!”

Never had you imagined that you’d ever find yourself so low again that you’d beg the prince for something. Before, it had been for your life, but now, it was for the life of the only person that really mattered to you. “Oh, Sweetheart,” the prince cooed, his fingers finding their way under your chin, pulling your face up to meet his eyes. “Don’t cry... he didn’t love you as much as I do. I’ll help you over the heartbreak once we’re done here.”

The prince let go roughly as he pulled his sword from his sheath as you fell to the ground next to your partner. For a moment, time seemed to stop as you stood up in a matter of seconds. Panicked, you decided to throw yourself in front of the sword instead, but a hand grabbed yours before you could. Looking down at your Beloved, smiling warmly and encouraging as he muttered the final words you’d hear from him.

“Go.”

It was like he set you free, even if your definition of free originally included him. “Eh, Darling?!” you heard as you took off in a second spurt of adrenaline, the prince screaming your name after you. But your mind completely shut off the moment you passed the last lit-up arrow, sinking back into the darkness. Everything was blurry, your vision stained with your tears that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you rubbed your eyes with your dirty hands.

Your feet must have started bleeding as you kept running faster and faster, but you gave them no mind, not even feeling the pain. All you felt was the wound in your throbbing heart, something that the prince couldn’t heal no matter how much he believed he could. You wanted to understand your former caretaker’s action, telling you to go rather than defend him. If you had been in his place, surely, you had done the same. But it was as if you were the one who got betrayed by yourself by running away. By giving up on something hopeless, you felt like you were betraying everything you had ever stand for. How pathetic you were, running, trying to get the better future you had hoped to build with him.

Next thing you knew, you stumbled as the ground gave away to a slope before you, your body tumbling down the wet leaves and sturdy roots, your skim getting scratched by the branches of bushes all around you. It was pure luck that your fingers closed around one big tree root the moment they did; otherwise, you surely would have fallen from the cliff that opened up beneath you, instead of just hanging on to it now.

Only now your ears regained their function, the rushing of waves sounding far too deep and far too rough beneath you as to simply be a river. Had you run all the way to the shore? Was it the big sea beneath you? Either it had been closer than you thought, or you did develop some superhuman abilities after changing into a beast.

Groaning, you tried to pull yourself back over the edge, the slightly forward-leaning stone not being any help in rescuing yourself. Even more so, you had to realize the light of torches drawing closer and closer by the second, while you still struggled to escape the death by falling into the unruly water from a great height.

“[Name]!” you heard the screech of your name, genuine worry resounding from it. The prince’s face was the last thing you wanted to see, especially as he looked so damn horrified at the sight of you barely holding on to the cliff. “Don’t move! I’ll pull you up!” he called as he slit down the slope as best as he could without falling himself until he reached you. It was strange. You should have been happy that you wouldn’t be dying. That someone would save you from this horrific fate.

But all you felt was pure despair.

If he pulled you up, then that would be it. He’d take you back, lock you up again and do as he pleased with you. Who knew if you’d ever get a chance on escaping again, especially if he made an example out of your previous companion about what would happen if anyone ever helped you. You’d have nothing left but to live your life as a mere plaything, captured by the prince that was so beloved by everyone, and you didn’t want to think about all the things he’d do to you now that you were human again.

His hands reached out, and you noticed them faintly in your vision. Your decision fell only seconds before he could grab you by the arms. It was too dark to see, too dark to even speculate how deep it was, but you decided it was better than becoming an empty shell of a person if you stayed with the prince.

No matter what would await you in the depths down below, it couldn’t be worse than being a subject to his twisted, self-righteous love, you decide. Letting go was easier than you thought, making you realize your body must understand this situation very well even if it might cost it its life. The face of the prince as you slipped from his grasp was a priceless last sight to see before you closed your eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

Until your back hit the water, engulfing you wholly like the hungry, desperate maw of an animal. Deeper and deeper until it was everywhere, and only then you opened your eyes again for one last glimpse of the blurred light above.

[fandomobsessedcharacters]

Imagine…

Being a mermaid and saving JJ from drowning PT.2

Waves crashed against the shore as the seagulls chirped happily overhead and JJ, he was gazing at the ocean. To him this was his safe place, his little slice of heaven. Even though this was also the same place where he almost drowned, he still loved the ocean. Although he always loved the ocean, somethings different now. A curiosity blooming into his mind to what happened days before.

Kie and the others had joked about the whole ‘mermaid’ thing, but he still had to wonder if it was true. JJ was carving up a new one as his friends cheered him on, but it didn’t last long when his cocky surf skills got the better of him and slammed headfirst into the water.

Over the last few days after the incident, memories had started coming back to him. He remembered the way the air had escaped his lungs. He tried to fight against the darkness but it slowly got to him. The only thing he saw was the way the light was becoming dimmer and dimmer as he sunk below.

Is this the end? He thought. Am I really going to die here and now? I wonder if they’ll find my body all rotted and shit with fish nibbling on me…

That’s what he thought at least, before he felt something pulling him towards them. Fluttering his eyes open is when he saw her. The way her hair floated around her face and her eyes, so full of concern. Her hands grasping his face with a gentle touch. Then below her, he saw it. A long orange tail connecting with her upper waist. The next thing he knew he was on the beach, delirious and lungs full of salt water. After days of trying to remember, he now knew the truth. An actual freaking mermaid had saved him. Now he had a new mission: To find the mermaid. He needed to thank her for saving him and also, to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. Most importantly though, he just wanted to see her again. The way her eyes wanted him to be safe and sound, he needed to see that again.

Little did he know, that same mermaid was watching him from the safety of the ocean. Y/N wanted nothing more than to say hi, to make sure he was okay, anything, only to hesitate. For days now she’s been spying on him and his friends as they laughed and played along the shore. She’s especially taken an interest in the boy who’s messy locks matched the sands of the ocean floor and how his smile resembled a pure white pearl. She simply couldn’t help but admire him. Even so, she was warned to stay away from such humans, but when Y/N saw him almost drown to death she still dared to save his life. Now she had hopes that their paths would cross again and possibly become friends and maybe, just maybe, become something more…

[extremelyblackandwhite]

madam carter baizen president, what about carter with the song traitor by olivia rodrigo?

pairing : carter baizen x reader

warnings : angst, carter is an asshole (sadly), reader is nate’s twin sister

inspired by traitor

you betrayed me and i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt. you'd talk to her when we were together. loved you at your worst but that didn't matter, it took you two weeks to go off and date her. guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor

She stood in the middle of the high end designer shop, thousands of girls from Constance moving up and down, picking and fighting for different dresses for one of the biggest events before graduation - Cotillion. As a carrier of the Archibald family name, the twin sister of Nate Archibald, Y/N’s RSVP was sent in her behalf before she even understood what it actually was. She didn’t mind doing it, she didn’t mind keeping up the traditions that her family was so overprotective yet she couldn’t say she particularly enjoyed them. She had to be truthful to herself and admit that she did not enjoy the idea of being presented to society as merely a stereotype of what her social status expected her to become. Maybe that was the dream for some girls, but it definitely wasn’t hers. Nevertheless, she had convinced herself to go, after all Rory Gilmore had gone and she had had a blast so why shouldn’t Y/N give it a go? Besides, if she even thought about not going, she was sure her mother would come from the wood work with her dramatic reasons as to why going to Cotillion was important, when it reality there was only one reason why it mattered - reputation. 

      - So, which one is yours? - her brother joked, looking away from where Blair was trying on her own dress. Y/N rolled her eyes, raising her hand where a black hanger was with her dress. - White? You’re trying to present yourself as virginal?

       - One of us has to. - she bite back. - Besides, Rory wore white and I wanna wear white. 

       - You shouldn’t model your life after a sitcom, Y/N. It’s not gonna be nearly as fun as they portray it. 

       - I can always trip you while you’re dancing. That’ll be fun, huh? 

       - What’ll be fun will be seeing Carter Baizen escort you when mum and dad don’t even know you’re sneaking around with him. 

       - I’m not sneaking around and I told you I’m going alone. - she wasn’t lying. She’d become acquainted with Carter a few years ago and the two had become close friends, both sharing an ambition of travelling around the world, hiking high mountains and looking at the clearest seas but that’s where it ended. At least to him. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have at least some sort of romantic interest in him. How could she not? He was a handsome man with the same ideals as her, who’d often flirt but she’d convinced herself it was just who he was. Yet, her hopes were always very high at whatever they had. He didn’t look at anyone else like he looked at her, he didn’t hug anyone else like he hugged her and after he left New York, she was the one who he’d still write to yet it never progressed to anything else. She’d rather have him as whatever they were so she could keep him. Of course, Nate was of a different opinion and believed the two were dating, just without the label. - Not everyone can take a Waldorf to Cotillion.

     - You’re not going alone, Y/N. C’mon, we know so many people, so many guys who’d die to take you to Cotillion.

     - It’s really not a big deal. 

     - You should just ask him. - Nate told her, before being dragged away by one of the tailors to fix his suit. She had to admit, she was rather keen on seeing her brother in a fitted grey suit. 

After deciding there was no point in keeping in that store, hoping to find something else, she stepped outside, dress bag over her shoulder. It was a pretty dress and after all, who does not enjoy to be in a pretty dress and get free food and drink? She continued to walk down the street, mindlessly going through a checklist in her head of things she had to get sorted before Cotillion tonight. As her mind checked out invisible tasks, she spotted Carter just a bit down the street. A smile playfully etched on her cherry stained lips as she walked down to meet him. 

     - Hello stranger. 

     - Oh, hi princess. - his eyes moved from whatever he had been looking at to look at her, yet something was off. - What you got there? Body bag?

     - Cotillion dress. Not as exciting. - his attention was scattered, eyes looking left and right as if he was looking out for something. - Are you ok, Carter?

     - ‘Course I am. - he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, turning her the opposite way. - Excited for Cotillion?

     -  They always have great stuffed mushrooms and I do intend to have at least a whole tray just for myself. 

     - Who’s the poor bastard who’s taking you? Vanderbilt?

     - He’s my cousin, Carter. Besides, I told you I am going by myself. 

     - And your mother allowed that?

     - She doesn’t need to know.

     - Sneaky. - he chuckled, stopping as her flat came into view. 

     - I wouldn’t have to be sneaky if you escorted me, Baizen. - she meant for it to sound as a joke, but as those words escaped her lips, she realised how oddly passive aggressive they sounded. 

     - You know it’s not my thing.

     - I know. - she sighed. - I’m just being silly.

     - I’ll take you for brunch tomorrow. We’ll discuss all the gossip that went on. You know the rules, the one with the best piece of gossip wins and the other one pays.

     - You better bring your wallet, Baizen. - she opened the door of her building, bidding her goodbyes before quickly climbing up the stairs to get ready.

Sure, part of her wished he would escort her and be her date but he despised the idea of Cotillion more than she did and she wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable the whole night. Besides, if she went alone, she probably would get to change her own introduction speech and make a splash for the family. No publicity is bad publicity, after all. As the sun set down, she was being rushed into the car by her mother, hair set with pearl strings all around which matched the ones that hanged from her earrings. She felt pretty, she had to admit. However, as she stepped into the limo where Blair and Nate was, she couldn’t help but imagine how things would’ve been if Carter had taken her. He would’ve brought her favourite lilies as a corsage, just as when he came back from Florence on her birthday and surprised her with a whole bouquet of white lilies and roses. He’d probably have his tie a bit too loose, as he always did whenever he was inevitably forced to wear one. They would dance the whole night to classical pieces. Yet, all these past tenses were merely ghosts in her brain and as they pulled in front of the building hosting Cotillion, she realised she was alone. He wasn’t here, he didn’t make it a priority to escorting her. But it was okay, she’d never want him to do something which would make him uncomfortable. 

As per usual, they were fashionably late as Blair put it and were rushed to the big staircase. She’d seen it before with her cousins own cotillion ceremonies - two big staircases facing each other, one had all the girls and the other the boys. Normally, she’d be looking at whoever was escorting her but since she was about to be escorted by her own self, she merely looked at her own white shoes, contrasting with the gold gown Serena, who was in front of her, was wearing. As long as she didn’t trip or fall down the stairs, it would be fine. 

     - Escorting Serena van der Woodsen is Carter Baizen. - her eyes looked up as she wondered if her own tired brain was playing jokes on her. But it wasn’t.

They were there. He was here, in the centre, by Serena’s side, escorting her. The sound of the room all went quiet and all she could hear was the buzzing in her ears and her heart drop to her stomach. There were no thoughts in her brain and she didn’t seem to even acknowledge what was happening around her, all she felt was an overwhelming pain and her chest tightening.

    - Next is Y/N Archibald, daughter of Howard and Anne Archibald, escorted by ... - she went down the stairs, standing in the centre by her self as she felt the whole world staring at her. 

    - Me. - she looked to her left to see Chuck Bass run down the stairs to stand by her side. - Sorry, I’m late.

    - Thank you. - she mouthed to Chuck as they went down the stairs. 

    - He’s an ass. - Chuck said as they reached the floor. Immediately, Nate and Blair came over to her side. - I’ll stick around for when we have to dance.

    - Thank you, Chuck.   

    - I thought you said he didn’t like these things. - Nate was mad, everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. 

    - Not now.

    - Yes, now, Y/N. He humiliated you.

    - He didn’t ... he’s just a traitor.    

[nonstoplover]

protagonist ~ joe liebgott (band of brothers)

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

pairing: joe liebgott x female reader

short summary: joe's assigned to search for the perfect house for easy's hq in the new town they'll soon arrive to on their way through germany and finds one with a girl in there who's like the protagonist of one of the comics he's read - courageous, fearless, heroic.

words: 2.5K

a/n: first of all, sorry for disappearing, exam season has started at my uni and i've been hella busy these past weeks (and gonna be for the following few as well,  u g h ).

anyway this fic came around from a conversation i had with the lovely @now-im-a-belieber when i was telling her about an idea i had and she technically came up with the base of this. thank you, Pearl, i love you xx (i hope i did justice to your idea)

oh and let's just say i have no clue if this would have been possible, at least the exact way i wrote it.

taglist: @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @50svibes @pennyllanne @nowinnablewar

gif credit: @basilone

Four loud bangs sound against her front door right as she starts washing the dishes after they finished lunch. With her eyes widening in surprise she rushes back into the room, telling the family of three to hide as she's drying her hands in her apron before making her way to the door.

After taking a deep breath she grabs the handle and opens it. The next thing she knows is being pushed to the side as a figure storms in past her without a word. A gasp leaves her lungs as her back lightly collides with the wall, head turning to watch as the soldier barges in the house.

What is going on? Has someone found out about them?

With a hand reaching behind her back she pushes herself off the wall and hurries behind the man. Trying hard to sound completely calm and innocent she asks him what is going on, but he only barks back something almost inaudible - only a few German words reach her ears.

The soldier is moving with such speed that she hasn't got a single chance to get a better look at his uniform as he's entering every room one by one. Who is he? Worry swiftly floods her veins - more importantly, what is he looking for?

She can only pray the family has had enough time to properly hide.

As he reaches that door, she holds her breath back, repeating her little prayer like a mantra inside her head. The man comes to a sudden halt just as he steps through the doorframe and in an instant fear makes her blood turn freezing cold. She carefully moves closer to glance inside next to his body, not knowing what to expect.

And what she sees makes everything else in her mind disappear - just the thoughts of all hell breaking loose any time now move around inside.

Her best friend crouches on the other side of the room, clearly frozen mid-movement as her body is still half out of the hiding spot, eyes wide as she stares at the soldier, not a single muscle moving. It's like everyone's got frozen in time, none of the three people makes a move.

Liebgott's mind slow to catch up to what he sees - he didn't expect to see that as he rushed through the house. He's only been trying to decide whether it's a good place for Easy's HQ, as he has been ordered to do when Winters sent him ahead of the company.

His eyes then start moving around the room, trying hard to find a good reason as to why that girl is half inside the wall. A book is laying on the table next to the door, open at around the middle. With one glance at the pages he recognises the letters of the hebrew alphabet, and suddenly it all makes sense.

She's a Jew.

His breath hitches in his throat as he struggles to comprehend this new information, and just in that very moment the silence is broken by a voice. And it's not coming from either of the two girls in the room - more like it's coming from inside the wall.

One simple sentence, ending with a Yiddish term of endearment - one he can perfectly understand. It came from a woman, asking the girl crouching facing him from across the room why she's stopped moving.

There are more Jews in there.

His lungs fill with a sharp breath he's taken and he spins around, staring straight at the girl who opened the front door only minutes prior. The question must be clear in his eyes as she starts stammering in defense, her voice audibly shaking.

Joe shakes his head, stopping her mid-sentence. "No, they're Jews, I can see it," he says in perfect German, and the already pale girl suddenly seems even whiter.

He swiftly grabs her arm and pulls her in the direction he remembers finding the dining room in, trying to find a chair for her to sit down on, as she's visibly close to fainting - though the reason behind it he can't find.

(y/n) flinches with utter fear, weakly trying to resist being pulled away - he most probably is now taking her away to kill her, right? He's a German soldier, that's what his job is. But no matter how hard she tries to wiggle away, his grip is too tight around her arm and she can't do a thing.

Just when they arrive to the dining room and he kind of pushes her into one of the chairs is when Joe realises that she's scared of him - she immediately pushes the chair further away from him as soon as he lets go of her. So that's why she's shaking so bad.

"No, wait, don't be scared," he rushes to say. "I'm a Jew too."

This finally breaks the scaredness - instead her eyes fill with utter confusion. Her forehead wrinkles as she tries to make sense of what he's saying. How can a German soldier be Jewish? It makes absolutely no sense.

With a sudden wave of suspicion she moves her glance down to his uniform, examining every detail she can lay her eyes upon.

Is he not German?!

Suddenly she can see differences - details about his uniform that she's never seen on a German soldier before, and she's seen her fair share of those in the past years.

But if he's not German, who is he and what is going on?

She takes a still shaky breath and looks back up into his eyes - seeing the waiting expression on his face as he's standing there in patient silence for her to say something.

"Are you-" Her voice cracks mid-sentence. It's not good. She clears her throat and tries again. "Are you German?"

All of a sudden he bursts out laughing - so loud, and somehow so dark that her eyes widen once again. She just can't decide if it's from fear again, or only surprise.

A minute or so goes by with nothing but Joe laughing - this must be one of the most hilarious things he's heard in the past couple years. That he is a German.

Then his laughter finally quietens down to slight chuckling and he speaks up once more to confirm the truth. "No, of course not," he shakes his head in amusement. One look in her eyes tells him that somehow she still has no clue about his nationality, so he opens his lips again to give an answer to her question in advance. "I'm American. Don't worry, you're not in trouble for that," Joe points back in the direction of the room with the hiding spot above his shoulder.

A loud sigh escapes her lungs, her shoulder visibly falling a bit as she slumps more into the chair. It feels like years worth of stress and nervousness have just come to an end - it's truly like an enormous stone has rolled down from her chest and shoulders. She somehow feels free again for the first time in years.

Relief completely replaces the worry and fear in her veins as all other thoughts leave her mind. She's not gonna die. At least not today.

"They're Jewish," the soldier speaks again - and it's not a question. More like a statement.

(y/n) nods, unable to say a word as she's still overwhelmed with her new feelings.

"You're hiding them?"

She just raises an eyebrow, and Joe mentally slaps himself - what a stupid question. He could've might as well just asked her the colour of the wall.

"Since when you've been hiding them?" He corrects his question.

"Ever since the whole thing has started," she answers, her voice so quiet it almost disappears in the air between them.

"Wow," Liebgott breathes out before he can stop himself. He stares at the girl in disbelief. She looks so innocent and young - she's probably one or two years younger than him. How could she pull off something such a thing? Such a dangerous and pretty reckless thing?

"Esther is my best friend, she's been ever since we were little kids, they all are like a second family to me, I've spent most of my days with them," (y/n) explains, the relief causing her to ramble and Joe - for about the first time in his life has to struggle to keep up with the German words that come flying out past her lips. "I just had to help them, you know. I couldn't just leave them here."

"Where's your own family?"

"My parents left to France to be further away from the chaos, and my brother joined the Luftwaffe, and since then I haven't heard from none of them."

"Why didn't you leave with your parents as well?" The young soldier keeps asking, moving closer to the table and sitting down on a chair on the opposite side, facing her. Pushing his M1's strap down his shoulder he places the weapon on the table, pushing it only a little further in order to calm the girl more. He knows he probably shouldn't do this - and keep Winters waiting, but he's too curious to stop himself, he has to hear the rest of her story.

"I love this town, I was born and raised here," she shrugs as if it's obvious. "But more importantly, I didn't want to leave and let innocent people like my best friend's family suffer. I wanted to stay and fight back as good as I could."

Joe subconsciously mumbles under his breath before he can stop himself - words that praise her absolute bravery, words that give away his true feelings he suddenly feels towards her - then he has to move his gaze away from her, fearing that she sees the embarrassment in his eyes. He tries hard to think of another question while also trying hard to forget the look of the half-smiling expression that took over her face just a moment before - it does nothing good for his heart.

"Did you make that hidden room yourself?" He asks in the end, thinking back to what he saw in the room.

"Oh," she giggles - and it's the prettiest sound he's heard in a very long time. "No, my father made it when me and my brother were young and often played hide and seek. I just improved it a little so they can fit in more comfortably."

Liebgott hums, not knowing how to tell her - or if he should even tell her in the first place - how absolutely super impressed she left him with every single thing she's told him and what he's seen. It's one of the craziest things he has ever heard, and he had a fair share of unbelievable stories told to him in his life. He simply couldn't even imagine how on Earth this girl could manage to do this - and not get caught. Throughout the whole war.

In that very moment he swiftly decides that he'll go and find another house for the HQ, and that he'll somehow get back to this particular one, no matter what it takes. He wants to get to know her better. He has to get to know her better.

She's the most incredible woman he's ever heard of, read about or met. She's a woman who fits in the stories of the comics he's been reading his whole life - as the protagonist, the hero. He can't leave this town without hearing more about her, seeing her face more. That would be the biggest regret of his whole life, he can already tell.

But for now, he has to leave. It wouldn't be a good idea to keep his officers waiting even longer.

He stands up, fingers reaching out to grab his M1 before looking back into her eyes. Damn, he doesn't even know her name.

"I have to head back to my company, but I'll come back later, if that's okay with you."

Her eyes are already on his, seemingly staring straight into his soul with that intensity that lays in her (y/e/c) orbs. The girl then rises to her feet - still never breaking the eye contact.

Thoughts race inside her head, and it's like an angel and a demon are sitting on each of her shoulders, one telling her to say no whilst the other trying to convince her to say yes.

What if he only wants to use her? What if he only wants to sleep with her? Maybe force her to do so, threatening her with his knowledge of the Jewish family. He might not even be who and what he says he is. How could she know?

But on the other hand, there is this feeling she has about him. A feeling that tells her that nothing she previously thought will happen. She doesn't know what it is, but it's there, right in her chest, and she can't fight it. He seems genuinely curious and impressed, and honest. And she feels a pull towards him. She wants to see him again.

In the end, the devil on her shoulder wins, and she simply nods - right before she could change her mind.

"I'm Joe," the young soldier moves around the table, one hand held out towards her.

A glance cast down and right back up to his face she takes his hand and gives it a shake, holding onto it tightly, as if only to let him know how strong she actually is.

It probably works, 'cause he raises an eyebrow, slightly tilts his head and the corners of his lips curve up into the smallest smirk she's ever seen - but it's there.

"(y/n)," she eventually answers with her own introduction.

A few seconds pass and neither has let go of the other's hand, not yet. They just stand there, staring into each other's eyes, only the small noises of them breathin breaking the silence.

Then Liebgott blinks, clears his throat, pulls his hand out from her grip and instinctively places his fingers upon his weapon hanging from his shoulder whilst nodding towards her as a gesture of saying goodbye without words.

She watches as he turns around and walks out from the room, and after a tiny, happy sigh she follows the sound of his steps.

Just as he opens the front door and moves through it is when she arrives to the hall. Joe glances back over his shoulder for one last time, offering her a small smile, then looks back ahead of him and continues his walk as if nothing has happened. None of the past dozen of minutes.

(y/n) leans against the doorframe and watches him right until he disappears in the distance with a dreamy look in her eyes.

She can't wait until he comes back again.

.::the end::.

(might write a part two if i'll have time and you'd like to read it)

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

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[stereostevie]

When you think of grunge, do you picture a bunch of long-haired White guys in plaid shirts, singing about teenage angst and self-loathing? Time to expand that viewpoint. Standing above them all should be Tina Bell, a tiny Black woman with an outsized stage presence, and her band, Bam Bam. It’s only recently that the 1980s phenom has begun to be recognized as a godmother of grunge.

This modern genre’s sound was, in many ways, molded by a Black woman. The reason she is mostly unknown has everything to do with racism and misogyny. Looking back at the beginnings of grunge, with the preconception that “everybody involved” was White and/or male, means ignoring the Black woman who was standing at the front of the line.

Bam Bam was formed as a punk band in 1983 in Seattle. Bell, a petite brown-skinned spitfire with more hairstyle changes than David Bowie, sang lead vocals and wrote most of the lyrics. Her then-husband Tommy Martin was on guitars (the band’s name is an acronym of their last names: Bell And Martin), Scotty “Buttocks” Ledgerwood played bass, and Matt Cameron was on drums. Cameron would leave the band in its first year and go on to fame as the drummer for Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. But he paid homage to his beginnings by wearing a Tina Bell T-shirt in a photoshoot for Pearl Jam’s 2017 Anthology: the Complete Scores book.

“For some reason a couple of skinheads are up front, calling her [the N-word] And all of the sudden, Bell grabs a microphone stand and she starts swirling it around her head like a lasso… She swung that fuckin’ thing around her head and about the fourth time, she smashed that son of a bitch.”

Bam Bam’s sound straddled the line between punk and something so new that it didn’t have a name yet. Their music combined a driving, thrumming bass line; downtuned, sludgy guitars; thrashy, pulsing drums; melodic vocals that range from sultry to haunting to screamy; and lyrics about the existential tension of trying to exist in a world not designed for you. The band’s 1984 music video for their single “Ground Zero” is low-budget, but Bell’s charisma seeps through.

“She was fucking badass. That’s all there is to it. She was amazing as a performer. I’ve only seen one White male lead singer command the stage in a similar way that Tina Bell did, and that was Bon Scott of AC/DC,” says Om Johari, who attended Bam Bam shows as a Black teenager in the ’80s and who would go on to lead all-female AC/DC cover band Hell’s Belles.

Christina King, a Seattle scenester who was close friends with Bell from 1984 until the early ’90s, says the singer’s talent was obvious. But she believes a lot of people dismissed Bell as a gimmick.

Among those attending their shows: Future members of grunge bands like Nirvana (Kurt Cobain did a stint as a Bam Bam roadie), Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Pearl Jam.

“I remember one person saying to me that they didn’t get ‘the whole Black girl singer thing,’ it just didn’t fit whatever they were into,” says King. “They were too ahead of their time.”

Bam Bam came into being in an era when hundreds of underground clubs, taverns, bars, and social halls — anywhere that you could cram in a band — were within the Seattle city limits. Bam Bam played almost all of them, and often to big crowds: The Colourbox, Crocodile Lounge, Gorilla Gardens, Squid Row — just to name a few.

Among those attending their shows: Future members of history-making grunge bands like Nirvana (Kurt Cobain did a stint as a Bam Bam roadie), Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Pearl Jam. Not to mention all the other people, mostly White and male, who would become prime targets for music labels trying to market this new sound.

Bell “already possessed everything they were trying to attain. She had a truer rock and roll spirit than almost any of those guys in that town. Everything they tried to do, she naturally was,” says Ledgerwood, still a loyal bandmate.

One Seattle club, The Metropolis, became “like our fucking living room,” says Ledgerwood. It was also the site of an overtly racist verbal assault against Tina Bell.

“For some reason a couple of skinheads are up front, calling her [the N-word],” Ledgerwood recalls. “And all of the sudden, Bell grabs a microphone stand and she starts swirling it around her head like a lasso… She swung that fuckin’ thing around her head and about the fourth time, she smashed that son of a bitch… She nailed that fucker right in the temple of his head. Split like a melon. And the other guy next to him caught it too, they go down, and we’re like, ‘What the fuck?’”

Ledgerwood says that after going backstage for a while to regroup, Bell came back “and put out the most blistering set of our fucking career.”

This could easily be an anecdote about Bell’s power, her resilience, and willingness to fight back against oppressive forces. But it’s also a story about the cost of being a Black woman who does something that some people don’t expect or approve of.

“She’s being pulled out of her zone because somebody is acknowledging how the rest of the world can see her,” says Johari, empathizing with the star rocker. “And even to react to it by picking up a microphone and smashing someone in the face, that means that that incident cost her not only that moment it takes to get back into the song, but the whole [effects of her] action will last for weeks.

“She’ll replay that over and over and over and over again. And then the people she sees that were there when it happened, they’re gonna come up to her and they’re gonna forget everything that she’s saying, all the stuff that she had did, and they’re only going to focus on, ‘I was at that show where you knocked a dude in the head for calling you an N-word,’” Johari says. “It has nothing to do with her artistry. But it reminds her of the way in which she has to be prepared, just in case it happens again.”

King remembers Bell also felt that some of the other men in the band’s changing lineup failed to treat her as an equal partner: “She’s getting that from her own band members — what do you think audience people are like?”

A European tour in the late ’80s gained Bam Bam international fans, but ended after Bell and Martin split up, and Bell was caught in an immigration enforcement dragnet in the Netherlands.

When they returned to the Pacific Northwest, Bam Bam continued playing shows until 1990, when Bell abruptly quit as they were packing up to head to the studio in Portland, Ore.

“She had just had enough,” Ledgerwood says. “For almost eight years she had almost literally eviscerated herself for the audience.”

But that work never resulted in the national recognition they deserved.

“Grunge, whatever that means, is being identified as from your community, your colleagues, your sound that you were a participant in help shaping, and you’re not even mentioned in any of it.”

“Sometimes you need to be a little bit of an asshole to protect yourself. And Bell wasn’t much of an asshole,” Ledgerwood adds. “She was a pure-hearted person and had a really hard time believing that people couldn’t accept her over something as stupid as race.”

Bell didn’t just quit the band, she withdrew from music completely, says her son, Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker TJ Martin. Not out of resentment, he adds, but perhaps to escape the painful reminders that the music she helped pioneer was now earning other bands multimillion-dollar record contracts.

“Grunge, whatever that means, is being identified as from your community, your colleagues, your sound that you were a participant in help shaping, and you’re not even mentioned in any of it,” Martin says. “I can’t even fathom what that would feel like for it to be sort of spit back in your face with such frequency.”

Ledgerwood believes Bell died of a broken heart. But when Bell died alone in her Las Vegas apartment in 2012, the official cause of death listed was cirrhosis of the liver. She had struggled with alcohol and depression. Her son says the coroner estimated her time of death as a couple weeks before her body was discovered. She was 55 years old.

The things that could have told Tina Bell’s story in her own voice are lost. Martin arrived in Las Vegas to find that the contents of his mother’s apartment — except for a DVD player, a poster, and a chair — had been thrown away. All of her writings — lyrics, poems, diaries — along with Bam Bam music, videos, and other memorabilia — went in the trash without her family even being notified.

If you think you were in Seattle in the ’80s, in the grunge scene, and you don’t remember Tina Bell and Bam Bam, you probably weren’t really fucking there.

“I couldn’t help draw a parallel between her not being respected and seen in the first chapter of her life, as the front person of a punk band, and then even in death being disrespected and not being seen for the merits of the life she lived,” says Martin.

Bell’s death is also an indictment of the way she was written out of her own story. The way grunge’s almighty gatekeepers chose to look through her instead of at her. Grunge became the domain of alienated young White men in flannel shirts, and Tina Bell didn’t fit the narrative they were trying to sell.

“Black herstory can suffer immense amounts of erasure if somebody is not brave enough to ensure that women get counted,” Johari says.

To many of those who were part of the scene at the time, the amnesia seems intentional. Ledgerwood brings up the seminal history of Seattle’s grunge era, Everybody Loves Our Town. In it, the author refers to Bam Bam as a three-piece instrumental band mainly notable because Matt Cameron was the drummer. Tina Bell isn’t even mentioned.

“How in the hell would he have a recollection of how great Bam Bam and its drummer was, and not this unbelievably beautiful woman, this firecracker, this explosive rock and roll goddess?” Ledgerwood asks. “Even if he thought she sucked, to not remember the only Black woman on the whole fuckin’ scene is — well, it’s like that old joke about the ’60s: If you think you were in Seattle in the ’80s, in the grunge scene, and you don’t remember Tina Bell and Bam Bam, you probably weren’t really fucking there.”

You can listen to more of Bam Bam’s music on this Spotify playlist. A vinyl album with the band’s songs is coming out this year on Bric-a-Brac Records.

[griffintail]

The News

Summary: A part two to A Successful Test. Tommy reflects on the next few days after the incident. 

Pairings: Platonic! Tommy x F! Reader, Mentioned Wilbur x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst lotta angst, mentions of a panic attack

A/N: Just a side note, there’s a part where Tommy can touch Ghostbur. It’s my sort of headcanon where everyone can touch Ghostbur because he doesn’t have any other “abilities” of a ghost, he’s just super cold to the touch and is see through.

        Tommy slammed his axe into the side of the tree, his arm aching from the force.

        He didn’t care though.

        A few days had passed since…the test.

        Tommy couldn’t remember much that had happened directly after the explosion. He remembered yelling at Tubbo, he remembered being angry and upset and crying, but he can’t remember what happened after. Tubbo and Sam told him he ran off and Tubbo found him passed out in the snow, bringing Tommy back to his home. The older boy had run off and got Sam Nook, who got just Sam.

        He healed him up and bandaged the injuries Tommy hadn’t cared to notice he had gotten from being blown back from the explosion. The injuries were still there, it had been a little too long for the healing potions to heal everything completely. He had wrapped bandages on his entire left forearm and another on his upper right arm, there had been one around his forehead but he had taken it off two days ago, a scar formed.

        From there, they tried to help Tommy but he just wanted to be left alone. It was better if they stayed away anyways.

        Taking the axe out, he slammed it into the tree again, the sound echoing in the small wooded area.

        They had held a funeral.

        Almost every last SMP resident came.

        Tubbo had organized the event with the help of Eret and Sam.

        Tommy stood silently during the gathering. He saw everyone there, even the family that had betrayed him came out of respect for the woman that…that gave up everything for him. Slowly, people gave their words of respect for her. It wasn’t like Schlatt’s funeral, everyone cared and everyone was hurting.

        Tubbo had coaxed him into saying something, just at least as a final goodbye. Tommy hated the idea but he slowly came forward and stood in front of all the mourning people.

        Mourning because of him.

        “When the war first started…” Tommy spoke, everyone was frozen at his almost silent words. “When we fought for our independence of L’Manberg, (Y/N) stood with us against everything…She lost her first life…for Tubbo and me.”

        The memory always haunted the two boys. Dream and his goons had cornered them into a hole outside the walls and (Y/N) had rushed over the walls without a second thought. She stood as the perfect L’Manberg citizen, screaming at them, egging them on before dashing away, letting the boys escape to the wall.

        As she was making a b-line back for the safety of the walls, she had been shot in the back by Dream. Tommy remembered his scream then. He remembered screaming so loud at Dream, that Wilbur had come rushing out of the van. They drafted the Declaration of Independance the moment (Y/N) was back in the van.

        “She always fought with her words till there wasn’t room to do it anymore. …(Y/N) had stood for L’Manberg but she always sought people first. She tried for peace, for everyone’s freedom. And when…Tubbo was trapped…She gave up everything when I didn’t.”

        Tommy clenched his hands, remembering (Y/N) yelling at him and Wilbur.

        “Techno and Tubbo are alone down there! They’re our friends in case you forgot! If you’re not going, then I will!” She had shouted before ender pearling down, knocking Techno’s crossbow the other way, aiming directly at Schlatt as he pulled the trigger.

        She had pulled the panicking Tubbo out before the three of them booked it as best they could. When Schlatt came stumbling out of the white house screaming for blood, the crowd went into chaos, Wilbur trying to get down to the woman below. It had been Tommy’s fault then too…

        He said Techno and Tubbo had her back, they needed to get away before anyone knew where they were. When they got to base…(Y/N) was there first, she had respawned. She had lost in a fight; Techno, Tubbo, and her having been separated. Wilbur refused to let her out of his sight the next few days as Tommy had felt guilt rack up. (Y/N) assured him though, she was happy he left.

        The reason she had lost was because they stormed the tower and she became reckless thinking they were still in there so she fought to save people that weren’t there…Wilbur and Tommy would have most certainly had died if they had still been there. Or that was what (Y/N) always convinced him.

        It’s his fault she’s gone. It’s his fault she had no lives to spare.

        “She tried to stop Wilbur and prove we could still be the same L’Manberg.”

        (Y/N) had told him one day during his exile, when Ghostbur wasn’t there, that she had been in the button room when it had gone off. That’s how she had gotten Wilbur’s jacket he wore all the time during the era of PogTopia that she had worn till the end, a stitch in the middle of the back of the jacket however where…Phil had cut through. She told him how she pleaded with Wilbur, trying to convince him that they could make L’Manberg right again. Phil trying to help her and assure Wilbur.

        But Wilbur had been too far gone and told her that he loved her before pressing the button. It was one of the few times he had seen the strong woman cry. It was the first time Tommy comforted her instead of her comforting him.

        When the final fight came, she stood as the new spearhead for L’Manberg. In L’Manberg’s last moments, she tried to fight with her words, saying she’d bring the country back to its former days without the need for power but she had lost and they lost the last bit of their nation. From there, she simply just spent time with Tommy, Tubbo, and Ghostbur, doing research and loving them, still fighting for people’s freedom when they needed her.

        “She came to me almost every day in exile. She never gave me pity, she always made me smile, she always…she was always there.” Tommy gripped the end of his shirt as he gritted his teeth. “And the SMP couldn’t have lost someone so great.”

        After the speeches, it was a somber meal. Tommy was just angry at himself. Angry that this was his fault that he had lost the world such a great woman, that he made himself lose the best sister he never had. And his anger had only gotten worse when he had noticed that Ghostbur wasn’t there. Ghostbur was the one person that hadn’t appeared and Tommy started demanding to know where the ghost of his brother was.

        When questioning Ranboo if he had seen the ghost, he only got angrier.

        Tommy slammed his axe into the tree once more, having to let go of the axe from the pain. It brought anger to him now thinking about what Ranboo told him.

        “No, but I need to tell you something, Tommy.” He told him; his tone upset as he held his book. “I…I found (Y/N) before she went to save you. I forgot about it till I looked in my book.”

        “W-What?” Tommy questioned confused. “What do you mean found her?”

        “I was going to Eret’s when I heard her…I heard her screaming for someone. She was in an obsidian box. I broke her out and had to lead her out. She kept mumbling about you and another box. I-I don’t get what it meant…and her eyes were kind of unfocused.”

        Tommy had stood paralyzed in the room.

        “After a minute though, we heard Tubbo on the radio and she kind of shook herself out of it. She said…she said something about a traitor and you and just started running.”

        Someone had put her…

        There had been a second time when Tommy had to comfort his sister. She had fallen into a hole during Tommy’s exile, one of the various ones Dream had made. Tommy had laughed at first but took a moment and noticed how freaked out she was becoming. She was panicking.

        Tommy had quickly gotten her out and yelled for Ghostbur. The ghost had come over and noticed what was going on, quickly putting blue in the woman’s hands as Tommy tried to get her to relax. After, (Y/N) explained how she nearly lost and did lost so much to confided spaces, boxes, that she had developed a fear of them. Tommy understood what she meant, she lost both of her lives saving them from the confines of a box and she lost Wilbur and L’Manberg to the button room, a small space.

        As Ranboo was asking Tommy if he was ok, Tommy ran. He didn’t care about the protests of Phil, Sam, Tubbo, and some of the others. Someone in that room had trapped her. Someone had betrayed her and in her last moments, made her fearful, scared, and alone.

        It had been three days since then and his anger was unbearable. No one bothered him, scared of mood. The only ones that tried were Tubbo and Sam but they only got snapped at. But he wasn’t angry at either of them now, he was angry at himself, the traitor, Ghostbur, Dream. He was just angry.

        All of this is his fault.

        He put his hands on his knees as he felt the tears well up in his eyes again. He just wanted her back, he’d do anything to bring her back.

        …

        Sighing, he picked up the axe and left the tree. He didn’t really need the wood anyway. He trudged back to his house, ignoring the still in construction hotel as always as he came to his home. Coming to his house, he froze as he saw the last person he wanted to see.

        “What the hell are you doing here?!” Tommy shouted at the ghost of his brother.

        “Tommy!” Ghostbur float to him. “I have good news!”

        “Shut up!” The boy screamed. “Where the hell were you?! Where have you been?! (Y/N)’s gone and you didn’t come to her funeral or—or! Even pay respects to her! How could you do that to her memory?!”

        Ghostbur moved sheepishly, uncomfortable with the shouting. “Well…I…the good news.”

        “I don’t care.” Tommy scoffed going into his home. “I don’t want…”

        Tommy stopped as another transparent figure, wearing a large brown coat, turned around to look at him. The figure’s eyes lit up as they rushed in front of Tommy.

        “Tommy! I remember you! You remember me, right? I’m (Y/N)!” She smiled, as she stood in front of him.

        Tommy was paralyzed before tears poured down.

        “Oh dear, are you alright?” She asked coming closer.

        “Oh, here, have some blue!” Ghostbur smiled now, holding out the blue to his brother.

        Tommy didn’t grab it though and instead rushed forward, hugging the woman. He felt like he just fell into a freezing ocean but he didn’t care. She was here in some way…and he’d make everything right. 

         He’d make sure Dream brought her back too and he’d make everything right.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Making Amends

Summary: Five years, you thought he was gone for good. After the War, he disappeared. Now, after months of zero contact, he shows up at your bridal salon. A somewhat bitter Reader and a post-FATWS Bucky

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Word count: 2381

Warnings: Mentions of past violence and killings, adult language

I sigh, securing the train of the dress so it doesn’t drag against the floor. The dress is stunning, as they all are. This one—pouffy, ivory, grand—has a bateau neckline and falls to the floor in a long, glittering train.

The glitter gets everywhere.

I bend down, trying to wipe some of it off my pants leg, then work on my blazer. Every day, only black clothes. It’s tradition, but a stupid one — the glitter stands out on my clothes more than it does on the white dresses.

“Miss, someone’s here to see you.”

I grit my teeth, digging my hands into the fabric of the dress. The receptionist is young — barely out of her teens, really — and still quite new at her job. She, like others, disappeared on that awful day five and a half years ago.

The day I lost everything.

And she’s here today because of my friends’ sacrifices.

I try to remind myself to be patient. “We’re appointment only, Lydia. Tell her to call, make an appointment, and come back then.”

“R-right,” she stammers, and I can hear the bottoms of her heels scraping against the floor as she shifts her weight. “It’s just—well, he said it’s really important, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

That gives me pause. He?

As a product manager at a bridal salon, my day is mostly spent in the company of women. Brides, their mothers, bridal parties, wedding planners, etc. There’s the occasional fiancé, father, brother, friend come to support, or a groom shopping for a dress, but overall, men tend to stand out.

“Fine, send him in,” I allow. It’s obvious he’s not listening to Lydia, but I know I’m more intimidating than she is. I’ll tell him to schedule an appointment. “And then do me a favor — there’s a list of designers on my desk upstairs. Can you give their offices a call and update the contact info for each brand representative?”

She sounds relieved. “Sure, no problem.”

As the sound of her heels meeting the ground fade away, I breathe in the sweet, floral-scented air. We’re under-booked today. There are only a few brides occupying our east fitting rooms, so I’ve decided to spend my afternoon in the west, making everything look perfect for the weekend ahead. Having this section alone — just me, the soft piano music playing over the speakers, and the dresses — is almost peaceful.

It would be peaceful if I were anyone else.

I continue to straighten the dresses. Everything needs to be perfectly spaced, meticulously tucked and folded to make each dress impressive in its own way. There’s no room for imperfection, here.

The sound of heavy boots clicking on the floor rings through the empty room. “Hey, Doll.”

My body runs cold.

That voice. I know it well.

My mind flashes to late nights, stealing smiles and kisses, tight hugs, adoring eyes.

And then falling to the ground in grief. Changing outfits to attend my second funeral of the day. His. And, after years of grieving, healing, and suffering through, one chance to fix it all. The joy of having him back. Locking eyes on the battlefield.

And then nothing.

Nothing.

All my air leaves me in one, quick, sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turn, both dreading the sight and longing for it.

And just like that, standing between two rows of eggshell and pearl and ivory, he’s here.

Dark denim jeans, a deep blue shirt—long sleeve, knowing him—a grey button-up open on his chest, and two thick gloves, despite the summer heat.

I cross my arms.

He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, crossing one foot over the other casually. “So, bridal, huh?”

I feel my jaw clench. “I’ve got to make a living, don’t I? Evidently you do, too.” I can’t stop the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

He sighs that long-suffering sigh, one that tells me he’s more resigned than upset. “I wanted to come back.”

I turn my attention back to the dresses, walking down the row of gleaming white. “No one was stopping you.”

He turns to face me as I continue my inspection of each and every gown. “It’s not that simple. I—I was working hard. I had to get freed from him.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to feel something. But of course, I do. Ever since I’ve known Bucky, he’s been wrecked by the things he’s done and terrified he’ll be called to do them again.

Terrified that he’ll lose his mind once again to the assassin.

When I saw him on TV, in a random news report from months ago, I’d broken down into sobs. I’d fallen to my knees and said prayer after prayer of thanks. Because the clouds had faded from his eyes. The fear, the ever-present dread, was gone. He stood taller, more assured —

Happier.

I knew then, that somehow, he’d gotten the Winter Soldier out.

I bend down, fluffing layers of crinoline in a ballgown. “You’ve been in the news.”

He hears the accusation in my voice. You’ve been back for months.

He approaches me slowly, coming to stand in front of me as I straighten. “I had a job to do.”

“What, the new Captain America doesn’t allow cell phones?”

He ignores the jab. “Doll, I had to wait to make sure, to be sure, but I’m safe, now. I’m not him anymore.”

“Bucky, I always felt safe with you,” I whisper, the emotion nearly winning. “I loved you more than anything. And despite what you said — that you loved me, too — you just left. Five years I waited for you. I didn’t think there was any way I would ever see you again, and then by some miracle, after so much loss, you came back! We fought in a war together. We killed. And we won. And then you disappeared. It’s been six months! I-I mean, I hate to think the worst, Bucky, but I really thought—” I cut off my words then, unable to continue without dissolving into tears.

His jaw tightens in that heartbreaking way it does when he’s sad, and he reaches forward. When I don’t protest to his gloved hand on mine, he pulls me into a hug. I want to melt into him. I want to collapse under nearly six years of unresolved grief, stress, worry, and let him hold me up, let him bear this burden for just a few minutes.

But that’s not the way I’m made.

I’ve entrusted my heart to him too many times.

And every time, I’m left alone and broken.

I push myself out of his arms, wiping my tears away quickly. Once again, the dresses act as my anchor, my distraction. I gather one in my arms, crossing the aisle to re-hang it in its proper place.

Bucky watches from a distance.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he looks at me sadly for a while before his eyes turn to the ground.

Silence falls between us. The only noises are the coos of elated brides and their adoring guests coming from the east side of the building.

After a while, Bucky raises his head towards me. “Does working here make you want it?”

I sigh. He can’t do that. Can’t come in here after so much time away with zero contact and then casually ask me stupid questions. “Want what?”

“You know,” he shrugs, leaning against the receptionist’s desk. “It. A wedding, a marriage, a…life.”

I purse my lips, shaking my head. I reach to adjust a hanger slightly out of my arm span, trying my hardest not to sound sad. “I’m not the kind of girl you marry, Buck. Not anymore.”

He scoffs, making a face. “What does that even mean?”

I turn on him, more than done with this conversation. “Exactly that! I see it every day — brides come in here, all starry-eyed, happy, innocent. They’ve got love, or at least the excitement of planning their ‘big day,’ and they just glow with all the life in them. I don’t have that, not anymore. I—” I lower my voice, gritting my teeth against the emotion that attempts to fight through. “I’ve killed people, Bucky. For a long period of time, that’s all I did. And, look, I’m really, really happy for you being able to heal and move on and be freed, but I can’t do that. I can’t come back from who I turned out to be.”

“That’s bullshit. You did what you had to do.” He pushes himself off the receptionist’s desk, adamant. “Every life you took was to stop the slaughter of others. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I can.”

We stare each other down.

He’s always had a good stare.

Steady, intimidating, unwavering. It’s like he can see into the depths of your soul and know he can outlast you.

But I work with furious mothers of the brides.

I raise an eyebrow, showing him I will not back down from this challenge.

He blinks and moves his gaze past my right shoulder. Something shifts in his eyes. “You’ve got a client.”

I force my expression to soften, maneuvering around Bucky to grab the clipboard from the receptionist’s desk. I give him a look that clearly says do not move, and hurry to the front door to welcome the bride and her guests in. Amidst the flurry of excited chatters, gushing about wedding plans, and a clear description of what she does not want, I check them in on the clipboard and take them to the east wing to meet a consultant. When I return, Bucky is exactly where I left him.

He smirks at me. “What the hell was that? Your voice rose like three octaves.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s called customer service.”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk in a way I should not find ridiculously attractive. “Well, why don’t I get any of that?”

I grit my teeth. “Because they are going to buy a dress, which will pay my salary, which will make me happy. You on the other hand, have caused me nothing but anger, sadness, and worry.” I blink, absently shocked that all that truth escaped despite my best efforts.

Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes—regret, maybe—but he covers it well, tilting his head to the side and keeping his playful tone. “Really? Nothing but that? Gosh, I must have been a terrible boyfriend.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip, staring down at my clipboard. It’s been six months. You may as well continue with the honesty. You don’t know the next time you’ll have a change to talk to him like this. “Buck…” I approach him slowly, buying myself time. Too soon, I come to stand in front of him. “You were a great boyfriend. I…” I sigh, shaking my head. “I thought you were it. I didn’t want anyone else. And we were happy, overall. You know—up until you disappeared without so much as a text and ignored me for six months.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek. He leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. “We were good together. I loved you, more than anything, I—well Doll, I still love you. And look, I know I’ve messed up. In more ways than seems is humanly possible, but I,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m as clean as I’m ever gonna get. I shouldn’t have disappeared without warning. I should’ve called when I left Wakanda. I should’ve let you hear from me rather than seeing me on the news. I should’ve come back and done the work to rebuild what I broke. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I feel the clipboard digging into my stomach. I don’t move. I stare at him, terrified of the way his words, the honesty in his eyes, makes me react. Too easily, my walls are coming down. “What did you come here for?”

“I—just,” he digs his hands into his pockets, sighing lowly. “I’m back in town. And I’m here to stay for a while. If you’d allow it, I’d like to try to make amends.”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t set yourself up for more pain.

In the face of my silence, he nods slowly, taking on a look of sad understanding.

“I work till seven.” The words rush from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can think of the consequences. I grip the clipboard even tighter.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, the start of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my heart racing at the prospect of being with him again, of maybe fixing things. “I live in the same apartment.”

He grins fully now, but at my stern look, attempts to wipe it off his face. I’m still mad at him, he shouldn’t get too comfortable yet.

But the light doesn’t leave his eyes and, despite my fear that this will all turn out terribly for me, I feel my own lips threatening to turn up.

He pushes himself off the desk, standing closer to me than I think either of us intended. “Can I take you out?”

I release a long breath, not moving from my spot despite our proximity. “Yes.”

He nods slowly, not pulling his gaze from mine. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a trial period,” I correct, unable to keep myself from teasing him a little.

He tilts his head to the side, laughing indulgently. “Alright, I deserve that. Then, sure, I’ll pick you up at eight for our trial period.”

He smirks cockily at me, winking in that way he knows makes my knees weak, before turning and swaggering to the door.

Despite our play, he’s not getting off this easy. There’s a lot we have to work through, and we might not even be compatible anymore — he knows that, too.

But for just this moment, I allow myself to enjoy feeling comfortable with him, joking like we used to. When his gloved hand reaches for the doorknob, I call after him, keeping my tone light. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Barnes.”

He turns his head to mine, nodding solemnly in a way I didn’t expect. “I know, Doll.”

A/n Whoops, couldn’t get this one out of my head after seeing Bucky in FATWS, so here’s some angst, bitterness, and hopefully a little hope! 

|masterlist|

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Rebel Leaders Of Earth & Cybertron: Rose Quartz x Megatron

--------------------------- 

Credit for Transformers goes to Hasbro

Credit for Transformers Animated goes to Sam Register, Matt Youngberg & Derrick J. Wyatt

Credit for Steven Universe Series goes to Rebecca Sugar

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

I don’t know if many realized this, but The Crystal Gems & Decepticons might not be all that different.

 plus the fight for energon is so not what started the war on cybertron.

most of the Autobots were perhaps stuck up Aristocrats who were so clueless to the feelings of those Cybertronians who were forced to either fight for their entertainments or whatever other job.

another thing that could make Cybertronians the same as how Gems use to be....

is that they would colonize organic worlds and cyber-form them into Cybertronian Colonies.

we know that in Transformers Animated, the Decepticons were kicked off of Cybertron....and we know that some of the Autobots are Xenophobic when it comes to organic life.

I can’t help but think that Lugnut might of been right about the whole Autobots....even if he is a Simp for Megatron...

he could be right about the Autobots....

even if the Autobots do end up saving and protecting organic life,

it don’t mean they were Angels before the whole Autobots Vs Decepticons.

if you think about it, the Autobots are Homeworld Gems

and the Decepticons are Crystal Gems.

the difference is that the Decepticons lost their way on what they were fighting for in the first place, and the Autobots play the victims....

Rose first wanted to scare Gems off Earth, but then when she saw Garnet’s Fusion, she wanted to make Earth a Home for Gems who could be themselves and don’t have to follow Homeworld’s Caste System.

No Cybertronian should be forced to follow the Caste System...

even if the said Caste System was possibly already corrupted before Megatron formed the Decepticons.

both Autobots and Decepticons, have Good and Bad Bots on both sides....

the Autobots might view all Decepticons as Evil, but some fans might disagree with that.

it be interesting if there was a Crossover of SU and TFA,

and the Decepticons end up living in Beach City,

maybe like after escaping Cybertron.

their ship ends up in the Steven Universe Dimension in the Past,

somewhere when Greg and Rose meet, but after Greg leaves he doesn’t come back until a few  years later (around the month and year Steven would be born)

at some point before Greg comes back....

Rose and Megatron meet, fall in love and Megatron decides to create a sparkling protoform that would be his and Rose’s.

Rose would take a fragment of her conscious manifestation of light and place it in the protoform’s spark with the New Pink Diamond she created.

but then Megatron’s Rival Greg comes back, then when Greg went to see Rose and even had his guitar to play her that same song he played for her when he left Marty and went back to Beach City for her....

he could of started to sing the song, but then he sees a strange metal liquid body and when he touches it (just like how Isaac Sumdac touched a Sparkling Protoform and transformed into Sari.)

it shocks him and causes him to be knocked out cold,

when he wakes up he find Rose holding a Baby that would be named Steven.....

this would mean that Steven would have three parents,

Greg, Rose/Pink Diamond and Megatron.

this of course would be Fanon and a type of Crossover AU.

Steven being Half-Gem, Half-Human and Half-Cybertronian does seem interesting....but it’s okay that not everyone thinks that.

the Crystal Gems could of been left in the dark about how Steven was really born....

and they really end up believing that Rose gave up her physical form to give birth to Steven....which is true in the canon of course, she does still end up actually giving up her physical form in the canon.

Rose never told Greg that she is Pink Diamond, and the only ones who knew about that secret was Pearl and Megatron.

Rose could of still fell in love with Greg, but she also loved Megatron too.

picture Steven singing that song “You Both Love Me, And I Love Both Of You” to Pearl, Greg and Megatron.....because all three of them loved Rose romantically.

Steven would still address Megatron as “Dad” but in the Cybertronian word for Dad, while he called Greg just Dad.

at some point the two dimensions start to merge and Beach City ends up really close to Detroit, even if Beach City would of been in a different part of the country instead of magically in Detroit....

but Crossovers don’t always have to follow the logical rules of physics.

so yeah, Beach City becomes a part of Detroit from TFA and is moves to the same place as Detroit is.

this could all happen when Steven leaves Beach City,

but while he is driving there is a flash and he is suddenly in the middle of a traffic in Detroit.

while years past for Megatron and the Decepticons in SU Dimension,

only a few weeks past in the TFA Dimension.

also it would make sense that Rose made both Megatron and Greg promise to NEVER tell Steven or the Gems the truth that she was still alive and was away in hiding.

but when she returns, everyone who didn’t know she was still alive might become very upset with her.

like Pearl, The Diamonds, Garnet, Steven, Spinel and others who didn’t know she was still alive.

we know that Pearl, Amethyst and Garnet ended up having mix feelings about Steven’s Big Sisters that were also created by Rose....

so they could still end up with mix feelings when Rose returns.

Pearl might end up becoming the most upset that Rose never shared this secret with her, and only told Greg and Megatron to keep how Steven was truly made a secret....

that he was originally a newborn protoform that was given a newly created pink diamond made by Rose, that had a fragment of Rose’s light in the gem.

but then Greg came back, found the liquid body of the protoform and touched it, got knocked out cold and end up waking up as a co-parent to a baby boy.         

Pearl, Amethyst and Garnet could of been away on a long mission and had no clue about what happen.

not everyone has to like this crossover idea, or this ship drawing that has Rose and Megatron.

in the Crossover of Steven Universe & TFA,

a X-Ray of Steven would show his skeleton something like a cybertronian human skeleton.

the Little Home School would have both Gems and Decepticons.

this Crossover idea would be Fanon only, that is how some Fan AU are.

I’m going to check out some stuff on here first, before I go back to watching Transformers Prime.

  so see ya later and stay safe everyone, and hope some of you like this Crossover ship between Rose and Megatron.