#and that sucks i think. i want to be supportive of the people who are wronged but i also want to tell the racists to go suck an egg

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

near the start of the essay ooooough this hits hard

(edit) a few more things i wanted to pull out:

(alt text in image description)

basically, supporting trans people means supporting trans men and that means you have to shift your paradigm to fit men into feminism. there's not an alternative

Is there a term for that phenomenon that happens when people tell transmen/transmascs not to go on testosterone/not to try to look more masculine because it'll make them ugly/fat/hairy/bald/whatever negative thing?

I know it's not transmisandry, but does it have a name or is it just general transphobia?

I mean surely that's not NOT transphobia? but I'm also not, like, in charge of how transmasculine people talk about stuff so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - Jschlatt

Part 2

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Part 1

Part 3

Schlatt remembers the day he met you like it was yesterday. He started at a middle school away from most of the friends he had in elementary school. This meant that he didn’t have any friends, but he did his best to not let it affect him. One day at lunch time, he sat by himself as he had for the past two weeks. Then out of nowhere, this kid came and sat by him. “Hi I’m (Y/N), you’re Jonathon right?” You had asked.

He just nods. He had seen you in class before. He was really curious as to why you were sitting by him while everyone else had left him alone.

“Cool. Nice shirt,” you tell him. He looks down at the Mario Kart shirt his mom had bought him from Target.

“Thanks,” he said. “Do you play?”

“Yeah, I play on the Wii and my DSi. I play as Peach. Not because she’s a girl, but because she’s cool. Also my little brother has taken over Yoshi.”

From that moment, you and Schlatt became best friends. You were even the one who came up with the nickname, Schlatt. His nicknames for you changed over the years but it ultimately landed on Bub/Bubba and Toots. The latter started as a joke but it stuck.

Schlatt has been with you for every phase of your teenage life: the one direction phase that he thinks never went away, your “emo” phase, your trying to fit in phase, and your party college phase. While many people found you to be completely ridiculous and sometimes over the top, Schlatt stuck by your side. He knew they didn’t get to see the real you. The one who likes playing video games and watching shitty musicals.

You were also with him through everything. You were there when he started making videos and you became his first subscriber. Neither of you imagined that he would blow up the way he did. When he started streaming on Twitch, the both of you knew something big was about to happen especially after SMPlive. He always talked to you first to flesh out ideas on the Dream SMP during his presidential reign.

Schlatt was always appreciative of how supportive you were with everything he did. He loved having someone who wasn’t attached to anything online. Someone who didn’t care how much money he made or how famous he got. Maybe that’s why he started developing feelings for you.

It wasn't always a thing. Perhaps the feelings were always there, but he hadn’t really noticed them until a few years ago. Back in High School, when you complained about being single, he had wondered why no one wanted to be with you. You were real, funny, and attractive. But he always made sure to assure you that everyone you went to school with sucked and were all fucking stupid anyways.

The feelings really started making themself evident when he moved to Austin. He had surrounded himself with just content creators and was working all the time. When he was extra stressed, Schlatt would call you on Discord. No matter what you were doing, you stopped everything to simply talk and play games with him.

“Don’t you have midterms?” he would ask while you created a house on Minecraft.

“Yeah, but they can wait. I feel confident that I’ll pass them. If I don’t, I’ll just sell pictures of my feet until I can afford to start again,” you tell him.

He smiles to himself. Something about how normal you are makes his heart skip a beat. You could have brought up the money he makes but no you resorted to talking about selling pictures of your feet. “Your feet are ugly. Don’t think they would make you much profit.”

Conversations like these made him realize that he had to leave the hell hole of Austin and move back to New York. Back to you. Now he felt happy again getting to spend as much time with you as possible.

His crush was so embarrassing that all his online friends know about you. They also make a point to bring it up when he’s not filming. “How’s your partner, Schlatt?” Astro asks, before they start filing for Sleep Deprived.

“They aren’t my partner,” Schlatt says.

“Not yet,” Mika adds.

Schlatt sighs. He knows you’ll never feel the same way about him that he feels for you. He’s not the Jonathan you want. He’s not Jonathan Groff or Jonathan Bailey. He’s just Schlatt, your best friend, nothing else.

Schlatt decides to ignore his feelings and just play Stardew Valley. While playing, he sees that you sent him a snap. It’s just a picture of you holding a Rammie plushie with the caption, “my new best friend because mine is busy working like a loser.”

He smiles like a loser at his phone and takes a screenshot. It takes everything in him to not tell you how cute you are. Instead he sends a photo of his forehead with a simple, “fuck you”.

Schlatt’s attention goes back to the screen. “Who the fuck stole my Persian Rugs?” he asks, when his character wakes up.

After a few hours of recording, he decides to call you on Discord. You answer quickly. “Sup Fucker?” You say over the call. “You done working?”

“Yeah I just finished filming for Sleep Deprived. What are you up to?” Schlatt asks, happy to hear your voice.

“Currently playing Balatro then I’m going to work on crocheting a blanket. I’m also watching New Girl.”

He admired how talented you were. Always working on something new. He loved how creative you were in everything you did. “What watch of New Girl is this now?”

“I think 6, maybe 7. I’ve lost count. With every watch, you can tell how obvious that Jess and Nick are end game. Nick is so in love and Jess is oblivious. It’s hilarious. How could anyone be that stupid?” You laugh.

Schlatt lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah it’s crazy.”

“If I were to fancast Chuckle Sandwich for New Girl. Tucker is Winston because duh, Charlie is Coach since he was there at the beginning and shows up every now and then, Ted is Schidmt, and you’re Nick.”

“Oh is that so? Who’s Jess then?”

“Obviously I’m not a part of the crew, but probably me since she’s my spirit animal,” you tell him.

“That’s interesting,” he says, wondering if you noticed what you said. It’s obvious you didn’t make a connection.

“Oh did you see that Grace is engaged and Molly is pregnant?” You change the subject, not even meaning to.

“No I didn’t. I don’t follow anyone from high school anymore and I couldn’t care less.”

“That’s fair, but how do these bitches find their soulmate and make babies? It’s so ugh!”

“They will probably get a divorce in three years and I doubt the guys they are with are much better than them,” he says. He wishes you wouldn’t worry about people that don’t matter to either of you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Did I tell you about my new friend, Paige from work?”

“No I don’t think you did. What about her?” He is confused why you are bringing up some random girl. He really hopes she’s not a new crush of yours. He couldn’t handle you crushing on a person you know.

“I think you should get to know her. I think the two of you would really hit it off. She played softball and she is just overall cool. I can give you her number.”

It’s worse than he thought. You weren’t into her, you thought he would be. This was a recurring thing that Schlatt despised every time it happens. He doesn’t want to go on a date with some random girl. He wants you, but he can’t let you know that. “Maybe. I’m still not really wanting to date. I want to focus on my career and the new projects I’m working on,” Schlatt tells you. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the complete truth either. If he was going on a date with you, it’d be a different story.

“Oh okay. I told her you were a busy guy. She just sounded like someone you’d be into.”

He can tell he made you slightly upset and that’s his least favorite thing to do. “Thank you for thinking of me, Bub,” he tells you. “What are your plans tonight?”

“I’m not sure yet. Just crafting probably. Did you have something in mind?” You ask.

He didn’t have any plans, but he wanted to spend time with you. Being away from you, made him want to hang out with you as much as possible. Even if it was as simple as watching a movie or playing with the cats. He sometimes imagines the two of you living together. Getting to spend as much time as possible doing the most mundane things would make him so happy.

“I can order some sushi and we can do that coloring thing you told me about,” he says, hoping you’d be down to come over.

“Sure. When should I come by? Do I need to bring my pajamas?” You ask.

“Uh sure if you want to stay over. We both know you’ll be in leggings or shorts though, so you might not need them.”

“Good point. If anything I’ll steal some of your clothes,” you tell him, nonchalantly.

Schlatt feels a lump in his throat thinking of how big his clothes would be on you. You’d probably suffocate in them, but he’s sure you’d look damn cute. “Yeah, sure,” He stammers out. “I’m done working so come by whenever.”

“Alright see you soon.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Schlatt starts feeling giddy like a little girl waiting for your arrival. He starts picking up what he can. He checks himself out in the mirror, fluffing up his hair a bit. He applies a little bit of cologne. When he goes back to the living room, he sees Jambo judging him. “I’m a fucking disaster. Aren’t I?”

Jambo just meows in agreement. Schlatt sighs, he wonders how long he can unrequitely love you. He’s sure it’s going to kill him before he confesses. He knows that it will be best to just wallow in his self pity instead of fucking up your friendship.

A doorbell ringing interrupts him. He trips on his way to opening the door. When he opens it, he expects to see your pretty face, but that’s not who’s on the other side. “Surprise,” Ted says on the other side of the door.

Schlatt just stares at him in disbelief. He sees you walk behind them. “Am I interrupting something?” You ask.

“The infamous (Y/N), I’ve heard so much about you!”

Schlatt knew in that moment that he was royally fucked.

A/N: another late night post! But I can’t stop writing. I’m going to be so sad next week when I have to go back to work. Reader is general neutral, but I may add some fem! stuff. Also the ending just popped in my brain last minute! Hope you all enjoy!! Thanks for reading!!

[twopoppies]

Gina, I want to tell you I have been reading your blog for a couple years now. I’ve never sent an ask to anyone. I first came into the fandom when I watched Harrychella and I thought hmm this man isn’t just flagging he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Then I watched the Cosmic Leeds videos and I fell down a rabbit hole. I am not someone who believes “conspiracy theories”. I am however old enough to know closeting has been proven to exist in the entertainment industry. I’m also from a rural area of the U.S. where homophobia is the norm, so unfortunately I had no trouble believing closeting still exists. I went into full information gathering mode about Larry Stylinson, but it was more than that too. I fell in love with 1D and all the boys’ solo work, especially Louis. I loved his voice, his songwriting, and his ‘real’ personality (when he allowed it to shine through all the media training). I read through every tumblr I could, you and Daisie provided a wealth of information that can not be ignored. I feel certain that Larry was real and I hope they are still together. I’m not one of those people who never doubted. It would be hard not to second guess things in this fandom with all the gaslighting that goes on. I write all of this to say that I’ve never felt so sad and like there is no hope for change as I do right now. It feels like Louis’ fandom is falling apart. There is so much division, hate, and intolerance of any idea that doesn’t conform to someone’s own. Louis pr strategy honestly baffles me. A divided fandom is so tiring. It seems less like pr and more like intentional sabatoge, which I guess it could be. I just don’t see any way out for him or Harry. I think Harry’s extended break is partly because of this too. I think he was overworked and emotionally drained for many reasons, but closeting most of all is exhausting. If I’m feeling this way as a fan I can’t imagine how they must be feeling. It breaks my heart. Sometimes I hope I am crazy and Larry was never real because the story is just too sad. Don’t even get me started on bbg because it is the shittiest situation ever. I think I need to take a step back from the fandom for a bit. But this brings me to my point. I’m pretty resilient, I can not be the only person feeling this way. It makes me so worried for Louis’ career and for both Louis and Harry’s mental health. I guess I don’t really have an ask. I just wanted to say thank you for all the information you have provided over the years. And, I needed to get this off my chest. If I posted this on twitter I would be roasted and I’m not strong enough for that right now. I meant it when I said I fell in love with their music, so I will continue to support all the boys. I’m hoping there is a master plan that will eventually set them free. But, I just keep coming back to the line

‘Said I had a plan for us Time had came and changed it all We had to disappear 'Cause nothing gets through here’

I will add one more thing. I believe there are more Larries than people think, but we are tired of the gaslighting and the hate, so many of us step back or hide. This is why the industry wins most of the time. 😥

Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm sorry it feels so overwhelming right now. I do think taking a step back is probably really healthy for most of us. I've actually never seen the fandom in such shambles.

I don't know what Louis' plan is in terms of his fandom or his future plans. But I have dozens and dozens of sad, confused, and angry messages in my inbox, and that fucking sucks. I really don't see a way forward at the moment. I will say, though, that some of the upset stems from some people's tendency to lean into worst-case scenarios and amplify their own worries by jumping to conclusions. Then there are the shit-stirrers who try to make things worse by sending in fake receipts or theories. It's hard to stay grounded when there's insanity whirling around you.

As for Harry and Louis, I do tend to believe they're still together. I don't think their relationship has been as easy as many of us would like to believe – I don't think it could be, given their ages when they met and the conditions they've had to live with. I do think they're soulmates... soulmates don't always end up together, but I tend to think these two will make it. I certainly hope they do.

Our fandom never does well when the boys aren't active. I think if you want to get your sanity back, now is as good a time as any.

[therandomtoad]

Nerd Headcanons because this post was only supposed to be about one but I went a little wild-

I headcannon Richie as Aroace(Asexual, Demi-romantic), so I like to imagine Grace befriending him due to his lack of interest, and then becoming borderline obsessed with him due to how completely abstinent he is, meanwhile he's just like, "Why are you even here? Go away"

I also headcannon that Ruth is the only reason Richie and Pete were even friends. The way I picture it is that Ruth and Pete had to do a math assignment together in middle school, and they weren't really working together, more like working around each other, and all the sudden Pete makes a dumb Star Wars reference and Ruth flips out. Like, she's so excited that she completely lights up and starts rambling to him about her headcannons and ships, and Pete just sits there kinda stunned until she brings up a headcannon that he actually thinks is interesting, So all the sudden the two are just having a conversation about the things that make the headcannon so good, and they get so invested in the conversation that they don't finish the assignment before the end of class, so Ruth invites Pete to sit with her a lunch the next day. So he goes to sit with her, and there's this blue haired weeb(idc if its not canon, Richie had a blue hair phase) who's arguing with her, when the weeb notices Pete and shoots him the nastiest, bitchiest look on the planet, and Pete's just like "i^i". And Ruth introduces Pete as her math buddy and starts talking about their Star Wars convo, and Richie goes on a rant about how Star Wars is stupid and Pete starts arguing his points, and is turns into an actual fight. And then later Ruth is talking to Pete later in class and Pete's like "Hey, Your friend sucks-" and Ruth is like "Yeah, he's such a bitch. Don't worry, I put pickle juice in his monster this morning" and Pete's just like "Wtf bro, what is your friendship-"

And the reason that Richie and Ruth are friends is because in elementary school, Ruth used to eat glue and Richie used to doodle girls in pretty dresses so he got picked on. So Ruth just kind of adopted him as her friend, and they just naturally developed a sibling like bond over time.

I also headcannon that Ruth's parents were also nerds, and they like nerdy shit things and are super supportive(Ruth and Esther would totally get along. They're Cousins or siblings, take your pick), But Richie has a weird dynamic with his family, where he's not really understood by them so he gets more territorial over his interests, and Ruth understands that so she lets him ramble about whatever he wants, even if he's kind of being a dick about it. I also Headcannon that Richie was actually on the swim team for a while(I grabbed that headcannona from someone else), and was way more chill being able to connect with others, but Max saw Kyle talking to Richie after swim practice before a football game, and he started spreading rumors that Richie was gay, and eventually he dropped out due to harassment.

Pete and Riche would've gotten along way better while Richie was on the swim team, and they probably considered themselves actual friends, but as Richie lost his feeling of belonging on the Swim team, their relationship would've deteriorated again, but Pete would've realized that he's just abd angst fucking bitch and hated him less for it.

Ruth totally looked into swimming the minute Richie said he was into it, and she totally helped him practice outside of school. She was the one cheering the loudest for him at meets, and she'd yell at him like a coach when they practiced together.

Ruth probably has people telling her to shut up all the time, so she's a fiesty little shit when it comes to clapbacks. She can think of them fast and on point, and likes to make a game out of it. Unfortunately, you cant do that on stage, so she feels helpless to defend herself and thats why she has such bad stage fright. She's probably a really, really good actor, too. I imagine her being able to break down sobbing like her baby was hit by a car, only to smile and bow Meer seconds later. She's probably fucking wonderful.

[not-poignant]

Stupid question, but I remembered seeing you mention having monthly minimum wordcounts on one of your previous posts and I wanted to ask if you're a professional writer? Because at first I was like "that sounds so stressful"* and then I realized that it makes a lot more sense if you're doing it for a living.

*Also acknowledging that people are different from each other and what is stressful for one person might be productive and useful for another.

I am a professional writer!

My original serials are my job, basically, and they're supported by generous folks at Patreon and Ream. That, in turn, allows me to do this in a more professional and focused way, vs. say just as a hobbyist who doesn't update for 9 months at a time. It also lets me share my works for free, in a fandom friendly manner, which lets me keep doing something I love in a way I love to do it, but in a way which is like...I guess more reliable than you'd necessarily be if you were only doing it for fun.

I can instead pledge high fidelity/loyalty to my main serials through thick and thin (hence my wild author's notes), which means folks following WIPs get to know they'll be finished, and I get to enjoy doing this for a living! It's hard, but it's a good hard. Except for taxes.

As for my monthly minimum, that actually started as a way to break out of the very ableist 'you should write every day' (as a professional writer) which is literally impossible for me and my chronic illnesses. I sometimes have big chunks of time where I can't write, sometimes weeks! And where it would be unhealthy for me to make myself.

(More about my writing process beneath the Read More!)

Alongside that, I have quite severe dyscalculia (think dyslexia but with numbers and directions and left and right lol) so I can't keep a 'running wordcount' because the numbers confuse me too much. Luckily, because my writing life is defined by chapters completed (and not novels), I count the wordcount of every finished chapter only. Unfinished chapters don't count! My growing wordcount per month grows only when that draft is finished (my drafts are clean, so chapters only tend to grow or shrink by about 100-150 words per edit, so give or take it all evens out).

It's not how any other author I know does it, but it works so well for me that I've been doing it for nearly a decade now.

I started the monthly minimum (which currently is 25k words per month) because I tend towards being a workaholic, and so my therapist and I established a minimum not as an unreachable goal that's hard to meet, but as an easy goal that's generally effortless for me to reach in good months, and average months, and even many bad ones. After I hit 25k words per month, if I crash, feel burnt out, feel awful, or life gets Life-y in a bad way, I have permission to stop writing. I can just stop. Everything else is gravy. (Though secretly I always want to hit 30-35k but shhh).

When I hit 50k words, I also have to stop immediately and take a mandatory 3-5 day break from writing even if I want to keep writing. Because I don't know it yet, but I'm probably exhausted on at least some level, lol.

I didn't hit 50k at all last year and there is at least one therapist who would be really proud of me about that even though I feel kind of guilty about it, lol.

Here's an example of my tracking:

You can see the chapters I've written, which dates I've written them. They're colour coded, so I can see at a glance if I'm writing enough of a story or not. And then on the far right is an addition of every month's wordcount.

April was so low because I took an intentional writing holiday (which I'll be doing again ideally in March this year). December was so low because December sucks.

And then I erase it all at the end of the year and start again. The blank whiteboard is actually very motivating to write that first chapter because I always feel like I haven't done anything until then.

This whiteboard is two feet away from where I write quite literally, and is never moved etc. so I have a yearly tracker basically that's extremely visible (super helpful to my ADHD brain, because if I put this in a spreadsheet I'll stop updating it after 3 weeks and then forget it exists). The colour coding gives me dopamine, so does adding chapters.

Also acknowledging that people are different from each other and what is stressful for one person might be productive and useful for another.

This is true! This is actually the least stressful way of doing things for me.

That being said, anon, it's still super stressful. Being a serial writer is one of the most stressful things you do, because you have constant and never-ending deadlines for years. Novelists can kind of escape this, in a way, because they can't release novels as often as I release chapters. But I have to be mentally switched on at least 8 times a month, re: putting work out there, making sure it's at least semi-polished, making sure I let everyone know, and tracking responses because obviously, unlike a novel, if you lose interest you can't just "skip ahead" you simply lose your readers. A lot of novelists couldn't live or work this way, a) because they couldn't write a hooky serial and b) because many realise that having to update all the time is really exhausting actually. There's a kind of social labour to updating a serial, and getting it Right every single time. One of my greatest fears that I have nightmares about

Serial writing is the most stressful kind of writing I've ever done (and I've done a few different kinds), I just happen to like the adrenaline rush of this kind of writing, and I happen to work well under a controlled level of stress! I know that, because I've been doing this for over 10 years, refining it, figuring out how to make it healthier (it was really unhealthy at first), getting better at it, figuring out my weak points (some of them are still weak points) etc. I actually think I'm pretty good at it now!

I'm also getting better at not thinking my entire career is over if I take 2 weeks off.

I went from being entirely dependent on a Disability Pension, and like, sometimes having to skip meals and doctor's appointments and even medication due to money issues (the Disability Pension is ironically not enough if you have mental health issues because our subsidised healthcare doesn't cover mental health adequately and Australia has no food stamps system), to being able to live a bit more freely and support my chronic health stuff a bit more because of writing this way!

For the first time ever through these stories I was able to afford a psychiatrist, and a few other things I really desperately have needed since I was a teenager. So being able to write like this, even when it's really hard and I'm really tired, feels still like a miracle to me. I've never been well or healthy enough to work a full-time job with typical 9-5 hours, and always kind of was stuck imagining a life where I'm just...never knowing how to afford certain things, to being in a position where I'm fairly confident I can get my meds every month, or pay for my dog's pet food, etc. It's really nice.

But yeah honestly serial writing is the most stressful form of serial writing there is as soon as you lock it in as a professional job where you must meet nearly 10 deadlines every month and you happen to have pretty intense ADHD so deadlines make you scream a little.

Sometimes what is extremely stressful and sometimes even distressing for someone is also extremely productive and rewarding for them too. We probably wouldn't have a lot of emergency surgeons if that were the bar for how we decide what we do!

[ultraadespair]

do you think recovery is a real achievable thing or ppl r just lying to themselves and still feeling shitty because im a certified hater and i feel like people are just lying to themselves at least all ed recovery influencers on Instagram . this doesn't make sense my bad

I know what kind of feeling and person your describing I have the displeasure of knowing one in real life, she sucks.

Well (sorry if it’s uncanny to bring up) I’ve been anorexic for over twenty years now. It’s over two life times, I can give you the statistics like if you recover 6 months to a year into your disorder you are more likely to have a real full recovery, or that 60% never recover because treatment is expensive, hospitals are too intensive you can’t drop your life to fix it when you have a job and kids. But I can also tell you that you are young honey. Your body is malleable and your mind is flexible and unfortunately you have the biggest support group when you are a kid than any other time in your life. I like to think so, I like to think that there’s no after anorexia because that’s true but there is through. There’s a way to make it smaller, and you’ll have bad days but, they won’t be as bad. Like grief. The average life span of a recovered anorexic is 45-50 years. And you can make those years as precious as you can, by growing your life around the disoder. The little red storm on Jupiter never will stop turning, it fits dozens of earths inside it but by contrast it’s pretty small. I’ve asked people who have “recovered” how it happened, they said that one day they just knew and started eating again. I think it’s not that simple, I think you need to tend to your garden more than just eating, there’s a lot of life in 50 years even if you have a little red storm. It’s hard work but it’s worth it, as the Ana proverb says “the time will pass anyway”, be it tending to your garden or drowning in the storm, the time will pass regardless.

I do think recovery is possible, the way grief ends, not the way the media says it. You’re not going to wake up perfect and why would you want to? You have a quality life to live even if it is with adversity (which is the best fertilizer for a garden by the way) and mourning the life before knowing is natural but your never going back. Why would you? The person who made that choice knows far less than the person you are now, and with that knowledge you can go forth and view the world. You’re kind of like a younger cousin to me. You’re young, it’s the prefect time to tend to your garden. Being an adult is even harder, do it while you’re young. You won’t ever regret the choice of choosing yourself.

[heretyc]

Yandere franco hcs? Maybe?? Pretty please?

Also happy new years!! :3 hope urs is going good

BLESS YOU. I'M ALREADY SALIVATING. And you as well! It's going lit so far C: colds suck but I'm not letting my body tear my year down already rofl. There's mentions of NSFW [and some fucked up shit] so these are under the cut.

So right off the bat, I think Franco's a yandere already. By default he's an obsessive man who will shoot people who dare go near you. His voice lines with Gooseberry? UGHHHH. Literal proof. [I underlined the best ones.]

HE'LL RIP A MAN'S LUNGS OUT FOR YOU. DEDICATION. Let's also not forget he calls you "mommy" and implies that he wants to "crawl inside of you" [be close to you].

Barbi rarely has any trials to begin with, so if you enter one with him in it, he WILL follow you around as much as he can.

If you're in his trial on the docks and you wake him up, he'll get pissy until he realizes it's you that pressed the button. Instead of threatening you about a...cookie jar, he'll happily shoot the two men and claim "he's on his way, sweetness".

He won't use Lupara on you unless it's to scare you. He wants to make it known that he's your biggest threat and your saviour at the same time.

If you don't notice him [or give him any thought], he gets pissed off. SO pissed off, that he shoots an ex-pop. Or all of them. After all, if there's none left in the trial...you'll have to notice him, right?

He'll lay things around for you to use; he wants you to rely on him to live. You're his oxygen and his blood, he wants to be the same for you.

Barbi's lost a lot of things in his life; his mother, Angelina, his father, his life in Louisiana and Cuba, his fortunes...he's not letting you out of his grasp. Not if he can help it. And because Murkoff is supportive of his delusions, they'll help him achieve his goal of having you all to himself.

Pleasure the Prosecutor is a totally different trial; he'll happily look up at you as he's masturbating and say he was thinking of you. Making yourself known in these trials is pretty much inevitable, and once he knows you're there with him, he'll be on your tail in no time.

Moans of pain make him hard; he'll want to both help you and jack off onto your wounds. He loves your holes and your exit wounds.

He's so dedicated, that he's even carved your initials into the barrel of his Lupara. You can't say he isn't lovesick...

He'll definitely disarm any traps that put you in harm's way; either that, or he'll alter them to trap you without harming you.

Placing drugs into the mules becomes incredibly awkward after he locates you; he'll lovingly put his hand over yours as he directs the saw into the man's chest, "Down the road...that's it," he'd coo, staring at you with an expression that could be described as "crazed adoration. You'll be coated in blood by the time you're both finished, and he'll go mad, "After my own heart, are you, rabbit?"

Just, um...don't mention Coyle around him. Prime assets are important to therapies, and Murkoff can't afford to lose the corrupt officer to a few gun wounds.

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 2 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Y/N L/N

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, voilence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 2: Marriages Need Sacrifices.

Education has been an adventurous endeavor for you. Most people disagree that books can give you a great travel experience, but books have been ninety percent of your education. You are great on the field of war, don't get you wrong, but you've always gotten a secret thrill in books. Learning about alternate universes, and their alternate lives. Following different spells, symbols, lores. Most importantly, you can apply it all in real life.

No knowledge goes to waste, your father would say. It's one of the rare places where you can find positivity, wallowing in knowledge. For you, it's akin to meditation.

While on the ship, you have been a few of the first to wake up for the morning training from the very first day, the crack of dawn every day. It would be from five to eight before all of your people were shooed into the lowest deck of the Bloody Princess. It was less training than what you wanted, but at least it was something. An energetic start to your days, you believed. After which, you would spend your hours cleaning the lower levels. Rarely would you be found sitting with your soldiers who all had been given three hours of recreational time in the day.

This routine took your mind off of the politics you hadn't stopped playing since the wedding; you would still have more meetings and strategy sessions, map-reading time, and so on, but at least it wasn't all you were thinking of.

As the vampires grumpily sludged through half-assed explanations, in the few days since the crash course had begun, you had learned to stitch leaves together as sails. Different uses of wood for different parts were taught to you; here, at least you were handy with a knife when it came to shaping up the pieces for a good and sturdy structure of the ship. And ropes - oh, there were so many things to do with ropes.

You realized quickly enough that to these monsters, efficiency mattered the most - you could understand that, even come to respect it. To them, the outward appearances mattered not, nor did hygiene. While you agreed to compromise on the first one, you still tried to maintain basic sanitation for yourself and your crew.

You had also found something that you absolutely sucked at.

It was climbing.

For the love of you, you had never been able to climb trees, let alone these long structures on this large daunting ship that stood so tall that they seemed to be caressing the sky. They didn't even have a lot of handholds or footholds that you could support yourself with. They had a long rope that danced with the wind, and you would have to hold it as you pulled yourself up.

You may be the best markswoman the world has seen from this generation, but your upper body strength was a joke for a climb this challenging. Which is exactly why you spent most of your free time on the ship scaling the longest and thickest pole of the ship.

Some nights when your mind was exhausted from the long talks with your team of the select five that you had, you would sneak out to the upper deck after bedtime and squeeze in a few more rounds with the toughest mast of the ship.

Since you were falling often, you had arranged for yourself the assistance of a vampire who was so passive that it would be a miracle to get a full sentence from him. He was named Scully, a fat immortal who was as powerful as ten men. He started catching you when you fell from tall heights.

Even with that precaution, your medic, Selina got so frustrated with your harmful rendevous that she started tagging along with you to heal your hurts - but mostly to try and talk you out of it.

'If the Captain spots you, it'll be our end!'

'You've always given people far too much credit, Ms Doll,' you whispered back, trudging up the last few steps to the higher level where the mast protruded. It was the second-highest level on the ship, only second to another upper deck where the wheel of the ship stood. There was a watch tower atop this mast that you wished to see the sea from one of these days.

The view would be the most breathtaking, you had to gather.

Scully was already waiting at the bottom, he grunted when you greeted him. Selina skirted around him, still as afraid of vampires as the first day she'd seen them.

You gripped the rope in your stinging palms - your rope burns were the worst injuries from this activity besides all the blows that had been delivered to your back when you'd fallen.

Scully placed himself near you, and the proximity tensed you, but you wouldn't be as overt as Selina about it. You placed your foot horizontally on the wood, pulling yourself up. Your muscles smarted as you took one step after another, walking vertically upwards to your goal. You made sure that your steps weren't too far apart, lest they throw off your balance.

Your highest mark yet had been eight feet.

In this round, you barely touched halfway when your right shoe lost its grip. Your hands tried to cling to the rope, but your skin was irritable against the rope's hold. You were free-falling next. You had the sense to curl up and turn mid-air to your side so that it wouldn't hurt as much.

Scully's hold never came, and there was a short scream that tore from Selina. You hummed your pain behind pressed lips as the wood groaned under your weight.

You were used to this by now.

'Why didn't you catch her?!' Selina rushed to your side, but you were brushing her concerns away.

'He doesn't dignify breaking my fall unless it's from really high, Ms Doll. You know that.'

Scully shrugged in response. You'd come to understand his mind enough to know that if you fell too soon, he would think that you deserved to get hurt. You'd come to terms with it.

'Still—'

'Please. I want to try again.'

Fuming, for she knew your decision was impossible to change, she drew herself to the side.

Your rise and fall continued for a while.

By the ninth time, something new happened: your hands started bleeding. And you fell from seven feet. Scully caught you. 

'Fuck,' you muttered, your body jolting when it hit his arms.

Scully sneered at your hands, and you scrambled to get out of his hold. He was further pushed away from you by your doctor who forgot her fear of vampires for a terse minute. Selina took your hands in hers. She wore a bumbag around her waist. Small vials of medicines and gauze were in it.

'I told you!' the scold left her. 'What were you thinking—stupid, stubborn, reckless—unbelievable . . .' and so went her mumbles under her breath as she hurried to patch you up. The skin around the wound was angry and red. The antiseptic burned against the already prickling area. The cut wasn't too deep, but stinging enough that it would slow you down in a fight.

You had only glanced at your hands for a second after which your eyes had gone over Selina's shoulder to stare down Scully whose face was the most expressive you had ever seen - he looked starved, as if it had been centuries since his last meal. To your right was Selina, so you tensed your left foot in case you needed to kick down Scully.

'Why ain't I surprised that you're a rule-breaker?' came the drawl of the vampire you had come to dislike the most on the ship.

He was the only vampire on the ship who could think—you disliked that in your potential enemies. The rest of his crew was pure brawl. While he hadn't done anything personally to you, you hated his guts for the same reason he didn't trust yours—the history of generations: the Supernatural Wars.

He threw a pair of gloves your way that you grew wary of.

'Those might help,' he said. He patted Scully on the shoulder who had a vein working in his forhead, barely stopping himself from pouncing on you. Having the permission of his Captain, he scurried of, probably to the food supply.

'Captain!' said a flustered Selina. 'We're, uh—didn't mean to insult your rules. We just, um—'

'You should be more careful, it's been a while since we tasted fresh blood.' His eyes were fixed hungrily on your palms that were quickly being wrapped in the gauze. He'd ignored (or hadn't heard) Selina.

You noticed Selina stifling a panicky expression, trying to focus on her job. You shook her off when she'd weakly knotted the bandages, pushing her subtly behind you as you bent down gingerly to pick up the weathered leather, keeping eye contact with Benny so you didn't appear to him as exposed.

'What do you want?'

'Consider it a gift,' he said, sincere.

You choked back a mirthless laugh. 'You're not serious?'

'You don't have the monopoly on truce offerings,' he said.

Your last truce had been met with the dust of his cabin floor. He must've noted the challenge in your eyes for he amended his words.

'Let it be a belated birthday present. Or whatever. I come with good conscience.'

You conisdered his "gift", a lance of suspicion trilling down your spine.

Yet it would make a good addition to your survial, help you reach the top of the mast as you've been craving. The gloves were fingerless, the leather was brand-new and they would slide smoothly over your palms, adjustible by strap belts near the wrists.

You couldn't take a long time to make a decision; you donned the gift and tightened it; nodding a thanks in the Captain's direction.

'You ain't heard of the witch, Rowena?' Benjamin posted.

You assessed him for his suddenness but you kept up the gossip. 'The Scottish-bred witch. Heard her son, Crowley's been lusting after the throne of Hell.'

'It keeps getting empty,' Benny said. 'Do you know why?'

The Harvelle legacy had the reputation of being the family that had killed most of Hell's Kings. None of the Harvelle ancestors held a candle to the latest Leader though, the Firstborn of South America, wife to a Celeste Middleton who went by the name of Charlie Bradbury for personal reasons.

Somehow you doubted Benny's intention was to praise a Human Leader.

'I have a feeling you will tell me,' you said.

'Rowena, tired of all the fighting, cursed the factions that ousted her. Said the humans had the decency to see grey areas, they were the only ones who treated her nice—she lent them a boon that an era will come where all the Leaders—'

'—will finish the world of all their enemies,' breathed out Selina, her eyes slightly wide with fear and curiosity. 'They're just myths. Rumours. There's no prophecy as such.'

'Then why do you think Rowena won't let her son ascend?' he countered.

You chose to believe your teammate over the vampire. 'Is there a point to this fable, Captain? I would think a rational mons—man,' you caught yourself, 'would know better.'

'I do know better. Just thought I'd let you know why I'm in your corner,' he said, raising his hands meaningfully. 'Even if I'm only a monster.'

Your eyes flared when he called you out. But you focused on what he meant: that he would help your faction asever he could.

The prophecy was the tale of woe of the witch that was currently the most powerful one in the world. Ages old, when she'd been starting out in dark magic, people and factions had kicked her about, inflicting various cruelties on her. Only some humans helped her. Rowena swore vengeance. When she grew into her witchiness, she formulated a prophecy that was never written down, only heard, and in the chinese whispers of these repeated lines, it was highly unclear what had been said. The gist was: twelve Leaders of a time would be successful in ending the other factions - it would be the era of the wars ending. But it would come at a great cost, at the cost of . . . well, that part had never been clear.

Before you could scoff to Benny's ridiculous gesture, you were interuppted by the call of your name. Climbing up the steps, huffing and puffing was your publicist. In tow—you frowned with annoyance—was her wife, Aurora - a hunter who enlisted for your little army to be with her only living family, Layla.

'It doesn't boost the morale of your entourage if you break rules!' she began with a scold. It was her belief that breaking rules would provoke vampires, and cause a fight.

Your annoyance deepend. 'If you'll please excuse us, Captain.'

Benny walked away, more out of respect, you felt - for all vampires had heightened senses, it was moot to wish to not be overheard on a ship infested with that kind. Unless, of course, you found some soundproof hideouts.

'Mrs Stun,' you addressed Lay with a forced smile, 'it's too hard to please you.'

'Not if you try,' Aurora muttered.

Lay was lightly tanned, but Aurora had a bit of a darker complextion. Lay was closer to your age than her wife was, and in the eyes of Aurora, you were still largely a child to be given the reins of an entire continent.

Aurora had been a loyal soldier of your father's. Her only motif to have joined your (far less important, according to her) ranks was to be closer to her wife. Short-distance relationships barely functioned in this dog-eat-dog world, long-distance fell out of question for most couples. Hell, you could probably count the number of couples on one hand's fingers that functioned on long-distance here. Soulmates were a far more common concept than that.

Love for her wife didn't stop Aurora from hating your methods though. Or your age, or attitude, or face . . . everyone gets the picture.

Lay warned her wife with a glance. 'Forgive her, Lady Y/N. The sea makes her crabby.'

'No mind paid. Mrs Stun,' you said, turning to Aurora, a bit stiffly. 'Would you be a dear and escort Ms Doll back down? I feel she's had quite the nightly adventure, don't you? Your lovely wife and I will probably just be talking shop.'

Aurora pursed her lips. She hated you, but she couldn't defy your direct orders. You waited till they trailed out of earshot.

'Is there any reason why you are out of safety, Mrs Stun?' you asked.

She threw a glance around, and took you to the edge of the ship, on the starboard side. She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'They declined our invitation,' Lay was indignant.

Your brow hooked upwards before a smile of understanding and mischief spread. 'Leaders, Winchester?'

'You don't have to be so happy about it,' she said, glaring lightly.

'I can try,' you said, although you made no effort at all to hide your grin.

She sighed. 'I know you like to do things your way, and you don't like being marketed as marriage material, but ties with the older Winchester might seal you a permanent spot.'

'Shut up.'

She frowned, 'That's no tone to take with your—'

'No, I mean it, Mrs Stun, shut up.'

Even from this distance, you could hear it. Your eyes grazed the sky, but it was a no moon night, just the black beauty that was littered with endless untouchable angelic stars. Your eyes scanned the horizons next; on the port side, it was just a smidge from here, but it was growing in size. Mrs Stun followed your orbs to the black outline. And she heard it then too—the howls. Strong, blood-stirring, snarling and snapping howls. You gripped her arm, gentle but firm.

'Alert the troops. Prepare the battalions and wear your armours. Bar the civilians somewhere safe. Do not engage until I tell you to - I'll see if the vampires can scare them off.'

Lay rushed before you, almost sprinting across the deck and disappearing below. You ran up to the other side, up the topmost deck, where you'd seen Benny retreat, at the ship's wheel. He was flanked by two soldiers who were chattering nervously.

'Captain—'

'I see them,' he said grimly, cutting you off. 'Purebloods. Rare to come by, but rarer would be the ships that live to tell the tale.'

'Any way we can outrun them?'

'They are the elite. Better ships, more knots. They'll catch up eventually.'

If you couldn't have flight . . . 'So we fight.'

His lips curled into a sneer. 'We?'

Your eyes flashed in anger. 'They are elite purebloods, do you think they'll leave you when they hear that you've been sheltering humans? Elite hates accomplices as much as their criminals.'

'We did it for the blood supply,' he explained. 'No skin off our neck.'

A thrill of horror crossed your features, but it was masked by anger. 'Mark my words, Captain - even if one of us survives, which we will - they'll take down the whole bloody ship. Some of you may die by the werewolves - all of you will die at our hands.' You squared yourself, eyes glittering with malice, 'Besides, if you really want to be on the "winning side" from the prophecy, earn it.' You turned about on your heel, hearing him curse under his breath; you throw over your shoulder, 'Tear pieces of your cloth and tie them around your right wrist - that way my kind would know not to kill you!'

Flying down the stairs, you took a sharp turn, through the door. The soldiers had filtered out into the corridor waiting for further instructions. Boa, your burly and taciturn personal bodyguard handed you an azure napkin, the color of Europe. You tied it around your right wrist, armoring up with Boa's aide.

'All right, Hunters,' you said. 'Werewolves. Purebloods. Silver. It is our job to make sure none of them reach the Commons.' (It was the slang your lot used for civilians.) You inserted the silver magazine in your gun that Boa had carried up. He also handed you a bow and a thick set of arrows, all headed with silver. Lastly, you were given two long silver daggers that you tucked against your ankles by tying them with a thin wire.

'Try to not be cornered against the ship walls,' the chief of your army, Baz, said. Baz had always been a people's person.

Boa was the one with a long scar running down from his shoulder to the tips of his left hand's fingers. It was how you usually distinguished between the twin brothers.

'Werewolves can swim, so throwing them overboard will only buy you time,' Baz revised.

'Pass around three vials of silver to the close-combaters - poison for last resort,' you said, gazing at the back of the crowd that was near the back door. The last woman there nodded and headed back down for the poison.

'Do we have a number?' grunted Boa.

You shook your head. 'But the vampires seemed scared.'

'Great,' Baz muttered, meaning it. The man thrived on danger. It was one of the reasons why you chose him.

'They're good for nothing,' the surlier twin said. 'Kill them, too.'

You gave him a look. 'Not unless they aren't on our side,' you tapped your cloth. 'Check for their loyalties. Furthermore, I would advise an element of surprise but—'

'Those dogs have probably already sniffed us out,' Boa completed. 'Do we have access to the cannons?'

'You have permission to collaborate with them on it, and take over if unhelpful,' you said.

Baz ordered a handful of soldiers to do that, they left into an adjacent room where the servant quarters were.

'Remember the aim isn't to win,' you affirmed, 'it's to get away. Do everything in your power to survive.'

Thirty vampires, many scores of werewolves, and about a hundred humans. Yet Mathematics failed you - it must be taking revenge for not being your favorite subject in school. Purebloods would not have been how you first introduced the new members of your army to the world, surely not one who seemed to have two centuries' worth of ancestry to back up their bestial habits.

The wolves were ripping into the skin of any human they could sink their teeth into, gobbling them up because they thought that converted werewolves were a disgrace. And from the carcasses, they took bones to play - as if it was some reward for "cooking" their own food. It disgusted you how much saliva they had brought to the ship's floor in just under half an hour.

One of your guns was already lodged in a werewolf that was now being stamped under furious and sparring footsteps. It was after you took a good six and a half down with its bullets.

You were shooting arrows from your vantage at the werewolves trying to get on the deck with the mast where you are, with nine other sharpshooters weeding out the tougher werewolves from a distance.

At least the vampires had worn the indicative cloths around their hairy wristbones.

Benny was dropping heads right and left, in the centre of the war on the level below you. Scully was ripping off heads with his bare teeth, a fearsome sight.

You notched three arrows to kill three on the other end of the ship, it was aimed a little higher to account for the wind. The bowstring went taut, and you released them, not waiting to see if they hit - knowing already that they had, if not killing, at least maiming - saving an eighteen-year-old on your team.

Your bleeding palms may hinder your close-combat, but they wouldn't fail you in your shooting.

You were taking one such aim when the floor under your feet slipped out with a large blast. You jumped to grab the railing as the wood under your feet crumbled and caved into the lower level.

Fucking cannons.

You strained to pull yourself over the railing and to drop on the other side of it - right on top of a werewolf that was trying to scramble away from the falling floor. You didn't have time (or courage) to see how many soldiers had been lost to that blast. You plunged the arrow in your hand through the brain of the monster, landing on your feet as it fell dead on its knees, between your legs.

You had to unsheath your daggers since you'd fallen where the close-combat was taking place. You aimed for their kneecaps, dodging their claws and teeth, even if your hair and shoulders did get snagged a fair number of times.

You soon realized that the werewolves weren't subsiding - no matter how many you killed. Your eyes found a plank and several ropes had been brought as connectors between the ships. Any vampire who tried to thwart that bridge was instantly overpowered by a group who stood guard on this ship, welcoming more of their members that never seemed to end.

You knew that if it weren't for the humans, the vampires would've easily lost by now.

'Boa!' you yelled. You signaled for the bridge, asking for cover.

He came to your side to swiftly slash the werewolves who came at you. You firmed your feet in your place, shooting at the five guards at that distance. As you killed the first two, and severely injured a third - the remaining two dodged out of the way. When they noticed you, they ran for you.

You ducked under a sparring couple of a vampire and a werewolf, sidestepped a dead human, and then used your momentum to strike your dagger through the left arm of the fourth guard, and into his heart. The last one tackled you to the ground, its jaws snapping way too close to your face.

The stench made you cringe, there were bits of skin in his bloody teeth. You locked your arms to keep his torso away from yours, struggling to keep him away with your weaker upper body even if the monster on you was only of a medium build.

Boa saved your ass. He swung his weapon in a powerful swing, and it was all you could do to shut your eyes and mouth tightly as the blood poured over you. You kicked the body off you, taking your bodyguard's hand to stand upright before he had to leave you to combat another wolf that threw itself in your direction.

You proceeded to the bridge to finish your job. You slaughtered the wounded guard. You kicked the bridge away, causing the four wolves on it to flail, and make a wide grasp for the ship. Two fell into the ocean, one caught the ledge, the other hanging onto the first one's pants.

The wind knocked out of you when a wolf threw itself on your back and your ribs must've bruised under the force with which you slammed into the ship's edge. Your remaining dagger followed the two wolves into the water, disappearing between the churning of the two ships. You bent forward on reflex when its breath came too close to your neck, his chest was to your back.

The heel of your shoes pinned through the right foot of the werewolf who yowled. Your elbow hit his chest, then his nose. It was thrown off of you. You extracted your first dagger from the werewolf guard you'd previously killed, in which time the one attacking you now, advanced on you again. You lodged your weapon in its ample belly that spurted blood. You coerced the knife up to his heart.

A new hand grappled for your shoulder, and you were pulled against the ledge again with a grunt. This time, your kidneys took the hit. The teeth of the wolf that had managed to halfway pull itself up the ledge was next to your ear. You whipped out an arrow and slammed it down into his hand. You bent down to pick your bloody dagger from the werewolf corpse and whipped around to plung it into his heart; following that you pulled the arrow holding him to the ship back out again.

The two hanging werewolves fell. The live one let loose a loud whine.

'Dogs,' you rolled your eyes.

Cannons had been blasting at regular intervals from both sides. The aims from their vessel was abysmal, and your team of humans had had a better chance of hurting their ship more, so there would be no chase when you got rid of these monsters.

But they did have a few good hits.

This particular one, which was just blasted, hurtled across the night sky with the faintest of whizzes and crashed into the tallest mast that you'd been trying to climb earlier.

Your eyes widened, and a gasp left the wolf who had you in a deadlock. You used its distraction to your advantage. You head slammed the bitch, and left her strong arms that had been choking you. You took two arrows out and speared both of her thighs. This didn't happen without a jarring blow to your stomach from her punch that brought blood to your mouth. But her shriek hid your groan.

You didn't have time to catch your breath. You had to jump out of the way of the mast that was careening your way, ready to bury you at the sea. Your legs were saved by inches when the thing toppled over the side of the ship. The bitch you'd maimed at the thighs wasn't as lucky and was made into a pancake.

Almost everyone aboard was lucky that it didn't fall on the inside of the ship where most of the battle was (you were sure that had been the intention of the werewolves when they had aimed for the mast) - it damaged a bit of your ship, yet it mostly, and most joyously, fell towards the other ship; the lovely irony: their ship was naturally lowered in height, making the mast tip in that direction, and in your favor.

Their ship buckled with a satisfying crunch of wood. The mast now forming the new bridge between the two ships. You hoped your soldiers would blast it soon so the werewolves stop coming over.

Before you could slide over the round wood, and back into the main fight, a large dog headbutted you. You fell on your butt, close to where the railing had been before it got destroyed, thanks to the fallen mast. Your left elbow absorbed most of the impact, the sea spraying your face when you came close to dropping off the edge.

Your attention was more fixated, however, on the actual wolf.

It was true that pureblood werewolves could access their powers anytime, but to turn into an actual wolf was a rare gift.

It pounced; you rolled away and onto your feet.

The mast had created a separate slice of battle. Only two other pairs were fighting here except you: Mrs Stun versus a werewolf, and a skinny vamp who was clawing out his werewolf's heart.

The vampire, noticing the wolf, sneered in hatred.

The wolf was distracted from you for a second. The vampire launched itself at the animal who cleverly sidestepped and caught the vampire's waist betwixt its maws.

Your mouth actually fell ajar when the wolf bit the vampire so hard that its body snapped into two. Color you surprised, this was something extremely hard to do. You knew wolves like these were powerful - it didn't induce you with confidence upon witnessing just how much.

It didn't bother to eat the vampire, gagging in disgust - they mostly had a taste for humans, and vampires who were technically dead humans, might've tasted like decaying food to it.

Its yellow lamplike slitted eyes turned to Aurora, the hunter wife of the Stun family; before it turned to you. With your left elbow injured after that fall, your hand hadn't stopped quivering; you had one arrow aligned which weakly skittered away to the mast's side because the wolf dodged it without much effort.

It used that jump to keep speeding towards you. It couldn't sink its teeth in you as it had planned because you had swayed your weight onto your right leg as you swiveled, barely keeping your balance; its claws did scrape superficial wounds on your skin, across your left hip though.

You re-slung your bow, no point without your useless left hand; and went for your quiver. Your hand clasped around four arrows - all that you had left. You took one out, gripping it tight in your dominant hand.

You knew you couldn't battle this one for long - it would take too much energy. Attack wasn't an option either if that vamp was a good example. Yet defense took too long sometimes - you could be dancing around with this beast till God knows when.

You took a step in the opposite direction for every step it took towards you. The prowl of the animal seemed casual, almost lazed. Then, it did something that almost made you drop your weapon out of shock.

'You must be the head bitch,' he talked.

You scoffed with false bravado. 'Great. A talking fucking wolf - just when I thought you dogs couldn't find more ways to whine.'

Its lips twisted into a smile that was surreal on a wolf. It must be a Pureblood Alpha with a fucking gift of shapeshifting. Alphas can talk in their wolf form, you knew, but you'd never seen one. The rumors had been from so long ago that you thought that they were just that - whispers of the fucking wind.

'Mock all you want,' the deep mesmerizing voice purred. It both fascinated you and frightened you. 'I can hear that heart pounding away like a friggin' hummingbird's - it'll be so delicious with all those hormones.'

'Creep,' your nose scrunched, walking in circles still. As you often did, you changed topics. 'Tell me, how'd you even find us out, huh? It's not like we didn't do a damn good job of concealing ourselves.'

'You don't know who you are, do you? The final piece,' he spat, an almost grimacing smirk fixed on his face. 'Couldn't let you preside Europe and ruin the world, could we?'

Your brows furrowed. 'Did Captain Laffitte call you?' you asked the most pressing question, though you had many.

The answering snarl meant "no". 'That vampire is a traitor to our faction,' it growled, its claws digging into the strong wood threateningly. 'Transporting humans, what a crime! I'll kill him when I'm finished with you.'

'Boy, do I feel special,' you smiled sarcastically, stopping in your tracks. 'Though, you won't be able to keep your word—you won't live past me, dude.'

As expected, his ego was hurt - you can expect that from a person so gifted, who felt so invincible. A person who was egoistic enough to underestimate you, and give you time to think.

It pounced once more and you didn't duck down until it was inches away. You had walked enough so that the mast had been against your back; the werewolf's snout crashed into the wood.

You had turned on the balls of your soles at the last minute so that your back had been to his front. Your hand had shot up and the arrow nicked a long line along his chest and down to the crotch. When he fell due to gravity, the arrow snapped in half, and the lower half of its body took you down with it. Your quiver dug painfully into your back - it wasn't your biggest problem though - you were suffocating under its heavy abdomen.

You punched at its legs and joints (the weakest points) vigorously till it rolled off you, and trembling, stood to its feet.

He snapped its teeth at your face. Your hair missed his bite by inches. The twig in your hand which had been the lower half of your arrow, you shoved it into the monster's mouth - it stuck painfully between his teeth even if he snapped it like a toothpick.

It gave you time to put some distance and retrieve another arrow; one seemed to have slipped out of our quiver when you were getting up, so only two were left with you.

Even weakened due to heavy bleeding, the Alpha of this pack was quick to attack. It swiped at your legs; you came down with an elbow to its brain which seemed to hurt you more than him because it was your left one. You twirled on the ground with your uninjured hand and jabbed the arrow in its left eye.

It howled in pain. Maybe you imagined it, but it felt like the voices of the battle seemed to slow down at the sound - as if the wolves sensed something was wrong with their Alpha.

Your intuition proved right when, out of your periphery, you saw heads turning in your direction - for which some wolves got killed.

You stamped the arrow down further in its face, gritting in effort. Even then, the wolf wasn't dying.

You pulled the arrow from his eye to make it painful for him and then swung a foot over its prone form, straddling it's back; you were facing the rest of the ship this way, and it was almost as if your enemies were holding their breath for your next move. You pulled the wolf up by its ear, his fur matted with claret; it was with struggle, bringing him into a chokehold with your throbbing left hand, your arrow poised at its heart for everyone to rue their day about.

'Whine, won't you?' your British accent curled your words into a certain menacing sweetness. 'I'll allow it this once.' Your arrow pierced his heart, the crimson fluid spouting from his chest and flooding into your palm.

The wolves howled as if it were a military salute.

You slumped as all of them ran like rats from the ship, using the mast to cross over because you heard people from their ship shout orders about retreating. The humans slouched back, relieved; so did the vampires. (Boa tried to stab as many as he could with his silver sword as they were trying to flee.)

You dragged yourself away from the fallen mast. Without imminent danger, your body started screaming about all the pains it had endured, that it had kept quiet about till now. Like pangs, your brain was being sent impulses of all the places that hurt, and all the degrees that it hurt in.

Broken ribs, sore back, left hand and elbow throbbed, cuts on hip, bruised stomach, bloody mouth - and so many more little tales your body had to tell. You were also tired - you needed water and sleep.

You took a deep breath, compartmentalizing all your pain, and already prioritising the order you would take care of yourself in. This was a habit you picked after having been through many wars like this before - never so intense, but wars nevertheless.

You also glanced around to take stock of your people; making plans in your head for the next few hours. Selina and her small group of doctors would have their work cut out.

Speaking of, the civilians were meekly peeking out.

You used the broken railing behind your back to slowly pull yourself up but almost fell back down when you heard a scream of dismay.

'AURORA!'

Her yell seemed to set everyone in motion. With cries, people started rushing to their deceased family members or the wounded ones.

You blinked in surprise as Lay came running, pushing her fellow humans aside - and that's when you finally see it.

Mrs Stun was being dragged away by her leg by the werewolf she had been fighting. She was being viciously stamped on because of all the hurried footsteps and the mad struggle. The werewolf who carried her was weak, and you saw the symptoms of being poisoned on his skin - the werewolf was avenging its posioned self by dragging an unconscious Aurora away. (At least you hoped she was unconscious.)

A coil of guilt made itself known, and you mentally cursed yourself for not paying attention to her when she'd been so close to you. She had been on your side of the mast.

You leaped to your feet, using your last arrow to aim. Your hand shook violently; you gripped the round bodice of your bow that much tighter. With careful aim, and ignoring the cries of Lay Stun who was being held back by the twins now, you shot your very last shot.

Your heart fell as your arrow fell into the ocean - missing its mark by inches. Still, there was a surprised bark from the poisoned wolf, and you noted one of your soldiers - Rory, also an archer - hadn't failed unlike you. The poisoned wolf toppled off the mast.

With a distressed yell, Lay broke free of her binds, and climbed the mast, pushing the werewolves into the sea - whoever came in her way - not that they were paying her much mind either. They all just wanted to escape to their ship before it left without them, all of them were mindless now with their Alpha gone.

So, there, in the middle of the makeshift bridge, Lay kneeled next to her wife.

There was another horrible blast, and a cannon had shot through the centre of the mast - it had been one of your shooters, probably hoping to break the mast in two and let the deadweight fall into the massive waters.

Sure enough, with the distance between ships growing, the hole in the mast was splintering into something larger as well. At this rate, the Stun family would either fall into the ocean or sail away with the werewolves.

You jumped onto the mast, your heels clicking loudly. Boa and Baz came after you. You all were effectively standing above the ocean as the wood cracked quickly under your feet - an ocean filled with werewolves who were trying to either swim to their ship or simply stay afloat. Even if your side of the mast was steady, you found yourself worried for Lay.

'Lay!' you yelled over the terrible sound of wood breaking. 'Give me your hand!'

'We have to bring her, Y/N!' she sobbed, holding the face of her lover in her lap. 'She still has a pulse.'

Almost unwillingly, your eyes darted to the multiple bite marks on the leg that Aurora had been dragged with.

'She needs help!' Lay didn't seem to be getting it.

'Please come over,' you urged. 'We'll see about her!'

'What do you mean!?' she shrieked. 'I'm not going anywhere until you help her!'

Boa, uncomfortable, mumbled to you. 'Aurora's infected, Lead.'

Your lips pursed. You extended your intact arm, 'Lay, please. The mast won't hold long.'

Her eyes wildly scanned yours. 'Take her, then! I'll come after her!'

'Lay, your wife made a choice. For this continent,' you said. 'For these wars! Let her sacrifice not be in vain—'

'What do you know about sacrifices?!' she screeched. Your lips parted in surprise; you'd never been talked to like that, not by Layla. 'What do you know about love!? You either take her, or you leave me!'

You took a step forward, hands raised placatingly. 'Lay—'

With a terrifying lurch, the wood gave away. You didn't think when you jumped forward, letting Boa figure out how he was to keep you alive - your outstretched hand grasped Lay, more than half of your body hanging out. But you were anchored. Your thighs were pinned under someone's weight - and you had a feeling that it was Boa, who must also have been held by several people behind him.

It was a good thing too because you wouldn't have been able to stay aboard under the weight of both the Mrs Stuns; Lay was clutching Aurora by the wrist.

'We can't hold long!' came a yell from Baz. 'It'll fall soon.' True enough, the mast was dangerously teetering on the edge.

'Lay, reconsider!' you said. 'You'll lose your life! Do you think she'd want that?'

'Stop talking about her as if she's dead already!' she growled, much like the wolves had been. You could see her straining, hanging like that, her lover's hand slipping slowly because she wasn't strong enough, and another hand stretched painfully in yours. She was clinging to your azure cloth, her long manicured nails digging into your skin painfully.

You saw her do another thing you never had: Lay Stun was crying.

'Lay—!'

'You don't,' her breath hitched. 'You don't know what she wanted!'

The ship groaned, tilting with the mast. You reinforced your grip, aided with your smarting left hand.

'And you don't know what I want,' she sobbed.

'We can talk about this, back on the ship!'

'No!' she yelled. 'You don't get it . . . y-you don't get—!' She gasped when her slick hands slid further out of your leather gloves. The azure around your wrist grew an unsteady knot.

'I love the work, Y/N,' she said, determined. She met your eyes. 'Pardon me if I couldn't marry it.' It felt more like an accusation than an admission.

She wildly jerked her palm away, your azure cloth unhinging from your wrist and falling with both the Mrs Stuns.

You were pulled off the mast to safety (you couldn't put up much fight against Boa), the mast was pushed into the sea by a hoard of vampires who had survived - before the mast could take you all down into the treacherous waters.

You felt dazed, glued to the starboard side of the ship, watching as the monsters helped the mighty ocean drown your teammate and her family by eating them.

The war had shown it's true colours again; you couldn't help the anger as you watched the blood infested waters getting smaller and smaller in the distance. You had left your friend, quite literally, to the wolves.

Selina was slammed; her group of doctors and the civilians aided her. About sixty humans fell under urgent care, the rest were managable for a while, twenty were dead (inclusive of the ones Boa had to execute because they were bitten). All the vampires were on standby (only eight of them died) - because, well, they were self-healing - they would be seen after the humans were taken care of, if they would even need it then.

You were an orange case. Betwixt the code red and the look-after-yourself-because-you-know-that-much group.

So there you sat, doing a mediocore job of bandaging the wound on your side, and making a sling for your left hand that could be a good joke for the team of doctors some day who were giving you a distressed side-glance everytime they saw you now. To be fair, they were giving everyone in your orange group that look.

You didn't stare back, unable to care about your state right now. Your eyes were fixed on your thoughts where the scene that conspired tonight was playing on a loop. There was a lump in your throat which was as heavy as the mast must have been - the reality seemed as unreliable as climbing that fucking pole.

'Lady Y/N,' called the grave voice of your chief of army. Baz awkwardly stood to the side, his voice low for your ears only. 'Um, do you want to address the crowd? The grievers? Um, Lay would usually, uh—' he shuffled uncomfortably. 'I can do it, but it's better if it comes from someone of higher in the hierarchy.'

You ran a hand through your hair which was a guise to press your palm into your eyes so that it could absorb the tears that were welling up.

I love the work, Y/N, her voice bounded within the confines of your head.

You stood up with a deep breath that pulled you straight on your heels, fully composed - yet with an empathetic mask that the survivors will want.

'Of course,' you said. 'This job shall fall on my shoulders.'

Pardon me if I couldn't marry it, Lay had blamed. Yeah, well, fuck that.

She doesn't have to marry the work because you already have. And marraiges need sacrifices - Lay and Aurora would have to be the first morsel from your personal life to this burning pyre that is your planet. 

A/N: Talk about a toxic relationship, eh 🫤? Ah, anyways, who's ready to get their Dean on in Chapter 3 👀?

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28

[waitineedaname]

hiiii lily what is this ‘orv’ i have been seeing…..

HIIII MIKE. SMILES. orv is Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint! it's a webnovel with an ongoing webtoon adaption and it is making me Fucking Crazy. basically the premise there's this really unpopular really long webnovel called Three Ways to Survive an Apocalypse, and for years, Kim Dokja has been the only reader. when the novel finally ends, the author sends him an email with the txt file of the whole novel, and then suddenly the novel is wiped from the internet and in that instant, the events of the novel begin taking place in Kim Dokja's world. the apocalypse begins and humanity is subjected to cruel scenarios and challenges livestreamed for the entertainment of these powerful entities called constellations, and as the only one who read the story to its end, Kim Dokja is the only one fully equipped with knowledge of how this story goes (or at least, how it originally went)

it is SO good. it lures you in like "ooh this is a normal reverse isekai" and then ends up being CRAZY. it deals with questions about the boundary between characters and Real People and whether that distinction really matters, and it's one of those stories that looks the audience dead in the eye and dares you to look away first. literary devices are made Real (oh fourth wall we're really in it now...) and it plays with narrative voice and pov and unreliable narration in such fun ways. it is ultimately about the value of stories and the value of being a reader and the choice to wrestle with the story that's been written for you in favor of the story you really want to tell. it's also about Kim Dokja having something Deeply Wrong With Him skdlfjlksdjf the journey i went on with him was "okay he's a reader insert who reads novels as escapism, i get it" -> "oh actually he has something wrong with him" -> "oh he has something Wrong With Him" -> "WHAT. WHAT THE FUCK. HELLO. WHAT WAS THAT." I'm obsessed with him.

I read the webtoon first which I think is a pretty effective onboarding point! some of the art had my jaw on the FLOOR it's so cool. the webtoon has adapted roughly the first third of the whole novel so far, and if you want to read the novel just dm me and I'll hit you up with the epub file lol (not just mike but anyone who is interested!)

[edwinisms]

I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.

they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.

[officialsollux]

Donation post

I have some severe health issues and have been homeless or in emergency housing unable to afford rent or food for months (and in similar situations for years). I am in quite severe pain and traumatised by some horrible things that have happened to me, and I am just at a complete breaking point that I cannot push off anymore. I have reached out to every possible public resource & have a case manager, but these issues have completely trapped me in ways I can no longer compartmentalise off. I would love it if anyone could share this link for a donation post or dm for my main where I have revolut / venmo. Obviously I get people aren't always in a position to help but having people show support and share would be very meaningful ❤️

[sublux]

i'm so mad i don't have private insurance through an employer so i could get any kind of therapy or medication or anything. tags are a rambling rant

[fortunatehazelnut]

I do sympathize with this guy but oh my god it is SOO telling that the 3 groups of people he listed were cis men, cis women, and trans men...

[jinxofthedesert]

I recently got out of a toxic and unhealthy friendship on here. I had to be the one to end it; hopefully the other party decides to leave it be and not smear my name due to realizing it wasn't healthy and that I had to end it because of it.

Basically, if someone makes you start feeling like shit, from your life, to your goals, passion, and everything else, then it's not a rewarding friendship. And it's hard to sometimes see it in the moment. Because you want to think the best of peeps, especially ones you care about.

But sometimes the healthiest thing for You is to know when to put your foot down and end it, even if it hurts you and them. At the end of the day, you matter and what you're doing matters and no one has the right to make you feel shit for who you are when you're just living your life. Life is hard enough without adding peeps who make you feel that way or question how you live when, prior to them showing up, you were happy with all of it.

To anyone in a relationship or friendship like that, I hope, like me, you are able to take a stand and realize you deserve better.

I knew I was being manipulated but not how much until I talked to others close to me. I pray you all never have to experience such a thing because damn, you know you did the right thing, but feel so fucking guilty at the same time.

But your happiness matters. You matter. Please remember that.

[hoshizoralone]

How did you first get into Nier? And who is your favorite character(s) in each game?

was over at a friend’s house early summer in 2016 and they asked “do you want to play a game about a hot single dad” and that’s how it all started.

my favs are dad nier, yonah, weiss, a2, and 6o :) here is a bad picture of my dad nier shrine on my bookshelf

[lonelypersonhere]

i wanna give a shout out to all the queer people and lgbtq people and anyone who as ever been outed.

it can feel really lonely, especially during pride month, but you aren’t alone. there are people out there who support you and are just like you.

you aren’t alone <2