#dead give away is when they argue that the Allies were just as bad

[philsmeatylegss]

POV: I talk to another person online who also likes to study the third reich

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[beecreeper]

22, 91, 93! for all three >:3

Oooh this was a long one. I already answered 91 in a previous ask, but here's the other two under the cut.

22.) What is your Tav's first impression of the other companions (Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Wyll ...)

Briar's reactions:

Shadowheart -- "I'm so glad that she's sensible and isn't taking the whole "leaving her to die on the nautiloid" thing personally. She also doesn't do annoying things like "talk to me" or "ask about my past". Respectable."

Astarion -- thinks his charming schtick is a bit annoying and that he's a bit too much of a dandy, but DOES get a kick out of him threatening her with a knife straight out the gate. REALLY gets a kick out him trying to bite her, ESPECIALLY when he goes all puppy dog eyes "please" about it. She's like "oh he's kinda pathetic. I kinda wanna treat him like a pet."

Gale -- Haaaaaaates Gale immediately. Thinks he is the most annoying, pretentious, obnoxious man on the planet and the only reason he isn't dead is because other people were around and she didn't want to lose allies yet.

Lae'zel -- glad to have someone competent and ruthless around. Thinks that her bossing around Zorru is REALLY funny. But also finds her constantly preaching about the githyanki really grating.

Wyll -- tbh Briar feels kinda nothing about Wyll at first. She doesn't actively *dislike* how gallant and do-goody he is quite yet because it's like "fine do what you want as long as you don't get in *my* way", which he hasn't yet. Is a bit exacerbated when Mizora shows up because at that point it's like "we have to deal with ANOTHER devil are you serious. This is a pain".

Karlach -- her immediate reaction to Karlach was "oh this will be useful". Vibes with the part of Karlach that is boisterous and impulsive.

Molli's reactions:

Shadowheart -- WHY is she being so rude all the time.

Astarion -- is very caught off guard by him and falls for all his manipulation stuff really easily. Unfortunately for her she IS down bad right away and starts making excuses for him. Him being smug and arrogant and morally dubious but also doing things like flirting with her makes her head kinda spin.

Gale -- autism to autism connectivity. Doesn't vibe with him as strongly as some of the other companions but they definitely understand each other.

Lae'zel -- bossy competent scary lady I will not argue with her on anything yes ma'am anything you say ma'am

Wyll -- likes Wyll immediately. Loves his charm and his fairy tale hero demeanor and his stories and his wit and how he's also just a bit of a dork. When it comes to Mizora and the Karlach thing she can see that he's clearly been tricked and trapped and she feels kinda protective of him because of that. Like, you know that feeling like "I know that I struggle with this same problem and don't address it when it's happening to me, but as soon as it's happening to a friend I suddenly have the determination of a thousand suns"? It's that.

Karlach -- had a crush on Karlach pretty much immediately. LOVES how enthusiastic she is for everything. Look how much she loves life! Look at her smile and laugh and dance!!

Ferox's reactions:

Shadowheart -- "Hm. I don't like how cagey you're being about that artifact but I'm not gonna push it. Not my business but I AM watching you."

Astarion -- oh does not like Astarion pretty much at all. Thinks he's shifty and untrustworthy and disingenuous and also just annoying. Can you stop complaining for TWO seconds, Astarion.

Gale -- "you keep saying a lot of words that I don't know but you seem to know what you're doing with magic so I trust you." Low-key likes when Gale talks at him even though a lot of it goes over his head. I also imagine, out of all the companions, Gale is the one most likely to ask for help in camp and lean into the teamwork part of things, so Gale is good for giving Ferox tasks to do, like asking for help setting up his tent or cutting things for dinner, and Ferox is grateful for something to do. He likes to feel productive and useful and Gale facilitates that.

Lae'zel -- he immediately defers to Lae'zel as being in charge because she acts like it and also seems to know the most about mindflayers. He sees her as efficient and capable, if maybe a touch too abrasive but who is he to judge if it's getting the job done.

Wyll -- admires Wyll a lot and is very jealous of how he can just *be* like that. Like wow that guy is actually a noble hero

Karlach -- feels a lot of sympathy for Karlach's situation and is low-key jealous of just how upbeat she is in spite of it.

93. What do you think happens to the party, afterwards? Do they go for drinks? Do they go their separate ways?

Obviously it all depends on which ending they get so I'll try to summarize without getting too convoluted lol

Briar is easy because in both of her endings she doesn't talk to any of these people ever again. Either she uses them at thralls in her takeover or she just makes an active effort to never be found. She would have one last conversation with Sunflower before leaving for the wilderness forever. In that version, I'm sure Sunflower would be making deliberate efforts to keep the party in touch with each other, but Briar absolutely opts out.

In Molli's good ending, she, Karlach, and Wyll (because you KNOW Wyll is coming with us) all have to leave for Avernus really abruptly which interrupts any celebratory drinks they absolutely would have had if given the chance. They definitely all reconnect after they get back, though it takes a bit of doing to track everyone down. Everyone gets their good ending in this timeline though, so it all works out in the end.

In Molli's bad ending, I'm a little less solid about where all the companions will wind up, which will definitely change the post-brain vibe. In general, I think a lot of the companions will get the endings that take them all their separate ways. Molli would really want to try to kinda stay in touch, but Astarion would try to discourage it and keep her isolated.

In Ferox's good ending he's probably going with Lae'zel to fight Vlaakith BUT I would want to insist that they don't fly off on a dragon immediately like happens in game. They need a fucking breather, you know? And he wants to check in with all their other allies after the battle as well, check on the city and help with any immediate relief efforts. Then they can go to the astral plane and would probably lose touch with the rest of the party. I'd imagine communication between planes would be difficult and they'd only manage it pretty rarely, but he'd always be glad whenever he does hear from them.

In Ferox's bad ending everyone else goes out for drinks but he has to excuse himself and get the FUCK out of town because he feels Bhaal taking over his body (because he gets THAT ending. The "accept Bhaal + destroy the brain" ending)

[that-demigirl]

Born To Die - Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Two steps forward one step back. Plus a little arguing

A/N: I can't let them be happy just yet, sorry. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter and again, any and all feedback is appreciated

“What in the hell was that?” Allison yelled after Jake as he walked away. He seemed to ignore her and kept walking so she ran to get in front of him, right up into his face, “Don’t you ignore me, Seresin. What the hell was that?”

“His head is stuck in the past and he’s a danger to this mission,” Jake looked her dead in the eye and was taken aback by the anger displayed by her.

“Like you’re any better?” Allison questioned angrily, “Your head is just as in the past as his. You’re both dangerous to this mission, you’re both going to get somebody killed. You aren’t any better than any of us, Jake.”

“Oh we’re on first name terms again, Allie?” Jake taunted, his attempt to change the subject obvious.

“Don’t change the subject on me,” Allison responded firmly, “How dare you do what you did? That’s his dad, his dad who died in service to our country, that you just threw in his face.”

“Rooster is going to get himself killed flying like he does,” Jake countered, “He’s going to get you- he’s going to get someone else killed.”

“So are you!” Allison yelled, “So are you..”

With that Allison walked away from him, leaving a shocked Jake in wake. Tears of frustration and hurt welled up in her eyes but she kept her head held a=high and continued to walk away from him. Jake didn’t try to chase her down, but all he could think about was what Erin had told him the day before.

“...one of these days she’s gonna stop giving you chances…”

—

Erin walked Bradley into an empty room and shut the door behind them. It was obvious to her that he was still tense and wound up from the incident. She kept quiet and calm. Erin didn’t know what he needed at that moment, but whatever it was she would give it to him.

“Talk to me?” She requested gently after a couple moments of silence.

“About what, huh?” Bradley snapped, “About the fact that Hangman’s an asshole? About the fact the Maverick still doesn’t believe in me? About the fact that you’re still here cleaning up my messes just like when we were kids?”

“Hey, don’t snap at me,” Erin stood up for herself, “Be as angry as you want but I didn’t do anything to you!”

“Except take Maverick’s side when he pulled my papers!” Bradley countered, “I have been on my own for my entire adult life because of him and you were on his side.”

“Are you still on this, Bradley?” Erin asked incredulously, “I was never on his side, you just twisted everything on your warpath against Mav. You’re alone because you did it to yourself. You pushed all of us away, you pushed me away. How do you think I felt when you drove away and didn’t talk to me ever again? How do you think it felt when you abandoned me?”

“Erin, I-” all the anger left Bradley as Erin tore into him with all the hurt and anger and sadness she had kept since he left.

“No, Bradley!” Erin yelled at him, “You want to be alone so bad? Fine, be alone, push me away. It’s your own doing anyways.”

Erin stormed out of the room, slamming the door on her way out. Bradley was left standing in a room, alone. All the progress the two had made in communicating was gone again. Why couldn’t he have let a good thing be a good thing?

—

Allison woke up to a text from their instructor to meet at the beach behind The Hard Deck. It was an interesting training tactic but Allison wasn’t arguing against what was essentially a day off after the day they all had yesterday. So she and Erin got ready for a beach day, happy they had both remembered to pack bathing suits and shorts in their civilian clothes.

They arrived at the beach to see they were the earliest there besides Pete. This meant being enlisted in helping bring drinks from The Hard Deck out to the area that their squadron would all be at.

“Maverick, I need to talk to you about something,” Erin spoke up once the two were alone, Allison having run back to the car to grab her and Erin’s bags.

“I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going, Tink,” Pete said hesitantly, not meeting her eyes.

“Why did you pull Bradley’s papers?” Erin asked, “You always supported both of us whenever we asked about flying and talked about our futures. Uncle Tom would never tell me why you did it…”

“Bradley’s mom didn’t want him to fly,” Pete told her, “She made me promise to do everything I could to keep him from flying.” 

“Oh,” Erin said softly, realization hitting her all at once.

“Your mom didn’t want you to fly, her and Carol were very similar in that,” Pete admitted to Erin, “Your mom wanted Ice to talk you out of it but Ice wouldn’t. Ice just couldn’t fathom stopping you from following your dreams, Erin.”

“You tried to stop Bradley,” Erin pointed out, in that moment finally understanding the difference between Pete and her Uncle Tom, the difference between what Bradley had been up against and what she had.

“Yes, I did,” Maverick let out a sigh, “ And I’ll regret the decision for the rest of my life, but I made a promise to Carol. I couldn’t break it… no matter how much it hurt Bradley.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Erin asked, frustrated at just finding all this out now, frustrated that she had been caught in the crosshairs of it all.

“He was so angry, Erin,” Maverick looked away, remembering the night their little family had fallen apart, “I’m sure you saw a piece of it when he went to talk to you, I couldn’t bear him turning that anger on Carol’s memory. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let him hate her.”

“He… he wouldn’t have,” Erin said, though she wasn’t quite sure she was convinced herself. There was a time in her life when she believed that he would never hate Mav and she had been wrong that time. There was no way to know how Bradley would react to knowing his mother was the real reason he was set back.

“We’ll never know,” Pete responded. Any further conversation was cut off by Allison returning with many of their other teammates in tow. With that, Pete explained to them that they would be playing what he called dogfight football. It was a confusing game with both teams having a football and trying to score at the same time as keeping the other team away from the goal.

Allison and Erin had fun. They had gotten split up after a handful of their teammates complained they were just too good together. This led to Pete putting Erin on Jake’s team and Allison on Bradley’s. Erin couldn’t tell what game he was playing at, but she didn’t care to find out either. For once everyone was having fun together. History didn’t matter, rivalries didn’t matter, the upcoming mission didn’t even matter. They felt like an actual team.

Robert had scored a goal and the boys had all lifted him up and everyone was cheering. One time Callie had tackled Allison and Allison swore she saw a look of worry pass over Jake’s features but shook it off with a laugh. Erin went head to head with Bradley to get the football to the goal and managed to shake him off of her pretty quickly. They all ganged up on Hondo when someone from the crowd passed him the ball. As the day wound down and ‘congratulations’ and ‘good games’ got passed around, everyone went back to their own base housing. Smiles on their faces yet worn out from the day of fun.

Tag list: @djs8891

[dm-clockwork-dragon]

Another Unpopular Opinion

I was asked to delete my earlier reblog by the OP, so they didn’t get sucked into discourse, so I’m reposing this as it’s own thing Well, here I go publicly stating another opinion that will probably get me cancelled. To be entirely fair, I’m sort of beyond caring at this point?

I think people need to calm their fucking tits - homegrown, surgical, or happily removed - over not just this game, but about HP stuff in general.

I’m a recently hatched egg, but I’ve considered myself non-binary for almost 15 years, and been an ally for as long as I knew what an ally was. I also have no particular love for the franchise, despite enjoying it a lot when I was a kid. That’s not virtue signally, or an attempt to defend my position - just letting you all know a little context, and that I do actually have a horse in this race.

I get it, I really do. JK is a fucking terrible person, and should burn in a thousand multicolored hells for the bullshit she spews and the hate she engenders in others. On top of that, she’s a shitty writer, to the point where she accidentally created an entire wizarding world where the difference between the good guys and the bad guys is just what flavor of Nazi you want to choose. But there’s a couple reasons I think that people really need to try and separate her from the franchise that she started.

1. Death of the Author.

This is the one that everyone else gives. It’s possible to enjoy, appreciate, or interpret a creative work in absence of it’s author or their intent. We do it with music, we do it with painting. and Like OP here points out: if we were to burn every book written by a problematic author, we would leave glaring wholes not just in our understanding of our own history and society, but in our understanding of how to avoid the same injustices and suffering caused by those authors. Dead or alive, the author’s right and control over who others interpret their work the moment they share it with the outside world.

2. You guys don’t know how JK makes money, do you?

I see all kinds of arguments out there about how engaging with, or - dare I even mention - paying for HP content is somehow a crime against transfolk because it directly supports a raging TERF and her platform. It doesn’t. Aside from the argument that JK makes all her money through investments and stock market trades - just like any rich person - She also DOESN’T OWN THE FRANCHISE. She retains intellectual property rights: AKA, she can write new books or shit if she likes (we have seen how that goes for her), and she is still treated as the primary source, but the IP and all production rights are owned by Warner Bros. JK doesn’t make a dime off of game, movies, or anything else that WB license or produce based on THEIR franchise. She already made her money by selling the franchise to them years ago. Honestly, she probably got the raw end of the deal at this point. At most, she might get some meager royalties that are eaten up entirely by the cost of paying someone to process them. That’s how publishing contracts and movie deals work - they are a fucking racket.  3. HP isn’t just something some people can throw away.

Like I said above, I sorta grew out of my HP phase, long before any of the issue of JK being a TERF ever came up. And I know that a lot of people who considered themselves fans have also willingly distanced themselves from the franchise in light of her shitty views and actions. But not everyone has that ability. To give you a different example: I grew up reading the Dune books. I finished the core series for the first time when I was 8, and have re-read the entire extended series more than a dozen times since then. It’s more than just my favorite book series, it’s a formative part of who I am as a person. So much of my beliefs and identity as a person have been informed or inspired by those books that I would argue it is impossible to truly understand myself without them. Hell - I’d argue the entire reason I started explore my gender and sexuality in the first place is because of the emphasis those books placed on the “Quisach Haderach” as the perfect fusion of male and female. Even if I were to verbally disavow the series for some reason, those books still define who I am today, and It would be physically impossible for me to separate myself from them Harry Potter is the same way for a lot of people. I think some of us loose sight of just how meaningful those books are to a generation. Not all of us - even within that generation - had the same connection, but for a lot of people who grew up reading them from the time they could turn a page, those books are just as formative and intrinsic to who they are as Dune is to me. they couldn’t separate themselves, even if they wanted to. And pissing all over someone for something they can’t change about themselves is exactly the sort of thing we are supposed to be fighting against! Same can be said of the bible, the Torah, the Quran or any other work that was meaningful and formative to a persons cultural upbringing. Even within the trans community, there are countless Christians, Jews, and Islamic followers. They make the faith their own, because it is an intrinsic and immutable part of who they are. If you are going to condemn Trans or Allies who can’t separate themselves form HP, then you are also condemning any Ally or Transperson who still practices or believes in some form of the religion the grew up with.  4. If we can reclaim slurs, we can reclaim this! I see so many of the same people who rail against HP, also writing or relogging posts about how important it is to reclaim slurs and other labels that have been historically used against us, and I agree. But that shit goes a lot further than just the names we have been called. Reclaiming something from those who would hurt you with it is like picking up the rock that was thrown at you, and saying “neat, this is mine now, you cant have it back”, as opposed to just kicking it back to the abuser so they can hurl it at you again. JK is a terrible person. which is all the more reason that we have a responsibility to take this beloved franchise away from her. She doesn’t deserve it, and as long as it remains in her power, she can continue to use it as a platform to hurt people. And this isn’t without precedent: Look at Butch Hartman, or Joss Wheaton, or Notch, or Gary Gygax. We have a history and a present filled with examples of taking beloved content away from shitty people a deciding “this is ours now, you can’t have it back.” We take those things that were or are important to us, and reframe them, re-write them, or reimagine them into something positive and supportive.  As an author myself, I know quite well how painful it can be to see your work taken away from you, and transformed by people who don’t share your vision. So lets hurt JK where it counts! Not in the wallet, not by railing against her on social media, but by taking away the one meaningful thing she has ever created in her miserable life. Because she doesn’t fucking deserve it.

[percontaion-points]

Fearless (HMA 4) chapters 23 & 24

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three – Reed

Yes, now is the correct time to have a POV chapter from Reed. None of this nonsense of wasting an entire chapter because he and Cal were arguing. We already knew that they were imprisoned, and that Johnathan was torturing them. 

“Wait! Why’s he still wearing the collar if he has the key?” 

A good question. And one I answered by letting the metal neckpiece clatter to the ground.

Are you telling me that at literally any point, Vail could have fucking done that?

I nodded and pointed a bear claw at the wide-eyed wolves. “Lead the way, Alpha Marshall.”

Chapter 23 summary: A fight breaks out outside of their prison door, and Cal and Reed realise with horror that the other wolves were drugged with Wild Fire. Reed struggles with the containment collar he’s on, but when those assholes open the door, Reed’s wolf snaps the lock like it’s tinfoil. They fight, but Reed doesn’t exactly feel good after it. He thinks that he’s gone feral until Cal points out that it was a bear that Reed took down… not a wolf. 

A woman comes downstairs then, apparently this “Angel” that the other guy in the cell with them had been talking about. I still can’t tell if her name is Angel or if it’s simply a nickname… This isn’t helped with the fact that she keeps calling the man “dear heart”. She says she drugged the wolves, but had to act fast because Johnathan moved up the toast time. She says she has explosives, but Reed and Cal are more interested in meeting back up with their own friends and allies… even though following this woman seems interesting. 

Upstairs, they find more fighting… But also a lot of dead. Among the dead appears to be Jasper’s mum. She finally won the grand prize for being stupid. Marnie is randomly there, even though I thought that she’d stayed behind. So Reed ends up fighting alongside her. 

Chapter 24

“What the fuck happened to him?”

 “Twain bond,” Chrysler murmured…

I know that the book covered this. But it’s been too long and I can’t fucking remember. Apparently, we’re not going to get a reminder about this. 

It’s only been a few months since I started reading this series… I feel bad for the people who needed to wait at least a year between each book!

“See the potential of your bloodline? When I breed you with my berserkers, you’ll give me more than Skin Kings. 

It was my turn to stare at him in horror. That’s what this was all about? Chrysler didn’t take me for himself; he was just adding me to his breeding program.

SHE ACTS LIKE SHE’S SURPRISED WHEN HER OWN GRANDFATHER WAS GOING TO DO THE SAME GODDAMNED THING TO HER!!

He sneered down at the rabid pack of wolves. “Too bad for them, she’s already taken.”

Chapter 24 summary: The Denner (?) who took her is the same shitfuck who tried to grab her at Jasper’s alpha challenge fight, Chrysler. He’s drugged her, and because that wasn’t enough, he also put a fucking muzzle on her. He puts something over Trey’s mating mark on her neck that makes her cat go crazy… Enough to prove to the others that she isn’t a wolf. 

As they fly away, they see Johnathan as he’s being chased by this bear-wolf hybrid. Chrysler laughs over the entire thing, and tells Vail that he’s adding her to his breeding stock to get more hybrids like that. 

As they continue along, they end up seeing another wolf being mobbed. Vail realises with horror that it’s Jasper. Chrysler tells her about the “bounty” Jonathan put on Jasper’s head… but that it doesn’t matter because he’s making off with her, regardless of any of that. 

[paralleledmediaexperience]

right before my birthday back in May someone made a post about Jack needing more love and hugs, and I had this idea in the tags and then went and wrote about a thousand words of this and then. forgot it existed!! anyway I’ve mostly polished it up now. enjoy Jack telling one of his dads he loves him and then not only being hugged but also hearing it back!! it’s what our boy deserves!!!!!

Now with part two!!!!!

-

Jack hadn’t meant to fix everything, in his defense. Yes, they’d defeated god with his powers, which had unintentionally released Amara, who had agreed to take her brother’s powers from Jack and then let the world mostly be as long as she got the chance to see him every once in a while. She’d returned the universe to normal, with a few additions for their happiness, as Amara had said. Dean had choked out Cas’ name, and Amara had frowned before replying that it might take a bit more time. 

They had gone back to the bunker and then the bunker had been thoroughly overrun the whole next week by- it seemed- everyone the Winchesters knew, including a few faces who were apparently as back from the dead by Amara’s hand as Mary was last time she owed a Winchester a favor. Through it all- old friends and odd allies and more- Jack knows Dean isn’t doing well. Isn’t sleeping well. There’s only been one night- well, Jack hadn’t seen Dean drinking but he’d heard Sam’s arguing and Dean’s short, choppy answers, and it was familiar enough.

He’d googled “what to do when my dad misses someone and we can’t talk to them yet,” and wikihow had good suggestions- he’d read through the sections for both short-term separations, and managing the death of a loved one. He hadn’t really been able to figure out which would be more helpful. It had turned out to be the death of a loved one, which… shouldn’t be surprising, no matter that Cas would be back. Soon. 

He couldn’t make Dean do any of the things on the list, but it had suggested that the person would like to feel loved during their time of grieving.

And when he’d searched “how to make someone feel loved,” the first article had said the easiest way was simply to tell them. So when Dean hands him a plate of pancakes with the bacon cooked just how Jack likes it, Jack thinks it’s such a small thing to make his heart feel so big and warm. And he smiles and says, “Thanks Dean. I love you.”

Unfortunately, Jack hasn’t actually grabbed the plate when he says this, and Dean’s hands drop it. The sound of the plate shattering on the tile is only half as upsetting as the wounded look in Dean’s eyes as he looks back at Jack. And Jack isn’t sure why it went so wrong but he looks away immediately, the shame of causing that hurt somehow and the slow horror of realizing he’d ruined the breakfast that Dean had made him turning his stomach into knots. He steps back almost unconsciously before remembering the plate had just broken, and in just his socks, a piece of ceramic jabs into his heel and slices him open, and he actually can’t help the small cry of surprise and pain that slips out.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean breathes out, and Jack gets pushed into the nearest chair. “Get that out of your foot while I clean this up.”

The warm feeling in his chest was gone, pressed into something cold and tight in Jack’s throat. He’d just- the article had said it makes people happy to hear they are loved in times of grief. 

He watches, silent as Dean turns off the stove and sweeps up the wasted food and plate pieces, soundly dumping it in the trash before digging under the sink for a second and coming out with a clean dishrag and a box of bandaids. It’s only when he sees Dean stop and take a quiet, private shuddering breath to forcibly relax his tensed shoulders that he lowers his gaze again. He picks the sharp sliver of plate out of his skin through the sock before peeling it off to examine the cut it left. Very shallow, but it still stretches two inches along on the inside of his heel, the blood sluggishly dripping out. 

It’s not bad, but very inconvenient, so he almost heals it before remembering that Amara had said not to use his powers after she took Chuck’s powers. Not until she returned and okayed it, at least. He sighs, pinching it together with his fingers, half heartedly wishing it had been more awkward and antagonistic between his aunt and his dads, so he could have maybe convinced Dean that they shouldn’t listen to what Amara told him to do. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.

He hears Dean turn the water on to damp the cloth, but he can’t make himself look back up again. His gaze goes back down to the floor as Dean starts to turn back toward him, focusing on the small smear of red on the floor, where Dean had dragged the broom through the spots of blood he’d left.

He raises his hands as Dean approaches, ready to be handed the stuff to bandage himself up, but Dean just beats them away as he sits down next to Jack, hunching in as he grabs the injured foot. Jack still feels unbearably small in the silence between them, both him and Dean leaning in and feeling small and unwilling to speak as he wipes away the blood and then dries the skin around it. Jack grabs two of the bandaids and opens them, and Dean wraps them around the cut before patting it and drawing away, and Jack doesn’t know what else to do.

“Sorry,” He says softly, because he isn’t sure what he did wrong but it hurt Dean. And he wasn’t even angry, Jack could tell, cause his shoulders hadn’t tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to lash out- they’d tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to fall apart. Jack’s felt like he had to know the difference for a while now.

“Jack,” Dean says, and it’s so sharp that Jack jerks up to look at him. Had he read that wrong? Was Dean angry? But when he meets Dean’s eyes it’s still that hurting, the one that Jack could remember all the way from back when he was a newborn, or something close to it. “No, you don’t-” Dean lifted a hand to his face and dragged it down with a rough breath, and Jack wasn’t expecting him to look back at him but he did, eyes burning into Jack’s. “You don’t have to be sorry. That was on me- I dropped the plate.”

Jack tries not to squirm, because it’s not about the plate, is it? The food had been thrown away and the plate had hurt him, but he’d said he loved Dean and that had made him drop it. “I’m sorry that I-”

“Jack,” Dean cuts across again, and this time his brows are drawing together the way they do when he’s angry. But he looks away from Jack again, and he can tell somehow that it’s not anger at him. Dean doesn’t even want Jack to be looking at this anger. “You say whatever you want, okay? I’m not upset that you said it.”

It isn't that he thinks Dean doesn’t mean the words, but Jack’s also not sure Dean believes them either. “I am, though,” he says, petulant, crossing his arms and letting his foot fall back down to the ground, ignoring the bite of pain from treating the cut so roughly. “If it hurt you, I shouldn’t have-”

Dean cuts him off again. “No. Jack, that’s-” He struggles for a second, but Jack just wants to understand. Unbidden, he holds his breath and Dean draws his in, trying to find the words.

“You get to love me if you want to,” Dean grinds out, and Jack realizes there are tears gathering along his lower lashes. “And you get to tell me if you want to. This hurt ain’t about you.”

That does clear it up, somehow, and Jack nods and looks back down at his hands, realizing there’s still blood on his fingers, too. Dean turns away enough that they can almost pretend he’s not rubbing the tears out of his eyes. “I won’t say it if you don’t want me to either, though,” he says, and he grabs the cloth from the table where Dean had left it, finding a clean spot on the damp corner and using it.

“That ain’t how it works, kid.” He doesn’t elaborate. He just grabs the box of bandaids and closes it before gathering up the paper wrapping. It gets thrown out, and the box stowed back under the sink, and then Jack is just staring at Dean.

“How does it work?” 

They both stop. Jack didn’t expect to actually let the question out, but it’s off of his lips before he can seal them. 

Dean is frozen, staring at him.

“Not like that,” Dean says eventually, weariness dripping from each word. “Jack, do you… do you want us to say…”

He doesn’t say it, the kitchen fan blowing white noise into the quiet air between them. Jack knows that he could ask and Dean would say it right now. Dean always gives the people he loves what they want, what they need, and this would just be the next thing he could offer. Something he could give.

“I don’t need you to.” Jack says, honestly. “I know. I just wanted you to hear it, because I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to say it to you.”

Dean squints at him. “You... “ His eyes are wet again. Without warning, Dean grabs him and pulls him up, into a hug, and Jack grabs back as tight as he can, feeling lost. But it’s good, it’s good just like every time Dean hugs him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as if he can’t feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, hot and stinging. “I love you too, Jack. I don’t get- you and-” Dean sputters off, still holding him. “If you want to hear it, you let me know. I’ll get better at it.”

“Maybe every once in a while,” Jack says, trying not to let his voice sound like he’s crying. It does anyway.

“Alright then,” Dean says, and he squeezes him one more time before letting go, turning away abruptly and bustling back to the stove. Jack wipes his eyes on his sleeve, his whole chest feeling empty and full all at once. The rag had fallen out of his hands sometime in their conversation, and he leans down to grab it, pausing to wipe up the blood on the floor. Dean comes back a minute later and pulls it out of his hand before passing him another plate. “Here, since the last one humpty-dumpty’d.”

They don’t continue the conversation. Jack eats his breakfast as Dean fixes himself another cup of coffee, and they sit quietly, waiting for Cas to come home.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards Pt. V

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V, Pt. VI

    Alright so maybe you spoke too soon; the four of you were going to do great things, minus Tommy. Technoblade had finally agreed to let you join Tommy and him on an adventure into L’manberg. The plan was to crash their festival, and ultimately attempt to get Tommy’s discs back from Dream and Tubbo. You expected your first adventure into the country to be fun, if anything you’d get to steal some shit, what you didn’t expect was to be thrown in the middle of a public dispute. 

Clearly, you underestimated what ‘getting the discs back’ actually entailed. 

You and Technoblade were back to back swords drawn, surrounded by about thirty people in the ruin of what was once deemed a community house. Technoblade never would’ve agreed to let you come if he thought the confrontation with Dream was going to be this serious, he assumed they’d watch from afar. If things got to dicey Tommy and him would rush in and he’d have you stay behind to watch from afar. If only he could’ve predicted someone blowing up a random building would cause such turmoil. 

Nothing could ever come up Technoblade.

   “Yah know when you first invited me out to partake in a festival for some reason I didn’t expect to be attacked by like thirty people.” You chirped a hesitant smile on your face as Technoblade made a confused sound. 

   “You definitely should’ve expected it,” Technoblade grumbled, barely taking his eyes off of Tommy and Tubbo’s argument. You watched Techno’s back but you couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the boys conversation as well. As much as your heart broke for the two war-torn children, you had your alliance first and foremost with your boyfriend. You also couldn’t help but feel this conversation should be happening privately but here they were airing things out seemingly for the first time in front of everybody. Speaking of your boyfriend, your attention was drawn back to him as he caught Tommy’s attention, “be very careful what your decision is here Tommy.” 

You narrowed your eyes and took a step in front of Technoblade, he made his classic ‘heh’ sound as you did so. You felt his hand grip your forearm and tighten trying to hold you back in case you wanted to do something stupid. 

   “Tommy, come home with us.” You held out your hand to him, the one Technoblade didn’t have a hold of obviously. “Phil’s waiting for us, we’ll get your discs back together as we planned.” The smile on your face could part the cloudiest of days and it broke Tommy’s heart, she had given him something that he hadn’t had since the war with Dream began.

A home. 

   “(Y/N),” That’s the first time he used your name, the first time you weren’t just Ms Blade. It broke your heart and you whimpered a little bit, “thank you for everything you’ve done for me. But I can’t go back with you and Technoblade. I don’t like what I’ve become, this isn’t me. I’m sorry. I hope one day we can be friends again. Tubbo give Dream my disc.” You leaned back into Technoblade in disbelief, Tommy had just betrayed Technoblade right before your very eyes. The man who gave Tommy the clothes on his back and a place to stay when no one else would. Weapons to help him fight against Dream when everyone else abandoned him, even though they all treated Technoblade as a weapon he still went out of his way to help Tommy. Your hands clenched into fists at your side as Dream let out a roaring laugh collecting the disc from Tubbo. He called the two children stupid right to their face and no matter how angry you were with them that was harsh, it’s like everyone in this country forgets that they are children. Children fuck up, it’s how they learn and it’s in their nature why does no one here understand that. You looked up at Techno your eyebrows furrowed and you pressed your lips tight but he didn’t take his eyes off Dream, he had different priorities in mind. 

Protecting you from the Dreamon if anything went south. 

Dream continued to mock and criticize the people of L’manberg before turning to you and Technoblade. The mask he wore may hide his facial expressions, but it couldn’t mask the unadulterated glee in his voice. Technoblade pulled you behind him as Dream stepped closer to the both of you, you felt a growl rumble in Technoblade’s chest, 

   “That’s close enough.” 

   “Down boy.” Dream mused, holding up his hands to show faux innocence. “I have no issues with the both of you. Tomorrow, with your help, Technoblade and woman.”  

   “(Y/N).”

   “Don’t tell him your name.” Technoblade gaped at you and you only could huff in frustration, 

   “Better than just being called woman! Plus Tommy already said it.”  

With an eye-roll Dream continued his speech, “With the help of Technoblade and (Y/N) L’manberg is going to be a crater. We’re blowing it sky-high.” Dream turned over to face Tubbo once again, “I had to pretend to be friends with you, to get the dumb disk back! I don't care about you. I'm not your friend. Okay? I cared about getting the disk back, and I got the disk back. I got it back. And that's-that's- that's the only thing that really matters. You can't even run your nation right. RANBOO IS A TRAITOR. ONE OF YOUR MOST TRUSTED FRIENDS.”

Your eyes widened as you spotted another child looking horrified, it was the half enderman from the butcher gang. You’re adopting him next.

   “NO, IT IS TRUE. READ THIS BOOK. READ THIS BOOK. There's his memory book. He was meeting with Techno and Tommy and told them EVERYTHING. The proof’s all his own memories! He writes it down! You can't even run your own nation correctly Tubbo. Listen. Tubbo, you, I mean you, ... L'Manberg is weaker than it's ever been, and it's because of you! You have- you have destroyed everything. You have ruined your friendships. You have ruined L'Manberg's allies. You have just-you are a horrible president Tubbo.” Dream continued as Tubbo looked sick to his stomach, you felt just as nauseous.

   “YEAH, YOU SUCK TUBBO!”

   “TECHNOBLADE!” 

   “What?” He flinched at your tone, “he’s right!” 

   “They’re children,” You tried to argue but Dream cut you off by stepping in between you and Technoblade. Your pulse skyrocketed as you were separated, and you made sure an ender pearl was at the ready. Tommy looked at the both fo you nervously, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes when you defended Tubbo. Tommy turned over to Tubbo who honestly looked just as shocked that a partner of Technoblade’s would defend him, espeically considering he had tried to kill her a few days prior. Tommy had hope that he wasn’t completely dead to you.

   “Techno. Got any withers?” You watched a sickening smile spread across Techno’s lips he picked at his nails. 

   “I got a few.” 

   “Good. Then I’ll see you all tomorrow when the L’manberg loses its last cannon life,” Dream announced before disappearing into the wind. The citizens turned to face you and Technoblade, he only had to utter a single word:

   “Run,” Before both of you pearled away from the wreckage of the community house. 

Technoblade scooped you up in his arms as he made his way through the Nether portal back to his base. He was much faster than you were and you didn’t fight him on wanting to make a quick getaway. You both were silent on the way back to his base, bottom line was you didn’t know how you felt about what just went down. On one hand, destruction was your middle name and you weren’t going to oppose blowing a government to smithereens with your boyfriend.  

Nothing could be more romantic than that. 

Yet at the same time, unlike Technoblade, you felt the guilt eat away at you. These were people’s homes, and lives you’d be destroying tomorrow. Most of the citizens you had no affiliation with, which you were grateful for, but those you did you almost couldn’t justify blowing the country up. Tommy was by all accounts dead to Technoblade and by that extent you as well. Still, you didn’t want to see him physically dead, it wasn’t his fault he got corrupted by the government and a homeless teletubby.

You were starting to sound like Technoblade now too.  

You made a sound of distress and Techno glanced down at your form, his face flushed as you nuzzled your nose against his neck. 

   “You okay princess?” 

   “No…” You answered with a sigh, you reached out and twirled a strand of his pink hair through your fingers. “Tommy’s gone, we’re going to blow up a country tomorrow. I feel bad for the people we’re gonna leave homeless. So, no I’m not okay bubs.” The socially awkward man winced a little as he battled with what to say to you, he tends to forget you both aren’t the same person. For as much as both of you agree, you were still different from him, you had more empathy than he could ever wish to have. 

   “You don’t have to come.”  

He watched a frown appear on your face as you pulled away from him. You clicked your tongue in distaste, a sure sign that you were about to pick a fight with the blood god. You were one opponent he could never seem to defeat. That did not come out the way he intended. 

Time to backtrack before he got his ass handed to him. 

   “What I mean is, you have no affiliation with L’manberg. You have no prior issues you need to settle with them so technically you can stay home tomorrow, no one would blame you. You’d be safer away from the explosions, I’d feel better with you at home.”

   “That way you’d only have to worry about Phil tomorrow right?” 

   “Well, that’s part of it,” He stated bluntly, never one to be dishonest. “He has only one life and he’s going to want to fight, he has a lot to avenge. The government drove his eldest son mad, enough that Phil had to kill him. He’s one of my oldest friends, I wanna look out for him and protect him.” You couldn’t help but sigh softly at his response, you brushed your thumb across his cheek fondly. 

   “You’re wrong.” 

   “Eh?”

   “I do have something I want to fight for, I want to fight for what I believe is right. Let’s face it Techno the way everyone’s treating those children is sick. Dream manipulated Tommy and used Tubbo to get what he wanted from him. I know you did what you thought was right for Tommy but he’s a product of a war-torn country, they all are. Now, that doesn’t excuse his betrayal but… did he even know what the right thing to do was in this situation, does he even truly know what peace is? I want to fight to protect those kids. They deserve to know peace, true peace away from bloodshed and war. If I can I want to give them that.” You watched Technoblade’s jaw tighten, “I’m going with you tomorrow but I’m not going to kill the children.” 

   “I don’t think I can ever forgive Tommy.” He sighed adjusting his grip on you a sure sign he was nervous, “but I love you.” Techno kissed you once again, it was long and tender you watched as the apples of his cheeks turn red after you both pulled away. He took a breath, “You’re unstoppable and you’ve never stopped me before so I won’t do the same for you. Just stay safe. Please. You need to come home with me tomorrow I won’t settle for anything else.” 

   “I will. I promise.” You pressed a light kiss to his cheek, and he hummed gently in response. “I love you Technoblade, I’ll fight beside you. Till the end of the line.”

   “Till the end of the line,” He repeated as you both approached the snow-covered house to convene with Philza Minecraft himself.

~~~

Hi guys! Officially feeling a bit better, enough to get a small part out before I work on the next chapter. I hope you like it, thanks so much for reading and your amazing feedback. Also, thanks so much for your kind words and well wishes! Also, also, If anyone ever makes fanart of this story (I doubt it would happen) please tag me and let me know. I love to make art myself and always wanna support other artists! Thanks Again!

[measuringbliss]

Under the cut, I'm doing quality bullshit meta analysis on Hermann's outfits in Pacific Rim Uprising! Spoilers abound.

Hermann's first appearance in PRU is actually in a deleted scene, where he's a mess (as usual). His outfit is fairly basic, but... the white shirt? Giving big PR1!Newt vibes. It's less stuffy than in PR1, where he often had a shirt + a cardigan + a blazer. Here's, there's one less layer. It's also much less proper. Hermann looks unhinged, with a dirty, dirty shirt that's too big, just as his jacket. Also, glasses. In PR1, it seemed as though Hermann rarely put on glasses, but here he's outside, just moving, and he's got them on. His sight probably deteriorated... ...or it's a bit of Newt-ness on him. Or he was trying to read these papers, which was a bad idea since it's probably windy so what the hell Hermann. (He's just a dork. [affectionate])

The next time we see him (screenshot is dodgy because this scene has poor lighting), Hermann is with Newt and I think it's important context.

This time, he wears a dark blue shirt as well as another (but similar) coat that reaches below his ankles. The most striking thing right away is that there's no openness in the colors exhibited. They're dark, inscrutable. To me, it symbolizes Hermann's defenses as up. He doesn't really care about looking foolish to Amara, Jules, Nate and Jake (see previous scene) because they're just people. He's weird, everybody knows it including himself, whatever. But it's the first time he sees Newt in ten years (or at the very least, it's the first time they see each other in such a way). And Newton became the exact opposite of what he was when they won the war (we'll talk about Newt's clothes in another post) so HERMANN'S WARY.

You can also notice he doesn't wear his glasses. Is that because it's a weakness he doesn't want to show to this different Newt, or does it indicate he doesn't see him--or rather, doesn't look at him properly? So he doesn't see the issue? But he decided to remove his glasses. He did it himself. He's purposefully not looking too hard at Newton, he doesn't want to acknowledge that something is different. Perhaps because it would make the Wrongness more legitimate, more real.

You could also argue the length of the coat represents his bigger defenses.

Next up: You-Know-Who's dead, but left a clue behind. Hermann's outfit is, as far as I can tell, strictly black and white and oh god is he wearing something under that shirt? Is he wearing a white undershirt under his white shirt? Hermann's mourning, and the simpleness/manicheism evocated by the color scheme evokes that. There's allies and enemies in his mind, it's just as simple as maths. Did Hermann go back in his world of numbers so he could grieve more efficiently? The undershirt or whatever makes him appear extra stuffy, unreachable. He wants to keep things simple and direct.

OH WOW TENDO WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? Ahem. Colors!!!! Hermann's found back his sense of purpose because suddenly, he can actually do something, in this case dissecting a Kaiju brain, the job Newt would do if he were here (once again an effet of his Drift with Newt?). And he's thriving. His blue shirt looks immaculate but there's Kaiju Blue on his helmet. He's not afraid of tainting a very nice-looking shirt, he's confident in his abilities. Color is also a bit bold for Hermann, who usually wears plain black or brown or just... boring colors, but this shirt is something he could wear to a dinner party and actually fit in very well. What's the motif on the shirt? It appears to be simple white circles on blue, almost jeans-blue. Is it water bubbles? Water is the first thing Kaiju feel when they arrive on Earth. It's sort of their element. Is Hermann wearing metaphorical Kaiju skin? While sawing Kaiju brain? Is he becoming the enemy to understand it? Whatever the meaning may be, it's clear Hermann is eager to break through the case.

EDIT: IT'S MOTHERFUCKING EYES. THE PRECURSORS ARE WATCHING. HERMANN YOU'RE IN DANGER (oh no he can't hear us he has headphones)

The red gloves are VERY surprising as once again, Hermann never wears bright colors. It's probably standard PPDC equipment. Still, it's red. Red means danger, red means passion, and red offers a striking contrast to the blue shirt. Red is also the main color of Newt's first outfit in the movie.

At first, I didn't recognize the logo on the left glove, but it's the PPDC logo... with Kaiju Blue on it. Which feels ominous. The Kaijus (= the Precursors through Newt, who's more or less a Kaiju if you define Kaijus as beings controlled by the Precursors) are not only threatening the PPDC, but have downright already hurt it. Which is true, since they killed You-Know-Who.

The third pic is mainly there so you can admire Hermann's buttocks (he has a lot of fans out there). The pants are plain, just like the belt, but the apron is tied by what look like... shackles. So the Kaijus are shackling Hermann (=humanity).

Anyways as you can see, Hermann has Newt's fluids all over him.

The whole scene has Hermann yet again in plain colors. He's not having fun anymore, he's here to see if Newt can help with the situation. He means business. Dark and grey. There's no white shirt. It's reflective of the movie's darker mood, and signifies Hermann risks falling deep into the abyss when he learns the truth.

When the Kaijus are back and are attacking the city, Hermann wears the same outfit except he has his longer coat back on. He's almost majestic in a way, and that's what he wears until the end of the movie.

Throughout the movie, Hermann's shown he's capable, not just as a quirky mathematician but as someone who takes the wheel if he feels necessary, is intuitive and is ready to get his hands dirty.

His sense of style is still quite bleak, without much colors, but when he has *motivation*, he dares to wear bright colors.

I think Newt and Hermann drifting together in PR1 left a huge effect on both, and if Newt was actually closer to Hermann in PRU, Hermann would wear more fun-looking fashion. Because he's depressed, folks. Ultimately, that's it. He's depressed, partly because the guy he's pining for has seemingly given up his ethics. Except he's actually possessed by aliens, which isn't much better.

But hey, we got to see more Capable Hermann!

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

How would allies and axis find out that their s/o was originally from a universe where the countries were all characters on a show called “Hetalia”?

Aka Countries learn their girlfriend got isekai-ed to their world

Welp... Japan is going to have a existential crisis, but don't worry! We all know this is England's fault! Also did a "first meeting" kind of thing because I'm a bit lazy and don't want to make up backgrounds and such 😅

C/N: Countries name

Allies + Axis: England teleports someone from another Dimension!

The day started out simple. Another meeting, another argument. But as England began cursing America and France for their shaninigans, a portal opened up from the ceiling!

"What is THAT!?" Germany screeched/demanded an answer from England.

"It seems... my magic wand... Has malfunctioned..."

As to why England has a Magic wand that runs on batteries, is no one's problem but his own.

The issue now is there's now a human that's landed right into C/N's lap.

Allies:

America:

He was standing when his future S/O fell from the ceiling. As expected, he caught them. Only to drop them upon having them scream in his ear. They kept eye contact for a few more seconds before S/O spoke up.

"A-america!? How is that possible! You're just a cartoon character!"

The room went silent for only a handful of seconds before America laughed.

"Really? Cool!"

He was the only one who believed them right off the bat when they said they were from another universe. They didn't seem like a liar, and how else would they know who he was But since S/O seemed to know way too much, America was designated as their babysitter until England could figure out what to do next...

England:

He was so caught up in being flustered, the person who fell, toppled right on top of him. A few groans here and there and his potential S/O was fully aware of the situation.

"Wh-What the fu-"

England was quick to interrupt them.

"Oh love! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to summon another mortal!"

Sadly, all S/O could do was stare. It became increasingly obvious they were either having a identity crisis, or they knew who they were. Either way, England took the blame, and had to explain that some dimensions only exist as a concept in others. As to why they were part of some anime. Didn't help, but it certainly gave S/O something to think about for the next few hours. And England a rather large headache as they bombarded him with questions. Not that he minded getting to flaunt his knowledge.

France:

This cocky son of a gun was sitting down, so of course he caught them in his lap. And immediately started flirting with them.

"Ah~ I see the black sheep of Europe gifted me with a literal Angel~"

"Black sheep- You mean England?"

Everyone froze. Even France choked a bit. But his eyes never left their face as they were (more or less forced) asked to explain where they came from. Even if France was from a different dimension, it didn't stop him from sympathizing for them. It must be hard to be away from everything one knows. Now he's made it his duty to make sure they're as comfortable as possible while in a new and strange place.

He was certainly caught off guard when they weren't flirting back when ever they interacted. To everyone's surprise, he stopped his advances all together. He was slowly growing more concerned over what lighting the show portrayed him in...

China:

While everyone argued with England, China was the only one to see the feet come from the ceiling. He promptly ran over to catch the slightly unconscious body from the portal. He watched with courosity as their eyes slowly opened.

"China? Am I in a dream? I haven't watched Hetalia in a while..."

He knew immediately what had happened, and gave England the biggest death stare to fix the situation before it got worse. Until then China made sure the newcomer had all their questions asked. He wasn't surprised in the slightest that this happened. England's magic is wonky, and stuff like this has happened more often than not.

Also, who would china be if he didn't try to offer some food from the potluck as well?

Russia:

He was standing, so when he caught his S/O, he had to fight everyone to let them go. Even when they were looking up at him like he was their whole world.

"You're even cuter in person..."

Russia tiled his head at them, their conversation separate from the rest as they argued on.

"You are not from around here? Not many would catch themselves dead with words like that."

He gave them a sweet smile, and had them explain where they were from. The idea of someone already knowing everything about him, and still giving him such a star stricken compliment made his heart melt. Maybe this wasn't a bad thing? Maybe they were just that nice? Does this mean they want to be friends with him? Oh all the questions he had for them. He was also courious about the world from where they were from. Good luck separating them, it will be impossible.

Axis:

Germany:

He caught them by complete chance. He literally had to jump a few feet forward to catch them, though he doesn't know why. What I can tell you is that as soon as his eyes met theirs he was already falling for them. Though he was slightly taken off by them saying his name.

"Ludwig? Damn... You're just as strong in the anime as in my, dream?"

He had to be the one to explain they weren't dreaming, and that England needs to stop being bad at magic. Even so, he took responsibility for what happened.

He thought it was rather cool to have someone compliment him from a different point of view. He couldn't help the sad look on his face when they asked if they were going to be sent home.

Japan:

He panicked, and panicked more when he was forced to try and catch them. He didn't want whoever to get hurt, but was desperate to lay them down on his jacket.

Once they came around, his skin crawled at the mention of his name. He didn't know them, and had to explain what happened. From then on it was clear they weren't from his dimension.

"So I've been... Isekai-ed? Into Hetalia! That's awesome!"

He subconsciously nodded in agreement.

"That is very cool. Does this mean you like anime then?"

They hit it off and the whole idea of being teleported from a different world was completely forgotten. For now.

Italy:

Everyone expected him to not understand a single thing. But as soon as they landed in his lap he immediately bursted out:

"They're not from this world..."

Everyone freaked out as soon as he said it. All he had to do to calm them down was point out the Hetalia themed notebook they were holding. When asked if it was true, all they could do was give a slow nod.

Italy then spent the rest of the day cooing over them, and asking them a thousand questions about the show. Honestly thinks it's cool, even if he's seen as a bit of a coward in the show, he's not like that... Sort of.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin has been gone for two years, Arthur has a meeting with the Lord Emrys to help with the changing laws:

And he has never bitterly regretted sending Merlin away more

Part 2(final part)

Angst,

SO

I'm gonna say... about 6 months before Uther dies, Merlin's magic is revealed to Arthur.

He really does NOT react well.

Arthur doesn't let Merlin get a word of explanation in, before he hits him on the head so hard he's unconscious before he even hits the floor.

When Merlin wakes up, what he can only assume is MUCH later, he's wearing cold iron shackles, he's been blindfolded, and gagged.

He just listens at first, still dazed and certainly concussed.

After about twenty minutes he's more aware, and realises... he's outside, in a forest, and he's on his own.

~

It’s been two years since Arthur abandoned Merlin in the woods beyond Camelot’s border.

He’s been King now for about a year and a half.

He went back three days later and tracked Merlin for a few hours, before coming to the conclusion that he'd gotten away safely, and heading back to Camelot.

He always tried to justify it to himself as protecting Merlin from Uther, ignoring the fact that Merlin had managed just fine on his own for years.

But really that was just an excuse. All he saw in the moment was a liar and a traitor. Really he should've had Merlin executed so... he's still a good person. He did the right thing.

He hadn't told anyone else the truth (perhaps because he knows they would hate him for it). Instead he told them that he and Merlin had argued, and before Arthur could get to the bottom of why his manservant was so irate, he stormed off in the middle of the night, and told him he wasn't coming back.

He stuck to that story the whole two years, though he's fairly certain they at least suspect he's lying. Gaius definitely does.

I imagine Gaius, only a few days after Merlin's disappearance, taking Arthur aside one night, and demanding to know if Merlin was dead. If Arthur had killed him:

"No! No of course not. He... we had a fight. It's like I said. He left in the night and told me not to follow him, that he wasn't coming back. I plan to respect his wishes."

Gaius releases the bruising grip he'd had on Arthur’s arm and takes a step back, his expression unreadable as he stares at the Prince.

"I...why would think I killed him?"

"Despite the fact that he most certainly could've defended himself against you, I always found it troubling how willing he was to let you execute him, should that be what you wanted."

Arthur has no reply to that, what would he even say? Would Merlin really have willingly walked to a pyre? If Arthur had only asked?

Gaius goes to walk away at that, but just before he shuts the door behind him, he pauses, and without looking back, says:

"If I find out you have killed my son, Sire, for who he is, there will... there is a large group of people who would see that justice is served. Myself included."

Everyone notices the change in the relationship between Gaius and Arthur since Merlin had left.

Arthur, with the knowledge that Gaius knows. Knows the truth and had guessed what he'd done. He couldn't face that.

They barely spoke to each other, Arthur avoided the physician wherever possible and words of encouragement and kindness were no longer aimed his way from the gentle old man.

His relationships with the others deteriorated as well.

They either thought he was telling the truth, and resented him for both being cruel to Merlin, and letting him go so easily.

(After years of Arthur treating Merlin terribly, no one is really surprised that Merlin had decided he'd had enough and left.)

OR they thought he was lying, hiding something, and resented him for not telling them the truth, and potentially doing something unforgivable to Merlin.

All but Gwaine are still polite to him, showing him the due respect of a Prince, and then a King, but not of a friend.

After a series of hijinks, Arthur comes to the terrifying realisation that magic isn't all bad.

Really I think, he's known all along. But admitting that magic wasn't pure evil made what he did to Merlin even more unforgivable.

He begins making moves to legalise it. It's slow and difficult, and he meets resistance at every turn.

BUT he also has the surprising support of Gaius, and his knights, and Gwen, and Morgana.

Still, none of them treat him like a friend, not the way they used to, but they're helping him along the way. He hadn't realised how many people close to him opposed the ban, until he started dismantling it.

Hope rises in him, over the months, as he realises that once he's legalised magic, he can find Merlin, and bring him back. The first place he'll check is Ealdor.

He's... scared of that. Scared that he won't be able to find him, but more scared that he will. That Merlin will hate him. That Merlin won't care that he's repealing the ban and won't want to come back.

Arthur doesn't think he could bare that.

Mostly because he knows that it would be entirely his own fault.

After the ban is finally lifted, there are huge celebrations. If the King is seen to be searching the crowds, as if for a familiar face, no one mentions it.

A few days later, a group of Druids come for an audience with the King, and are met by Arthur in the courtyard.

After quick introductions, and pleasantries, the leader begins to speak:

"Once and Future King, I first want to extend my gratitude for this warm welcome, and promise that you have the Druid's full support in lifting the ban. We hope for a peaceful future, full of cooperation and compassion."

Arthur nods and smiles slightly at that, but before he can reply in anyway, the Druid speaks again:

"Our leader, the leader of all Druids and all magic of the world, would like to convene with you, and discuss the specifics of any future agreements between our two worlds."

Arthur is surprised at that, but hides it well. Leader of... all magic? Sounds... powerful:

"Of course, I readily accept. They may bring themselves forth, I will make time for a meeting whenever they so choose."

"Your majesty, My Lord Emrys already awaits you in the throne room-"

(The Druid smiles at Arthur's barely concealed shock at his words, both at the idea that someone had snuck into his castle undetected, and at the mention of Emrys. One of the the few conversations he'd had with Gaius had been an in-depth explanation of who Emrys was, and his and Arthur's destiny (the physician had failed, of course, to mention Emrys' true identity.)) 

The Druid continues gently:

"-He's not one for public appearances."

"I.... of course. Will you and your group be attending? Or would you like to be shown to your rooms immediately?"

"This is a matter to be discussed privately, between the two of you, My Lord. Myself and my group have a camp just beyond the city walls that we will return to. Thank you for the offer of hospitality, we appreciate the kindness greatly."

With that, the Druid gives another short bow before turning and leaving through the castle gates, his group following closely behind him.

Arthur takes a deep breath, briefly glancing at Sir Leon, who stands at his side, and instructing him to inform the council that any remaining meetings for the day had been cancelled.

Leon gives a stiff nod and stalks off. He had been the best at hiding his disdain for his former best friend, but it still shone through occasionally, and Arthur's heart clenches as he thinks that he really can blame no one but himself for the deterioration of everything in his personal life.

With another deep breath, he re-enters the castle, and heads towards the throne room, trying to psyche himself up for meeting the supposed Leader of All Magic, who had managed to sneak his way into the heart of the castle, without anyone noticing or raising the alarm.

He pauses briefly outside the doors, and instructs the guards to not let Anyone in, without the King's express permission.

They nod, and with that, Arthur opens the doors and enters, shutting them quietly, before turning around to be faced with a near empty throne room.

He furrows his brow as his eyes settle on a single man, his back to Arthur where he stands gazing out a window, onto the courtyard below.

Arthur can't see his face, he can't see much of him to be honest, he's shrouded in a floor length blue cloak, hood up and covering his head.

The King stares only for a moment before raising himself to his full height, clearing his throat, and speaking:

"Lord Emrys? It's my honour to welcome you to Camelot. Thank you for coming."

The man turns his head slightly at that, though not enough for Arthur to see any more of his face.

"Your honour?-"

He huffs a small laugh at that, though it sounds dry and sarcastic, as opposed to genuinely humoured.

"- we shall see about that."

His voice comes out strangely, obviously magically altered, and Arthur has to stop himself from gulping at the many voices echoing around the otherwise empty room.

They sound sort of... familiar? But he pushes that feeling down and takes yet another deep breath:

"Of course. I've been told a great deal about you. That you have always been an ally to Camelot, and have protected both me personally, and the Kingdom, from the shadows, never asking for credit or requesting recognition. I thank you for that, my gratitude knows no bounds. You had no reason to protect a kingdom that previously would have seen you burn, though I swear to you, that is not how things work now."

Emrys let's out a chuckle at that, this one somehow even less humoured than the last

He gives a small nod, before saying, almost to himself, though Arthur hears anyway:

"Yes, we shall see."

His voice is no longer disguised, and Arthur once again pushes down the feeling of recognition blooming in his chest. He's sure he knows that voice.

("It sounds like.... no. It isn't. Stop hearing things that aren't there. You're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." runs through his head.)

Arthur is unsure how to continue the conversation from there, but before he has to force some sort of response out, Emrys finally turns, and lowers his hood.

Arthur takes a step back and gasps, his eyes wide.

Merlin's hard eyes stare back at him, his expression completely blank. He looks very different, but is still recognisable as Arthur's former manservant.

"...Merlin?" Escapes Arthur's mouth, so quietly he can barely hear it himself

At this, Emrys let's out a deep sigh, sounding almost resigned, as he cocks an eyebrow and replies:

"No one's called me that in two and a half years. You know, I used to hate the idea of people calling me Emrys instead of Merlin. Now, I find that I feel the exact opposite.-"

He tilts his head slightly, looking briefly puzzled as he maintains eye contact and mumbles:

“-Or perhaps it’s just you.”

At this Arthur gulps, and really looks at Merlin... or Emrys.

He's bulked out a little, no longer skinny and sickly looking, he fills his clothes (good quality, blues and silvers and blacks, intricate patterns and fitting well) in a way he never had before. His hair has grown out long and curls around his ears. His beard has grown in a little.

(Think, the living and the dead) :

His hands, which now have druid markings tattooed all over (they're also just about visible above his collar, though they don't go very far up his neck) , are clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers adorned with a couple of rings.

Nothing he wears looks especially expensive, Merlin had never been one to dress up, but they are good quality, and screamed "Druid" and "powerful".

"You're Emrys? Why did you never say??"

Merli-... Emrys tenses his jaw at that, his face showing slight anger as opposed to the boredom it displayed before, but before he can answer, the gang bursts in all at once.

Arthur can hear the guards yelling over the top of the door banging against the wall, and the footsteps of eight people rushing into the room.

"I tried to stop them sire but they wouldn't- Merlin??" From Leon has Arthur letting out a frustrated growl.

The King sweeps his eyes over the rest of the group as they all stare in surprise at Merlin.

Gaius is the only one who doesn't look surprised, he is instead smiling, and steps forward to offer Merlin a hug, which he accepts with no resistance as a small smile graces his face.

Merlin speaks quietly, but everyone can hear him:

"It's good to see you Gaius. I've missed you. When this is all sorted I've got so many things to tell you, to show you."

Gaius pulls back and grins even wider,

"All in time, dear boy. You're looking very well. I'm glad you've finally revealed yourself as the Lord Emrys."

Merlin blushes slightly at that and looks down:

"I haven't gone by the name Merlin in almost three years Gaius, Camelot has been the only place to not know me."

Merlin steps back, and glances quickly at the others, before settling his gaze on Arthur, who is looking a little like an animal caught in a trap. Merlin's eyes harden once again, and he schools his face back into disinterest and boredom:

"As I was about to say before, My King, I didn't get a chance to explain myself to you before I awoke, shackled and blinded and cold, with a rather nasty head wound, in the middle of a forest. And quite frankly, after that, I wasn't prepared to stumble my way back to Camelot and try for a second time. Though perhaps I should be grateful you simply knocked me out and dumped me, as opposed to burning me?"

Arthur looks to be in physical pain, but doesn't look away from Merlin, not even as the others gasp and mutter and stare and glare at him.

"Shackled? You.... I knew you were lying you monster. How could you?!" From Morgana is the first thing loud enough to be heard.

It's Gwaine who speaks next, but Arthur still doesn't look away from Merlin:

"You bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He goes to draw his sword and step towards the King, but Elyan holds him back:

"No, Gwaine. It isn't our place. This is Merlin's fight, and he knows we all stand with him."

At that, Merlin finally looks away, an ever so slight smile escapes as Elyan nods to him, and becomes the first of the group to move to stand behind Merlin, facing the king. The others follow shortly after.

They stand in a group just behind him, the fury rolling off them in waves.

Morgana steps forward and takes one of Merlin's hands in her own. Staring Arthur down, she speaks, her eyes flash gold as a sharp wind whips through the throne room. No windows or doors have been left open:

"Would you have done the same to me, brother-mine? Would you have beaten me and shackled me and left me in a forest to rot?"

Arthur steps back in complete shock, the group behind her and Merlin are also shocked, but take it in their stride.

Merlin squeezes her hand in a silent "I'm sorry, I'm with you, I'll teach you, you're safe."

Arthur doesn't really have the words at this point. He's speechless and in shock and almost crying.

He had always known that his first meeting with Merlin would be difficult, but he wasn't expecting everyone who had ever been important to him to be there as well, stood opposite him, hating him.

The wind dies down as Gwen places a hand on the other woman's shoulder from behind. Merlin looks towards Morgana first, and offers a comforting smile to her teary face, before looking behind him to the others.

"As much as I appreciate the support, and as much as I love, and have missed you all, I think me and the King need to have a private meeting on the matter. Personal problems aside, I need to see to the continued safety of my people."

It’s quiet, reserved Percival, who speaks up:

"Like hell are we leaving you with him now we know what he did." The others nod at this, but Merlin replies gently:

"I'll be fine, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Go, I'll find you later."

At this, he turns once more to Morgana:

"There is a group of Druids camped just beyond the city walls, go to them, take Gaius. They will help you until this is all resolved, and then I can teach you myself." he says with a smile, and at her nod, he glances at Gaius, who steps forward and leads Morgana out the room, closely followed by a hesitating gaggle of knights.

Gwen is the only one who remains, as she takes Merlin’s hand briefly in Morgana’s place, and snarls at Arthur:

"Monster."

-before following the others out of the room, and shutting the door behind her, leaving the throne room once again empty of people, bar the Forever King and the Immortal One.

Merlin speaks first, looking back to Arthur, unwavering and determined:

"How do I know this is all real? The change in laws?"

"I... what? What do you mean real? Of course it's real. Merlin please, can we just-"

Merlin turns away as he interrupts him, and walks back towards the window, to look upon the courtyard, where countless innocents had been slaughtered:

"Pretending to change the laws so you can lure my people to your city, before starting another purge, sounds like exactly something Uther's son would do. I will not put my people in danger by encouraging them to come here, before I can be sure they are truly safe from the Pendragon line."

Arthur's heart breaks even more. He really had damaged the relationship between himself and Merlin more than he ever could've imagined. Merlin had seemed to make it his life goal to assure Arthur that he wasn't his father, that he could follow his own path and create his own legacy. Before Arthur had ruined everything.

"I would never. The law is changed. Sorcer- your people, are safe. Merlin will you please-"

Merlin turns and interrupts again, looking Arthur directly in the eyes, obviously not prepared to let the conversation turn personal.

"Promises made to beings of magic are... powerful. There is magic in words, swear to me that my people are safe from persecution, and I will believe it."

"I...yes. I swear it. People with magic will no longer be unfairly persecuted in this kingdom as long as I am king, I swear it, in the name of Camelot."

Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and Arthur feels as though the words he's just spoken have been branded onto his soul. In a way, they have.

Merlin looks once more out of the window, and replies quietly, but darkly:

"I will hold you to that, Arthur Pendragon."

~

THE END!

This two-parter has been finished!!

As per usual, I only write drafts, so if someone wants to write this up all proper, then go for it, credit and tag me✌

[janetbrown711]

“I’ve got you. You’re safe” yakko to Wakko after there parents.... um yeah idk like nightmare in orphanage I hate myself

Yakko was eight years old, but somehow he already knew he had seen more than others should in a lifetime. 

Yakko had never liked the idea of war, but his father never failed to reassure him that it wouldn’t come to that. He said wars were better fought with words than death and destruction, and that their kingdom and castle were strong and nothing bad was ever going to happen to them. Yakko had believed him, but asked too many questions. His father had sent him off to play with his siblings. 

His mother had just set Dot down for bed. Wakko was playing in the playroom while Queen Angelina II sat and smiled at Wakko fondly. Yakko had complained when Wakko said he wanted to play with him. His mother scolded him softly, whispering that she’d give him a treat later if he and his brother got along. He had agreed to play, though he had been disagreeable most of the time, though the four-year-old didn’t seem to notice. 

There had been a loud crash, windows breaking. The Queen had jolted to life, having been practically asleep by then.

“What was that mummy?” Wakko tugged on his mother’s sleeve. 

“Yakko, watch over your brother. I’ll be back in a moment, I promise,” She smiled, but Yakko could see the panic and worry in her eyes. His mother hugged her boys tightly and kissed their foreheads. 

“I’ll be back in a moment, I’m just going to check on your father,” She had said, trying her best to hide the negative emotions behind her kind eyes. she turned to Yakko and grabbed his shoulders. 

“If anything should happen, I need you to grab Dot and exit the castle using the servant tunnels underground. Don’t stop until you reach Acme Falls, understood?” She asked. Yakko couldn’t say he really did; She was going to come back, right? Still, he nodded. A tension seemed to release from Angelina and she smiled again. 

She went to leave but stopped hugged the boys once more. 

“I love you boys so very, very much,” She said. She kissed their foreheads again and ran out into the unknown.

Yakko hadn’t liked that. There was another crash, and Yakko heard shouting and fighting. He felt Wakko cling to his arm and look up at him worriedly. 

“Is it okay?” Wakko asked. Yakko cringed. 

“I don’t know,” Yakko admitted. They waited and sat in there for what felt like an eternity. The noises didn’t go away and only got louder and closer. Yakko felt a sense of dread crawl up his spine. 

"I’m gonna check on mom,” Yakko decided impulsively. He hadn’t liked it. He hadn’t liked it one bit. 

“Mummy said not to split,” He pouted, then added- “I wanna see dadoo.” Yakko had wanted to refuse but knew his mother knew what was best and took him along. 

Yakko had only been with Wakko for an hour, and the castle changed into an entirely different place. Broken glass was on the floor, tapestries taken down, muddy footprints were upon the once spotless marble and carpets. Wakko gripped tighter on his arm, and even kept his tongue in his mouth. 

Yakko had heard voices down the hall: angry men. They had someone. The voice was female. They were coming closer, so Yakko panicked and grabbed Wakko and went into where the maids kept the cleaning supplies. Wakko had complained, but Yakko quickly shushed him as the voices got louder. 

“What are they saying?” Wakko asked. Yakko leaned against the door and shook his head. He hadn’t been able to hear from within the closet and the voices were getting farther away. He bit his lip. 

“I’ll be right back- I’m gonna get Dot,” Yakko said.

“Why? Mummy is gonna get Dot,” He frowned. Yakko didn’t have it in him to tell his little brother why he doubted. 

“Just... stay right here. Don’t move. I’ll be back, got it?” Yakko pointed to emphasize the seriousness. Wakko nodded. 

Yakko had crept out of the closet and saw a swarm of men with torches. They were shouting at someone. Yakko took a deep breath and tried to see who it was, but was struck frozen when he saw that they had his mother, just like he had dreaded. 

“I’m not telling you where they are.” Her face was bruised and her fur was disheveled and she was bleeding. Yakko wanted nothing more than to run and to protect her, but he couldn’t move. 

“We’ll find them either way, Angelina, so how about you tell us anyway? We already killed your husband, we can kill you just as easily,” One man pointed a gun right at her head. Yakko had felt the floor drop out from under him. 

Dad. 

Dad was... was...

No. He couldn’t think about that. He had to save his mom. He had to save her. Somehow. 

He looked around for something he could use as a weapon, a sword, a large piece of wood, something. Yakko knew he wasn’t strong, especially not strong enough to take on four adult men in armor. His mind scrambled to think. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have to. He caught eye contact with his mother accidentally, and the man threatening her noticed and saw him immediately. 

“Seize the boy,” He ordered.

“Yakko, run.” Angelina ordered. Yakko came back to life and booked it down the opposite way. His heart pounded in his chest and wind roared in his ears as he heard shouts and the clanking of armor behind him. He turned a corner and heard his mother cry out in pain, shouting things at the man, and then-

A loud gunshot rang through the hall, and his mother’s voice was silenced.

Yakko felt a sharp pain followed by a wave of numbness overtake his body and he quickly began to cry, but his pace didn’t let up. His mind throbbed, as did his chest as he lifted his heavy legs as he ran. 

He did know one thing: He had to get Dot. But he couldn’t let the men find her or Wakko. 

After running for what felt like miles, he jumped under a table and the men continued running on, even after it was apparent they weren’t chasing anyone anymore. Yakko kept a hand over his mouth and didn’t move a muscle for what felt like an eternity and his mind did it’s best to avoid thinking about what had just happened. 

Gunshot. His mother’s cries. Her pleading-

No. 

He couldn’t think like that. He had to get his sibs. 

Eventually, the hall he was in fell utterly and painfully silent and Yakko ran with all his might back to the closet where Wakko was still waiting, thank god. 

“Yakko! You’re back!” Wakko threw his arms around his older brother and Yakko couldn’t help but hug him back. 

“We have to get Dot and then get out of here,” Yakko said. Wakko didn’t argue, but it was clear he didn’t get it and was scared. Yakko bit his lip, but couldn’t think of anything comforting. He grabbed his brother’s hand and together they walked back, gingerly stepping over torn curtains, broken glass, and other destroyed furniture. Yakko couldn’t get himself to look at the half-burned painting of their family. 

He could hear Dot crying by the time he reached the nursery. 

“Yakko, I want mummy,” Wakko pulled on Yakko’s pant leg as he approached his sister’s crib. 

“Mom can’t help anymore,” Yakko said as he picked up the crying infant and tried to soothe her. 

“Why? Where’s dadoo?” Wakko pressed. 

“I don’t know Wakko. We have to go,” Yakko half lied. It was true he didn’t know his father’s location, but...

“Why?” Wakko frowned. 

“Because we aren’t safe here. We have to go to Acme Falls,” Yakko said. 

“But that’s so far!” Wakko groaned. 

“Then we better get going.” Yakko snapped at him. Wakko froze before looking at the ground and muttering to himself. Yakko had sighed as Dot’s cries ceased. 

“We just... we have to go. It isn’t safe here and mom said we have to go Acme Falls,” Yakko explained. 

“I don’t wanna go. I want to see mummy and daddy...” Wakko sniffled. 

“We can’t Wak... We have to go,” Yakko felt tears threaten to spill, but he knew he didn’t have the time, and swallowed down the pain. 

“Come on... We have a long way to go,” He offered his free hand to Wakko and the four-year-old prince took it. 

The three of them successfully got to the bottom floor of the castle, and got to the servant's quarters without a hitch. They made their way through the dark and poorly lit tunnels leading to Acme Falls, and by the time they reached their so-called “safe place”, it was morning. Wakko had all but passed out the moment they sat down in an ally outside the bakery. Dot had been asleep almost the whole night. 

He still couldn’t get himself to cry. He couldn’t admit what had happened. Even when the townspeople recognized them as the royal children and wondered what happened. Even when the town crier had come the next day to announce that the kingdom and the castle had been overtaken. Even when a nice blonde lady had taken them to the orphanage and they explained to Wakko what had happened. He hadn’t cried. He still couldn’t believe it. 

That’s where he was now. It had been three days since the attack. Yakko was sitting up in his bed, still unable to sleep, his mind stuck replaying what had happened. Wakko was making attempts to sleep and Dot was in a crib next to Yakko’s bed. 

However, just like the previous nights, Wakko had shot away and began to cry. Yakko had been waiting for that, and immediately opened up his arms to his little brother, who hugged him and sobbed into his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you Wak, you’re safe,” He soothed.

“I-i want mu-mum-mummy and d-daddy,” Wakko cried. 

“I-i know Wak... I want them too,” Yakko bit back tears of his own. 

“A-are... are they really gone Yakko?” He asked, looking him in the eyes with his own, which were red and puffy and leaking with tears. Yakko couldn’t look away, no matter how hard he tried. He knew the answer, he had heard her cries and the gunshot. He knew. 

“Yes, Wak. They’re... they’re gone,” He answered truthfully, feeling tears finally begin to stream down his face. Once they began, they didn’t stop. Wakko’s hug tightened around him and the two brothers held each other until both of their tears had run out and reality had truly set in. 

Their parents were dead, their home destroyed, and they only had each other.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[jennsmischievousmind]

Chaos Therapy

Session #2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You were assigned to a field mission, with particulars co-agents, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. One mission turned into multiples. After each missions you are debriefed by a therapist, Dr Noach just as Sam and Bucky. Thing is, they don’t know that you are much more than an agent.

Warnings: pining, bit of angst, Buck/Sam bickering, violence (fights against enemies), mild swearing (still real bad at warnings)

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

Mumbling your floor to the AI, you tried to relax but the door not closing triggered you. Hearing voices coming your way you understood.

“I don’t get it tincan, you got the new arm, the new haircut loosen up,” Sam Wilson came into view followed by Barnes, you would have never thought yet you got star-struck by his intense gaze when it locked on yours – Wilson got oddly silent for a second his look bouncing between the two of you until Barnes looked away and faced the door.

Wilson snorted “Guess we won’t talk about what just happened,” a smirk growing on his face.

Rolling your eyes you resumed your attention on the elevator transparent walls. Until you caught yourself glancing at Bucky’s back, inevitably your look followed his left shoulder to his metal well, vibranium arm, unfortunately, you could only see his wrist and hand. It’s not like you had studied all of the late Mr Stark’s researches on his previous metal arm and Wakanda’s report on the new appendage... The few golden lines you could see were mesmerizing, fingers itching to trace them you quickly shook your head remembering where you were. The elevator finally stopped at your level.

"Meeting at 6, briefing in the jet." You declared trying to focus on the mission at hand, accidentally brushing Barnes' left arm as you exit.

You were about to apologize but Sam intervened "Okay boss"

Smiling you lifted an eyebrow "I'm not your boss, but keep that in mind just in case."

You kept your eyes on Wilson who was nodding at your answer appreciating your repartee until the door was inches too close your eyes shifted to Barnes'. His eyes already on you.

“Fuck! You’re a professional for Stark’s sake, get a grip!” getting angry at yourself you head for the cave.

_

"Can you tell me more about the actual mission you had?'"

"It’s classified."

"Alright," she smirks "I see here that you had to use your field agent training? "

“Affirmative ma’am!”

"Weren't you supposed to assist and use your shadow IT skills,"

"Also, affirmative,"

“So, what happened?”

_

Tactical gears, the best part of field missions, hands skimming the gears sprawled out on the metal table, you couldn't wait.

‘You won’t be wearing that actually," the technician kicked you off your reverie, you frowned "Casual clothes, Kevlar under it, one gun, that’s it.”

The deceive expression didn’t escape the attention of the techs around the table. “It’s not always big guns and expensive gear”

“Yeah, I get that. Great…” you grabbed the gun and the Kevlar. Ready to meet your co-agents at the hangar. They were by the jet reviewing things with the techs.

“Agent Wilson, Agent Barnes.” You rearranged your top over your kevlar,

“Ok, hold on, please call me Sam,’

“Alright, then call me Y/N or boss.” he chuckled at your saying.

“This is tincan,” his thumb pointed to Barnes

"Uh" squinting at Sam, surprised by the verbal jab, you were unable to form any words.

Bucky sighed, throwing his bag in a corner of the jet “Your record is scratched, Wilson”

“Newsflash. We don’t use records anymore Buck!”

You stayed silent watching them bicker on the jet's ramp, taking mental notes. Bucky's jaw clenching every now and then, the never-ending smirk of Sam. How and why did anyone think it was a good idea to team them up?

“I already miss my cave.” You mumbled and passed by them, they both looked at you as you made your way in the tactic jet.

The briefing went smoothly, oddly, although seeing Barnes in tactical gear didn't leave you indifferent. Your mind yelling to get a grip while your eyes roam his geared up body. Now you had a full view of his vibranium arm, he caught you once or twice looking intently at it, each time you felt bad you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable or anything.

Few hours later, spent meditating and reviewing the mission in your head, avoiding the guys, avoiding Bucky, you ended up on one of the New Singapore islands. The tactic jet retreats back as soon as you three touched the ground.

“I go first, you come in after I made sure the target’s in, Buck in standby”

“Yeah, we know,” Bucky spoke, you could hear the exasperation in his voice.

Sam smirked at Bucky before rounding the corner leading to the underground club. There you were alone with Bucky Barnes.

"Are you two always like that?" you leaned on the concrete wall behind you.

He was standing straight, hands on his tactical belt "What'd you mean by that?" you tried not to stare as his look remained forward.

"Tough love and all.." your teasing voice made him glance your way. He hid a smirk and fully turned to you taking a step forward. “We’re working on that,” it was your turn to hide a smirk, and you thanked the dark alley for hiding the dusted red that had reached your neck at his closeness.

Minutes later Sam had called in the comm. Getting through the crowd you reached the bar where Sam was, clubs, forsaken places. He nodded at the back of the club where he had seen the target get out.

Making your way to the hidden office in the back, the dark and the loud music were your allies, scanning the room with one of the few gadgets you were allowed to have you were relieved to find it empty of human forms.

“Ok, 15 minutes” you called out in the comm’. Forcing the door, you look behind you before sliding it shut. Rummaging the all room you finally find the old metal case.

“I got the codes,” you were supposed to analyse them on site and then destroyed them but when you didn’t hear any of them answered you stopped “Sam?” silence “Barnes?” a distant crash followed by howls caught your attention.

“Y/N GET OUT!” Bucky's voice rang into your comm' not missing a beat you grabbed the case, slide the door open ready to run to the backdoor. “Oh!” you stopped dead in your tracks, a large man about 6 feet tall blocked the door. He eyed the case in your hand, you shrugged.

Pouncing on you, you easily dodged him as he was so slow, you ran to the main room instead, only to find Sam and Bucky fighting against a bunch of dudes.

“Subtle mission my ass,” you muttered to yourself, Watching them, you were genuinely interested in the two Avengers' fighting skills, missing the big guy coming behind you.

Grabbing your middle, trapping your arms against your body he lifted you as if you were a feather. Quickly refocusing you hooked your feet to his calve, balancing your weight against him he started to wobble backwards, his arms slipping up past your chest allowing you to elbow his floating ribs multiple times. He finally let go groaning, you took this time to kick his knee, he whaled staying down. Seeing the boys were still fighting and enemies still coming in you joined them. Back to back with both of them holding your ground.

“Buck you wanna clear the path” Sam snickered.

"Sure if you've got a great idea in mind involving your chicken wings go ahead," Buck retorted earning a death stare from Sam.

"I'm really deliberating leaving you here with them right now," you checked your gun’s mag.

"And how do you plan on getting out?"

“Close your eyes” the boys followed your request without any doubt.

You activated your anti-flash lenses with a press on your temple. Launching the tiny flashbang on the ground it exploded blinding everyone around you. Since the guys couldn’t open their eyes yet and you could clearly see the path you grabbed them both by the wrists and pulled them out, they ran behind you blindly for less than a minute until you reached the outside, stopping in the nearest alley.

The place was loud with cries, smokes evading the place brushing the neon lights creating a halo of blurred colours. Lost in the moment, the adrenaline rushing out you felt your right hand becoming colder in an instant, a low whirring and vibration coming from the vibranium wrist you were holding soothed your racing heart.

Sam had already escaped your grasp to check on the escape route. Quickly removing your hold you glanced at Bucky to make sure he wasn't uncomfortable but his face showed a different emotion. His gaze remained on his wrist where a second ago your warm hand was, brow knitted yet his look was soft, he clenched his fist and released it, he snapped out of it when an explosion occurred in the club. Time to run.

“If I knew we were about to run so much I wouldn’t have worn my best suit!” Sam argued, your lips curved into a smile at his annoyed voice.

In the jet safe and sound you tried to work on the codes but the two supposed-to-be grown-ups you work with were arguing about how the mission went wrong. Eventually, you tuned them out and send the files to the intelligence.

After giving back your gear to the assistant waiting for you in the hangar you turned to your co-agents.

“That was fun!” Sam tossed his suit jacket upon his shoulder “we should team up more often”

You scoffed “I don’t know about that”. Bucky came down the ramp his gear in hands, your jaw clenched at the way he looked so effortlessly good, it ignited something in you and you thought why the hell am I fighting this.

“Sam, Barnes,” you bowed your head slightly heading to the quarters' area, already writing the reports in your head, before needy thoughts cloud your mind.

“Bucky, it’s Bucky,” he called out, you spun fully, walking backwards “Bucky,” you spoke softly, the corner of your mouth quirked up, eyes entirely focused on him, his didn’t waver either. Rounded a crate disappearing from their view you bit your lower lips.

Sam nudged Bucky’s shoulder "When I said to loosen up, I didn't imply crushing on our new teammate,"

"Shut up,"

_

“And it was the first official mission with them?”

“Yes ma’am, … the intelligence thought the mission was a success, somehow. Against what I thought, they decided to team us up again,”

She nods, your answer exactly what she wanted to hear, she cuts the recorder.

“All is going well then” she closes her tablet, undoing the first button of her shirt feeling stuffy.

“I’ll be able to give you something more tangible in a few missions,”

SESSION #3

MASTERLIST

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

I will be tagging Chaos Therapy now, since some of you might filter the TFATWS tags to avoid spoilers.

[solangelover]

A Glowing Future

Submission by @satans-little-helper33

This piece takes place right after Nico’s final chapter at the end of Blood of Olympus.

Main Characters: Will Solace and Nico DiAngelo

Solangelo fluff

Nico’s encounter with Eros had cracked him wide open and left him feeling vulnerable and broken, forced to face his own reality and feelings, exposed in front of Jason; he was forced to share his darkest secret for a god’s amusement. Nico now knew he could trust Jason to keep it to himself, though, and he was beginning to realize that in order to crawl out of his self-constructed prison, his barriers first had to be torn down.

The feelings that had haunted him for so long—the shame, the fear, the denial—caused by the mentality of the 1940s he’d grown up in began to fade away. 

He was no longer that scared little boy who had been enraptured by the presence of a powerful demigod, and now that he had finally confessed his past feelings to Percy, Nico felt that he could finally move forward. 

Hades’s son made his way back down the hill to where Will was waiting for him, wearing scrubs,  jeans, and a crooked smile that made his heart skip a beat.

--------

“Sorry I didn’t come visit you in the infirmary,” Nico said, wearing the hint of a smile.

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” Will Solace said, his mouth set tight but laughter in his eyes, like he was trying to stay mad at Nico and failing.

“You wanted me to stay there--”

“For at least three days. Doctor’s orders.” Will started to lead Nico back toward the infirmary.

“Really, I’m Fine,” Nico began, but then his knees buckled and Will hoisted him back up.

“Uh huh. Right. Let’s get you to a bed.”

--------

Even after Coach Hedge’s nature magic/sports drink concoction, which had sustained Nico for a while, the arduous task of shadow-travelling the Athena Parthenos across the world had caught up with him again.

When Nico opened his eyes again, he was in the infirmary half sitting, half lying on a piece of furniture that was somewhere between a bed and a stretcher. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” a familiar voice intoned, “have some ambrosia.”

Will sat on a chair beside the bed; the room of the infirmary he was in was long and lined with similar bed-stretchers, separated by white curtains that shimmered in different colors when they were moved.

Several other beds were occupied with demigods sporting now-relatively-minor injuries left over from the battle with Gaia and the monster army: a daughter of Hecate 2 beds over was glaring at her leg in a cast as if she was insulted by the inconvenience.

Nico turned back to Will, and noticed that beside the bed there was a small table with a baggie of ambrosia squares on it. Nico reached out to pick one up but encountered a familiar problem: his fingers passed right through the baggie and ambrosia, as if he was becoming one with the shadows permanently. His hand appeared fuzzy around the edges, as if he was dissolving.

“Uhh, maybe if I try again--”

Will frowned, then sighed. “This is what happens when you overextend yourself. Here, let me help you.” He picked up a square and held it out to feed Nico.

Nico leaned back. “What are you doing?”

“No arguing. Open up.” Solace said, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Will took none of Nico’s shit. That was one of the things Nico found most endearing and annoying about him; no matter how hard the son of Hades tried to push him away, Will simply refused to let him.

Nico took the ambrosia, and after a few moments they looked back at his hand, which seemed to be coming back into sharper focus.

“You had me worried there, diAngelo,” Will said, smiling, and briefly gripped his hand to check if it was now solid. Day of the Dead skeletons tapped out a jig in Nico’s chest.

“You were worried...about me?” Nico said, still wrapping his mind around the fact that Will had wanted a death demigod to visit him in the infirmary.

“Get some sleep.” he said, closing the ziplock bag.

“I’m not tired.” 

“Well you will be in a second. CLOVIS,” he called out. The calf-like son of Morpheus appeared around the corner and Will told him “we’ve got another stubborn one,” throwing a teasing smile Nico’s way.

Clovis yawned. “I’m all over it,” he said, and--despite Nico’s protests--touched his forehead. The son of Hades drifted off into a deep sleep.

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

Nico awoke feeling more rested than he had in weeks. 

He quickly sat up, suddenly worried, because the last time he’d felt this rested, he’d been asleep for three days.

Nico stopped a passing Apollo healer. 

“How long have I been out??”

The healer scratched his chin, trying to estimate. “About 6 hours?” He walked off.

Will walked into the infirmary, arguing with a Demeter camper; something about herbs and supplies? He turned and spotted Nico.

“Well, good evening, sleepyhead! How was your nap? Feeling better?”

“I think 6 hours is slightly more than a nap.” Nico retorted.

“Well, count yourself lucky that Clovis has learned to control his powers better. A while ago he put a camper out for a week by accident.” Will made his way toward him. “Can you stand?”

“Um, let’s find out.” Nico swung his legs over the bed and got up. Aside from stumbling a little, he was feeling much better. Nico marvelled at the healing powers of sleep.

As if he read his mind, Will said, “Oh yeah, sleep has endless benefits.”

Nico twisted his skull ring. “Hey, I came in here at about noon, which means--”

 The conch horn signalling the dinner feast echoed across the valley. Will grinned. “I think that’s our cue.”

--------

The Half Blood campfire that night still carried with it an aura of elation spurred from disbelief, that they had won the battle against Gaia and made allies with the Romans, and a sort of desperation to feel alive brought about by all of those who had died in the process. Nico felt a pang for Leo, though he had a strange feeling that his death wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed.

Will sat by him at the bonfire, the Apollo cabin on his left and Nico on his right, leaving Nico unsure as to whether Will had sat next to him or his cabin. He chastised himself for hoping that it was the former.

The enchanted flames in the brazier blazed brightly with the energy of the campers, and Nico felt the warmth flare in his heart as he cast a glance at the son of Apollo, the light from the fire reflecting off of his blonde hair. 

--------

Nico lay in his bunk that night after the campfire, staring up at the ceiling of the Hades cabin that was inset with precious stones. He quickly realized that there was no way he was falling asleep any time soon, and he climbed out of bed. The whole room was drenched in liquid shadows, and despite his exhaustion after the journey shadow travelling with the Athena Parthenos, Nico stepped forward and became one with the darkness with ease.

  He melted from the shadow of a tree, finding himself by the lakeside at the edge of Camp Half-Blood. A full moon cast a pale glow on the night. Nico walked down to the sand and sat down; the silence was intoxicating, and Nico closed his eyes and listened to the gentle lapping of small waves against the shore. Suddenly he felt something nearby, heard the brush rustle, and wondered whether the cleaning harpies had come to eat him for being out past curfew. Nico drew his Stygian sword, which seemed to pull at the darkness like a magnet, and got ready to defend himself. What actually emerged from the brush was Will, who abruptly spotted Nico’s sword and laughed quietly. 

“Expecting a fight?”

Nico quickly sheathed his sword. “What are you doing out here?” He noticed for the first time that Will had something in his hands.

He held up two goblets. “Mind if I join you?”

Will was the only one at camp who was not blatantly wary of him; after several years as an outcast, the effect felt foreign.

Will sat down next to the son of Hades and spoke to one of the goblets--“Pomegranate juice”--and handed it to Nico as the cup filled with garnet liquid. 

“Are these--” Nico began.

“Glasses from the dining pavilion? Yeah. I snuck a couple out before dinner ended.” He wore his trademark mischievous smile. “I noticed you asked for pomegranate juice at dinner.” Nico felt his face grow warm as Will turned to his own cup and requested ginger beer. Soon the glass was filled with amber.

“It...reminds me of my mom.” Nico said quietly. “Not Persephone, ironically. When Bianca, my mom, and I...” his voice caught on Bianca’s name “when we lived in New Orleans, I was little, but I remember her giving us pomegranate juice on special occasions. It was a tough thing to find where we lived, so she would only have it on celebrations or...when my dad came to visit. I was just a baby when she was murdered.”

He stared down in silence at his drink.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. Bianca, your mom, none of it,” Will said gently.

“I know,” Nico muttered, his voice nonetheless doubtful.

Will placed his hand on Nico’s, and he tensed, ready to pull away, but then instead turned his palm up to hold Will’s. 

Nico turned his head to look up at Will, his pale blue eyes shining in the moonlight, almost periwinkle, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Will murmured, his gaze taking Nico in. Will looked into his dark eyes as if he could perceive all of him, good and bad, and was still enraptured by what he saw. 

Will reached out hesitantly, as if to touch Nico’s face, but stopped before, gaging his reaction, and when the son of Hades didn’t pull away, he brushed the ink-black hair out of his face.

Involuntarily, Nico’s eyes closed and his heart began to race. His life had, for years, been spent more with the dead than the living. No one had touched him tenderly for what felt like eons, not since Bianca, and only now did he realize how starved for physical affection he had been. Not just starved, he thought to himself, afraid of it… 

And in that moment he decided that he was not going to be afraid anymore.

  Will’s gaze moved from Nico’s eyes to his lips, and he leaned in carefully as if approaching a wild animal. Nico closed the distance, and as their lips met, his life bloomed before him like a chrysanthemum opening layer by layer. Suddenly Nico could see a future before him that wasn’t ruled by death and solitude. 

Unnoticed by either of them, a dead mouse at the edge of the forest was brought back to life and scampered off into the trees.

 - Alya

@satans-little-helper33

My writing blog: @from-story-to-screen

[incarnateirony]

An anti dressed up as a shipper, an idiot, and a terf all walk into the same bar.

It’s the same picture person.

A lesson.

Warning: if the title doesn’t give it away, queerphobic content comes up in this from the other party being documented.

So, some of you may have watched a twitter exercise yesterday.

It started simple: concern trolling white knight “for the writers” comes in to angrily declare fans doing something tagged in support of them about Destiel was “out of line.” She claimed things like “Misha was gaslit into supporting Destiel”, and pulled all kinds of stunts.

She immediately got on a soap box yelling “I HAVE A LIT CRIT DEGREE, I KNOW AUTHOR INTENT” of course implying she knew better than EVERYONE around her how to read text. She then pulled, of all things, @chill-legilimens​​ ‘ article about the network gods gutting the show out of the internet, and somehow misread it SO FUCKING BADLY -- SO FUCKING BADLY -- she thought it aligned with HER. She argued that fans influenced the writers, essentially, and basically pulled the exact opposite of the very clearly delivered message there out. When it was pointed out we know this author and even sometimes help edit their pieces, and she was, flat out misreading it while bragging about how good she is at deciphering text, it turned into a SHITSHOW.

I had watched her give a large group of queer people 2 days of runaround, while they tried to be polite, and similarly tried to prove everything while she proved nothing. Just preached. After 2 days of them exhausting themselves on her, I came in doing my blunt & savage thing, because fuck civility culture when it’s used by oppressors. Of course, she immediately started tone policing, while herself being an arrogant shitbrick the whole way.

She continued to preach author intent and talk down about “headcanons.” You see, she knew the authors very well. Berens’ name was mentioned in passing, and she came back with. “Who’s Berens? Is that the author of the article?” after Deirdre’s name had been directly cited in associated with it about 15 times.

(credit: @judgehangman​ )

But it gets better. She started pulling the “authors have said Dean is straight.” line. Now, at this point, we had already sourced her at least four pieces of information (quite formally too: SPN Official DVD Collection Season 8 episode 13 creative commentary, Edlund and Sgriccia; Dissent Magazine The Attack Queers Bob Berens review; the books in the office with screenshots, and more.) So we issued one simple request: Okay. Source.

For the next-- I shit you not-- 10 hours she bricked the thread to death, finding any and EVERY rabbit hole she could try to venture down. For the first hour or two a few of us tried to actually debate her newly raised points, but still gave reminder that we were waiting for her source. Every tweet was an opportunity for her to drop a 15 tweet thread trying to derail onto a new topic, and often clarifying she had no idea about any of it (Edlund, Sgriccia, Berens, Dabb--who she couldn’t spell the name of--and Deirdre all became an amorpheous blob in her retelling that she swore she looked at sources and wasn’t convinced, while she crossed all the data and comments about the sources). She tried to challenge that anyone could know all the writers and episodes just because she proved she couldn’t, even when multiple people expressed it to her extremely rapidly with not just author and director listings, but cross references on when they overlapped and major elements (like the 15.20 shot 19 tree being the Kim Manners memorial tree). She randomly babbled about Kripke once. Lied her way through and claimed those sources were vague. Etc.

But at some point, I decided, we’re not playing this distraction game. You wanted a debate, you claim you have a lit crit degree, and thus know the entire art is Argumentation. A source, if you’re declaring knowing author intent. One source. Any time she dropped a distraction tweet, I replied to her thread with things like a list of our sources vs her lack of any and a reminder. I installed a counter ticker. How many times had she been asked to either recant her point or give a single source?

Someone made a list of the logical fallacies she used in the argument. It was two tweets long and still missed several obvious ones. That didn’t stop her. Neither did the dozens of requests for a source or a recant. Onwards, she marched, derailing time and again. She brought in a buddy to try to distract, but he fell out real quick when he realized “the burden of proof lies on the arguer” shot him and her both in the feet in record time and he ducked out. 

Other greatest hits came out like “Dubs (Dabb’s) fanfic books”, and calling the ability to list authors and episodes “headcanons.”

Over time, the dialogue shifted: see, she came in trying the snide “enjoy your headcanons” downtalk, but as time and time again she was pulverized on every point about the show, or the authors, or anything else while STILL never even giving a single source to even her FIRST POINT and running distractions, it became a reality-- she was told, “We’ll enjoy our canon and author intent. You can enjoy your headcanon of... Dabb’s fanfic books and Lord Barons and the writers being collective hallucinations and whatever else in your hot takes about the show content itself” and she FLIPPED SHIT. 

As the ticker for sources approached 100, she started becoming flustered. Before that, even, she started repetitively misgendering Ezra (no tumblr to link in), and Ezra screenshot their bio of they/them and asked them to adjust. Ignored. Ezra linked this request and asked it to be addressed again, and again, and again. 13 times. Ezra linked it 13 times. She even replied to several of them. No avail. No change. Not until literally any and every tweet in her vicinity either had “source?” or “address gender?” for her to reply to did she flee there, and write some giant write-around of “oh, I didn’t see this, sorry” but still refused to actually use it. Or “I’ll use the right one now.” No, just completely strickened pronouns from her vocabulary with Ezra moving forward, after not one mistake, not two, not five, but 13 answers.

At this point, I notice a trend: throughout the entire conversation, she had flip flopped on my pronouns, clearly confused as to what to call me. As I generally don’t care (honestly I prefer he but meh), it didn’t ping me as something to react to while she switched religiously between “he” and “she”. But I realized now, despite all of that confusion: she never once thought to use “they.” Also earlier we found tweets of hers that, while now declaring herself bisexual, she used troublesome wording in the past to blur the line on if she was an ally or, as she phrased it “maybe less than 100% straight in the bell curve” in other conversations.

I mutter about this on the side to Ezra and some friends, but continue on towards the 100 ticker that was the goal to show people in this digital terrarium how disingenuous most people you argue with are -- an exhibit for the class. They know they’re lying and have been caught, but will not cede to admit “oops, I guess I was wrong.” but rather stick, unironically, to their own headcanons about things. After all, they vaguely sorta apologized even if suddenly just refusing to use any pronouns at all on Ezra after that. And she’s so quick to disappear into 15 tweet bombs of distraction trying to play victim for being held accountable at this point, we just didn’t jump to a conclusion on that, alarming as it is.

So. You know. Source.

At this point, she RANDOMLY starts evoking the fact that like, How Dare, She Watched Gay Men Die To AIDS, She Is A Great Philanthropist How Dare How Dare. 

I’m sorry, did you just evoke the blood of our dead to run away from the most basic scrap of accountability in what is literally the first wave of a lit debate because for the last 10 hours you have refused to take the necessary steps to move on to the next point? Did you... just... evoke the ghosts of gay men that were genocided to, essentially, pull up a smokescreen and run away from being party to queer erasure? Or even just? Giving a source? or admitting you were wrong on one point in a debate? Wow, you really just did that. 

Naturally, people involved got pissed. Her Sources ticker hit 100, but at this point, all that haunted her was how completely fucking vile and inappropriate that was in this discussion. 

She got blocked. She then tried to glom onto anyone that hadn’t blocked or muted her and run the same argumentation points she had earlier been decimated in the argument with, while yelling “I ship Destiel too! I wanted them to have sex too! Why does this make me the bad guy?” around the block and hoping nobody actually read the thread. She tried to pitch the “headcanons” point of view again, hoping a new audience would lick her boots. She was, largely, ignored; given a few more comments about her leaving the conversation losing all points and only covered in the blood of our dead she was so proud of; blocked by a few more. (unsurprisingly, if you check her actual tweet history, she seems more invested in Megstiel but)

This is when CommaSameleon -- a professor with two lit degrees and a primary focus in teaching the art of Argumentation -- literally -- stepped in. She initially tried to engage the fact that, well, this woman not only can’t argue out of a paper sack but wasn’t even arguing, she was just running in circles and distracting from all the points and hadn’t addressed a single lit point directly while preaching down at people. But Sam, also, noticed something. This woman kept changing things like “queerphobia” to “homophobia.” Sam mentioned this kinda puts off TERF vibes (I think Sam picked up on the gendering thing herself too.)

Her response? Which she deleted since? But Discord’s embed helpfully saved?

Her inacted non-apologies remain weak, especially in any form of debate be it lit or now queer topics.

Oh I’m sorry, let’s recap her viewpoints: TERF is a slur. “They” is made up and should be avoided at all costs. The blood of dead gay men are a token to use in a lit debate you’re avoiding responsibility in. After this, “authors are headcanons” is suddenly not your worst take, but fascinating that you 13 times didn’t even read the blatant ass screenshot. And I mean, these weren’t subtle or easy to miss these 13 times.

100. She had 100 chances, literally, on a timer, to give a source or shut up with her platforming until she had one. Instead, she chose every rabbit hole she could manifest to disappear into, only to be met by another request for a source, and not moving on until we address the first points. We’ve given ours, now you give yours. Instead, you choose this. This is the hill you choose to die on, rather than admitting, “Sorry, I guess I was wrong” or “I guess I heard that somewhere, my bad.” 100 chances. 13 direct QT requests to address gender which she replied to but didn’t reply to until cornered (and still didn’t, truly, reply to), and “TERF is a slur.” Oh, and after waving around the dead men’s blood she also suddenly Can’t Be A Terf Because She Adopted Two Trans Kids. Lord help those children. Or, you know, the more realistic thing is she’s just manifesting all kinds of bullshit at this point to save face, which is probably why she deleted all the related tweets that show she’s a giant-ass TERF.

So anyway, this is very much a lesson on:

Paying attention to how people manipulate conversation to erase genuine discussion and debate.

Paying attention to WHY they do it. Motivation on methods and tactics will clear up a lot.

Figuring out HOW they try to sound woke about shit and when it’s entirely fucking vile and inappropriate to pull

And by all above points, figuring out that these people are among us, and how NOT to let them influence your conversations.

I don’t care if it’s about a discussion on a ship or show or anything else. People do this. A lot. Extremely dedicatedly, if the 100 asks doesn’t make that clear. 

Stop letting people railroad your conversations with disingenuous bullshit.

So anyway in honor of this I made everyone a gif

Use at will. It’s tagged anti-terf if you want to use the search feature on it.

UPDATE: 

Just went and checked. She went and deleted literally her entire side of the conversation, hundreds if not thousands of tweets. Luckily, Ezra mentioned repeatedly -- and I do trust them inherently -- that they were saving the entire conversation, so that zip file exists somewhere. How fascinating, after she accused us that we would want to delete tweets. Someone realized they had a bad look and giant failure all around.

Also, a related anon that links to an earlier part of this conversation I didn’t even document where she was crying about “cis erasure” [x] This shit went on so long I legit forgot about that.

[lassieposting]

I'm mad at myself for asking this but 💘 skug/alt!Serpine

WHEEZES

U CONVERTED

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

KOTW.

Then, after Skug refuses to kill Serpine at the end of SOW, China spitefully makes him responsible for Serpine's behaviour while he's living in Roarhaven. "Parole officer" isn't part of Skug's job description but honestly he doesn't trust anyone else to make sure Serpine doesn't slip the leash, so

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

I mean, Serpine literally gets his dick out in their very first scene together, and he throws his towel over Val's head so it clearly wasn't for her benefit.

My headcanon is that he did have the hots for his own dimension's Skulduggery before he died. But Serpine has a very warped experience of emotions - he's not insane, and he's not a complete psychopath, but he has very low empathy, an obsessive personality, a considerable sadistic streak and a tendency to be jealous, narcissistic and manipulative. So his crush on Skug was more like an unhealthy fixation - hatred and lust and humiliation and the need to control, all tangled together.

On Skug's side...he has a few lines that read as flirty, in a D/S kind of way. But honestly I don't think this was deliberate. I get the impression he's actually imitating how Serpine spoke to him when he was the prisoner. Serpine's entire arc in SOW can be condensed down to "microdosing on what he put Skug through before killing him". He's surrounded by enemies who want him dead, he loses a body part, he's beaten up, he's humiliated, he's cut off from his magic - and he hates it. I get the vibe that this isn't lost on Skug, and he's repeating things Serpine once mockingly said to him just to rub it in.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Serpine.

I have him converting to the Church of the Faceless as a teenager, so he's spent his entire adult life surrounded by other selfish, scheming social climbers who'd sell him to Satan for a corn chip. His relationship history is chock full of psychopaths. He's used to betrayal and being used by his partners - such is life, as a bad guy.

So Skug protecting him during the Leibniz mission makes quite an impact. He even says himself that Skug has every reason to hate him and want to make him suffer - which is an attempt at empathy considerably deeper than anything we've seen from him before - but he's still shocked and devastated when Skug cuts his hand off. He genuinely expected Skug to decide to fight their way out rather than harm him. To me, that says he's come to rely on having Skug in his corner, which is a security net he is decidedly not used to having.

He doesn't necessarily express it very well? His feelings are complicated, and he doesn't understand most of them. A good part of him still hates Skug, just as a good part of Skug will always hate him. But his fixation on Skug shifts a bit - rather than obsessing over him as an enemy, he obsesses over him as an ally. He starts wanting Skug's approval and digging for praise, he gets sulky and jealous if Skug implies he doesn't trust him or goes to someone else for help or information instead, and he starts trying to insert himself into Skug's life.

Basically, he's gotten over that he spent the past 300 years as Skug's enemy, so Skug needs to be over it too. Right now. And it's unreasonable and unfair that he isn't over it.

where their first date was and what it was like

Skug is willing to acknowledge that if they were a couple, which they're not, because they're arch enemies, then maybe, if you really had to look at anything they do as "a date" then...perhaps the first time they went to the opera could in some way be considered their first date. But it wasn't. Because they're not together. He doesn't even like Serpine. Valkyrie just doesn't appreciate "yowling" and he had nobody else to go with because all his friends are dead.

Serpine will agree with this - but only because he knows that announcing that he lowkey considers their three day torture extravaganza to be their first date would go down like a lead balloon.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

They never have a "going steady" discussion. It's just

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

They're adamant that there's nothing to let anyone know about. They spend a lot of time together, and sometimes Serpine helps with cases, and they angry fuck sometimes, and Skug keeps a few shirts and a toothbrush at Serpine's apartment, but they're not a couple.

who’s more dominant

Skug. Serpine will die mad about it. He complains constantly about how much he gets manhandled during the Leibniz mission, how undignified it is to be cut off from his magic, how everyone tells him to shut up every time he tries to join in a conversation, he hates you all, remember that time he killed people you all cared about?

Unfortunately, Serpine is a massively subby bottom, so dom!Skug makes him deeply horny and even more angry about it. He's the epitome of "Stop looking at my fucking boner when we fight."

where their first kiss was and what it was like

It's New Year's. Serpine is out at a bar with some of his student neighbours because, why not. Skug is at the same bar, questioning the staff about a grizzly murder. The usual. Serpine goes over to say hello and make fun of him for Always Working and tell him he should chill out on occasion because isn't it your fucking birthday and you're still at work??? They're still talking when the countdown finishes and everyone around them starts kissing, which is a completely new concept to Serpine because that tradition wasn't part of the Leibniz dimension's New Year's festivities, so he just sort of panics because everyone else is doing it, grabs Skug by the front of his coat and goes for it.

Skug freezes, because who would know how to react when the man who killed you once tries to go to town on your fake face, and then gets his shit together and promptly arrests Serpine for assaulting a Sanctuary official, because he's petty and he can and Nef needs to learn some fucking boundaries.

They end up lowkey working on the case together through the bars of the temporary holding cell, and although neither of them would admit it, they actually have a good time. At the end of the night Skug relents, lets him out for "good behaviour" and gives him a lift home.

how into pda they are

Serpine is hugely into PDA. He likes a possessive, jealous partner, he's got a bit of an exhibitionistic streak, and ultimately he wants to be wanted enough to be fought over.

Unfortunately for him, Skug is not a PDA fan in the slightest. Serpine finds this bitterly disappointing.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

A Roarhaven restaurant with a live jazz band. Serpine likes the food, Skug likes the music, and it's public - so neither of them feels wrongfooted and vulnerable in the other one's territory. Although, as Serpine likes to point out, it would be a bit difficult to torture and dismember a man in his student accommodation apartment. If he can hear Maddie-across-the-hall having muffled sex with her latest beau from the far side of his flat , he's pretty sure the entire building would hear Skug fighting his way out of whatever diabolical trap he seems to think has been set for him every time he comes over.

who’s more protective

Skug is more obviously protective - he protects Serpine almost the entire time in Leibniz, rows with China in defence of his freedom, and (however reluctantly) steps up to help him settle in Roarhaven. But Serpine is territorial, and he can be surprisingly proactive about it. If Skug comes home injured, he can always tell - no matter how much he tries to hide it - because he's seen Skug at his very worst, he knows what 'trying to mask pain' looks like in the set of that jaw and the grit in that voice. He doesn't like anyone else playing with his toys, so sometimes he'll get very angry and lash out at whoever damaged Skug in the first place.

(He also tends to hover at the clinic like a particularly irritating bad smell. He insists it's because he just finds Skug's pain amusing. He's not concerned. Not in the slightest. He doesn't care at all. No, he will not go home.)

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

They first hook up a few months after returning from Leibniz, but it's a half-dressed up-against-a-wall sort of thing and neither of them sticks around for pillow talk. They don't actually share a bed - as in, fall asleep together - until at least a year later. Technically, the first time they fall asleep together, they're on a stakeout and Serpine dozes off on Skug's shoulder, then wakes up with a cricked neck.

if they argue about anything

Literally everything, 90% of their interactions are arguing. Bickering and snark is the only way they know how to communicate.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Serpine loves leaving marks and doesn't mind getting them, either. He's territorial and has an exhibitionist streak, so he likes everyone knowing who he belongs to, and he's deeply thirsty over the idea of everyone knowing Skug belongs to him.

Unfortunately, Skug is not easy to leave marks on. Any hickies he gives the facade will disappear as soon as Skug turns it off. Some of his scars still show, though - the ones that scored his bones - so at least there's that.

who steals whose clothes and how often

They're not too different in size, so they could probably both get away with it, but everything Skug owns was tailored for him and Nef is narrower in the shoulders, so Skug's shirts don't look quite right on him. That doesn't stop him borrowing a couple to wear around the house, though. He has no stored wealth in this dimension, so he's wearing off the rack until he can get his feet under him again, and Skug's shirts are all obnoxiously fine fabric. It would be silly not to steal a few.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

They're not that cuddly. They do have occasional moments of softness, but it's more likely to be, like. A shoulder bump. Fixing each other's shirt collar. Tending an injury with a minimum of mockery. They do a fair bit of this when no one's watching, though.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Bickering.

They also both like working cases. The Sanctuary won't officially hire Serpine because he is who he is, but when Skug hits a dead end in a case or has something that's really frustrating him, they'll go over it together. 400 years of enmity aside, their minds work in similar ways, and they're both very good at that sort of thing - if they hadn't met on opposite sides of the battlefield, they probably would have gotten along very well.

how long they stay mad at each other

They've never actually not been mad at each other. They're just all each other has left because all their friends are dead.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Initially, both black - maximum stimulants for Skug, maximum edginess for Serpine. But then he discovers Starbucks, and all the fancy things mortals are doing with coffee these days, and starts branching out into what Skug calls "frilly froufrou nonsense". After that his drinks are like 95% sugar and syrup.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

They never officially split up. This is mostly because neither of them will admit being together in the first place. They absolutely go through phases of being far more enemies than fuckbuddies, and they know how to push each other's buttons and hurt each other like no one else. This ship is comedic and incredibly toxic in turns.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

They don't live together. Serpine has no idea where Skug lives, and Skug wants to keep it that way. Serpine's flat is technically student accommodation - he just needed somewhere the landlord was too young to remember him from the war - so when Skug crashes there it's usually cramped and noisy and there's a revolving door of neighbours knocking on to ask to borrow some milk/loo roll/"hey, you're old, help me with my history thesis?"/"Are you coming out tonight?"

All Serpine's neighbours think he's a sex worker - to them, he seems to have a different well-dressed sugar daddy staying over every week. They keep trying to set him up an OnlyFans. Skug finds all this very amusing.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Christmas was banned in Leibniz (as a religious holiday of a banned religion) so Nef hasn't celebrated since he converted in his teens, but he gets into it, because it's an excuse for a party and nobody is policing him. Skug is his usual grinchy grouchy self. Nef also celebrates several holidays that Skug isn't familiar with that were commonplace in Leibniz, but are only observed by strict Faceless worshippers in Roarhaven.

what their names are in each other’s phones

Skug is an old man about his contacts, so Nef is just "Nefarian Serpine".

Serpine, on the other hand, has recently discovered emojis, so Skug is "💀🍆".

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Who falls asleep first varies; Serpine is a night owl and likes to go to bed in the early hours of the morning, but Skug has some really fucked up working hours, so a lot of the time he's awake long after even the night owls have gone to bed. But it's always Skug who wakes up first - Serpine is Absolutely Not a morning person. He fits right in with the students in his building who have to be coaxed from under the quilt by the smell of frying bacon.

Skug, because he enjoys the odd opportunity to be an asshole, will sometimes wake him with a cup of coffee, and sometimes by holding a flame up to the fire alarm. Variety is the spice of life, Nefarian, didn't anyone ever tell you that?

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Cuddling is fairly new to Serpine. He's always enjoyed sex, but he has a solid tendency to jump into bed with the enemy - as shown by his laundry list of Resistance conquests - so he's never really gone for relationships where cuddling is a thing. He's more into the "forbidden passion" sort of dynamic.

Skug is a cuddler, but not so much in this particular relationship, for obvious and understandable reasons. Serpine does figure out though that he can burrow under Skug's arm while he's half-asleep or in a postcoital fugue state and Skug will just sort of let him, so he's probably the little spoon.

who hogs the bathroom

Both of them.

Serpine lives in a tiny one bed flat in a student building. His bathroom is miniscule. And when Skug stays over, they're both crammed in there first thing, Serpine trying to shave and do his hair and Skug elbowing him out of the way to cycle through facades until he finds one that's handsome enough to leave the house in. They bicker horrendously the entire time. It's a logistical nightmare.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

Nef kills them. Not because he knows Skug's not a fan, but because he's not allowed to torment humans anymore, so. Last time he checked, killing spiders wasn't an arrestable offence, Skulduggery, stop looking at him like that.