#do not like who i am as a person and secretly find me terribly boring and stupid

[orchiidea]

having no friends and little to no social life sucks, but i only have myself to blame :/

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Something in the woods is stealing peoples’ Souls;

Merlin learns the hard way that he's a little more... fragmented, than normal people when he tries to solve the issue himself.

Part 2 (final part)

All of the Physicians in the town are being overrun.

Bodies keep showing up, still breathing, still perfectly functional, all seemingly unharmed... but they won’t wake up.

None of them will even twitch, as if, whilst the physical bodies were in perfect condition, there was something lacking somewhere, stopping any sort of higher brain function.

The King, his Knights, and even the Court Physician and his (newly titled) Co-Worker (as opposed to Apprentice), were baffled.

Medically, they had nothing to go on, all they could do was keep the bodies alive as best they could, and hope that some sort of solution could come about after some good old fashioned detective work.

Thankfully, it only took five days, and twelve comatose patients, for The King’s best Knights to realise that all of the... victims(?) had been found in a specific area of the woods just outside the city limits.

With such a distinct, and unexplainable issue, it was assumed (rightfully) that magic was involved somehow; whether it be some sort of creature, or yet another evil sorcerer hell-bent on revenge.

Which of course led to Merlin, one of the Court Physicians, and also (Secretly)TheMostPowerfulWarlockEver™, putting on his warmest clothes and sneaking out in the dead of night under the worried gaze of Gaius.

He did not come back.

Not that anyone but Gaius knew.

~

Early the next morning, King Arthur gathered his best Knights, Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, to go and hunt down whatever it was that was rendering his people permanently unconscious.

Gaius and Merlin had explained the previous day, when these plans were conceived, that Merlin would have to stay behind; Camelot’s Physicians were so overwhelmed with not only normal patients, but now twelve comatose bodies as well; they needed every pair of hands they could get. For once, Arthur was happy to leave his manservant behind. 

The man cared greatly for his people, and whilst he would love nothing more than to have Merlin at his side all day, every day, he knew that he was safer, and more needed, in the city.

It was meant to just be in case Merlin got injured and had to hide it, but Gaius did well to hide his worry when he waved them off, and didn’t mention that Merlin wasn’t even in the city, that they could be finding Merlin’s comatose body next.

It took the Gang barely half a day to get there, and they had supplies to last them a few days in the woods, if that’s what it came to, but they were all still tense.

They hadn't seen anything like this before. They had no idea what they were up against; there were no physical injuries to assess, no eye-witness accounts, nothing found in their blood or on their person. Just unconscious bodies that showed no sign of waking.

Thankfully, they found no more bodies as they methodically searched the forest, but they also found no sign of what was wrong.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: nothing attacked them, there was no blood, no destroyed areas, not even a scrap of evidence that something had even happened.

They finally stopped to make camp at sundown, dejected. Their mood definitely worsening with Elyan’s terrible cooking.

Gwaine was, of course, the most talkative:

“I know he’s needed or whatever, but are we sure we can’t go back and get Merlin? I’ve eaten a lot of gross shit over the years, but I’m not sure if I can take this for four more days.”

Elyan grumbles in embarrassment as the others snort, amused, and he throws a twig at Gwaine. It snaps in two across the knight’s face with a satisfying crack.

Arthur ignores the childish behaviour (something he can’t believe he has to do in the first place), shaking his head as he replies:

“No. The health of the people comes before your stomach. If Gaius says he’s needed in the city, then he stays in the city. Though I was surprised that he wasn’t there to wave us off.”

Gwaine smirks knowingly, and Percival puts a warning hand on his shoulder, but it does nothing to deter the knight as he waggles his eyebrows at The King.

Arthur flushes slightly, but he covers it quickly, not having time to retort before Gwaine opens his mouth again:

“Missing him, are you? Perhaps next time you should request that he stand on the battlements in a dress, and wave a handkerchief at us as we heroically ride out?”

Arthur throws a much larger twig (it’s more of a branch, really) in Gwaine’s direction, and this one knocks him off his seat, but before anyone can even snigger at him, Arthur loudly announces the watches and tells everyone to get some sleep.

~

The next day went much the same. 

That is, until late-afternoon.

The Knights were continuing their methodical search of the woods, once again finding themselves somehow tense and bored, when they came across a clearing that had clearly seen a gruesome battle.

Trees were uprooted, the ground was covered in deep holes and scorches, and there were even the occasional splashes of blood.

Which honestly raised more questions that it answered.

After thorough searching, they were hopeful. It looked like it had been some sort of fight between a sorcerer, and something... not human, some sort of creature. BUT, going by the tracks, the sorcerer had survived, and wandered off.

Was the sorcerer injured, or was the creature injured? If the sorcerer had walked off, injured or otherwise, where was the creature? Surely they should find the body of one or the other?

Another question that no one really wanted to ask: was this even related to the bodies?? Or had the Knights just stumbled onto something completely unrelated that they would inevitably get dragged into dealing with anyway?

Either way, they couldn’t ignore it, and with new-found motivation, they followed the tracks deeper into the woods, instead of setting up camp, like they had intended.

Whoever it was seemed to be wandering aimlessly. The blood trail slowly came to a stop, and it seemed that every step was stronger; as if whoever it were was gaining more energy from walking, as opposed to becoming more tired.

Still, whoever they found at the end of the tracks would be able to provide some sort of answer.

Eventually, after around two hours of diligently following the footsteps through the woods, Arthur signalled everyone to stop.

He wordlessly dismounts his horse, and gestures everyone to quietly do the same, before silently pointing ahead.

The knights look carefully to where he gestures, to see a man stood in the centre of a clearing, facing away from them.

They, still silent, draw their swords and sneak closer, but the man doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was stood upright, they would think him dead.

Arthur steps into the clearing, about twenty feet from the man, and furrows his brow. That looks like.... no... it can’t be, can it? He shakes the thoughts from his head, convinced that he’s just imagining things, but before he can make his presence known, the man turns around, as if he sensed them stood there.

All of them gasp and take a step back, immediately recognising Merlin.

But he’s... different.

He stands scarily still, unusual for a man who was constantly fidgeting or on the move.

His face is blank, and if he hadn’t been staring straight at them they would think he hadn’t noticed them at all, and whilst he stood as if uninjured, his tunic is ripped and blood-soaked.

But what draws everyone’s attention, was the bright golden glow of his eyes, highlighted especially by the quickly descending darkness of the evening.

Arthur brings his sword up slowly, taking a cautious step forward as he calls Merlin’s name.

Merlin simply tilts his head slightly, otherwise staying still, before stutteringly beginning to speak:

“Mer... lin... Merlin....... Merlin is... Merlin is...... Merlin is gone.”

It’s clear that something is deeply wrong with the manservant, but the way he spoke, as if he knew how but had never actually done it before, like he was still figuring it out, creeped the hell out of everyone.

His words as well, “Merlin is gone” do nothing but fill them with dread.

Lancelot steps forward quickly, moving to stand in front of Arthur, sword unsheathed but pointing at the ground. He was unsurprisingly less fearful of the golden irises, and recovered the quickest:

“What do you mean, “Merlin is gone”, gone where? Who are you?”

Merlin... or... not!Merlin, tilts his head further:

“Merlin is... gone. I... I... I want him... back.”

Lancelot gulps but before he can reply, Arthur breaks out of his stupor, and growls:

“What have you done with him?! Whatever you are, give him back!”

Merlin moves his gaze from Lancelot to Arthur, and takes a step forward, before bowing his head slightly, as if out of respect:

“You are... The Once and Future King... I want him back... you... you... you need him... back.”

The rest of the knights are fully freaked out now, but they hide it well, and gather slowly around Arthur. Lancelot scowls at them, holding a placating hand out. He really doesn’t want any of them to get jumpy and skewer Merlin. He takes another step towards the golden-eyed man:

“We all want Merlin back. The bodies, the same thing happened to you? Happened to Merlin?”

Not!Merlin nods slowly once again, looking back to Lancelot:

“It... took him... from me. I... I... I want him back.”

Lancelot returns his nod, letting out a deep breath:

“And who are you? What are you doing in Merlin’s body?”

Not!Merlin frowns slightly, as if confused, the first actual expression he’s pulled this whole time. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Lancelot is getting desperate; he can feel the knights behind him getting more and more jumpy, especially Arthur:

“I am... I... I have always been here... I am... I am... I am me. I am Merlin’s... and he is... mine... I want him... back. He is... mine.”

Lancelot tenses slightly. He has a feeling he knows what’s going on. Merlin talks about his magic sometimes, talks about it as if it’s... sentient. Described the way it’s always desperate to reach out to Arthur and the Knights and Gaius and Gwen, how it sometimes does things without his permission.

Lancelot gulps. This is bad. Merlin’s magic is walking around in his body without him there to control it. They were going to struggle to explain this away, as much as Merlin claimed Arthur was an idiot, it wasn’t completely true. Lancelot bit his lip, glancing back at the others as he re-sheaths his sword.

He knows there’s no way to get them to relax... unless... this might backfire terribly, but it also might be the only way to get them to calm down a little.

Lancelot frowns thoughtfully, and just before Arthur works up the nerve to say something else, he turns back to Not!Merlin:

“Do you mean us any harm?”

Not!Merlin once again tilts his head and frowns as if in confusion:

“No... Merlin is... Merlin is fond of... you. I.. I was made for... for The Once and Future King. I am... unable to hurt him.”

Lancelot nods, before saying slowly:

“Do you have any reason to lie to us?

The golden-eyed man shakes his head slowly, the glow seeming brighter as he replies:

“Why would I... I... lie? I could kill... you without a... second... second thought. I want Merlin... back.”

The knight nods one final time, looking back to the others to gauge their reactions. Their swords are still unsheathed, but lowered, their faces tense and concerned, but not angry. Lancelot supposes that’s the best he’s going to get at this point.

He lets out a rough sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looks back at the Warlock:

“You’re not Merlin. What do we call you, until we can get him back?”

Not!Merlin lets his gaze wonder to the knights, before finally landing on Arthur. His speech had been getting better with use, but he speaks slowly and keeps his stare on The King, as if curious to his reaction:

“I am... I am... I am part of him. I don’t... have a name. Call me... me... Emrys.”

Lancelot grits his teeth, and his eyes whip to Arthur, to see if he recognises the name.

With The King’s gasp, and widening eyes, Lancelot knows that he does recognise the name.

“You... you’re Emrys?? I thought Emrys was some all-powerful sorcerer, what are you doing in Merlin?”

Arthur is too distracted to notice Lancelot’s panic, but Leon, ever the observant one, is not, and frowns at the sudden fear on his fellow knight’s face.

Mer-... Emrys had already admitted that he wouldn’t lie, if Arthur keeps asking questions, he’ll figure it out. But before Lancelot can think of a solution, Emrys replies:

“Emrys is... is... our other... name. But I am not... Merlin. Not on my own. I want... want him back.”

Arthur looks taken aback, but before he can ask another question, Gwaine steps forward, giving Lancelot an unreadable look before:

“Right, well that’s all fine and dandy, but we need to set camp up and figure out what we’re going to do about... this.”

He gestures vaguely to Merlin’s body after sheathing his sword.

Arthur looks about ready to argue, but with another pointed look from Gwaine, Lancelot jumps into action:

“Gwaine’s right, we need to gather the horses and set up for the night. Here is probably alright, then we can come up with a plan to get Merlin back, and presumably, all of those other people.-”

He turns to Arthur, a sufficiently subservient expression on his face:

“-If you think that’s best, Sire?”

Gwaine rolls his eyes and scoffs at that, heading back to gather the horses from where they’d been left without further prompting. Arthur’s argumentative expression drops after a moment, and with one more mistrustful glance to Emrys, he nods, instructing the others to gather wood and get started on dinner.

Lancelot lets out a breath, but flushes slightly and tenses his jaw when he sees Leon giving him an inscrutable look. He turns away after a moment, under the pretence of helping Gwaine.

The moment Lancelot reaches Gwaine, a few metres into the treeline, the other knight quickly turns around and grabs his shoulders. He glances desperately back towards the clearing, and when he establishes that they’re the only two within earshot, roughly whispers:

“Please tell me you figured it out?? Because I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to keep Arthur from finding out on my own.”

Lancelot’s eyes widen, but his shock keeps him silent for only a few moments before Gwaine shakes his shoulders. He blinks away his surprise, whispering his response:

“You know?? Does Merlin know that you know?”

Gwaine shakes his head, finally letting go of Lance’s shoulders:

“No. I worked it out like twenty seconds ago, I’m sort of hoping that Arthur isn’t as quick as me. How long have you known?”

The other knight nods his head understandingly:

“About as long as I’ve known him, but I’ll explain later. This whole thing is... terrible. I don’t think our odds are good. Mer- Emrys won’t lie, and we won’t be able to stop Arthur from asking questions. He’s probably asking them now. We need to get the horses and get back.”

Gwaine nods roughly, and without another word, the two of them gather the reins of their six horses, and quickly make their way back to the clearing.

They had only been gone a few minutes, and in that time, firewood had been gathered and arranged. Elyan pulls a flint out of his pocket, and Lancelot widens his eyes as he sees Emrys tilt his head (still stood in the same place), moments before waving his hand casually.

The wood bursts into a roaring flame, and Emrys suddenly has four swords on him. Lancelot and Gwaine rush forward, standing in between Emrys and the other knights, holding their hands out as if in surrender. Gwaine speaks first:

“Hey! You might be freaked out by all of this, but that���s still Merlin’s body, and he needs it, so lets not poke holes in him, alright??”

Everyone bar Arthur lowers their swords, but before Gwaine can growl something out, Lancelot turns back to Emrys:

“Look, they’re all a little... unnerved, by magic, so maybe stop using it for now, yeah?”

Emrys tilts his head and furrows his brows again, and everyone stares at him in shock as he replies, not quite knowing what to make of his response:

“But I am magic. I am magic... incarnate. If I stop... I... I cease to exist. And Merlin... Merlin needs me. He needs me like... like... like humans need to breath. I can not just... stop. He would... would... we would die.”

Lancelot tightly shuts his eyes. There is officially NO way to explain this one away. Gods, Merlin is going to be so scared when he finds out.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Arthur finally squeaks out a:

“What??”

Gwaine quickly responds, before Emrys can reveal anymore:

“No. It's cruel to take Merlin’s secrets from him when he isn’t even here. We find Merlin, then you can ask your questions.-”

Arthur looks angry, like he wants to argue, but Gwaine takes a threatening step towards him, resting his hand on his sword at his hip as Lancelot and the other knights look on the scene with panic in their eyes. Gwaine growls out:

“-I said no, Princess. Everyone here knows I’m more loyal to Merlin than you, and that doesn’t stop just because he’s not here and you’re about to throw a temper tantrum.”

Arthur huffs, but lowers his sword as Gwaine glares at him, and Lancelot lets out a breath. The other knights follows The King’s lead, sheathing their swords and settling tensely around the fire.

Lancelot goes back to the horses, tying them down and removing saddlebags, with Leon’s help (and constant stare, which was an odd mix of concern and suspicion).

Gwaine points Emrys to a spot on the floor, and tells him to sit. The knight settles next to him protectively, his sword across his lap as he glares at Arthur on the other side of the fire.

The evening passes awkwardly, food being cooked and eaten in silence, no one quite sure what to say.

Arthur spends the whole time with a pinched look of frustration on his face, but the knights look to him as he takes a deep breath, his expression morphing into an odd mix of concern and accusation in the blink of an eye:

“How do we even know that the... Merlin, part of... part of you is alive? What happened to hi- to you? How do we get him back?”

Lancelot wants to be annoyed at his tone, but he poses valid questions. They still had no idea what actually happened or why or how they fixed it.

Emrys tilts his head, aiming his golden stare at Arthur:

“It is one of... of the Manducan, or The Eating Ones. They... are very rare, they steal... steal souls. Bodies can survive a short while.... a short while without them. Hence your... comatose patients. I am... we are, a little more... fragmented... than most. I contain too... too much power, so The Manducan took... only the human... human part.”

Everyone looks extremely worried at that, but Arthur’s face turns desperate as he rushes out:

“What do you mean, human?? What are you??”

They all stare at the raven-haired man as he speaks, his eyes focused on the King:

“We do not... know. Some call us a Lord, or a King. Others call us... call us... a God. In moments... of power, we... we hear prayers. It can be... disconcerting.”

The camp is silent for a while after that, everyone processing what had been said. Merlin heard people praying to him... not even Lancelot knew that, Merlin had never told him.

After around half a candle-mark, Leon breaks the silence to ask the questions that had been pushed to that back of their minds:

“How do we kill this creature, and what happens if we do? Can we get the souls back, undamaged?”

Emrys turns his golden gaze to the curly-haired knight as he replies:

“It is already... weakened. The Forever King needs to... strike... strike it with Excalibur. They hibernate for.... for centuries... and only return to this plane of existence to... collect food. If you... if you... if you kill it before it leaves, the souls will... will return...naturally.”

The knights all let out breaths of relief, but Arthur looks at his sword oddly, before muttering:

“What’s so special about my sword? And why do you keep calling me strange titles?”

Lancelot gulps, and Emrys tilts his head:

“You know of Emrys, but not of the... the prophecies?”

Arthur nods his head slowly, but Lancelot interrupts before Emrys can start the complicated process of explaining his and Arthur’s destinies:

“Perhaps that’s a... story, for when we have Merlin back in one piece. How do we track the creature?”

Arthur gives him a glare, before lowly saying:

“Do not think I do not notice you avoiding the subject, Sir Lancelot. You know of these prophecies?”

Lancelot grits his teeth, but gives a slow nod:

“Bits and pieces. Merlin isn’t fond of talking about it.-”

He raises a challenging eyebrow, still staring Arthur in the face, and everyone is take aback. Lancelot was never anything but respectful and polite to his King; this defiant look shocked them all:

“-You see, he’s spent his entire life in Camelot absolutely terrified that someone will overhear him, and have him burnt.”

Arthur took in a deep breath, hiding his guilt behind a blank façade, but before anyone can say anything, their gazes are drawn back to Emrys, who looks almost... mournful?

He nods his head slightly, and the sad look on his... on Merlin’s face, looks so out of place for someone so normally upbeat:

“He is... we, are constantly frightened. It is exhausting. I try to... to reassure us but... Merlin is... is... is always so scared, despite our power. We used to... to love flames, fire. Now it is... terrifying to us.”

Lancelot had kept his gaze on Arthur, and when The King looks back at him, his despair badly hidden, the knight simply shrugs one shoulder and nods slightly.

Arthur lets out a breath, and looks to his lap, whispering so quietly that the group barely hears him:

“He’s scared of... of me.”

Gwaine growls out an “Of course he is, you’re a Pen-.”, but he’s interrupted by Emrys:

“No. He would allow you to... to kill us. But we couldn’t bear to... to lose you.-”

He finishes his statement quietly, and Arthur looks up at him, tears in his eyes:

“-We don’t want to be sent away. Camelot is... is... is frightening. But it is also our... home.”

“I would never send you away. When we get Merlin back, you... you tell him that. Tell him he’s safe with me, with us, and always will be.”

Emrys tilts his head yet again:

“And my people? Will we be an... exception? Will you make us watch you... continue to persecute our people, whom we... we... we should be protecting? Merlin does... does not want to make a... hypocrite out of you.”

The knights look at him expectantly, and he blanches slightly as he looks away. The King gulps, before taking a deep breath and looking back, straightening his spine and looking confident:

“The laws will change. Crimes committed with magic will be judged the same as crimes committed without; it’s about time I faced the cruelties of my father.”

The corner of Emrys’ mouth tilts up briefly as he nods, but says nothing. Gwaine smirks, Leon and Lancelot give The King proud smiles, and Percival and Elyan look taken aback, before they relax into fond smiles of their own.

The evening had passed quickly, and with all of them exhausted, it’s decided that any further discussion on how to track this... Manducan, would happen in the morning.

All of the knights fall asleep quickly, finding the protective golden glow of Emrys’ unsleeping eyes both comforting and unsettling.

~

They all woke the next morning oddly refreshed, but the relaxed atmosphere didn’t last long when, one by one, the knights noticed Emrys sat unnervingly still, in the exact same spot as last night.

Only the occasional blink and shallow breathing proved that he was in fact alive, and not some sort of incredibly life-like statue.

Food was eaten, and camp broken quickly; the golden eyed not-quite-a-servant staying in his spot the whole time. 

Despite Emrys saying that the souls would be fine as long as they got there in time, they were still full of nervous energy, and wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Not least of all because they had a lot, and I mean a LOT, of questions for Merlin... or... all of Merlin.

Emrys was pointed to Lancelot’s horse, and once he mounted in front of the knight, everyone looked at him expectantly. He simply tilted his head, and Arthur huffed:

“Well? How do we find this... creature? Can’t you-”

He waves his hand vaguely, and Leon is the only knight able to hide his snort at The King’s impression of magic.

Emrys nods in understanding, and extends his hand in front of him. A thin stream of light, like a glowing string floating in the air, extends from his palm, snaking through the trees.

He nods, this time in the direction of the light, and the knights urge their horses to begin a quick paced journey.

Conversation is sparse, but eventually the question on all of their minds is asked by Percival:

“If you could do that the whole time, track the Manducan I mean, why didn’t you?”

Emrys doesn’t look towards him, but the horses noticeably slow as everyone bunches together, curious about his answer:

“They are of a different... different plane. Magic can harm them but... but... but not kill. I was waiting for The Once and Future King to bring... bring Excalibur.”

Percival nods in understanding, but Leon frowns:

“Well... what about us? Will we not be able to harm it with our swords?”

Everyone copies his frown at that. They’re valid questions, and Arthur is silently grateful that Leon had the tactical mind to think of them:

“No. It will be safer for... for... for you to... wait. I can distract and injure it further until... The Once and Future King can... kill it.”

The knights looks worried at that, but Elyan is the first one to pipe up:

“We’re meant to just stand back and watch? Can’t we set a trap, or help distract it?”

Emrys shakes his head:

“It can not be trapped. Being too close would... would have adverse effects on... on... on your souls.”

Arthur looks back from his position at the head of the group with a frown on his face:

“Well what about my soul? I’m presumably going to have to get close to it in order to stab it?”

Emrys fixes his golden stare on The King, and tilts his head slightly in confusion:

“Your soul was forged through magic, it is marginally... immune. It will take a little... longer for... for... for your soul to react badly.”

Arthur nods, looking back to the front, muttering something about “having a time limit before my soul implodes or whatever. Great.”

Once the knights finish snickering at Arthur, Gwaine asks:

“Wait wait, if Excalibur is the only thing able to kill it, what are you doing out here?”

Emrys tilts his head, looking back to the knights:

“We were... unaware of that at the... the time. We only figured out what... it was, when we fought it.”

Everyone nods, all of them wondering just how many times Merlin had snuck out to take care of something, with none of them knowing about it. The list of questions they had for when Merlin was back in one piece was getting longer and longer, and no part of this conversation was helping the anxiety swirling in Lancelot’s stomach.

After another hour or so of silence, Elyan pipes up:

“I’m surprised no one has asked yet but... what does this thing look like? I know we’re following a trail or whatever, but what are we actually going to find at the end of it?”

“They shift sizes, though they always take... the form of a thick-”

Emrys is interrupted by Arthur pulling his horse to a sudden stop, and pointing through the trees ahead of his, harshly whispering:

“Black shadow??”

Everyone stops behind him and their gazes dart quickly to where Arthur gestures. Through the trees they see a large mass of deep black smoke.

The black tendrils seem to writhe in the air, and the knights can see vague impressions of limbs tipped with impossibly sharp claws darting out occasionally before retreating back into the fog.

The creature looks like evil in semi-corporeal form, and the usually strong-willed warriors take in stuttering breaths at the overwhelming instincts of “Unnatural, run run RUN!” screaming at them with every passing second.

The shadow doesn’t seem to have any front or back; being in a constantly shifting state, sometimes seeming to freeze, sometimes darting through the trees in a blur.

The knights have lost all colour in their faces, and their breath comes shallowly and quickly. Arthur gulps, tightening his grip on his sword as he whispers:

“Horse, or on foot?”

The sound of Emrys’ feet softly thudding on the undergrowth gives The King his answer, and he dismounts his horse slowly, trying to stop the shaking in his hands and legs.

He takes a deep breath as Emrys moves to stand behind him. His voice is shaking and desperate, as if he were a child reaching for help after a nightmare:

“How do I... what do I do, Merlin?”

Emrys tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything of the The King’s mistake:

“You need only get close enough to... deeply slice it. It is fragile in this... this realm. Cover your eyes when you... you do so, the light will be blinding. Do not let it... touch you. I am reluctant to admit that, after what it did to... to... to our soul, I do not know what it will... do to yours.”

Arthur takes another deep breath, and clears his throat slightly as he gives a firm nod. Time to be brave now, for his people, for Merlin.

The King can hear his knights dismount behind him and tie up the horses, ready to jump in and help at a moment’s notice, in spite of... whatever will happen to their souls. None of them are really sure they want to know, so none of them ask for details, and Arthur is unendingly grateful for their silent loyalty and bravery.

Emrys walks forward, past Arthur, and towards the creature. The King gulps before silently slipping off to the side; he doesn’t know how the creature sees (not having a head, or even eyes, as far as he can tell), but Emrys said he would distract it so... splitting up makes the most sense? 

The knights can tell the exact moment the creature notices Emrys walking towards it.

The tendrils of shadow seem to writhe even more frantically, and the fog bulges and retreats again, somehow giving the impression of anger, fear.

Emrys plants his feet strongly and raises a hand, summoning vines and roots from the ground with nought but a gesture; Arthur only gives himself a second to be distracted by the sight of Merlin so effortlessly doing magic before focussing back on the creature.

Everyone bar Emrys winces, and covers their ears as the beast lets out an ear piercing screech, moving judderingly towards the Warlock. The trees shake with the noise, and a few of Emrys’ magical attacks disintegrate into the air. He summons more, and snarls in concentration as the beast whips towards him.

Emrys rushes forward to meet the beast, and they clash in a burst of golden light and black shadow, each trying to take over the other. The shadows try to sneak around the Warlock, reaching towards the knights behind him, but they’re quickly halted in their tracks as cracks open in the ground, swallowing the fog before it can do any damage.

The golden light emanating from Emrys pulses brightly, and the creature is pushed back, the edges of its smoke disintegrating slowly into the air. It lets out another high pitched screech, and Arthur takes that as his cue; rushing silently forward, on the opposite side of the creature to Emrys, and swiping down precisely with Excalibur.

The knights see his attack coming, and step even further back, heeding Emrys’ warning and covering their eyes, Arthur doing so with his free hand as he brings the sword down. 

Excalibur cuts through the shadow with no resistance; the screech getting impossibly louder as the blade leaves a blindingly golden trail in it’s wake.

Emrys simply stands back to watch, but the pitch of the beast’s screech forces the knights to the floor, eyes tightly shut, and hands clamped over their ears.

Suddenly, the noise stops, and the shadows of the creature seem to disintegrate into nothing as the golden light of the wound takes over. The light recedes in on itself, before exploding outwards and fragmenting into pieces. The bulk of the fragments fly in the direction of Camelot, golden blurs through the trees, but one, the smallest and dullest (due to being only part of a soul, they assume) flies with speed straight towards Emrys.

The knights and their King finally look up, feeling oddly exhausted, to see Emrys take a staggered step back and grimace in pain as the light forces it’s way down his throat.

He falls to the floor, and the knights rush towards him as his muscles spasm and he begins to scream. His eyes are shut tightly and Lancelot quickly lunges forward to grab his wrists as his hands go to yank at his hair.

Everyone gathers around him, Lancelot yelling for them to hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself. They can only hope that Merlin is an exception, and this isn’t happening to the other victims back in Camelot. Lancelot keeps a hold of his wrists, and Arthur discards Excalibur in favour of holding down Merlin’s shoulders, whilst Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine hold down his hips and legs, and Percival wordlessly stands guard.

Merlin’s screaming dies down, and he stops thrashing so much (but stays tense), but the knights don’t let go just yet. He opens his bleary eyes, and whispers, so faintly they barely hear it:

“... Lance?”

The knight lets go of Merlin’s now limp wrists gently, and strokes a hand through the man’s raven hair:

“Yeah, I’m here Merlin. All back in once piece?

Merlin closes his eyes again, and goes fully slack as the others let go of him fully, nodding slowly as he gulps before groaning:

“Yeah, that fucking... hurt.”

Lancelot huffs out a gentle laugh, but before he can reply, Merlin gasps and quickly sits up. When his wide, panicked eyes land on the rest of the knights huddled around him, his breath deepens and he scrambles back frantically, only to run into Arthur, who grabs his shoulders.

Merlin whips his head around and rips himself from The King’s grip, stumbling to his feet and rushing back, away from the knights and into a tree.

His ears are deaf to everyone’s gentle reassurances that he was safe, and his eyes are blind to the hands held up in soft surrender. He sinks to the floor as his breathing gets even more frenzied and tears gather in his eyes, but before he can process that he was safe, the mix of memories triggers a blinding pain behind his eyes.

He gives a pained yelp and shuts his eyes tightly, bringing his hands to grip the sides of his head as he curls up on the floor. Merlin begins to groan again, and Lancelot desperately gestures for everyone to stay back as he kneels by Merlin’s side, pulling his hands away from his head again:

“You’re safe Merlin, no one’s going to hurt you, do you remember? We said that to the bit of you that was left.-”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him, but squeezes Lancelot’s hands painfully tight as he continues to groan, arching his spine:

“-Ok, ok, what’s wrong Merlin? Your head? We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong. Is it your... your soul?”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, groaning dying down, but still struggling to draw breath, still gripping Lance’s hands:

“Your magic?”

Another shake of the head has Lancelot beginning to panic a little; none of them have dealt with anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with his friend. He continues to try and comfort Merlin as he struggles to think of what else it could be, when Merlin begins forcing himself to take deep breaths, and stuttering out:

“Mem... memories.”

Lancelot takes a fortifying breath, and the others crowd a little closer, panicking for their friend:

“Memories? Ok, which ones? Memories from the bit of you that was wandering around, or memories from the bit of you that was in the creature?”

Thankfully, Merlin’s pain seems to be dying down slightly. His breath comes easier, but his eyes stay tightly shut and his muscles still spasm periodically as he grinds out:

“Both. Two sets of memories from... from the same time. Hurts. My. Brain.”

Lancelot huffs out another gentle laugh, rubbing his thumbs softly over the back of Merlin’s hands, and the others relax at the sight of Merlin’s pain lessening. Gwaine kneels down next to Lancelot, and quietly announces himself before beginning to run a gentle hand through Merlin’s hair.

This goes on for a few more minutes; the servant’s pain dwindling and his breathing evening out as his mind sorts the two sets of clashing memories and stitches the two pieces of his soul back together, Lancelot and Gwaine not stopping their soft ministrations for even a moment.

He finally relaxes fully, opening his eyes but not moving from his position on the floor as he gazes tiredly up at Arthur’s worried face, over Lancelot’s shoulder. His words comes out timidly, and Arthur has to stop himself flinching at the hint of fear in his voice:

“Did you mean it? Am I... safe?”

Arthur forces a soft smile on his face, hiding his worry, and gives Merlin a firm nod:

“I promise Merlin, you’re safe. None of us will hurt you.-”

Merlin smiles back at him, before nodding, and closing his eyes, drained from the ordeals of the last few days:

“-though you need to make sure your head is on straight at your earliest convenience, I’ll need your help to write that repeal.”

Arthur says it with a weak, teary grin, and Merlin chuckles slightly, nodding softly once more before drifting into a deep sleep, exhausted.

Lancelot mutters that he’s asleep, and the smile drops from Arthur’s face, his brow furrowing in worry as he crouches between his two knights, putting a hand to Merlin’s forehead:

“Will he be alright?”

Lancelot shrugs, biting his lip, and sporting a similar expression to The King as he replies:

“I’ve no clue. His soul was split in two, his magic was pushed to the limit in that fight, and his body didn’t rest at all or eat much for at least a day; he’s probably just exhausted, but we should get him back to Gaius.”

Elyan, Leon, and Percival move back to gather the horses without prompting, and within minutes the gang is racing back towards the city, Merlin’s unconscious form being held protectively in front of Arthur (his excuse being that Lancelot’s horse had already held the extra weight for half a day, and he’s The King, so he can do what he wants).

~

Thankfully, the creature had been between their camp and the city, so it only takes them around a day to get back. They took few breaks, and ate whilst they rode to save time. Despite not waking up the entire journey, Merlin’s breathing stayed alright, and he occasionally mumbled nonsense to himself, so the knights weren’t panicking too much.

They didn’t stop when night fell, and so finally pulled into the castle courtyard at around midnight. A guard was immediately sent to wake Gaius, and Percival wordlessly took Merlin from Arthur’s horse, only after The King had given him a short nod of approvable.

They got to the Physician’s chambers to see Gaius wide awake and bustling around the room, clearing a cot and gathering various potions and ingredients.

Percival gently set the manservant on the cot, and Gaius firmly demands that they all leave the room to give him space to work, choosing to ignore the fact that he had told them that Merlin was in the city, and that they definitely shouldn’t have come back with his exhausted, unconscious body.

Arthur notes that Gaius doesn’t react at all when Lancelot stays behind, but has to temper his frustration (and jealousy) when the Physician shoots the knight a concerned look when Arthur himself also refuses to leave.

Lancelot sighs, but gives Gaius a reassuring smile:

“It’s fine, Gaius, they all know about Merlin’s magic, he’s safe. We said we’d explain when we got Merlin back in one piece.”

Gaius sends The King a curious look, hiding his concern well before he seems to catch up on what Lancelot said:

“Back in one piece?”

Arthur moves closer as Lancelot nods and begins to speak, content to let the knight explain as long as he got to stand near Merlin:

“He said it was Manducan?-”

Gaius widens his eyes in surprise, but nods, continuing to mix together various herbs as he listens:

“-Apparently, Merlin’s power was too much for it to handle, so it took the non-magical part of his soul. We found Merlin’s body being controlled by his magic. It was... odd. He was still Merlin, you could hear it in the way he spoke, or the words he chose, but it wasn’t... all of him. Just the magic part. He wouldn’t lie to us, and was desperate to get the “Merlin” part of his soul back. Unless we spoke to him he just... sat there, blankly.”

Gaius hums thoughtfully, and he and Lancelot politely pretend not to notice Arthur reaching out to gently grab Merlin’s hand.

Finally, the physician finishes mixing his potion, and gently pours it into Merlin’s mouth, holding his nose shut and massaging his throat so it goes down properly. He sits back on his chair, glancing at Arthur quickly, before looking back to Lancelot:

“The other victims began to wake just under a day ago, so I’m assuming that the creature was... dealt with?-”

At Lancelot’s nod, he continues:

“-Did Merlin wake at all when his soul came together?”

Lancelot nods again, speaking quietly, feeling oddly like he doesn’t want to disturb Arthur softly rubbing his thumb over Merlin’s hand:

“Hmm. Briefly. He screamed for a while, whilst his soul... I don’t know, stitched itself back together? Then he panicked, because he knew his magic had been outed, then he was in pain again. He said having two sets of memories from the same time hurt. Then he was just exhausted, he passed out a few moments after the pain stopped.”

Gaius nods, and Arthur finally looks up, knowing that the explanation was over, and a conversation was about to happen. The Physician speaks:

“Humans are not made for that, it would have been painful for his mind to try to comprehend and organise two separate sets of simultaneous memories.”

Arthur speaks, his voice quiet, but obviously worried:

“Will he be alright? How long until he wakes?”

Gaius looks to him once more, giving The King an assessing gaze. When he spies no anger or deception in Arthur’s face, he relaxes his shoulders slightly, and sighs:

“He will be alright, he just needs rest. Both his body and his soul have been through a great deal, it will take a few days to a week for him to fully recover physically, though I can’t speak for his mental state.”

Arthur looks panicked, and Lancelot worries his lip between his teeth as Arthur asks:

“His mental state??”

Gaius finds himself sighing yet again as he asks:

“How lucid was he, between the bouts of pain?”

Lancelot rushes to answer:

“Very. He understood what I was saying, I think, he asked a question and understood our answer. He just seemed tired.”

Gaius gives the two men an exhausted smile, before softly saying:

“Then I imagine he will be fine. Go and get some rest, I will send for you if anything changes, though it’s unlikely that he’ll wake up at any point in the next two days or so.”

Lancelot nods, and moves towards the door, but Arthur stays put. Gaius raises an eyebrow, but moves forward and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“He will be fine, Sire. And... everything he has done, every lie he has told, has been to keep you safe. He couldn’t bare to lose you.”

Arthur nods absentmindedly, before looking up to the Physician, and whispering:

“I couldn’t bare to lose him either. You... you promise he’ll be alright?”

Gaius nods and smiles, noting with relief the tearful desperation on The King’s face:

“I promise.”

Lancelot smiles fondly from his place stood at the door, but wipes it from his face as Arthur turns towards him. The two men leave out of the room, Gaius’ assessing eyes following them all the way.

The door shuts behind them softly, and Gaius lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding, before running a hand gently through Merlin’s hair, and moving to settle in his own cot.

Of all the ways Arthur could find out about Merlin’s magic, out of Merlin’s control, Gaius never saw this coming, and though the pain Merlin felt was regretful, The Physician is grateful, that it went so well.

~

End of Part 1!!

Part two is already almost finished. It’s much shorter than this, and will be out at some point in the next few days!! Sorry this took so long lads, I’ve been really busy atm.

EDIT: I’ve actually just finished writing part 2!! It’s queued to be published at 12:30PM GMT tomorrow (09/05/21)

EDIT 2.0: PART 2 IS UP!!

Also I couldn’t find any mythical creatures that fit what I wanted, so I straight up just made one up ✌️

Head over to This List to let me know what you want me to work on next! :)

[atomicfilm]

INTJ pairings

I'll make this into a fun short "put you in my pocket and take you `to my mom's Thanksgiving party" version too.

I'm not an INTJ, but I do converse with them (and by them, I mean maybe 3 total and 1 regularly) and I've been asked to talk about my thoughts on this, so for tonight only, I'm giving myself a really cool sash that says I'm an authority on the subject. I also think as an INTP I run into somewhat similar issues with certain types.

* means I like this pairing.

Typically, the INTJ's golden pair is the ENFP. I think that works for some people, but is probably a kind of short-lasting passionate fling rather than the ideal pairing. ENFPs are great people, they're lots of fun to be around, they care a great deal. They bring out the INTJ's soft side, which they may hate but they secretly quite admire. But ultimately, ENFPs can be flaky. They see something new and exciting and they move on. Novelty is the greatest motivator in a lot of ENFPs. New friends, new places, new things to do. And while the INTJ may deeply admire that and may find it quite exciting, it's not going to last forever. Eventually, the INTJ will become tired of playing games and want to settle into their ideal lifestyle pursuing their carefully strategized goals and the ENFP will become bored. The INTJ I speak to and I have the same issue, which is that ENFPs by nature are manipulative. It can be used for the good of inspiring people and bringing them together, but it can also become quite selfish and unstable. This leads to the ENFP saying things like "You try to apply logic to everything" or "you don't really respect me" or something like that when in reality, if someone loves an INTJ they'll love that they apply logic to everything and they'll love their snarky edges.

INFPs. I have not heard a lot of feedback about them as I think INTJs tend to be drawn more to extraverts. But as someone who spends quite a lot of time with INFPs, I would imagine that a lot of INTJs who can't make it work with ENFPs can also not make it work with INFPs. Once again, INFPs are great at engaging our minds but they are terrible at accepting that we live by rationality. INTJs use Fi a little bit, so to some extent they'll have similar engagements with their emotional side, but INFPs live by thinking "what can I do to nurture myself" and INTJs live more by "how can I best mold the world to fit my vision of efficiency". You'll see the commonality of Fi at the worst point possible when the INTJ is breaking down. INFPs kind of never stop using Fi and as someone who is thinking-dominant, that is almost impossible for communication. Ultimately, they'll eventually hit a point where their love languages and ways of interactions may be so disparate that they feel neglected.

ENTPs **. This is a golden pair that I can kind of get behind. The INxJs I know are obsessed with ENTPs and tend to think they're quite attractive. They're not only gregarious (when they're not arguing) but they're also quite intellectually stimulating and since they have opposite functions from the INTJ, there is still quite a bit of difference to make it fun. There shouldn't be too many emotional issues, aside from the fact that both these types tend to bottle up their emotions and resent vulnerabilities. The ENTP will probably be the more caring of the two in a conventional sense, but I would think both would have similar love languages of caring both through action and thought. ENTPs also tend to not be quite as flaky as a lot of xNxPs are, but, I would rate both of these types as highly likely to ghost. My best advice is that if you want to be around ENTPs, pick one who can be honest about their real values and whose values align with yours. If they make a lot of bigoted jokes, take that at face value, no matter how "ironic" it is. ENTPs can be a little fake in the sense that they will blend in just enough and hide behind so-called irony to be friends with a lot of different people.

INTPs. I don't really see it. I think INTPs are lovely as an INTP who likes other INTPs. Likewise, I enjoy a good conversation and friendship with an INTJ. But I find it not only difficult to tolerate relationships but also being told what to do. I make every decision in a relationship as a compromise and I think that would eventually quite interfere with the INTJ's ambitions because I wouldn't back down on mine...at least, not without resentment. So perhaps an INTJ and INTP with similar life goals could work out romantically, but personally, I view them as platonic and the one time I liked an INTJ it ended beyond poorly. I don't bring out their softness and they don't bring out mine. We're more like buddies who complain about other people when we do the entire group project by ourselves. Of course, romantic preference is a preference.

ENTJs. When has it ever worked out for someone to date their sister-type? Name one time! If someone names one time I'll update this. I think an ENTJ and an INTJ would be quite an argumentative couple even if they were on the same side about everything. Then again, INTJs do admire extraversion and it is always nice to be around people you don't have to explain yourself to every sentence.

INFJs ****. Oh, I like this pairing. I have not heard much about it, but I think it would be really cute. INTJs are complete badasses. They're very "I'm going to take over the world and you're just going to have to deal with it. And if you say no I will secretly cry". INFJs are very "I'm going to do everything in my power to heal everyone and the world and I am probably crying because I saw a baby bunny". INFJs are The Best! They have the softness of ENFPs but they're logical and they use Ni like INTJs but have Fe, which means they are thinking about harmony 24/7 and not that Fi-version of harmony. That genuine "I will make sure everyone is cared for at no social benefit to me" kind of harmony. They do socialize with a lot of people, but INTJs sometimes like to be social and party, they just aren't typically regarded that way. Do Fe and Fi mix that well? Maybe not. But as an Fe user who is quite fond of INFJs, I think they could potentially be a very cute power couple with the INTJ and there would be fewer issues with communication than other types as Ni-doms (but this also might be boring at the same time).

ENFJs. Similar to INFJs. They might work together a little less simply because of the change in function positions.

ESFPs *. Do I know for sure that this is a good pairing? No! But gosh, do I like it. INTJs become ESFP-like when they're sad. So, you know, maybe the ESFP will draw out the worst version of the INTJ and that could really suck. But this is the perfect little theatre kid dates total nerd trope and I like that. ESFPs have the social circle that the INTJ desires and the INTJ has the "got their shit together" vibes that ESFPs, despite being quite talented and successful, may lack. They both have skills one another can benefit strongly from, but it may come at the cost of a lot of arguments. Not sure. But I think this is actually my personal favorite since they have near-opposite strengths but a common reason to respect one another.

ISFPs: Pft. Idk. This is not the same as ESFPs. ISFPs are lovely but they sort of fill the same niche that INFPs do. Perfect for an INTP like me, but I don't think INTJs are looking for the quiet, artsy, weirdo so much because they already often fill that niche to some extent, even if it's more technical. I've noticed that INxJs really want to be around people who are the life of the party and very socially dominant (and ISFPs can fulfill that role, but there are other types who win via extraversion). The ISFP will likewise appreciate a little practicality, but I've noticed they're more likely to gravitate towards other xxFPs. Probably a better friendship and as a relationship would take more effort.

ESTPs: I think this one comes with its own difficulties and will work less than ENTP/ESFP pairings. This is because while they can have the same charisma that ENTP and ESFPs have, they can also have that same fakeness as a defense mechanism. Both will value action but the ESTP will probably drain out the INTJ more than ENTPs will (who are more ambiverts) and more than ESFPs too. With ESFPs, there's a good amount of the right kind of opposites. INTJs are action-driven, but they're strategic and take a while. ESFPs are action-driven, but they're more spontaneous. And ultimately, that leads to a lot of arguments about how to get things done. Whereas, the ESFP and ENTP might give the INTJ complete room to "manage", the ESTP seems less likely to do so.

ISTPs: This would be so stale. INTJs tend to show big emotions (to their own despise) when they're upset and ISTPs love to ghost at any sign of emotion. They would dip so fast. Top-tier friendship on an intellectual level but never particularly deep and unlikely, albeit not impossible to evolve into a relationship. Same issues as with INTPs, there's going to be a lot of admiration and probably not a lot of emotional attachment. I have witnessed an INTJ have a crush on an ISTP but that ISTP had a crush on me so that tells you how that went. Messy business. 

ESTJ: Yeah, I guess. I don't like ESTJs as a general concept but I suppose INTJs aren't necessarily as opposed to capitalism and tradition. Sounds dry. Next.

ISTJ *: This is probably a really solid pairing for the INTJ. Very marriage material, have the same job, raise cool kids. But I think that sounds boring. So if you want the "perfect life", this is probably a good type for you but I couldn't do that. You would probably only have minor arguments and the INTJ would have to learn to trust that ISTJs are incredibly good at reading situations while the ISTJ would have to learn to love that the INTJ is more fantasy-oriented than they are. Odd, right? Ultimately, you have two people who can be very commitment-oriented, who care for people the same way, who want to fix society, who analyze everything. You just have two generally different ways of doing that, where the ISTJ is probably actually better at being in society and the INTJ wants to change it in more drastic ways (although, for moral reasons they both want to change it).

ISFJ: I don't imagine it working particularly well. I honestly can barely imagine it at all. An ISFJ is my best friend and he is THE MOST gentle buddy. You cannot make fun of him even playfully and keep the friendship. Probably a deal-breaker for a lot of INTJs as they tend to love a good tease. My ISFJ has dated an INTJ before and while they’re still friends, it was a bad experience to witness all around. INTJs are very competitive and ISFJs are very open with their affection so that ran into issues but also, the ISFJ is not as likely to stand up for itself in a way that INTJs easily respect, which is to say, when they do it it will be something like “hey, you hurt my feelings” and if you’re the kind of person to  respond “then you’re too sensitive” you’ve got a whole ass toxic relationship on your hands. 

ESFJ: I think this could work a little better than the ISFJ pairing and a little worse than with the ESFP. Of course, there are general grounds for arguing over emotion vs. logic, but both types can have quite a good bit of talent and practicality coexisting. ESFJs tend to be a little better with criticisms (although they are still sensitive and should be treated very gently too) and they're more likely to want to accomplish goals that the INTJ finds easier to respect. For a lot of ISFJs, their goals are sweet and simple like raising a family, working as a computer scientist. The ESFJ might be a little more oriented towards large goals similar to that of the ESFP, which is more of the category that INTJs tend to fall into. However, the INTJ is going to have to accept that ESFJs love a LOT which means throwing a LOT of parties, probably the most out of any type and its probably going to lead to some burnouts. 

Overall, INTJs are great but need to learn to practice kindness and put their natural tendency for intellectual superiority aside. They shouldn't be with anyone that doesn't want to accomplish things they can respect. They shouldn't be with people who want them to compromise too much (they probably won't). They should be with people who bring out their nurturing capabilities and who they want to do things for, but not people that they see as incapable of taking care of themselves. They may prefer more social people and admire people who can network while being direct and genuine. Based on these criteria, INFJs and ENTPs are my highest recommendations while ESFPs (my favorite) and ISTJs also make the list for various reasons.

BUT, that being said, RELATIONSHIPS (including friendships) ARE A SKILL. They are most successful when someone becomes good at learning respect and compromise that doesn't cause resentment, regardless of type. All individuals will have different specific interests as well as red flags. And if you need me to tell you if your relationship works, it probably doesn't and you can DM me.

[honestlyfrance]

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky​​​ so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more! 

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

or

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Or

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Or

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Or

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Or

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

OR

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

[vomitlyart]

Reading you based on your obey me Kin

i will be ruthless and im not holdin back!! ok now say it with me😈

Lucifer

I kin Lucifer and I have a hard time reaching out to my friends for help even when i know i need it. I don't want people to get worried about me so i mask my issues and help everyone with thier issues, completely disregarding my own needs for a break. in the end i feel alone because regardless of saying im ok, i want someone to truly sit with me and ask me if im ok, but i fear that moment because im not used to dealing with my own issues

Mammon

I kin Mammon and i just want to feel seen and loved. sometimes i do stupid/dumb things to get the seratonin that comes from making people laugh. i feel like no one ever listens to me and it makes me feel insignificant and like the last one to get picked. i truly want to be myself and fear that if im not the odds one out by doing little dumb things people will think im essentially worthless and most likely think im borning. I have a hard time talking about my feelings and want to so desperately, that if i do i won't know what to say or where to start due to the many emotions i've bottled up throughout my life

Levi

I kin Leviathan and i have very bad anxiety. i have a difficult time making friends and part of that reason is bc im scared they already hate me or want nothing to do with me. I know my interests are different from what is considered the norm but i so desperately want to talk and ramble about said interest for hours to someone who will at the very least listen. I get bashed about the things i like by my family and although i dont show it, this hurts me deeply. I lock myself in my room and indulge myself in my favorite things bc each character makes me wish i had certain aspects of them and makes me wish i lived an interesting life but bc of my anxiety it's extremely hard for me to do so. Im also used to being the last one picked and often assume i will always be the last one picked no matter how many times im reassured and deep down i want someone to relish in my own interests with me and truly love and care for me

Satan

I kin Satan and i have a horrible realtionship with my father. I Loathe my father and the tension arises every time we a near one another. A part of me feels terrible that i loathe my father because i know he has his own mind and emotions and i want to forgive him for what he's done but in the end I know it's fruitless to forgive him bc he has put me through alot of pain and hurt. i wish things couldve been different and we couldve had a normal bond. I also hide my emotions very well and am ashamed of ever feeling angry bc it makes me feel like i am horrible person. im also not used to affection and have only ever seeked or felt genuine affection from my pets. I also fear as if i have no personality and that im boring.

Asmodeus

I kin Asmo and i feel like i need to act confident around others in order for them to like me because im too scared to show people my insecurities because i fear they will never view me the same again and leave me in disgust. I want everyone to like me and I also can't handle when someone doesn't want to be my friend or doesn't like me bc i feel if there's something wrong with me. the need to act confident and cute all the time makes me oblivious to the fact that my insecurities shine through at times and make me even more oblivious to the fact people like me for who i am, insecurities and all

Beelzebub

I kin Beel and i have some form of sepreation anxiety towards my favorite person. i often get a sudden fear that something bad will happen to my fav person even though everything is ok. I get made fun of or scolded by my eating habbits and it makes me feel absolutely terrible because i'm trying. i also care very deeply for my family/friends and will do anything for them. i place unnecessarily guilt onto myself and perfer to do so, so that no one else has to bear the burden.

Belphegor

I kin Belphie and i act as if nothing matters but i secretly am very worried and care alot about my friends/family. I also stay up very late because i feel like i have no control over my life during the day and for some reason i feel like staying up late gives me some kind of control. I also hide my emotions with a sarcastic tone and usually think about the the mistakes ive made in my past while i cry in bed. i dont ask others for help emotionally and i want someone to care and listen to me as well as to relish in a calm peaceful life.

/Undatables/

Diavolo

I kin Diavolo and i fear that telling ppl i care about them isn't enough to get the message across so i constantly gift people things in hopes to show them i care. i also fear gifting things too much drives people away from me, i also dont get included much with friends and feel as if i have done something wrong. i also feel very upset when a fun time is over because the feeling of happiness goes with that moment, so i constantly throw little parties and whatnot to relish in the joy but feel upset once it's over. i can also read people well and get put on edge or very cautious when i cannot read someone

Barbatos

I kin barbatos and i constantly take care of others never once letting myself take a break. I hide my emotions behind a smile in order to not worry others and because i dont want dont ppls sense of depency on me to be ruined. i rarely let myself take breaks bc i fear that i wont be there for the person i care about when they need me.

Solomon

I kin solomon and i usually supress my emotions to hide the fact im not very used to being shown affection and that im not as confident as i seem. I also am a very private person but the fact im so secretive makes me disliked by some bc they think i dislike them. i also wish my friends would include me in more events with them and when they dont i bury myself in an activity to hide the fact im upset about it

Simeon

I kin simeon and i want to know and make sure they everyone is ok. i know just how to push and pull people's buttons but i wont abuse this because i care about those people. i'm also very hard to read and perfer to give people advise rather than answers to their problems. The constant taking care of others makes me forget that i also need time to just myself. It takes alot and i mean alot to anger me but once it happens it's not very pretty.

Luke

I kin luke and I want to take care of everyone and often forget to take care of myself. People often dont take me seriously and so i often i find myself baking as a coping mechisim bc it makes me feel in control of little things. I also have a hard time admitting that i care about others and i'll unknowingly show my affection that i do care about them by giving them little gifts and advice. im also very oblivious to certain topics and are i get mad when i get left in the dark about certain topics.

[stray-kids-react]

Doing WAP dance perfectly

(If you don't know what WAP is. It's a suggestive dance with a lot of twerking and grinding.)

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° Chan always called you cute, you would try your hardest to be hot... But he'd still see you as an adorable lil bean. You became worried that he didn't see you in a sexual way at all, and decided to see if you could possibly get him flustered by doing such a dirty dance.

° You wore the sexiest outfit in your closet, leaving barely anything to the imagination. You walked into Chan's studio with a large trench coat hiding the treat you had in store for your boyfriend. Noticing Chan was alone, you decided to let the coat drop to your feet.

° Blush crept onto his cheeks, bottom lip bittne by his teeth. It was making a mark on him, until you started the music. That song was too much of a meme to be sexy to him, especially since Felix tried to attempt it in front of him once and gave up half way.

° Even if you looked extremely sexy while pounding into the ground, he couldn't help but giggle by the choice of song. If it were something more sensual and romantic, than he would be on the ground with you. But WAP turned him off quite a bit.

"Chan! I wanted to be sexy... Am I not hot?"

"Of course you are hot, it's just the song."

Lee Know

° Minho is a tease who loves you very much, but is not a fan of that trend. He can't help but cringe when he sees someone do it in public for everyone to see, he doesn't know why but it just effects him a lot in all of the wrong ways. But you didn't know this.

° While he alone in the dance practice room, you walked in with WAP blaring from your phone. You then put it on the bench and began to dance along with it perfectly, the phone was recording everything. Including Minho's uncomfortable expression.

° He was impressed by your hips, but the whole song and trend gave him terrible flashbacks to the tiktok he witnessed before. Even if he wanted to smile, it came off very fake or turned into some mixture of cringe and fake happiness.

° Minho did not want to hurt your feelings, but he truly couldn't help it when you did the WAP dance. You thought he was teasing you and trying to annoy you, and you continue to think that til this day. But he was truly not impressed by that trend that you did.

"I know you secretly loved it, don't deny it."

"Oh trust me, I won't deny anything."

Changbin

° You were trying so hard to learn this dance, you wanted to do it for yourself and to also impress your boyfriend. Even when you failed miserabley, Changbin still sent hearts of encouragement and asked if you could give him another show of it.

° He would be lying if he denied that he didn't get a tiny bit turned on when you pounded into the ground, but he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable so he didn't tell you unless you noticed or asked him about it. Which you did a couple of times.

° Wonders how your body can move so smoothly while doing such harsh and sexual moves, especially when it comes to the twerking. You challenged Changbin to twerk with you, and you weren't surprised when he was actually pretty good at it.

° Will record the challenge, helping you edit it and re recording it if you don't like the final product. Changbin is supportive of your interests and even if he isn't overly into WAP, he finds anything you do breathtaking. And think your better than Cardi B herself.

"I swear you are better than Cardi B babe."

"Stop buttering me up lover boy."

Hyunjin

° Truly conflicted. He is impressed by your dance skills, but also doesn't want your followers to see you dancing so proactively. He wants to be the only one to see you acting this way, but he also finds it a bit amusing on how serious you seem.

° Your dancing to a song called 'Wet Ass Pussy' and yet your face seems like your doing an interview at the job of your dreams. This will calm his nerves a tiny bit, knowing you aren't doing this to get attention. But rather because you're bored and wanted to.

° Will sometimes hum along to the song while it's playing, getting shy if he reads out the dirty lyrics about sex. Even though it has become more of a meme than a sensual getting it on song, it still makes him flustered because of how raunchy it is.

° Claps when you've finally succeeded the dance, smiling proudly since he saw how hard you worked for a non benefitial trend. Once you posted the challenge, he would like and save it immediately. Secretly watching it while he goes on tour.

"Does it hurt when you hump the ground?"

"You get used to it after a while."

Han

° Knew that you were going to want to do it, you like to try out different trends to see if you like them or not. He just wasn't expecting to see you do WAP so closely, he thought he'd scroll through tik tok and then you'd be twerking on his feed.

° He was scrolling through Instagram when you got up and began to do the dance, he was trying to comprehend what was going on since you did so out of the blue. Became your personal cheerleader when you went into the splits, hyping you up quite a bit.

° Won't see it as a sensual dance, is more impressed than turned on. He'll high five you afterwards, and then 'high fives' your toosh for doing most of the work. You will become flustered with his compliments, giggling as he drums your bottom teasingly.

° Goes through your social media accounts later, to make sure there aren't any pervs commenting degrading things. If he sees any he'll report them, knowing he is the only one to say things such as 'that's some fine peice of ass' to you.

"Baby, are you scrolling my comments?"

"mhm, there are some creepy followers."

Felix

° Tik tok master, already knows all of the moves and probably taught you them. Felix likes to boost your confidence up and become your own personal happiness, even if you thought you looked cringey and horrid in the video, he'd tell you the opposite.

° Won't force you to do it in front of people or even post the video, even though you look amazing he still doesn't mind if keeping it private. Is a protective sunshine who would feel a bit of relief if you didn't post it, but would never ever admit that to you.

° When you were your best friend was visiting, you both decided to attempt the popular trend. She stopped half way through do to laughter, while you kept going. Felix rushed to you from the kitchen, beginning to throw money on you to enhance the laughter.

° If you get embarrassed when dialing one of the many attempts, he'll comfort you and shower you with kisses til you feel better. Over all he is a sweetheart who cherishes your happiness, and he'll do anything to hear your beautiful laugh and see your smile.

"Don't be shy love *kiss* you were great. *kiss*."

"The kisses make me more shy Felix."

Seungmin

° Knew you were on tik tok, and witnessed you attempt a couple of trends, mosy dance challenges. But never expected you to do WAP, you both were generally introverted and were much more soft with each other in public rather than all over each other.

° Even in photos of you two together, the most anyone will see is hand holding. That's why many people were surprised to see you doing such a bold and raunchy dance for many people to see, the reason behind it was a dare from your close friend.

° A staff member showed him the video, giggling as they couldn't beleive what you did. Seungmin smiled, seeing you so confident and bold made him feel proud. He wasn't upset or jealous in the slightest, he was extactic to see you be so confident.

° When he arrived home, you asked him about his opinion on the video. He could tell you didn't like it and were self conscious about it. So instead o replying at first, he embraced you in a gentle hug. Rubbing your shoulder blades as he complimented you.

"You looked stunning in the video."

"A-are you sure? Don't lie to me Seungmin."

Jeongin

° Stray kids knew you for as long as they knew Jeongin, you were his best friend turned lover and they saw you as family. That is why it made it 10x more awkward for both you and Jeongin when Felix noticed your newest post on tik tok.

° You thought you saved it privately, and did NOT want it to be public due to having such an open account with many followers. Your family even followed your account, so this made you nearly pass out knowing many people have already seen this video.

° You immediately deleted the video, even though it was far too late. Jeongin was a bit shy from witnessing you do such a raunchy dance, but he wanted to comfort you nonetheless. His ears were bright pink as you clung onto him, trying to calm down.

° A couple days after the incident, Minho and Han would tease you lightly. Jeongin occasionally joined in, unless he noticed you became very flustered and would then put a stop to the teasing. He still found it adorable how embarrassed you were of the video.

"What if my mom saw this!?"

"... What if she didn't. There is a chance."

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

[brynwrites]

Plot progression: points, twists, and hinges.

(And why hinges rock.)

Please excuse me while I assign already well-loved terms new meanings for my own benefit. (This is to say, writing terminology means something slightly different or goes by slightly different terms depending on who you ask. Two of the definitions I use here are based ones that stuck with me, while the third is something I pulled right out of my backside because it didn’t quite fit with my acquired definitions of the other two. Other terms and definitions are equally valid; I’m just using these ones until I figure out how to telepathically funnel wordless concepts.)

First let’s get basic: What’s a plot anyway? Tis a bunch of things that happen to move your character toward something. Usually this something is a goal. Win the war. Find the killer. Survive the winter. Get through the wedding. Kill the dragon.

Plots (should) have important scenes within them which propel them along. A full book that’s just a knight walking on a path for twenty-five chapters thinking about killing a dragon and then finally reaching the dragon to do so it boring. A book about a knight facing random trials that have nothing to do with the dragon she’s set out to kill is more interesting then walking. But the most engaging version of this plot would be if each trial she faced was connected to the dragon killing in some way.

We could, if we wanted to, label each of these trials with terms like plot point, a plot twist, or a plot hinge, depending on how they interact with the story as a whole. (Now I have to define what each of these terms mean to me. I set myself up here, didn’t I?)

We probably all know what a plot twist is. A big reveal. A shocking conclusion. A revelation that puts the whole story into a new light. (Luke, I am your father!)

Most writers will describe a plot point as some version of ‘an event which progresses the plot.’ This is all fine and dandy until you have to decide what counts as progress and how much of it you need for something to genuinely be a plot point. For the sake of this article, I’m going to call it anything that has a noticeable effect on either the ultimate or immediate goal of the story.

A plot hinge is a type of plot point. It can also include a plot twist. But not all plot twists or plot points are plot hinges, because a hinge actively swings the plot in a new direction. It takes the goal the story is set upon, and it rattles that mother-fork until its eyes pop out.

Let’s have some examples, shall we?

A knight is crossing a mountain on her way to slay a dragon.

While at the mountain, she fights a random dwarf. It’s a nice action bit where she’s in peril a few times and at the end, she kills the dwarf and continues down the other side of the mountain. A real page turner. (Spoilers: it’s probably, actually, not.) It’s also not a plot point (or, a plot anything), because the entire segment could have been cut without anything else changing. This whole scenario has no effect on what the plot’s current goal is, how it’s being accomplished, or how we perceive it.

If instead, while at the mountain, our valiant knight fights a dwarf with ancient knowledge on forging dragon-killing weaponry and convinces him to forge her a dragon-killing sword that ends up being the only reason she can kill the dragon at all, then you have what’s purely a plot point. The goal of the plot hasn’t been altered, nor our perception of it, but we’ve taken an irremovable step towards accomplishing it.

If instead, while at the mountain, our valiant knight uncovers ancient knowledge that reveals the villainous dragon is actually part of a much larger system of dragons with magical human form, and her own mother was secretly a dragon, giving her dragon blood of her own, this is purely a plot twist. The goal of the plot hasn’t changed, and we’re not closer to having killed the dragon, but our perception of the plot, how our main character fits within it, and what it should mean to us as readers, has been altered.

Pretty basic, yes?

Now imagine that those two things both happen while our knight is at the mountain, but as she’s leaving, the dragon she’s been riding out to face finds her. They battle. Barely prepared, our knight is losing terribly. She tries to flee, making it to the nearest town before the dragon finds her. In order to lay him low, his must use both her dwarfish weapon and her secret dragon powers. The town sees this, and decides she, too, is the enemy. A town guard steals her dragon-killing sword and tries to slay her with it. In a moment of compassion, the dragon she nearly killed helps her escape the town, but every knight our valiant half-dragon once fought alongside now sees her as a monster. And they’re coming for her.

This is a plot hinge. We just flipped out perception of the plot, tackled and crashed right through our main goal, and opened the doors for a new goal that’s still adjacent to our original one (and might still lead back to it by the end of the book—who knows, the villainous dragon might still need to be killed after all).

The trick with plot hinges, is the throw the reader for just enough of a loop to make the story fresh and interesting, without letting them question why the story before and after the plot hinge aren’t separate books. For a plot hinge to work, the plot must be pushed without being torn off the hinges. The old goal can’t be left dangling, limp with unfulfilled promise, and the new goal must build off everything the book has already established.

When done well, though, a plot hinge can turn a “this is enjoyable!” story into one that makes readers go “oh god, please read this, I NEED someone to scream at, I’m literally dying.”

I’m not going to tell you how many of these you should have in any given story. I’m not even going to tell you that you need to have any of them. (That would be hypocritical, as not all of my own stories do. Some are pulled along by simply plot points and twists, and they’re still perfectly enjoyable, if I do say so myself.)

You can also slip plot hinges into side plots, and make cases for what constitutes a hinge in character development. And at the end of the day, there’s a hundred different ways to build tension into a story and engage the reader. This is just the one I’m having fun identifying and analyzing at the moment.

And I hope you can set out and have fun with it to.

(Also, call it by my personal terminology. Pretend I, and I alone, invented a brand-new kind of plot point. Buy my book. Ascend me to godhood. Rebel and kill god-me to take back the world for humanity. Something like that.)

[riricitaa]

How can you support that woman’s racist ass? She’s an obnoxious forever party girl, she shoves her ass in another man’s face, lets him lick her legs. She embarrasses her supposed boyfriend with her behavior. And their cringy staged pap walks are ridiculous.

Funny that I never said I support anyone, also Funny how I never said anything in tumblr because I always try to at least keep one space positive and drama free for me and for my mutuals and yet y'all always find a way to ruin everything, also I don't support her or her actions and I always mention that when speaking about the situation, if you chose to ignore that it's not my problem, but there are boundaries, I wasn't raised to keep someone I hate in my mind all the time and comment and track their every move, if I don't like something or someone I try to avoid it ignore it and move on but lately I just couldn't stand how this constant hate on his gf became disrespectful towards Seb himself, he's 39 years old he can take care of himself and he's not going to wait for a 15 years old stranger to tell him his gf likes to party and touch other men that I'm pretty sure he's totally fine with it as everyone can see it not like she's doing anything secretly, also you need to remember that Seb is also rich himself and does rich people things and his life isn't boring like yours or mine, plus it's no one's business but his own!

As for the racism issue tbh lately everyone seemed to forget that issue with her I'm not saying it's racism but it's ignorance and lack of taking responsibility but lately the hate towards her became just hate I'm on twitter and I know and see what everyone is tweeting about, always body shaming her, slut shaming her, making disgusting jokes about her looks, her hair, her makeup even, her clothes and to me no matter how terrible a person is, it's wrong because it's simply wrong, you can't right a wrong with more wrong! What everyone is doing lately has nothing to do with calling her out and hold her accountable.

Again I'm not supporting her I'm just using my brain to think and try to be positive and hate free account! It doesn't make me a less of a fan if I don't make disgusting jokes about his gf.

I am his fan and I don't know him personally to judge on his personal life because at the end of the day it's not going to add anything in my life no matter what he does in it or no matter who he dates. I am here for him, just him, his movies, his shows, his talent, which also I don't have to agree with everything he does and makes, but until he really does something very problematic and very wrong that actually harms people and against all morals, until then I'm always going to love and support him, alone, I don't care about what he does in his private life because there is a reason why it's called private and personal life.

And I'm not talking about this anymore in here.

[marvel-is-an-addiction]

WinterFalcon week 2021 - Day 1

Hi, this is my first time doing this, so please bear with me. Here is the first day of the WinterFalcon week created by @winterfalconweek​. The prompt was “Sam finds Bucky before Civil War”. Enjoy!

Sam thought that after Steve and his frighteningly fast jogging left, he could finally take his morning runs peacefully. He could, once again, slow down a little to see the sunrise over the flowering trees. He could wave and shout a brief ‘good morning’ to all the other morning joggers and dog-walkers. He could finally take a break after his third lap, sitting on one of the benches near the lake and watching the fish. He could finally relax, knowing there wasn’t someone running laps around him - quite literally. But most of all, he was glad that he wouldn’t have to hear that classic, yet almost patronizing “On your left” ever again.

Well, he had been right about one thing. He wouldn’t have to hear that sentence again. Instead, he heard something equally bad, if not worse.

“On your right.”

- - -

The morning had started normal enough. Sam’s alarm rang at exactly six am, signaling it was time for his morning run. He changed into something better suited for jogging, took a swing of water, and put on his running shoes as he set out for the park. He stretched his legs and arms a little on the way there, shivering slightly from the morning cold. As he reached the park, he started picking up his pace until he was jogging lightly. He took in a big breath of fresh air as he took in the morning view.

Sighing happily, he jogged steadily. He looked around, waving and smiling at the occasional passerby. He was on his second lap when he finally heard another pair of feet jogging behind him. He smiled to himself, secretly glad that it wasn’t Steve and his inhumanely fast running. It wasn’t until the person behind him sped up that he paid much attention to them.

Fine, he thought. Two can play that game. He started picking up his pace, still slightly ahead of the other jogger. They must’ve noticed that since they too picked up their pace. The two joggers kept accelerating until they were both running at full speed. To everyone else at the park, they must’ve looked idiotic, but they didn’t seem to care.

Although Sam was super competitive when it came to running, he eventually ran out of stamina and slowed down a little. That was when the jogger overtook him, shouting a quick “On your right,” as they sped ahead. Only then did Sam get a brief look at them. The jogger was a man with chestnut hair that almost reached his shoulders. He had worn a hoodie and shorts, showing off his sturdy legs. His form wasn’t all that great, but his speed and stamina made up for it.

Sam hoped this was the last time he raced with this mystery jogger. He had, after all, wanted to take his morning runs peacefully.

- - -

The next morning Sam woke up at the same time; six am. He drank a little water before changing and heading out. He once again stretched a little before starting his morning run. He started jogging casually for almost 20 minutes before he heard another pair of feet jogging behind him.

Damn it, he thought. The stupid mystery jogger is back. And sure enough, the pair of feet caught up with him. They, once again, started racing to see who could stay ahead. Sam managed to take the lead for almost five minutes before the other man overtook him. And once again the other jogger shouted the dreaded “On your right.”

- - -

Sam was determined to stay ahead of that stupid jogger. He got up at the normal time, heading to the park earlier than usual as he didn’t waste time at home. He stretched more thoroughly and warmed up a little. He started speed walking until eventually, he sped up to a light jog. 

Upon hearing those aggravating footsteps again, Sam didn’t waste time waiting for the other. Instead, he started sprinting at full speed. He knew that was a really stupid thing to do, especially since the mystery jogger would catch up to him eventually and Sam probably wouldn’t have enough stamina to keep up with him. But he ran forward anyway. 

Once he felt that he was far enough ahead, Sam slowed down until he came to a full stop. He doubled over, breathing heavily. He spotted a water fountain, a little ways away, and decided to drink a little before continuing his jog. He walked over to the fountain, letting the cool water splash over his face and into his mouth. 

When Sam had finished drinking, he walked back to the trail, wiping his face. He was about to start jogging again when he heard that stupid pair of feet on the road, along with the snarky “On your right.” Dammit, he had been too slow.

- - -

The silent running competition continued between Sam and the mystery jogger for a couple of weeks. Every day, Sam started jogging, hoping that was the day he would outrun the other. But every day, the man with chestnut hair and big calf muscles overtook him and shouted his stupid “On your right.”

After a while, the other man must’ve gotten a bit bored with his usual phrase because he decided to change it up a little. The first time that happened, Sam became slightly confused as to why the “On your right,” was now suddenly said with a horrible British accent. The next day, it was a terrible Southern accent. Then it was a weird French accent. He kept going until he ran out of accents, at which point he switched to different languages. The first time it sounded like Russian, then it was Spanish, and another time it was Italian. A lot of the languages were spoken with a clear American accent, almost as if the mystery jogger had typed the phrase into Google translate and tried to pronounce the translation. It got to the point where it felt like he was doing it on purpose, as if he was trying to get Sam to laugh. And Sam did laugh, almost every time. 

Soon, the two became unlikely friends. They never saw each other apart from their morning runs, and even then, Sam had only seen a glimpse of his face and didn’t even know his name. Nevertheless, they became good companions, running together every day, without fail. 

- Two years later -

“Okay man, I get it. But who the hell is this Bucky Barnes guy? I’ve never met him.” Sam said to Steve as they walked up the stairs of an old apartment building. Steve had this old friend from the 40s that he wanted Sam to meet. He had previously been brainwashed by Hydra and became the infamous Winter Soldier. But now, he had finally broken free from the hypnosis, and was on the run from the government who thought he was a threat. Sam wasn’t sure if he trusted this guy, but he trusted Steve, so he would have to deal with another 100 and something-year-old. He just hoped Bucky didn’t look and act his age. 

“Don’t worry, you’re about to meet him,” Steve responded as they reached the top of the stairs. He took out a key and used it to unlock one of the doors on that floor. “Hey Buck, it’s me, Steve. I brought a friend. I think he could help us out.” Steve called out.

As they walked into what looked like the living room, Sam could hear the TV and saw a man sitting on the couch. He had chestnut hair that almost reached his shoulders and his face looked familiar. Wait a second-

“You’re the mystery jogger!” Sam realized, pointing to the man on the couch. He looked up from the TV with visible confusion on his face. Then, a look of recognition dawned on his face. 

“Oh shit, you’re the slow dude from the park.” He said. Even though it had been years since Sam saw him last, his voice was so familiar. A rush of memories came as he remembered all the morning runs where they had raced. He had eventually moved away for his job and never saw the mystery jogger again, much to his dismay. 

“I’m not slow, you’re just super fucking fast. What, are you a super soldier too?” Sam replied, secretly offended because he thought of himself as a pretty fast jogger.

“Actually,” Steve interjected, sensing that the two might start arguing. “He is. So, I take it you’ve already met?”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of.” The two responded at the same time.

“Great!” Steve said cheerfully as he clapped his hands together. “Then I’m sure you guys will get along just fine. Bucky, turn off the TV. We have to talk strategy.”

“Fine,” Bucky groaned as he grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. 

“Sounds good,” Sam said to Steve. Then, he turned to who he assumed was Bucky. “Also, I want a rematch. I’m a lot faster than I was two years ago.”

Bucky grinned. “We’ll see about that. I am a super soldier, after all.”

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 5

Character A and Character B are co-workers, but they barely know each other. But they both have to work through the holidays,, percabeth

Annabeth finds herself staring out the window in front of her desk instead of doing any actual work. She’s been trying to pay attention to the glowing computer in front of her, but she’s accepted the fact that it’s not going to be happening tonight.

She’s too entranced by the snow that is falling outside. It’s a magical sight on Christmas Eve, with the colorful lights of Central Park that she can see from out the window, and the families moving around together. She’s always loved living in the city, but days like this make her fall in love with it all over again.

Her attention is brought back to inside the building as someone coughs. It brings her mood back down as she is reminded that she’s stuck here on the one night that she wants to be home. She didn’t have to work, but she was already struggling to get by and really needed the money.

She sighs, looking back at her computer. She’s not entirely sure what report she’s writing up, but she supposes she has all night to figure it out, and–

Someone coughs again, much more insistent, and she stiffens. The last thing she needs is to get sick, but the coughing persists from right behind her.

She turns in her chair slowly, eyes seeking out them out. She finds a guy she recognizes staring at her from the desk behind her, and she blinks. “Do you need something?”

His mouth drops slightly. “Uh– no.”

With that, she tries to turn back around, but then he seems to choke on his own air.

“What?”

He searches for words, but then all he can come up with is, “I’m bored.” “I’m sorry?” Annabeth is only slightly annoyed, but she is much more amused now because he’s looking at her pleadingly, but she doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s asking her.

“I really don’t want to work anymore,” he says. His green eyes seem to stare into her soul, and it reminds her of the lights right outside the window in front of her. She is tempted to look back outside, to see if his eyes were brighter than the lights, but she restrains. “I get that,” she says, “but I don’t see what you want me to do.”

“Come steal snacks from the break room with me.”

“And get fired? No thanks.”

“There’s like five people here, and none of them care.”

“Do you even know me?”

He shrugs. “I know you’re least likely to kill me out of everyone here. They all have, like, kids and families so they won’t have fun. But it’s Christmas! Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“It means we have to drink all the eggnog and get drunk, so come on.”

He doesn’t leave her much time to consider it before he’s hopping out of his chair and walking down the quiet corridors. Annabeth is smart enough to know that it’s probably not the smartest idea to get drunk at work, but if she doesn’t get caught, then she’s fine. And if she does get caught, it means she can quit this job that causes her physical pain. There’s no losing, she figures, so she gets out of her own chair, lightly chasing after him.

She catches up as he’s rounding a corner, and she looks around at the empty desks, one or two with people looking as miserable as she’s sure she looked. It’s kind of creepy working so late because the lights are all off, the only things glowing being people’s computers. It all has an eerie vibe to it, and if she wasn’t with this person she still doesn’t know the name of, she would not be caught dead walking around by herself.

He leads her into a breakroom on another floor, flicking the lights on. She blinks as her pupils adjust, and then she’s standing there as he goes to pull something out of the fridge.

He holds it up above his head like he is about to sacrifice it to the gods. “Eggnog!”

She just nods slowly. “You brought alcohol to work.”

“It’s not possible to do this job without being wasted,” he says.

“I do.”

“I’m sure your life is miserable.”

Well, he isn’t wrong.

He begins to pour the drink into two separate paper cups that she’s sure the company picked up from the dollar store. As he hands it to her, she has to say she doesn’t think she’s ever seen people drink out of paper cups. And as she sits onto the couch beside him that is pushed up against the wall, she is reminded that she still doesn’t know his name.

She takes a deep gulp of the eggnog. “What even is your name?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you. You might tell the boss I get drunk at work.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m Percy. Please don’t report me.”

“I’m Annabeth. I’m going to report you.”

Percy just gives her a lopsided smile, like he can sense the lie. “Seeing as you’re going to get drunk with me, I think I can report you back.”

“Hm.”

They fall into a silence just long enough for it to become awkward. While she doesn’t hate him, she still doesn’t know him either, and there is not anything she can think to say in this moment. Instead of speaking, she takes this time to look at him. His eyes are trained on something in the distance, so she gets to take in his face, his hair, his torso without judgement. She finds that she quite likes what meets her eyes.

“So,” Percy starts, turning his attention back to her. She quickly averts her eyes. She doesn’t know if he caught her staring, but he doesn’t say anything if he did. “How’s life?”

She snorts, taking another sip. “Not great.” “That’s simply not an acceptable answer. It’s Christmas, so life must be spectacular.”

“You caught me. I’m just faking my awful life. I’m secretly rich and am only speaking to a peasant like you to blend in.”

He touches over his heart. “How sweet.”

“Unlike this eggnog,” she says, lifting it to her nose like she was an eggnog connoisseur. “What did you put in this?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just put enough of every drink ever so that when you blackout, you see God.”

“Oh.” She shrugs, gulping down the rest. “Sounds good.”

Percy smiles, and she suddenly feels the rush of heat down her back. She isn’t sure if it’s from the alcohol taking quick effect or something else. She holds out the cup for a refill and brings it back to her lips.

“Careful,” he says, “Drink too much and it really will knock you right out.”

“At least you’re here with me to get caught by D in the morning.”

“Serious question. Do we know what D stands for?”

“Dick?” she offers.

“Yes.”

Annabeth shakes her head fondly as she kicks off her shoes so that she can curl her socked feet underneath her. Despite the heat that has been trickling down her spine each time he gives her a look, the building is actually really cold. She shivers slightly, and Percy frowns.

“Are you cold?”

“Only a tiny bit,” she lies.

Percy sets down his drink like it was his prized possession before he pulls his sweater over his head. He doesn’t even give her time to protest before he’s chucking it at her.

“This is your jacket,” she says, tossing it back.

“I’m not cold,” he says, shoving it back to her.

“You’re seriously going to let a stranger wear your jacket?”

“We’re hardly strangers now, Annabeth. We’re best friends.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a big jump.”

“Yes, well, we’re drinking eggnog on Christmas together, so.” With that, Percy pouts his lower lip. “Please put it on?”

He looks so cute like that that she can’t resist. She gives Percy her drink to hold as she wrestles it on, and she nearly sighs in its warmth. She can still feel the body heat from Percy, and it’s surprisingly not as weird as she would’ve thought. It smells really good too, reminding her of the breeze at a beach, of a stormy night, and now, of him.

“Better?” he asks smugly.

She pulls the sleeves to over her fingers. “Shut up.”

“So, Annabeth, tell me about yourself.” He nudges her knee with his foot. “Why are you working overnight on Christmas?”

She shrugs. “Needed the money.”

“No one to go home to?”

“Other than family I’d rather not see? No.”

He gives her a sympathetic glance. “No one special?”

“You mean an extraordinarily sexy, funny, smart husband?” She laughs incredulously. “Absolutely not.”

“Today’s your lucky day! I know just the person for you. They check off all of those qualities.”

“Who?” she asks, disbelieving. “Me!”

She blows a raspberry in his face.

“Okay, I have to admit I’m not the smartest person out there, but I do think I’m not totally ugly.”

He’s not totally ugly. Quite the opposite, in Annabeth’s opinion. She’d never tell him that though.

“Worst comes to worst, you can always marry me.”

“What? You don’t think I can be one of those Hallmark characters who find the love of their life on Christmas?”

“Newsflash baby, we are those Hallmark characters. Meeting on Christmas Eve, working until Christmas day? Love story if I’ve ever seen one.”

She looks at him skeptically.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s make one of those pacts. If we’re both still single by, I don’t know, midnight? Then we marry each other.”

She looks at the clock on her phone. “You’re giving me one hour to find the love of my life before I’m forced to resort to you?”

“Yes. That’s plenty of time.”

“Sure,” she says, laughing.

“I mean, you’re already wearing my sweater. If that doesn’t make you wife material, I don’t know what does. Besides, it wouldn’t be terrible to marry me. I know you like my body.”

The looks he’s giving her lets her know that he did see her staring at him earlier. She smacks his arm. “You asshole.”

“What?” he says defensively, rubbing his forearm.

“Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“It didn’t bother me! Besides, I think you’re, like, really attractive too!”

She leans back. “So that’s why you want to marry me in an hour? So no one swoops in and steals the love of your life?”

“Precisely.”

Annabeth quickly learns she likes talking to Percy. He’s so easy to get along with, and he’s constantly getting her to laugh so hard she can’t breathe. He’s also really sweet and selfless, and he looks amazing in the midnight haze, and as they slowly both get closer and closer to being totally wasted, it just gets better.

She has no idea how she never knew his name before now because they’re practically best friends already. She feels like she’s known him her entire life. It’s so natural and perfect, the tense feeling long gone.

At some point, Percy falls over her, squishing her into the cushions of the couch. Her drink falls somewhere out of her hand, but that’s okay because she’s already half a bottle deep, and she’d much rather hold him in her arms anyways. Her fingers trace over the lean muscles of his back as he dies of laughter in the crook of her neck. She also quickly learns that Percy’ love language is touch, especially when he’s drunk. He’s an affectionate person, which is good because he balances her out perfectly.

Percy’s weight drops completely as he gives up on holding himself up. She isn’t sure how long they spend like that, sprawled out on top of one another, but she doesn’t care. This is a carefully constructed Christmas feeling she is too scared to destroy.

At some point though, she looks down to check the time on her phone.

11:59

She pokes Percy in the neck to get him to stop chucking into the cushions, and she waits until the clock strikes twelve. When it does, she’s lacing her fingers in his hair so she can pull him up to look her in the eyes.

“Hey, pretty boy,” she giggles, “It’s twelve.”

“Merry Christmas!” he yells a bit too loudly.

She’s laughing so hard that it comes out silent, and she can’t breathe. “No!”

“Oh! You mean the whole marriage thing?”

“Yes, silly,” she says.

Percy’s head drops back to the couch cushions. “So did you find the love of your life, or do you have to settle for me?”

“I think I may have found the love of my life,” she says.

Percy whines into the couch miserably.

“I’d hardly call it settling, though,” is what she says, and Percy’s head suddenly jumps back to meet her eyes.

Percy’s eyes flicker down to her lips, and she wants it so badly. She doesn’t care that they just met because this one hour with him has been better than the past twenty years of her life spent with anyone else.

So she whispers, “You may now kiss the bride,” and Percy takes her breath away.

[trumpkinhotboy]

Due to my older brother having autism, I’ve always wanted to have a Peter and Lucy relationship. Any headcanons for my all time favorite sibling love? ☺️ Thank you!

Of course my darling! Here you go, I hope you’ll like it✨ Thank you for your patience and your trust angel💛

*gif is not mine !!

Peter and Lucy Pevensie’s relationship headcanons... ✨

Peter always calls his little sister “Lu”, and everyone knows she is in deep trouble if he calls her “Lucy Pevensie”.

They always make sure to spend time quality time together. As the Pevensies started their reign, they all got caught up in their new lifestyle, especially Peter as the High King and a person who puts a lot of pressure on himself. As time went on, Lucy felt lonely and missed spending time with her brother. After a messy fight between the two of them where she finally admitted she felt left behind and missed him, they decided that they would, from now on, always make sure to plan some quality time together.

On the nights where Lucy has terrible nightmares, she quickly gets up to run into her big brother’s room. Shaking his shoulder, “Pete… Peter… are you awake?” only to be answered by a grumpy mumble, with a little more shaking an answer would eventually come out “Mmmh… Now I am… What’s the matter?” “I just had the worst nightmare…” he immediately lifts the covers “Wanna sleep with me?” and she gladly jumps in with him.

Of course, she always ends up taking all the place in the bed and cuddling her brother all night so that the following morning he barely got any quality sleep, but to see his little sister feeling better is all that matters to him. 

Whenever Peter gets too caught up in his mind, she is always there to deliver him from his thoughts and force him to take a well-deserved break. 

On the days where it is councils over councils, talking about mundane matters for protocol, he would get incredibly bored. That is when his attentive little sister would make sure to make him laugh and smile a little extra, even secretly bringing him snacks.

They do a lot of silly pranks together, both hiding behind columns, playing those often on Susan or Mr.Beaver, laughing until they can’t breathe. 

Whenever Peter comes back from a fight, Lucy particularly makes sure her brother is cared for. His big heart and selfless personality often make the golden boy forget and mistreat himself because he just wanted to give so much to others. After fights, she makes sure he is taking rest and being attended to. 

On the nights where he is up till dawn in the library reading, trying to get in as much information as he can, she always forces him to go to bed.

 If he has already fallen asleep on his books, she brings him a blanket and a pillow. 

She wants him to know he deserves the same amount of love and dedication he gives to everybody else. 

Even though Peter is incredibly protective of his little sister, he also firmly believes in her capacities to accomplish great things. 

Every time she performs on an event of some sort, Peter is always boosting the hell out of her. He is her number one supporter and loves cheering on for her, whether it is about swords fighting, painting, dancing, or any little things.

“C’mon Lu you can do it!”

“You got this!” 

There's a lot of shouting and clapping.

When in more official settings, he minds his manners of course, but not enough to prevent a smug smile to lift the corners of his mouth. 

During councils, he always makes sure her opinions are heard and that she is not set aside. 

He remembers gloomily the many times Lucy tried to bring a point to the table or just an alternative option to a situation that would end up causing so many death and harm. He wants to do his best so that never happens again.

In the other world, before they could get back in Narnia, any time Peter felt like he was losing hope he would go to Lucy, knowing he could rely on her unshakable faith. 

Anytime Peter feels trapped in an unsolvable situation and feels frustrated, he goes to Lucy for advice. 

She is calm and wise where he is action and impatience; they balance each other out wonderfully in that type of situation. 

It is no secret; he is a protective brother when it comes to his little Lucy. He feels particularly entitled to her security and well-being. 

As she grew up, he found it hard to understand she was a grown-up woman, able to take care of herself. 

It did spark many small fights between the two of them, every time it ended with him apologizing and her understanding he was only doing this because he did not want her to get hurt.

After that, he started to do even more training and activities with her, boosting her confidence and encouraging her to be the best she could be. 

He is also extremely protective of her when it comes to male attention. 

At one point, it became too intense and inquired a serious discussion between them both as he had frightened to death a gentleman who wanted to dance with her majesty. He was incredibly sulky and acting like a stubborn mule when they discussed the matter. She succeeded in breaking his act and made him promise he would not do it again. 

They did make a deal on him having a veto if he felt something was off; they shook hands on it. Even after that, he was protective, but more subtly, and gave his little sister the space she needed. 

They love to go on walks in the country together, sometimes in the woods, other times on the beach or near a river to read a book.

They do not have to talk even though they love chatting together; they still enjoy and appreciate each other’s presence in the deepest of silence. 

They do not fight a lot, and when it happens, it ends pretty quickly with one of them apologizing. 

Even though Peter has a shining personality, he can get shy easily and prefers to hide in a royal and distant behavior when that happens. That is why Lucy always makes sure to break that façade and bring back her happy brother.

When he feels like he is a terrible king, Lucy takes on the role of the confidence booster. She encourages him to be confident and to have trust in his capacities.

She believes in him more than anyone else and knows he is a great king, always doing his best.

He does not particularly like to dance, and Lucy really does; she taught him all he knows and forces him to dance with her at least once at every ball. 

He always tries to get out of it even though he secretly likes these shared dances with his sister.

When Lucy gets sick or does not feel good, he is taking extra care of her, making sure she is always attended to, that she has all of her favorite snacks. 

Once, when it got pretty bad, he spent all night with her, even sending Edmund on one of his duty because he did not want to leave her. That day he spent most of the time, besides caring for her, reading her favorite books to her. 

She loves his voice; it is one of her favorite things in the world.

Every time there is a silly fight between the three younger Pevensies and their older brother, their last resort is always to send in the charms of Lucy. He always caves in when she comes in, asking with a pout just like when she was a child.  

They both admire the other so much. 

Their relationship is one of the things they value the most. Even though it comes pretty naturally to them, they always put in the time and effort to keep it healthy and flourishing.

You know how some people have the chance to find one of their soul sisters (platonically speaking of course).

Well, Peter and Lucy Pevensie are without a doubt two people who had the luck of finding theirs.  

a/n: there it was, my first ever request !! Again thanks to my good friend for sending it to me🥺 I hope you’ll like it and feel free to send me some requests, I love doing them☺

[fallin-4-ya]

The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader- part iv of series 

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: a bit of angst & tension! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen 

The month of January passed dreadfully slow, as you waited for something interesting to happen. As the snow fell softly onto the ground, thoughts wondered through your head rapidly, most of them involving Mr. Diggory. In fact, he occupied your mind most days. How dreadfully awkward that poor man is, you pondered, and yet how confident. His character never made sense to you, as awfully as he appeared on the outside, you could tell there was much beneath his many layers. But your thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock on the door, it was the post.

‘From Miss Ginerva, Miss Y/N.’ You smiled and nodded thankfully. Excited, you ripped the letter open and the inside read,

My Dearest Miss Y/N, I hope my letter find you very well. How dreadful these past few days have been, for all of this snow has made me think of nothing besides summer time. I was invited to stay at my brother Bill’s until the end February; Miss Hermione Granger will be attending alongside me, to encourage sisterly bonding. I am sorry to hear that Mr. Malfoy has resided back to his home up north, but I do hope that he continues to write you such pretty verses. I shall be home before the flowers bloom. Be well.

Much love, Ginerva

You sighed thinking of how even more boring the next few months would be without the company of a most dear friend. 

Now that Mr. Malfoy was sent back home, the house was quieter than ever. Between Harry managing the estate, Sirius writing business proposals and Mr. Lupin locked up in the library; you felt most unentertained and gittery. Letters began being sent to you the day after he left, expressing a fondness for you, which kept your boredom to a minimum. You thought long about the letters exchanged between you and Mr. Malfoy; Ginny was certainly right in saying the verses were beautiful. She also urged you that there would soon be a proposal on the line if he kept with the letters, though you secretly hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon.

The next evening, to much of your excitement, you were joined by Mr. Fred and George Weasley for dinner, who were in the company of nobody other than Mr. Diggory. Reaching a hand out for each of the Weasley men, they took it graciously planting a kiss upon it. Extending out to Mr. Diggory as well, he ignored your gesture and simply bowed in your direction. After the questionable gesture from the latter of the men, you lead them to the dining room, where the rest of your family awaited.

The evening was going splendidly, much laughter and wide smiles reigned. That was, until a letter arrived addressed to you from Mr. Malfoy. You excused yourself from the table, to retire to the parlor to read it.

Blushing profusely and smiling at the beautiful verses addressed to you, unaware of the floorboards that creaked viciously behind; you sat on the armchair nearest the window of the parlor. You heard a throat clear at the doorway and shot your head up.

 ‘Mr. Diggory! I am so sorry, I mustn’t have heard of your following.’ Humming to yourself, you gazed out the window, ‘I do love this time of the year, Mr. Diggory. The snow is nothing short of lovely.’

‘Yes, Miss Potter, I do agree that the snow is very beautiful but I must interject and beckon you about some-‘

‘He’s thought to propose, you know. Mr. Malfoy that is. Quite strange, isn’t it; how young girls go to young women with only a proposal.’ You unknowingly interrupted in your dream state.

‘Miss Potter, I truly cannot help but to interject; however, there is a matter of urgency I’d like to discuss.’ Mr. Diggory huffed. Being pulled out of your trance, patience grew thin, you turned your head and snapped, ‘What is it, Mr. Diggory, that you feel so inclined to interrupt me for?’

‘Its addressing Mr. Malfoy. You see I am afraid I must interject on a most sensitive discussion topic.’

‘If you have anything negative to say about Mr. Malfoy, I must urge you that I'm the last person who would be inclined to hear it! And if you have some here to ruin my evening, I am afraid I won’t allow it.’ 

With that you grabbed your coat and trekked out into the falling snow. Footsteps not far behind you, you sped up; unwilling, or rather unwanting of hearing what anybody had to say. The crunching of snow only following you farther, as you followed the angelic pathway to the stone pavilion in the graden. You threw your back against the wall, sighing out deeply. Without a moment of peace Mr. Diggory entered your presence.

‘You cannot marry him’

You were taken aback by his sudden bluntness. Exasperated by his cultivated occurrence of strange actions you cocked your head at him.

‘May I ask you why, Mr. Diggory?’

‘The Malfoy family is least cordial, completely unattached and deranged from society. They are completely unsuitable for a family such as yours.’

‘A family such as mine?! Have you come here to separate an engagement or to insult my family, Mr. Diggory? Or rather, does your sudden interest in my affairs have anything to do with your dislike towards Mr. Malfoy; because believe me, Mr. Diggory, I know well of your disputes with the poor gentleman and will not stop an engagement from happening due to your pride and arrogance.’

‘No, Miss Potter! You know perfectly well that I find your family most respectable. I just find their family uncommony stiff for your reckless behavior.’

‘Reckless behavior! How dare you insult not only my upkeeping but a personality of another. Have you forgotten the follies and vices of you, Mr. Diggory? For who are you to judge another?’

‘Miss Y/N, has it ever occurred to you that you may be too harsh on me or perhaps my light on you may have been caused by the misjudgment of one’s character? I beg of you to enlighten me on why you find me the most disagreeable man.’

‘Well then, I beg you, Mr. Diggory, why you wish to separate a young couple who have grown quite fond of each other?’

‘Because I love you.’

There was a lull and Mr. Diggory halted. ‘I love you most ardently and I could not have you go another day more without you knowing of the likeness I have for you.’

You stood in silence, snow falling ever so godly on you both, speechless. Words clouded your mind, and you wanted to scream, and cry, and love, and erupt all at the same time. But rather than doing any of them, you looked back on him with a haze in your eyes.

‘I would not marry you if you were the last man in the world.’ You said walking away, allowing a tear slip silently from your face.

The next day there was a knock on your bedroom door early in the morning. Mr. Diggory walked in humbled and shy, ‘Miss Y/N, I’ve come to leave this for you. I hope you do me the honor to read it. Thank you much for your time.’

You had not even reached his gaze, for he spoke for too quickly and you were far too angry. Staring at the enveloped with a tear stained face for nearly an hour, you decided to open it.

Dear Miss Potter,

I hope my letter finds you in good health. I do not wish to impose on you again what I have said last night; for I am writing to you today not to remind you of said words, but rather converse upon the accusations you have brought upon me. I urge you that everything in this letter is the truth and have many to testify upon it.

Mr. Draco Malfoy and I had been connected since infancy, for his father, Lucius, and mine worked exceptionally close together. However, as Mr. Malfoy grew he became reckless; he gambled a large portion of his father’s money away and took no responsibilities seriously. Soon thereafter, his father wrote him out of his will, leaving nothing to his son. Mr. Malfoy became desperate for an inheritance; my father later offered him a job which he begrudgingly took. However, not more than seven months of work, he confessed a most passionate love to my sister. It did not take long for us to realize that he was only after her fortune for she was to inherit seven thousand pound a year. She was thirteen at the time and utterly heartbroken.

When my sister had gotten sick mere months later, my mother and I moved to London alongside her to get the best medical help. Unable to access our money without my father present, Mr. Lucius graciously lent us the sum of the bills. Unfortunately, my sister passed with just two months of treatment; she was truly a remarkable young woman. After the mourning, we paid what was due back to the Malfoy family; but for Mr. Draco Malfoy it was not enough. He hounded me for more money; knowing his dispositions I had given him the sum of his ask in hopes that he would become something of himself. He gambled the money away in two weeks. After that, I refused to give him anymore money, cutting him off for good.

Miss Y/N, I am terribly sorry to force the burden of the truth onto you, but I just felt that you ought to know. Please do keep the affairs containing my sister private, as I believe it be a disgrace to her memory to attach her name to one like his. Thank you for the time we have shared.

Yours, Mr. Cedric Diggory

(author’s note: oh my goodness! end of part 4!!! ending on a bit of a cliff hanger... i can't wait for you all to read the final chapter, which will be out soon! as always, let me know if you’d like to be part of this tag list! thank you as always for reading!)

tag list: @freddieweasleyswife @truly-insatiable @annasdani @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

[ashratcool]

Misto and/or Tugger for da ask game 😌

Ooh i'll do both perhaps,, apologizing in advance 4 not including the song bc of the whole year without listening 2 non musical songs thing (i am sucky)

Mister Mistoffelees:

Favorite thing about them: really just how queercoded he is. Like,, i've never seen a character without a canon identity be so queercoded. Love a transgender boyliker magic cat. There really was never a cat so clever as magical mister mistoffelees /ref

Least favorite thing about them: there's not really anything that i hate about him? He seems pretty neat. Really the only thing that could classify as something that i don't like about him is that he makes me feel talentless (his conjuring turns,,, how,,,,,,,) but that's really the same with every other cat as well

Favorite line: it's actually the "The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore" line! I just find it really funny how that voice came out of that face (talking about jacob brent)

BrOTP: Mistoria, bc i see them as cousins but they've been good friends ever since they were kittens! That or maybe mistojerrie

OTP: Tuggoffelees, but that's really bc of oomf loving it so much n i just sort of relented. I'd prob pair him up with coricopat if i wasn't influenced

nOTP: Mistoria (in a mate sense) bc,, cousins headcanon. N also mistocavity, really bc i don't like portraying macavity in a positive way (just me tho. pls)

Random headcanon: i don't think i have that many headcanons of him. Maybe one of them that's worth mentioning is that he's secretly dysphoric about his height. Victoria's two inches taller than him (like proportionally. Irl it's only one inch) despite him being the older cousin so he's like 🧍

Unpopular opinion: i also don't think i have much of an unpopular opinion about him? Other than the fact that he's prob the dom in the relationship /nsx

Favorite picture of them:

The Rum Tum Tugger:

Favorite thing about them: just,, how iconic he is really. From his design 2 his personality 2 his song,, they're all so identifiable,, also achillean sex cat

Least favorite thing about them: not related character wise but holy fuck i struggle at drawing him properly. Whenever i sketch him he looks just fine but when i line it since his head fur is so wide he just looks oval shaped,,

Favorite line: not so much as a favorite line than it is a favorite verse. I really like the part of his song where he interacts with bomba n john partridge really delivered those lines so well

brOTP: Tuggerina! They're pretty good friends but in my human au they're just unstoppable. Their dynamic is a lot like brittnay n tristan from mpgis n they like 2 get boba (tugger would be like "i love boba so much. Who wouldn't want lots of balls in their mouth")

OTP: Tuggoffelees, really bc i don't really see him with any other cat in a relationship way

nOTP: of course, any proshippy ships. But also like,, tuggerina in a mate sense,, like cmon,, each have so much more chemistry with other characters,,,,, (cough cough tuggoffelees cough cough demelurina)

Random headcanon: achillean demiaro demiboy tugger. Also he prob has big balls n a flat ass /nsx

Unpopular opinion: i'm honestly surprised i don't like him as much as i thought i was going 2. I guess it's just bc of how sexual he is? I've gotten used 2 it by this point but the end of the song where he just hip thrusts surrounded by the kittens makes me go 🧍

Favorite picture of them:

[scarletarosa]

Demeter

Greek goddess of agriculture, harvest, grain, nourishment, and fertility

Demeter is the Olympian goddess of agriculture, and a daughter of Kronos and Rhea. She presided over the foremost of the Mystery Cults for women, which promised its initiates the path to a blessed afterlife in the realm of Elysium. In Rome, she was known as Ceres. Demeter was depicted as a mature woman, often wearing a crown and bearing sheaves of wheat or a cornucopia (horn of plenty), and a torch. 

Perhaps the most famous of Demeter’s myths is that of her beloved daughter, Persephone, being kidnapped by Hades, the god of the Underworld. This occurred when the young Persephone was out in a meadow with nymphs, and Hades suddenly came crashing towards her in his chariot. She ran, but Hades grabbed her and took her off towards the Underworld, with Persephone crying out for help. Here, Hades is said to have tricked Persephone into eating the pomegranate, forcing her to remain with him for a portion of each year for all time.

Apollodorus in the following passage summarizes the contents of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 1. 29-33 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.):

“Plouton [Haides] fell in love with Persephone, and with Zeus' help secretly kidnapped her. I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter Semne Thea (Reverend goddess) - of her and her trim-ankled daughter [Persephone] whom Aidoneus rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter Lady of the golden sword (khrysaoros), Giver of glorious fruits (aglaokarpos), she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Okeanos and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus, which Ge (Earth) made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please the Host of Many [Haides], to be a snare for the bloom-like girl...The girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the Nysion plain, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her...

Hades caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father, the Son of Kronos [Zeus], who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tender-hearted Hekate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaios, heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios (the Sun), Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Kronos [Zeus]. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he, that Son of Kronos [Haides], of many names...was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot--his own brother's child and was all unwilling.

And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother [Demeter] and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble; and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice: and her queenly mother heard her.

Bitter pain seized her [Demeter's] heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands: her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea, seeking her child. Demeter roamed the earth over in search of her, by day and by night with torches. When she learned from the Hermionians that Plouton [Haides] had kidnapped her, enraged at the gods she left the sky, and in the likeness of a woman made her way to Eleusis. But no one would tell her the truth, neither god nor mortal men; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. Then for nine days, queenly Deo wandered over the earth with flaming torches in her hands, so grieved that she never tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nectar, nor sprinkled her body with water. But when the tenth enlightening dawn had come, Hekate, with a torch in her hands, met her, and spoke to her and told her news: ‘Queenly Demeter bringer of seasons (horephoros), giver of good gifts (aglaodoros), what god of heaven or what mortal man has rapt away Persephone and pierced with sorrow your dear heart? For I heard her voice, yet saw not with my eyes who it was. But I tell you truly and shortly all I know.’ So, then, said Hekate. And the daughter of rich-haired Rhea [Demeter] answered her not, but sped swiftly with her, holding flaming torches in her hands.

So they came to Helios, who is watchman of both gods and men, and stood in front of his horses: and the bright goddess enquired of him: ‘Helios, do you at least regard me, goddess as I am, if ever by word or deed of mine I have cheered your heart and spirit. Through the fruitless air I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare, sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently; though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you--for with your beams you look down from the bright upper air Over all the earth and sea--tell me truly of my dear child, if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off.’

So said she. And the Son of Hyperion answered her: ‘Queen Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rhea, I will tell you the truth; for I greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Aides, her father's brother, to be called his buxom wife. And Aides (Hades) seized her and took her loudly crying in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom. Yet, goddess, cease your loud lament and keep not vain anger unrelentingly: Aidoneus, the Ruler of Many, is no unfitting husband among the deathless gods for your child, being your own brother and born of the same stock: also, for honour, he has that third share which he received when division was made at the first, and is appointed lord of those among whom he dwells.’

So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds.

When Zeus commanded Plouton to send Kore [Persephone] back up, Plouton gave her a pomegranate seed to eat, as assurance that she would not remain long with her mother. With no foreknowledge of the outcome of her act, Persephone consumed it. Askalaphos, the son of Akheron and Gorgyra, bore witness against her, in punishment for which Demeter pinned him down with a heavy rock in Hades' realm. But Persephone was obliged to spend a third of each year with Plouton, and the remainder of the year among the gods.”

This tragedy hurt Demeter so deeply, that every time Persephone is forced to return to Hades, all of life fades from the planet; creating Autumn and Winter. It is also said that Demeter is the creator of the Sirens, the bird-women who sing sailors to their deaths. In myth, the sirens were once nymphs who were the friends of Persephone. Two versions exist which tell of how they became as deadly bird-like women: one, where Demeter granted them wings in order to find her daughter, and another in which Demeter cursed them for not trying hard enough to rescue Persephone.  

In my personal experiences with Demeter, she is motherly, wise, empathetic, and deeply protective. She values generosity, honesty, and humility in her followers, and does not tolerate anyone who harms the Earth or is simply neutral towards its treatment by humans. Demeter is strongly connected to women and watches over them, even having the ability to sense their own sufferings. She herself has trauma due to what had happened with Persephone, since she had been kidnapped and taken advantage of for many ages by Hades, but she eventually escaped him. Hades learnt the error in his ways and seeks to mend what he has done; for he had taken the young goddess not out of sadism but out of deep loneliness, but this does not excuse his actions. Zeus however, is not to be blamed for this in any way, for he took no part in what had occurred; only being added in by the Greeks later on. When working with Demeter, you may ask her for whatever advise you need, and she will seek to teach you in the ways of compassion, patience, and nurturing emotions towards yourself and others.  

Some of her epithets:

Æratí (beloved)

Afxithalís (granter of growth)

Aglaódohros (bestower of splendid gifts)

Aglaókarpos (giver of fruit)

Agní (holy)

Dræpaniphóros (she who carries the scythe)

Éftæknos (bestowing children)

Iærothallís (blooming in holiness)

Kourotróphos (nurturer of children)

Mægála Mítir (the Great Mother)

Olviodóhtis (she who fills souls with bliss)

Pammíteira (mother of all)

Polýphorvos (feeder of many)

Prostásios (protector from evil)

Timáokhos (the honourable)

Vrimóh (the terrible one)

Koura (maiden)

Khrysáoros (bearing a golden sword)

Offerings: white wine, milk (all types), wheat, seeds, nuts, honey, cheese (all types), fruits, loaves of bread, butter, agricultural produce (all types as long as they are from the first ones harvested), cornucopias, white quartz, brown obsidian, calcite (all types), sunflowers, lilies, margarita, lemon trees (and all fruit bearing trees), incense of mastic or pine resin.

[talenlee]

The Johnlock Conspiracy Conspiracy

First of all this is going to be building off a point first cast into relief for me by Sarah Z’s video on The Johnlock Conspiracy. She is both directly connected with the experience of this space and did the research into the actual history of the people involved, a sort of on-the-spot observer recounting her experiences ethnographically. If you want a longer form deep dive on what The Johnlock Conspiracy is, check out that video. I will be providing a quick summary.

I’m also going to talk about fanagement, which I wrote about last year, which is about the way that fan engagement was seen as being a thing that corporate entities could deliberately engage for commercial ends. Fanagement isn’t necessarily an inherently evil or corrupting thing, but it’s something to know about as something that exists, and knowing it exists can colour your relationship to the media created in response to fanagement.

There’s this idea of ‘The Johnlock conspiracy.’

In the agonisingly mediocre BBC mystery drama Sherlock that ran from who cares to also who cares, starring in the loosest sense of the word Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman (a man ‘renowned’ for this, The Office and the Hobbit trilogy, on a scale of poisonous influence to actual outright evil), as a modern day re-imagining of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson that has some interesting ideas that it absolutely does not use well, mysteries that are not interesting and a relationship tension that was making itself up as it went along. Much ink has been spilled about how this series is not very good, and that’s good, because it’s a very expensively made bad series that banks on the reliable draw of the same fistful of boring privilege.

Part of what made it popular, sort of, was the tension of the relationship between John and Sherlock. See, they were both men, you see, and what if they kissed.

Now, tumblr is, by volume, mostly connections to other parts of tumblr. If you make something popular, it becomes amplified and exploded and brought to the attention of others and curated into lists. Content that gets shared is the very sinew of what Tumblr is, which means that doing things people share around is a strange form of primacy on the site. Making content is powerful, heady, druglike. Commanding curation where you determine what does and does not get shared is even moreso. It is a space for an audience that is engaged deeply with the concept of being engaged, and in this space, fandom happened.

There’s not a lot of Sherlock. There were big gaps between the seasons. When a season came out, it did not explain itself or deliver on its promise at all. It is, as I’ve said, bad. But it was well made and used actors you’d heard of and was treated as being prestigious and so, when the show came out, and because people liked the idea of what it could be, fandom struck on a conspiracy:

What if this terrible show is secretly great?

And I understand the impulse. It’s heart to a lot of fandom. I can’t possibly have spent this time and energy on something I don’t like, it must be that the thing I like is secretly this thing I really like. And so scaffolding comes out to buttress the idea. We’re not taught that fandom is right – we’re taught that fandom is something that justifies itself by being right. If you have a story in your heart about a Dark Fuckprince and his soft bean injured Watson, that story is real and right, and doesn’t need the official endorsement of the BBC to be good.

Without that armour of love, though, instead the fandom turned into this endless oroborous of hostility centered around three people, who seem to just be total dickheads, great job you. This resulted in the blossoming of what was known as ‘the Johnlock Conspiracy,’ where through thousands of pages of well intentioned fumes, these fans huffed themselves into believing that Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis were secretly building up to exactly what they wanted, and they were the smartest people ever for noticing it. The lack of payoff of their beliefs and the active hostility Moffat had to their ideas and positions in person, that was all part of the conspiracy.

Oh, by the way, that idea – conspiracy – is when you have an unfalsifiable conjecture. If you can’t prove it false, no matter what, that’s when you’re dealing with a conspiracy theory.

The dramatic conclusion to all this was the series ended, their conspiracy was wrong, they theorycrafted themselves a few more months of content, and then most people let it drop.

But what if I told you there was a conspiracy?

Because there was. It just wasn’t the conspiracy they thought.

See, a conspiracy is a real thing: it’s a secret plan to do something harmful. And the BBC, since they published the work that Matt Hill described in Torchwoods Trans-Transmedia: Media Tie-Ins and Brand Fanagement, worked with the parameters of their experiment aggressively.

The idea, as I outlined in my article about Fanagement was that making the program so it could engage fans directly, and give fans feelings of creative ownership over the work would drive viewership and the kinds of engagement they liked (like, paying for things). Fanagement sought to make media ‘gifable’ – low saturation backgrounds with cuts of under a second so you could break a scene apart easily and conveniently. It wanted to make fan media easy to make, and to minimise hard declarative statements.

The lessons learned from this paper included things like ship teasing as a deliberate task – and I do mean teasing, with the idea that you had to do it in deniable and ambiguous ways. Making things definite wouldn’t get you as much fan engagement as keeping things ambiguous, because fans would make an inference based on what you show them, talk about it, then other fans would watch it again to make sure they could argue with you about it.

A mystery show like Sherlock was perfect for this kind of treatment. Treating the series as if there was some really deep, thoughtful question at the heart of it meant that there was always a reason to keep from ‘revealing’ the secret of the story, to string the audience along, like they’d believe or tolerate it, if it was all in service of a clever explanation. You get it, right? After all, we gave you all the clues.

The toxic fandom of Sherlock did not form as much as it was fostered.

A lesson from this experience, a lesson easily escaping notice, is that it’s not that ‘fandoms are all the same.’ They really aren’t. They are wildly varying in the terms of their problems and those problems root causes. What they tend to have in common is dynamics, but those dynamics are expressed in a lot of different ways. It’s not that ‘fandoms’ naturally become toxic and awful. There are fandoms that are generally, quite nice, and they tend to be that way because of the values of the central movers and shakers and the conscious willingness of people who perceive themselves as part of the fandom as taking care of it. The dynamic is the same – you have common nexuses of community that people interact with – and the kind of behaviour that’s acceptable and reasonable is filtered through them. If the idea of asking people to modify their behaviour or respect people’s boundaries is seen as unreasonable, then you can get a toxic space.

Also, as I talk about ‘toxic fandoms,’ understand toxicity is relative. There is, after all, a very real, very unironic Hitler Fandom, and they are probably one of the worst fandoms out there. Being a mean lawyer on the internet is bad, and I’ve no doubt the fandom curators known now as the Powerpuff Girls absolutely wrecked some teenagers’ lives – like, there are definitely people with, I am not joking or being hyperbolic, some PTSD triggers about (say) Tumblr or whatnot, based on the kind of social force these people were leveraging.

And then remember that holding that lever at the high end, right at the top with the most power over it was a company that made TV shows that was trying to make sure you watched their shows.

Also: The tools for doing this are available to all the companies that read the paper.

My advice? Exhort and uplift queer creators. Be positive about it, not negative. Don’t make your time about attacking other people’s dark fuckprince. Bring what you like to life, and bring that life into the light. Share and love each other, rather than find reasons to be mad at one another for how you’re all playing with toys a corporation wants you to treat with respect and only play properly. And as always, the standard you walk past is the standard you accept – so make sure your fandom circles aren’t putting up with some Powerpuff Girls.

Originally posted on my Blog.