#love my angst train

[i-logophile]

First thoughts (and SHRIEKINGS) -

HOLY SHIT!

That was an emotional roller coaster, thinking they were going to save Leo, but no, the EPF managed to get him again, but they didn’t get the others so that’s a relief, but DAMN! Leo’s panic and terror of being taken again. After all that time and what he went through and still being a snarky little shit, hiding or trying to hide his emotions and fear and trying to maintain some semblance of control whether it be over the situation or his own emotions and now thanks to Bioagent-X he’s just snapped… Question is how much of his snark will come back once it wears off? And how long will it take to wear off?

Roller coaster? Nah, welcome aboard Logo's Angst Train, where there are no stops, no slowing down, & certainly no more fluff until we reach our final destination! The Hurt is Now, & the Comfort is Eventually, but the Mental & Emotional Scars on our favorite characters are Forever!

Anyways—

Yeah, they keep getting so close, but they're still so far... I wonder why things keep going wrong... (*cough* because they're stubborn little shits that won't let themselves have any character development yet *cough*)

Lol Bioagent-X is going to be screwing Leo over all the way into the sequel, though not physically/mentally so much as emotionally. Paranoia's so fun ;D

[grey-viridian]

Even death can't separate them

[beddybites]

"those who unlock the demon slayer mark, without exception..."

tdlr obanai's reaction to muichiro and mitsuri's fates as a result of manifesting the demon slayer mark will haunt me forever..... two of the people he cares about the most... doomed... and right after he lost rengoku, too is he to blame... could he have stopped it somehow? had he never exposed them to his tainted blood, had he never cared... could he have saved them...

[kittykatninja321]

My less popular opinion (and what I believe to be implied by the art in Lost Days) is that rather than waking up in a fully grown body Jason didn’t actually complete his puberty until after his Lazarus pit dip while he was on his murder tour. Imagine you’re tied up in a basement in Berlin getting interrogated by a teenager and his voice is cracking the entire time and if you laugh he’s going to shoot you

[vilyar]

Asking for a friend - what are you supposed to do when you fall in love with the very Warden you were supposed to kill after swearing you'd never love again, survive a blight and an archdemon together, notice your Warden grows distant and leaves to Amaranthine, and slowly the letters stop and he disappears from the face of the earth? Also he never returned the earring that was the mark of your love.

Started thinking about how my Warden broke Zev's heart, probably worse than he would've by simply dying at the battle :(

[neztune]

Procrastinated on making anything digital again… but a doodle for a lil fluffy hurt/comfort oneshot with Stoick and baby Hiccup that I posted last night :3

They’re so very dear to me

“He just needs more time”

And now to leave the fic link here….

[kisasan]

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Always an Angel, Never the God

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Runaway!Reader

Words: 3,271

Your plans to run away with Hiccup fall through. Three years later, you finally make it off Berk and away from the Edge.

Tags: Gender neutral/intended Female, Runaway Reader, Angst, Unrequited love, Requited love, Heartbreak

Full - Next>

“-at’s for -id-apping me.” You heard, watching as he reeled back slightly, one shoulder jerking back farther than the other.

Toothless was there too, way off. Even with distance, you could still remember what it was like to have him before you, towering, frightening, thick, clawed paws and rippling shoulder muscles, pupils in the shape of slits. Now, he snorted, more conscious than you’d ever seen him, at the same time attentive and not. Open.

As you turned back, your soldiers hunching even further, hiding, you struggled hard to keep your wits about you, chest feeling light as you struggled to grasp at air.

You’d seen the axe.

You’d seen the axe.

It had been laid plainly on the ground, pressing itself deep into the grass like a foot grinding imprint into mud, solid as a God, making itself known, permanent and weighty as an ancient law carved into hard stone.

It’s owner, you hadn’t known, and yet as the sun set, it wrought dread pooling from every orifice like the curdling blood from the cleaved neck of an ox. 

Your back was aching against flat rock, the face of a small outcropping, large enough to keep you fully covered. 

There was something deep and electric tingling up your arms, freeing your muscles and curdling hope as you waited and prayed, the line that marked the beginning of one line burning, bursting, waiting.

You stared at dusty brown wicker, the most useful of your belongings cradled the seat of a stolen basket-pack, your eyes feeling heavy, weightier than metal in their sockets, the world around you feeling much too light and airy, both unreal and even moreso slogging than the few terrified hours you had spent alone, the hours that had been ended quite suddenly just a mere moment prior.

You had been afraid.

Afraid, with something like dread bubbling in your stomach, roiling wildly like the galled bubbles of a cauldron of hot water, left to burn recklessly over a raging fire, forgotten. Dangerous- a knife pointed towards a neck, scraping against skin, and the neck- it had been none other than your own, surely.

You feared the worst, especially after your frantic search bore no fruit- That he’d been found, and that something terrible had happened to him, but Hiccup was fine. 

He’d been fine, with Astrid, this whole time.

Even Toothless seemed to like her well enough. He didn’t like you, glaring and snapping when you got too close despite all of your efforts to get on his good side. 

He barely ever let you on. He certainly wouldn’t without Hiccup- you had the sneaking suspicion he’d buck if you tried. 

While you understood why he kept it to himself -it went against everything you’d known your whole lives- a small part of you couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that even as close friends he’d not told you about Toothless at all- not at first. When he’d done it, he did it with reluctance. You doubted he would’ve even bothered if he’d not seen you do so poorly at dragon training, if you hadn’t stumbled across him at just the wrong moment. He probably felt terrible, watching you fail over and over again when he could be doing something to help.

You hugged your knees tightly hidden behind rock and moss, fighting with yourself, struggling not to make a sound, as you peered around a jagged corner, listening in as the two young Vikings conversed.

Even if he never inherited the Chiefdom, the expectation that he’d marry was still heavy. You two were an inevitable couple, if not because of love, out solidarity. It wasn’t like either of you had any suitors. You were friends first, of course, but privately you hadn’t had a problem with… With marriage. You got along well and you could see a future with him where you were both alright if not happy, and you really, really liked him.

You knew he wanted someone else. He wanted someone who was confident, capable, who had good standing, who was also someone his father could be proud of... Someone who was more gorgeous than plain, someone like Astrid.

You weren’t the best Viking. You couldn’t work in the forge, you hadn’t a lot of lucrative talents at all and a measure of clumsiness and troublemaking that could rival Hiccup’s own, but you were friends, and that had to count for something.

He’d come to you with his plan to run away, after all- You were running away together, you’d thought, and yet- And yet somehow, some way, she was there. 

He left with her. 

He liked her- You knew that. And, you realized with mounting horror, as shadow-washed blonde locks teased the side of a freckled, soft face, she liked him too. 

You knew you’d never had a chance, but knowing it was different from seeing it.

You hadn’t had a chance in the world… You could never fault him for that.

Still, you couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in your eyes, or the tiny bits of your heart from splitting apart and scattering across the grass.

“-And… for- …else,” The wind carried the words to you gently, softly, worn by distance yet not at all delayed by time.

 

Conversely, he didn’t tell you when he flew off to battle with the rest of your peers. The whole thing with the Red Death? You missed it completely. You only found out later after Hiccup had been towed back to Berk on death's door.

“If I place a spring there, when I pull the lever, it shouldn’t catch. The gear system is supposed to help turn the barrel while I’m aiming. What do you think?” Brown leather guard met gauntlet as Hiccup rubbed his shoulder, bruised, no doubt the result of a hard fall he’d taken earlier on Toothless.

You nodded, eyeing the vast array of blueprints and open journals spread sideways in between the two of you. 

“Yeah, I got it,” You said as casually as you could manage, though the words felt hollow, “...But remember that one time, with the weeds and the clogging? Between the wheels and the frame, with the grass… You need to cover the space between lest you want it to jam again.”

Constantly spilling his heart out to you but saving the rest- the best parts of it for the other teens, the ones who used to jeer at him from the sidelines, who all of the sudden began to treat him well, but still jeered at you while he wasn’t looking- you were a hangers-on to their group, not very useful or funny, not spoken with or talked to or considered at all by anyone who wasn’t Hiccup. Just… there. Always.

It had been a long time since anything you said felt like it had held any weight, a long time since you’d felt like anything more than a ghost, a thin breeze. 

Hiccup picked up a yellowed paper, scrutinizing his own design, “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know If- if I shift the base… Yeah, that would work.”

Your friendship had, for lack of a better word, remained the nearly same, except now there was an undercurrent of something vicious under the surface of a black ocean, broiling and writhing like an angry serpent. 

Sometimes it felt like a sick corruption of the friendship you and Hiccup used to have, made up of long-held bonds forged through hardship and what you had thought were good times. Sometimes it felt as if you were better off than before and you could joke and laugh and play games the same way you had as children, and sometimes it felt like you were speaking to a stranger, one you weren’t sure you’d ever known at all; sometimes his mannerisms, his ticks and even the way he stood were alien to you.

You weren’t sure you recognized who he was anymore. You never asked why, afraid of the answer you might find.

“No problem,” You puffed, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. In that instant, your words felt loaded just as much as they held nothing- they felt fake, like a product of something much larger and uglier- they slipped off your tongue thickly, sluggishly, slimy, like a lie.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hiccup shifted in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fingers, a nervous tick he’d had since the two of you were little, “Your dragon. Have you picked a name for it yet?”

“Ah, no,” You sighed, looking down at your knees, pants scuffed and mottled, “Honestly, I haven’t been able to find something he likes.”

Picky bastard.

Hiccup had helped you find a dragon before the lot of you had moved, a smallish Nadder who still didn’t feel much like your own who served you just as well as any other would. You did your best to serve it as well. You needed it, after all. 

The Nadder- he turned out to have just as much propensity for social upset as you, getting along with Stormfly, Toothless and no one else.

You had a very similar luck- to both his eyes and your dragon’s, it seemed you were no better or worse than any stranger, a far cry from the relationship you used to have with the beast. It suited you well- you weren’t so fond of the Night Fury, either.

Weighing the bottom of your boot against squeaky floorboard, clenching your hands together and loosening them lightly off to the side, you grimaced. 

Now, your life with the other Riders didn’t seem nearly as hard as it had been before. They had gotten used to you though you couldn’t say you were particularly close with anybody. You didn’t get any looks anymore though, nor would conversations stop once you entered a room. It was a minor comfort; You didn’t try to strike up conversation either, finally figuring that it was better to be silent than awkward. 

It still did nothing to soothe the hurt or to erase all of the years you’d spent hurting or to negate any of the time you spent on your lonesome which was still more often than not.

“If you don’t mind, I can-...” Hiccup leaned back, the both of you turning heads as your door creaked open, wood floors creaking as heavy boots moved across the threshold of your home. 

You gave Astrid a nod of acknowledgement as she approached your table. She tilted her head, glancing in your direction in response.

“Hiccup,” Astrid called, “Are we still flying tonight?”

“Astrid,” Hiccup greeted as he stood up, a soft smile stretching half the length of his face as he gathered his assets, leaving a few papers scattered across the top. He probably meant to come pick them up later, as he usually did, “Let me get my things.”

You tuned them out as they began speaking in earnest, leaning back to stare at the ceiling, fingers tapping against your elbows almost antsily as they took their leave, moving slower than you would have liked yet too fast for you to feel ready.

“Hey,” Hiccup looked back at you, all tawny freckles and slightly sun-darkened skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest. Fearfully, “I’ll see you later, right?”

“Right,” You said nearly at a mumble, refusing to look him in the eye, glancing off to a place somewhere over his shoulder where your wall’s planks had been unevenly nailed. Your stomach rolled guiltily as the door shut behind him, “I’ll see you later.”

You were sure he hadn’t heard. It was a relief.

You waited, shoulders stiff, arms braces against the table, listening as your door swung shut behind Hiccup, as it fell into your frame with a solid thunk and as the sound of his voice and her conversation got quieter and quieter as they wandered off into the distance.

You stood, pressing flat palms against wood and took in a deep breath, hands shaking so intensely you could hardly feel anything as you walked up to one shuttered window and slowly pushed it open like the two old, worn fold covers of a leather book.

You winced, blinking hard as you watched Hiccup sling his leg over Toothless’ back, Astrid grasping at the straps to Stormfly’s own saddle just before doing the same, mounting as her dragon took off into the sky, wings beating methodically as she hovered in front of him, waiting for him to follow. 

His Night Fury looked back, blinking, half disoriented. You turned away just before you could meet eyes, feeling quite vulnerable. 

“Right,” You muttered deeply, scuffing your boots against the floor. With your foot, out from under your table, you nudged a hefty pack- something measly you’d prepared earlier in the morning, when the line between night and day was most blurry, when the sky was still pitch and the stars winked above you, filled with something like shame and something almost like freedom, a little bit like death.

He may have found his happiness with the others, but.., you hadn’t. 

There was nothing much here for you to lose by leaving- grabbing your things and bolting in the night, the same way he’d planned it out all those years ago. You didn’t have much. 

With a quiet heave, you brought the pack over your shoulder. You didn’t stumble back, no -you’d grown at least that much- though you still felt its weight like a thin knife pulling at your back’s muscles. 

Glancing back out your open window, you watched them, Hiccup and Astrid. You felt safer, more hidden as distance fogged their edges, as they became nothing more or less than a few blurry dots in the sky.

You waited until they were nothing but a speck in the distance before you yourself stepped out into the open air, boot crunching against dirt and pebble, fresh air meeting your face, blasting past your nose, your wrist flicking against the heavy weight of wooden door, hearing the sound of heavy metal hand slamming back against it.  

It was not quite the feeling you’d imagined, more than a world unlike how they’d described it in the epics, with their brawny heroes, locking in battle, imprisoned, throwing off chains like dust in the air, feeling metal snap away from his wrist, hearing the sound of slightly dull tinkling and a thump as metal landed against patched dirt-and-grass-and-sometimes-stone flooring, but, well, you were no hero. 

You were just a coward. 

Still, something in your chest felt heavy -the place between your ribs, the line of muscle and bone where things felt the most sensitive- but it was better. It was lighter.

You stood still for a moment, waiting, listening to the outside, cool air ripping against your nose and lungs, expecting- what, regret? Nerves? 

The others wouldn’t notice. You knew it with a surety that steadied your limbs.

Fishlegs was busy in his hut. The twins and Snotlout- maybe they’d see you leaving, but you knew they wouldn’t ask why. They weren’t the type to feel much at all besides, perhaps, the vague expectation that you’d be back later. Hiccup and Astrid wouldn’t be back till late doing who-knows-what. 

On the Edge, you’d only managed a small, shoddy hut. You burst into motion, quickly rounding its corner, where, towering over you, lay a Nadder. It had been crouched over itself, guarding its feet like one might guard a clutch of eggs, wings folded over its body so everything else was nearly all hidden.

As you breathed heavily, quickly making yourself known as you approached it, it stood up onto its feet, titling precariously and dipping and kicking up dirt, the most awful Nadder you’d ever seen.

Its throat undulated as it chirruped and bobbed, high tones nearly reaching something growling the longer you waited. It had been patient, more so than you’d ever thought it capable- your last few hours with Hiccup had been quite sudden and unexpected.

You supposed it was eager.

Flying was more than just a method of transport- it was a sport, something done for leisure. Most of the Riders did it, and as a dragon perhaps almost belonging to a Rider, it was something he’d come to expect. It’d spent plenty watching the others, as they flew. 

You hadn’t yet, but then again, you hadn’t had a dragon. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary- it shouldn’t raise any eyebrows. You wouldn’t be stopped.

It wanted to soar.

You’d only just met and you already knew that much- you almost felt bad for not running sooner, but really, it had been out of your control.

Kicking off of the floor, you almost fell backwards with the weight at your back, gripping at a thick strap, nearly as wide as your palm, pulling at it, heaving yourself off as your Nadder twitched and bobbed and flexed its winged arms. 

You thought of how Astrid had mounted Stormfly earlier, moving easily with her dragon, swaying with its bobs, taking advantage of corded muscles in order to heave herself up, all in one smooth motion. You shoved down a spike of envy, spearing and prickling through your guts.

Stormfly was a smidgen more graceful than your own dragon. You guessed that was one thing you two had in common- you and your lizard, that was. The worst of two peoples; slightly snippish and odd in a way that repelled most of the others, a loner more by circumstance than by choice. Reckless, frustrated, mistake-prone cuts and rips and tears dotting rough scales and dry hide.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, not saying goodbye, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to spill the beans.

You grunted as you managed, finally, you haul yourself onto its back, draped over its saddle horizontally like a cloth over a fishing line. It took you a moment longer to right yourself, another to sling your leg over its back, nearly falling back again as your arms threatened to give out.

You bit your lip, lightly tapping your Nadder’s side with your heel, leaning hard in the opposite direction, your pack jerking roughly against your shoulders at the shift of weight. 

Hiccup… There was no use feeling guilty. He was your friend first. You’d lived your whole life that way, though soon, you’d have nothing between the two of you. If the fates allowed it, you’d never see him again. By that logic, it shouldn’t matter what he did. Not anymore.

You glanced one last time into the sky. 

There was nothing.

Your Nadder bowed, forcing you to lean forwards with it, its wings unfurling in a way that nearly clipped the side of your hut’s roof, threatening delicate-hardy membrane.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling something like a bounce, then a leap. The jostle of large, clawed feet once again meeting sky before you met air like a solid wall, roughly pressing against you, pushing you back, working against you more than your pack ever did, as if you’d never been meant to reach the skies. 

Then the moment was gone. 

As you blinked hastily, exchanging the painful weight of too-tight eyelids for the dryness of eye meeting speed and force, wind ripped past your cheeks in a way that ripped, made you wince, reminded you of devastating winders, hail and sleet so frosty it burned. 

You weren’t sure where exactly you were going, but you knew wherever it was, it would be good as long as it was as far, far away from here as possible.

[murd3rouscrow]

Tiny spoilers for the three gabels ahead. You have been warned.

Anyways, so we all agree there's no way that this is gonna end well? Like obviously the case will get solved, but it won't end well for our 221 trio. Cause John has said he didn't want to do more cases for a bit. He has asked Mariana to turn off the mic, which she didn't do.

So I'm gonna make a tiny prediction. I think we'll get a smaller fight around the end of part 2, cause either Mariana or Sherlock is in more trouble and they need John's help. And we all know John cares about his friends more than he cares about his own wellbeing, so he has a small row with Mariana/Sherlock (whichever isn't in danger at the moment) and it moves into part 3.

Now here, I mostly assume it'll be Mariana in danger cause I think the podcast will want to go back to Sherlock and John at least for one episode. Although some John and Mariana is also appreciated.

Anyways, so by the end of part three, probably after the case has been solved, John blows up on the other two, about how he's tired and how he specifically asked for no cases and to turn the mic off. And I don't want the fight to be resolved. Let it end with:

Sherlock: John... We are incredibly sorry...

Mariana: yeah John, we really didn't mean for you to get caught up and...

John: don't... Sorry doesn't just fix things... I just- I need some time...

[alackofghosts]

lost & found

[danganronpa96]

Au where the chapter 6 motive is hanahaki disease but monotora fucked up the laws of hanahaki. And now hayasaka and latte are coughing up flowers for dead people

I remember seeing you talk about this on the discord a while back and it was like a try not to cry challenge in real time /j

I went to do a little research on the hanahaki disease and I found that it doesn’t have to be a specific flower. So I decided to find what type of flower the two would be diseased with.

Latte -> carnations, specifically white. Since they symbolise purity and good luck, it’s a reminder of Latte’s pure and happy relationship with Mai, and the good virtue Mai gave Latte before her death.

This may underline a hopeful idea that she can overcome the disease, however as she does not want to forget Mai, it only gets worse.

Hayasaka -> roses, either red or crimson red. Red roses are a common symbol of love, so he won’t be able to turn a blind eye to his feelings towards Kurumada, something he had often struggled with. It also heavily reflects on his verbal confession in the trial.

Crimson red on the other hand represents mourning, something that will co-exist within Hayasaka for the foreseeable future. I’d imagine seeing such a thing every day would only wear him down further.

I also read that sometimes surgery to remove the flowers is possible, at the cost of removing all feelings (and/or memories) of the person they love. So, if Nesos gave them the option of getting rid of the disease with that clause in mind, I wonder if either of the two would give in.

The more I think about it, however, the less I’d see them ever consider it.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT HERMES IS A DUMMY

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1 part 2 part 3

next: part 5

m'kay, so, we've talked about Athena & Telemachus' issues. now let's touch on Hermes, because a Diva™ like him deserves his own post. and also because this had been sitting in my notes for so long i've genuinely forgotten about it (i'd say that it's what translating a musical does to you, but honestly my attention span is just shit)

now, as much as I love Soft Boi!Hermes, I even more so love prankster Hermes who doesn't really recognize personal boundaries or the meaning of 'too far'. he's the guy who'll commit to the bit so far, he'll commit mass murder with a Tee-Hee and genuinely wonder what has got everyone so upset.

kid!Telemachus, holding a cup of poison: grandpa, are you sure it's a good idea? I'm scared… Hermes, laughing his ass off in the corner: of course I'm sure, champ! it'll be hilarious! good ol' game of Ithacean Roulette! now dump it into the wine, let's see who we'll get this time!

at the same time, he's not selfish. he's very keen on doing things for the people he likes, and he cares enough to know when someone is distressed. he, as a god, is just so removed from traditional human morality that casual acts of cruelty are perfectly acceptable to him, while, for example, breaking an oath is a horrible sin.

think blue and orange morality stuff.

telemachus, outraged: …murdered his own family, can you imagine? hermes, equally outraged: I know, right? he gave a blood oath and broke it! disgusting! telemachus: why is that your only concern?!

but don't worry, helping to raise Telemachus and hanging around the same people consistently makes a real boy outta him gives him enough time and insight into humanity to start understand mortals better, and, as consequence, adopt some of their values.

especially the concept of spousal loyalty. Hermes is a patron god of thieves, and at the time taking someone's wife was viewed as an act of theft (because women were property, yeeesh). which is why to him Penelope's situation was less of a tragedy and more of a "well, my dumbass great-grandson Odysseus should've seen it coming. snooze you lose! ¯_(ツ)_/¯"

that is, until he gets to know her better. and suddenly she's not a prize to be won or a challenge to conquer. she's a smart, capable person that commands respect from anyone who's got a shred of self-awareness. she's got gentle hands, and a radiant smile, and a spine of steel. Penelope looked Hermes dead in the eyes and told him serenely to keep being a good influence on her son, she does not deserve to be reduced to a token and given away to the highest bidder.

hermes, initially: well, penelope's a rich, gorgeous, basically single queen. I'd steal her too, if she was my type. hermes, 10 years later: she's the smartest, ballsiest human woman I've ever met and if she only wants her Ugly Ass Groom then she'll fucking stay single until he comes back.

unfortunately for everyone else, Hermes cannot step in to protect her, because Zeus and Poseidon are both pissed off at Odysseus already, and if either of them notices Hermes (and/or Athena) interfering with mortals on Ithaca, they might take it as an invitation to follow suit, and then it'll be Troy Story 2: Electric Boogaloo.

so he stays his hand, and hangs around Telemachus discreetly, mostly posing as a human. for a god of liars, he's surprisingly bad at blending in for long periods of time. Hermes thinks he's an awesome conspirator. meanwhile little Telemachus didn't even realise it was a secret.

the only people who don't know that [insert alias] is a god in disguise are the suitors, who are notoriously either too stupid, too overconfident or too busy drinking to connect the dots. the exception is Antinous who pretends to be oblivious and makes sure the gods don't see him as a threat to their beloved little pup (otherwise he'd have killed the prince long ago).

the suitors, however, unanimously agree that they hate this weird annoying stranger, and try to get rid of him in increasingly elaborate ways, from poison to stabbing to wild animals to dropping pots on his head.

spoiler alert: it doesn't work.

hermes, next day: *comes back every morning like nothing had happened, whistling cheerily* suitors: WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!

eventually Antinous convinces them to give up so they don't piss off Hermes.

years pass, Telemachus grows. Athena teaches him strategy and arts of war. Aeolus gradually comes out of the hiding and becomes the resident lovable comic relief side character. and Hermes? he teaches the kid all the good stuff.

and it's not just lying, okay? (though it's a significant part of it) music, diplomacy, geography, street smarts, some history. he's a worldly god, had observed and been a part of countless cultures. above all else, he knows people. he may not really understand them, but he knows how to get what he wants from them, how to find common ground and how to spin things to get along with practically anyone.

and girls. Hermes helps Telemachus with girls.

because he's the cool uncle figure that Telemachus admires, the kid trusts him enough to ask the god for advice when he starts growing older and gets his first crush in his early teens.

and, on one hand, Hermes is ecstatic. on the other one…

telemachus, blushing and stuttering: there's a girl I met, she's so pretty, and cool, and, and, and how do I talk to her, do I just come up and say hi, but what if sh- hermes: … hermes: *blue screen of death* hermes: MY BABY-

it's the first time he truly starts to grasp how short the kid's life will be. because in the blink of an eye he turned from a newborn to an adolescent, and soon enough he'll have his own family, and Odysseus was already a king himself at this age, and Hermes is not ready this can't be it he can't just grow old and die

so anyway, he pushes the thought aside and pretends it never came up at all (because that always works, and bottling shit up never blows up in anyone's face, right, Athena?)

he gives lots of advice, from useless macho stuff to golden nuggets like "be yourself" and "show her respect". and, of course, he cheers from the sidelines, hiding 'inconspicuously'.

and it goes surprisingly well. the girl appears to find Telemachus' awkward attempts at flirting sweet and charming, and the boy is on the cloud nine.

but Hermes isn't. because, unlike the prince, his judgment isn't clouded by a puppy crush and he can see that the girl is actually a lying bitch, who's playing Telemachus like a fiddle, hoping to become the next queen of Ithaca. and he won't stand for it.

except Telemachus, for some reason, doesn't seen thrilled when Hermes tells him to dump the girl?? he flat out refuses to believe that, because love is blind and so are sheltered insecure teenage boys.

so Hermes, in his infinite wisdom, decides to prove to his naive little charge once and for all that the girl is just using him and doesn't actually love him. now, what's the first example of true selfless love from a woman that comes to mind to the god who had spent the last few years hanging out with the royal family of Ithaca? right, Penelope. and the one thing that characterises Penelope is her unconditional loyalty, even into the face of countless threats and temptations.

hermes, to himself: so, if I show the kid that the bitch will leave him as soon as she finds a better prospect, he will definitely admit I was right all along! and dump her! it's a perfect, easy, foolproof plan! I am so smart! what could possibly go wrong!

another spoiler alert: everything goes wrong.

the girl does happily jump into his arms as soon as he hints that he's a god/demi-god/just a cooler prince or something. she does it right in front of Telemachus, in fact, so there's no way he'd be able to deny the obvious.

on the bright side, Hermes immediately outs her as a lying bitch and publicly shames her, embarrassing her family and ruining her prospects of marriage and causing her to suffer for the rest of her life ('disproportionate revenge'? what's that?).

on the down side, for some unfathomable reason, Telemachus doesn't seem very grateful??? what???????

hermes: and so, AS ALWAYS, I was right. telemachus: hermes: but please, hold your applause! telemachus: hermes: I did it all for you, out of the goodness of my heart! telemachus: hermes: and please, don't apologize! you were wrong, I get it! no need to- telemachus: *bitch slaps his smug face and runs away, hurt and betrayed* hermes: *shocked pikachu face*

thing is, Hermes doesn't understand what he did wrong. in his mind he did a rather good deed: showed the liar's true colors, and spared the kid a lot of heartache down the line. he doesn't understand the feelings of betrayal from having someone he trusts explicitly outing him as a naive fool in front of everyone he ever dreamed of earning respect from. doesn't get the pain of having been cast aside by someone he liked in favor of a god, with whom he could never compete. can't imagine living in the shadow of someone he had never even known and being constantly reminded of all the ways he's lacking.

telemachus: I'm not a stupid child, hermes. I could've handled it. hermes: but you didn't listen to me, maybe you'd have never seen it on your own- telemachus: and maybe I would've. maybe I would've had the opportunity to find out myself, and maybe I would've learned from it, but you never gave me that choice, did you?! did you think i'm that dumb?! hermes: oh, come on, kid, you're not dumb- telemachus: THEN WHY DO YOU TREAT ME LIKE I AM?! WHY DON'T YOU EVER TRUST ME?!

aaaaand there's the core issue. Telemachus had spent his whole life being babied at best and looked down upon at worst. constantly compared to Odysseus and his more vicious peers, always shielded from making tough decisions and proving himself. he feels like he will never amount to anything, because no one ever lets him really try. as soon as it looks like he's going to make a mistake, someone (usually Athena, Aeolus or Hermes) swoops in and 'fixes' everything for him, just like they used to do when he was an accident-prone toddler. which he isn't anymore.

and Hermes doesn't understand that. to him, ten years is basically nothing. the kid can't have changed that much in ten years. because if he did, then he'll change a lot in the next ten years, and the next, and very soon he won't change anymore, because ten years are nothing and so are human livespans.

ten years are nothing, because to admit otherwise would force Hermes to face the fact that Telemachus, no matter how precious, is just as mortal as any other human. which amounts to basically losing him already. and Hermes can't.

he held that boy as an infant. he fed him, helped to teach him walk and talk and make silly faces. he can't lose this child to time, the one thing even gods can't really protect humans from.

Penelope finds Hermes sitting on her balcony with the most human expression on his face she'd ever seem him wear. he's lost, and confused, and full of regrets, and kind of terrified. in that aspect, he reminds her painfully of her husband.

hermes, mumble: he's growing older penelope, sighing: I know hermes: he's not a baby anymore penelope: believe me, I know hermes: but... what do I do now??? penelope: you let it happen. not much else you can do.

she talks him through it.

hermes, rambling: but I will lose him. I'll lose him if he grows old and dies. this is why I don't get attached to mortals, you die too soon. he can't die now. penelope: he's not going to die now. he'll become the king first, he will find a good wife and have children and grandchildren. he will become great, greater that I and his father could ever dream of. and he'll be happy. don't you want to see that? hermes: I do, but- I don't want him to grow up! penelope: then you finally know the biggest joy and the deepest pain of parenthood.

it doesn't fix his fear. doesn't fix his pain, either. but it does help fix his attitude.

because she's right. Telemachus is growing old, and he can't shelter and protect the boy forever. soon he'll become a man, then an elder. and there's nothing Hermes can do about it, short of dragging the prince to Olympus and begging Zeus to grant him immortality, which will never work.

Hermes and Telemachus make up, of course. the latter knows, deep down, that the former is just trying to take care of him. they make up and forget the fight - at least, the boy does.

Hermes will always remember.

and he will count every day, every wrinkle, every grey hair.

the joy and pain of parenthood indeed.

[greeneyeofenvy]

done with page 1 of Cassie angst

I’m using the fancy sketchbook 2 🥰

[ikarus-angel]

Don't move. :|

I think I'll give him wings.. permanently 🥺👉👈

I think he'd rip out feathers when he is emotionally overwhelmed 😔

I don't think Soviet would care - but it would be sweet if he did..

[kicksnscribs]

"Ah, you want me to talk about the Twins huh?"

"Not much to say about em, really. Used to run the subway system in Iacon way back before all the slag hit the fan. Damn good at it too.

Nicest lads you'd ever met and practically inseparable! Where one went the other was close by, almost as if they were joined at the hip. Rough upbringin's will do that to ya or so I've heard

Couldn't believe it when i saw the white one on the side of the 'Cons, even less so when i realized he was by himself. We captured him one day as a POW one time. Took a lot of us to pull it off but we managed eventually. That's when I heard the story of what happened to his...I guess brother is what you humans would call them if you absolutely needed a word to describe him. Figured the 'Cons promised him a way to get him back somehow if he joined up with them and he took the offer in a desperate attempt to find him.

Though I doubt they ever did give him anything to really go by. Recruiters will say just about anything in order to get bots to join their cause. Especially when it comes to getting their servos on big, strong fellas like the Twins.

He eventually escaped us somehow; found a way to cut through his bonds and was lost to the night before any of us could even blink. Heh, and I thought his brother was the more crafty of the two.

What d'ya mean 'creepy' smile? Rude lil' thing aren't ya?

He's always been smiling like that. Well...not exactly like that but... you know that mech never had a frown on his face that I'd ever seen. Though I will admit there's something...different about that smile now. Not at all like what I seen back in Iacon. Something sinister...

Not the only one to notice it either. Ol' Rung reckons that being separated from his brother for so long did things to him. Spark twins can't be without one another for very long without it messing with their coding n whatnot, you know?

Though, Ratch knows more about the kid's situation than anybody here on this ship. Says that he apparently had done some things in order to get his brother back. Supernatural things. Things smart mechs should know to leave well enough alone.

Wherever that mech went to get his brother, he didn't come back alone....

Such a shame, he was always a sweet kid. Had a bit of a mobility issue but only when he was excited about something I think? Which was a good thing for all I care. You need to have joy in the things you love 'n he had that in spades.

Did not really understand the concept of personal space though 'n it sometimes got 'im in loads of trouble *laughs*

The black one? Whats there to say about 'im, honestly?

Incredibly polite mech, always there to lend a helping servo or two when needed, a little older than his brother i think? He would always mess with him about that little fact.

Very gentle in situations where his brother would be very harsh, but not like in a mean spirited way, more like an excitable way if that makes any sense? You would never think that what with the constant sour look etched on his face at all times *laughs*

Never liked to talk much. Though not for a lack of ability but more of a 'can't control his volume' situation. He can hit Siren levels of loud when excited enough about something or other and feels bad about it when he does. I don't mind it though, means he's found something to be happy about and that's a good thing in my book if that's worth anything.

Really hurt to hear that he went missing millennia ago. His brother looked absolutely destroyed when I saw him in that camp. I'm glad to see he made it back.

Primus the years haven't been good to him, though. Wherever he went it did numbers on his frame.

He creaks when he walks now, and his gaze has that look of a mech who has seen far more than he should have. He still has that gentle nature about him, though. Which is good, because I think he is going to need it if he ever hopes to succeed at getting those demons running through his brothers brain module out.

I got faith in them though, they're as strong as they are inseparable. They'll get through this like they did every other thing they faced,

together.

[Pulled from the personal Datatracks of Ironhide, Chief of Autobot Security]