#they will be the death of me i have no doubt

[samgirl98]

Biblically Accurate Boyfriend

Written for @silverblueglitter, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Something was going on with Jason. He was happier.

Now, usually, this would be good news, but the family had no idea what had caused such a drastic change in what seemed overnight. From what they could tell, Jason hadn’t had a pit episode in weeks and was voluntarily around the family without getting angry at them. Jason was cooking and bringing side dishes to family dinners. Just that day, he had let Dick hug him and didn’t try to punch his older brother! He doubted it was the few college courses Jason decided to take. No way school would make anyone that happy. Even a nerd like Jason.

It scared them a little. After all, when would the other shoe drop?

After the third week in a row that Jason had shown up for Sunday family dinner, Dick decided he had to ask, screw the consequences.

“So, Jason, what brought about this change?”

Dick tensed, prepared to have his head ripped off (he hoped metaphorically). The opposite happened. Jason laughed. Laughed!

“I have a boyfriend,” he said cheerfully, taking a bite of the pie he brought, “He’s my Angel. He’s so awesome!”

Before Dick could prompt Jason even more with questions, his younger brother continued to talk excitedly about ‘Angel.’

“I met Angel as Red Hood while a cult had kidnapped him. They were trying to summon some death deity right there in the middle of Crime Alley, the fucking idiots. I stopped them, obviously, but let me tell you, instead of being scared or angry, he was joking around and sassing the cult leader. It was so funny! Anyway, after I rescued him, he looked familiar, and I remembered why. He was in one of my Gen Ed courses.”

Bruce filed away the cult leader tidbit, not wanting to stop his son from giving out more information. He hated magic, and a cult had been trying to summon something. He’d have to investigate. If only his second oldest wrote mission reports but refused to do so, leaving Bruce in the dark about what Jason faced in Crime Alley. Bruce made a mental note and tuned back in to what Jason was saying about his boyfriend.

“The next time I saw him, I wanted to make sure he was fine and that the shock hadn’t worn off. You know, he’s not from Gotham, so I imagined he wasn’t used to rogue attacks.”

Everyone nodded but said nothing. They didn’t want to risk Jason shutting up, especially since he was volunteering information without prompting.

“To my surprise, he was chipper and didn’t seem traumatized about what happened. Hell, when I introduced myself to him as Jason, he joked how he was a native Gothamite now because he had been kidnapped.”

“Anyway, one thing led to another, and then we were friends. A few days later, he asked me for a date at a library. My God, that thing was so well-stocked! It even had books that I had never heard or seen. There were first-edition books and books that famous authors hadn’t published to the public. I didn’t even know such a library could exist. It was awesome,” he finished dreamily. There were stars in his eyes.

Dick smiled softly at his brother’s happiness.

“So, does this Angel have a last name,” Tim asked.

Jason glared at Tim, making everyone at the table tense.

“Don’t you dare! Angel doesn’t need a bunch of paranoid vigilante detectives looking into him. Angel isn’t even his real name, and until I feel I can trust you guys not to chase him away, I’m not giving any personal information or bringing him around.”

“That’s fine, Little Wing, just as long as you feel safe and happy,” Dick quickly intervened when he saw Bruce open his mouth to say something. Dick glared at their father and subtly shook his head at him. He knew how Bruce was, and Dick didn’t want Bruce’s paranoia ruining things with Jason.

Bruce frowned but took Dick’s silent advice. Jason glared at them the whole time.

“I’m glad, Jay lad. When you feel comfortable, bring him around. I, we, would love to meet him.”

“Yes, I would love to see who this Angel is and what is wrong with him. Who would like to date Todd purposely?”

Jason turned his glare at his younger brother, but it lacked malice. “Watch it, Demon Brat.”

“Tt, imbecile.”

And so, life continued.

Jason mellowed out more and more while still visiting and talking to the family without any angry barbs. He worked more with them as Red Hood and was less violent with most criminals. Jason would go to the cave after missions to get checked over and eat some of Alfred’s snacks without complaint. He joked around with them and trained. He even let the family enter his territory in Crime Alley in costume.

Still, everyone in the family was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Jason still hadn’t introduced them to Angel, even though it had been three months since they found out, and it was driving Bruce and Tim insane. They only knew that Angel was obsessed with space and studying to be an astrophysicist. Oh, and apparently, he had access to an incredible library.

Dick didn’t know how much longer he could hold them back from investigating every one of Jason’s classmates.

“Jason can take care of himself, Bruce. Let him come to us, and don’t fuck this up for him.”

“But,” he started.

“No ‘buts’. Trust your son.”

“Fine,” he turned around and returned to typing in the Batcomputer. Bruce was brooding. Hmm, Dick would have to talk to Alfred to get help.

One night, while it was a quiet night at patrol, Jason was telling Dick a story about Angel.

“You should’ve seen how angry he was! All this because he argued with the professor that Pluto should be a planet. He was so passionate that he even called the people who had decided to take Pluto out as ‘an insult to the ones who study the sky.’ Speaking of, did you know that the ones who decided were the International Astronomical Union? And honestly, with how Angel describes them, I’m more inclined to believe they are idiots.”

Dick smiled at his brother’s obvious happiness, “Is that so? I’m so happy for you, Hood. Speaking of, when do we get to meet him? I don’t know how long I can keep Tim and Bruce off your back.”

Jason sighed.

“Yeah, I guess it’s time, isn’t it? I already prepared Angel as much as I could about our crazy family. I just wanted to keep him for myself a while longer, I guess.”

Silence reigned for a while.

“I’ll take him on our next Sunday dinner if he says yes.”

Dick smiled, “I’ll let Bruce and the family know so you don’t have to.”

“Thanks.”

Of course, that’s when the other shoe dropped. The night before they were supposed to meet Angel, a supernatural force had invaded Gotham. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Batman had even contacted the Justice League and tried communicating with John Constantine. Nightwing had called in a favor to both Zatanna and Raven. Even Red Hood seemed to be trying to get a hold of someone.

“Sorry, Bats,” Constantine’s voice came through the coms. “Whatever you’re fighting is causing a magical force field around Gotham. Zatanna and I are trying to break through it, but it’s slow going. Raven is keeping the lesser demons it’s summoning off our backs while we try to break through. It might take us at least fifteen.”

“Hn, just get here as soon as you can.”

Batman threw a few batarangs made of nth metal at the giant mass of shadows, and Superman used his laser eyes. Wonder Woman threw her lasso around one of the creature’s arms, and Green Lantern used a net construct. It didn’t even slow it down.

The Martian Manhunter used a psychic attack to finally slow the creature down. Nightwing was finally able to catch his breath. He looked around them and saw the destruction the creature had left in its wake.

Thankfully, Red Robin and Robin were taking care of crowd control, so no civilians were left in harm’s way.

Suddenly, the creature got angry at Batman and swept its arms, sending Batman flying. Thankfully, Superman caught him before he hit the wall, but Nightwing still flinched. That had to have hurt. Out of nowhere, Red Hood came at the creature with flaming swords.

Where had he even gotten them?

Nightwing watched as Jason’s swords cleaved through the creature’s shadowy arm. The limb fell to the floor before disappearing. Just as Nightwing was about to celebrate, the thing grew the arm again.

Fuck.

The fight continued, and they were getting desperate. Jason was the only one who could even slightly damage the creature, and he was tiring. Constantine and Zatanna were still, more or less, ten minutes away. Superman and Wonder Woman were slowing the creature down, but even they were flagging. Martian Manhunter was out for the count after the creature used its psychic attack to bring him down.

They were so fucked.

Suddenly, the air got frigid, and there was a heavy pressure. The hair on Nightwing’s body stood up. Superman looked around while Wonder Woman tensed even more. Even the creature paused.

What showed up next made Dick want to scratch his eyes out. He couldn’t even describe it. All he saw were hundreds of eyes with eight ice-blue wings. The shadow creature yelled out in fear before being evaporated. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How would they defeat the eldritch abomination if it could take out the shadow creature without effort? Hell, Dick could even look straight at it. He was keeping watch with the peripheral of his vision, and he was sure so was everyone else.

“DON’T BE AFRAID! I WAS CALLED TO BE OF HELP.”

Called? For Help? Were Constantine and Zatanna here? Was this creature their doing?

Dick looked around but didn’t see either of them.

“Angel,” a familiar voice yelled out. Jason was climbing over debris while looking right at the creature. Dick felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Around him, he saw his family having the same realization as him. Dick felt like fainting. This was Angel. This biblically accurate creature was Jason’s boyfriend.

“Did—did your heart just skip in fear?” Superman asked Batman, incredulous. He looked at every member of their family and said, “All of your hearts…what is going on here?”

Dick was about to ask Jason the same question when the creature started to shapeshift. It was getting smaller and smaller until, finally, a fae-like creature with blue skin and white hair stood in its place. It had on a cheeky smile.

It flew over to Jason, and then there was a flash of light. In the fae’s creature place was a regular guy with black hair and blue eyes. He was scrawny and had on a red t-shirt with jeans. He was in Jason’s arms.

Jason turned to look at them.

“Guys, this isn’t how I wanted to do it, but this is my boyfriend.”

He turned away from his boyfriend to see that his dad, the Batman, was on the floor. He had fainted. The Justice League was trying to bring Batman to, while Constantine and Zatanna looked at Jason as if he was crazy. Raven was looking at Dick, trying to get directions from him.

“What the hell is that?” Constantine asked, calling magic to his hands. Even Zatanna was on guard. Raven sighed. This isn’t what she was called for.

Batman suddenly came back to and scowled at Jason.

“Hood, you have some explaining to do.”

Jason sighed, seeming put out. Dick started laughing hysterically. His baby brother was put out because they were concerned about the interdimensional eldritch being.

“See, this why I didn’t want you to meet them yet, Angel. They’re annoying for no good reason.

“It’s all cool. Are we still up for dinner tonight?”

“Yep,” the Angel kissed Jason on the cheek and disappeared. Oh, Dick was going to faint, too. How nice, he thought as everything went black.

Dc x Dp prompt #1: Angel

I'd like to preface this by saying I'm incorporating tropes I've seen in other posts.

~~~

Jason has been a lot happier recently. His Pit Rage has been getting less and less frequent, he's cooking and coming over to the manor a lot more, and he even let Dick hug him last week without threatening bodily harm!

The rest of the batfam, while happy for him, are curious about the change. So one night at dinner they ask him what's up with him and why he's so happy recently. Surprisingly, instead of taking it the wrong way and getting mad Jason is eager to share.

Apparently, Jason has a boyfriend now. Yay!

He goes on and on about this civilian he met after stoping a cult who was trying to summon a deity and how he is this nerdy college kid who really likes space and how their civilian identies shared the same Gen Ed course so he made an effort to become friends. Turns out that nerdy space guy had caused the initial improvement in mood and his offer to go on a date to an incredibly diverse and well-stocked library had been the cherry on top.

The only thing is that Jason didn't want them stalking the guy and refered to him around the family exclusively as "Angel". Everyone thinks that's just a cute pet name he gave the guy as a way to both reference and distract the civilian from the cult ritual he was probably rescued from. Little do they know that it's actually because "Angel" was not a victim of the cult ritual but the summonee, that appeared in the form of a biblically accurate angel.

One day some supernatural entity decideds to attack Gotham and everyone is calling whoever they can think of for back-up. Batman calls Constantine, Nightwing calls Zatana, Red Robin and Robin are contacting the Justice League, and even Red Hood seems to call someone.

The situation is getting desperate. The JL is here but at most the can just slow the supernatural being down. Constantine and Zatana are still 20 minutes out and things are looking bad when another Eldritch Being spawns and seems to take down the threat in one move.

Everyone stands stunned as the being turns to them and in a booming voice exclaims "DON'T BE AFRAID. I WAS CALLED TO HELP". They all go through several emotions upon hearing those words. Where did this being come from? Is this a biblically accurate angel? Who called it here to help? Was it Zatana or maybe Constantine? Are they here yet? Upon looking around it is found that Zatana and Constantine are not here yet and the heroes get ready to engage this being carefully when a voice calls out

"Angel!"

Everyone whips their heads around to see Jason climbing over debris towards the Eldritch Being in front of them. The Batfam feels faint with a creeping realization and Superman swears he heard Batman's heart skip a beat for a second. Before anyone can ask Jason what he's doing the being shapeshifts into the much smaller form of a young fae-like creature with pointed ears, fangs, stark white hair, and vibrant green eyes floating in the air. He flys over to Jason before a flash of bright light leaves a young man deep black hair and frosty blue eyes in Jason's arms.

Jason turns to introduce his boyfriend to his family and the League only to find that Batman has fainted, a panicking JL, and a gobsmacked Zatana and Constantine have who've arrived in time to see the transformation. As Zatana and Constantine begin to freak out and prepare defensive magic Batman comes to and levels a scowl at Jason.

"Hood, I think you have some explaining to do."

[theroundbartable]

Time travel au:

After Arthur dies at Camlann, he wakes up the day of the 20th anniversary of the purge.

Conflicted about his father's rule, scared of this death-not death scenario, he finds himself reaching out to Merlin, who, for the first time of many, saves his life.

Alive and full of energy, Arthur wants to be kind and gentle with Merlin, but the 10 years of lying lay ahead only in Merlin's eyes, not his own. The betrayal cut deep, would still have if it hadn't been about magic.

Just as back then, they slowly become friends. Arthur is different, kinder, albeit more reserved around Merlin. He trusts him but is always suspicious of his lying nature. But Arthur is also more positive about magic. More doubtful about the law. More open about it too.

And it is here, right before the battle of Ealdor, less than half a year after Merlin came to Camelot, that he tells Arthur.

Merlin: I know you're a good man and I know you wish to help, but I need you to turn around and go home.

Arthur: don't be stupid, Merlin, I won't let you fight this war all on your own. You can barely hold a sword!

Merlin: I can and I will. With magic.

The confession comes out of nowhere, the honestly stuns Arthur into silence.

Merlin: I'm sorry I kept this from you. But you know your father. What he would do. You have a good heart, but you don't have to worry about me or my village. I want to show you how magic can do good. Just - I don't want to drag you into this

Arthur: Did you just tell me about your magic?!

Merlin: I know I can trust you.

Arthur: after 6 months?

Merlin: you deserve the truth.

'Did I not deserve it then?''

It occurrs to Arthur slowly, very slowly, as he force accompanies Merlin to Ealdor and sees Merlin fight, how he defeats bandits and Griffins, helps bastets and druids, that he was wrong.

Merlin HAD trusted him. With every doubt and every conflict and every wonder, Merlin had come to him.

Arthur simply hadn't let him. Merlin had trusted him. It had been Arthur, who'd pushed him away.

And one night, as Merlin had fallen asleep in a chair beside Arthur, a magical glowing orb hovering over the new magic laws, he finally understands:

'I'm the one who didn't trust you.'

[heylittleriotact]

So I can't stop sharing this after realizing it myself earlier... After Rook tells Emmerich that they're a virgin, during their dinner date, and he clearly processes what is a VERY unexpected fact to him, he tells them that's okay, and you 2 can just take things slowly. :) It's sweet, right? But also... Emmrich... how fast did YOU wanna take things? Because now this man's got me convinced he was SO down bad for Rook, he wasn't gonna waste time NOT hitting it now that they're together. I'm unwell

Okay so I actually really appreciate how ambiguous they left Rook and Emmrich's sexual relationship until the coffin scene in the third act: they wrote it such that the player could headcanon that they had an intimate relationship already leading up to that scene OR it was the first time they slept together, and I think that's AMAZING.

I headcanon that my Rook (not a virgin) and Emmrich slept together for the first time the night of the dinner date, and I think that he planned the night not with the intention of seducing Rook, but with the mindset that if they were interested in moving forward with the sexual aspect of their relationship, the privacy of the Necropolis might be a bit more relaxing that the Lighthouse. It's clear that Emmrich has pulled some strings to have the gardens roped off just for the purpose of their romantic dinner, he goes above and beyond with the meal, they have a very sweet conversation about their feelings and attraction to each other, mention previous dates (or lack of), and the whole thing ends with a fade to black.

... and I'm a romantic degenerate who sighs and stares dreamily into space while twirling my hair at the thought of them making love for the first time on a bed of soft flowers in the garden, illuminated by veilfire as wisps float lazily through the air... but I digress:

Since Emmrich trusts that Rook isn't pursuing him from a place of "charming flattery" I think he takes their new relationship incredibly seriously, and part of that is acknowledging the sexual aspect of it. He strikes me very much an actions over words kind of person (hence the charming flattery remark), and given their circumstances and what they're up against, facing danger, violence and the possibility of death on a daily basis (especially daunting for him), I feel like Emmrich would be very motivated to explore that aspect of the relationship as soon as Rook was comfortable with it.

He's also older, more experienced (even if Rook isn't a virgin), and gives off the vibe that he's extremely comfortable with sex and intimacy based on the banter he has with Davrin. I think he views physical intimacy as yet another way to express his feelings for Rook and show them how much they mean to him. This man isn't sure if they're going to see tomorrow, let alone next week: he's only got so much time to make sure that Rook knows how treasured they are, so that's going to include romantic dates, deep conversations, surprising them with thoughtful gifts, and making love as often as they can get away with it. Regardless of what comes next, he doesn't want Rook to doubt for a second how much they mean to him, but he puts the choice about sex squarely in their hands and will let them ultimately be the one who makes the call as to when they're ready to explore that.

Once their relationship begins, he appears to court Rook quite ardently, with enough enthusiasm that Harding takes notice and points out that he's been mopey and distracted lately, and goes so far as to suggest that perhaps he and Rook are taking things a little fast. Even he's aware that this is moving at quite a pace, and he's clearly worried about how other people will/might perceive that given their respective ages - he probably thinks that people think he's a dirty creepy old man: a besotted fool, but I don't think he could approach Rook any other way even if he tried.

There are no half measures with this man: once he's in, he is IN. He's not fucking playing: this isn't just a casual fling that he expects to end once this evanuris business is over. It's probably why he comes off as a bit guarded and hesitant to engage with Rook's earlier flirtations: he probably puts this amount of care, vulnerability, and passionate authenticity into ALL his romantic relationships, and has probably been hurt in the past because of it.

Anyway, this has become suuuuuper unnecessarily lengthy, but I have so many feelings about this man, and I am indeed unwell too.

[currentfandomkick]

While i do like the other reblogs (especially the one where Danny’s way to avoid killing someone was to poison Ra’s) it could be fun to play with Danny having left with the LOA’s consent.

How about with Ra’s blessing, as Danny argued he was too easily emotionally compromised, and wanted to focus on the environmental impact side of the league, magic, and even how they handle diplomacy and trade but cannot tolerate killing himself and is aware of this weakness in himself. Tiny Danny doing the equivalent of going “hey, you let mom choose to be the League as an adult. I am choosing not to stay here as an assassin and have different aspirations like her. I doubt this will change, can i be placed in another family unit that does not expect murder or for me to be cool with killing? with your approval, of course.”

And Ra’s was shown in a lot of early comics and later one to value integrity and loyalty highly. Danny indicating at a young age he’s aware he will hinder the league but could flourish elsewhere and offering listed interests and relevant skills he has could amuse him enough to inform Talia and get her take on what type of family she would want a young Danyal to be placed in, as they’d rather find one sooner to prevent Danny from being a long term security risk.

Talia was fully aware Danny does not want to kill, much like she did once and knows she can’t give him that life, so she chose to give him up as a small child. Damian stayed in the League as he did look up to his grandfather and wanted to be Heir. She decided it was better to separate the twins and let them chase their ambitions and moral codes than to force both to stay with her.

This also is a foundation for her sending Damian to Bruce when he’s ten—she remembers that Damian would learn well under him sure, but that Damian can learn if he does truly prefer killing as a primary option, or if he prefers alternative solutions to handling targets/dangerous individuals. To a degree, a test as an heir, to another degree, her trying to let her remaining son decide if he truly wants to lead the LOA as her father’s heir or not.

Danny could have been unofficially ‘gifted’ to the Fentons around age 4/5. with Maddie as a former LOA agent’s daughter and struggling to have a second child due to prolonged ectoplasm exposure. He was the ‘solution’ to them wanting and being unable to have another child. They just need to make their findings publicly accessible and keep him involved in the engineering aspect so long as he continues to show interest in it.

Problem: Danny does not favor fighting, and becomes Phantom on his death and auto-revival. He made sure not to tell his current parents, as he is aware Talia would be told and she would end up telling Ra’s. His reason to not tell the Fentons is to prevent Ra’s from trying to make more Halfas to be assassins. As Danny fundamentally is opposed to killing in this, and while fine with a varied range of other solutions, including Sam’s brand of ecoterrorism, killing is his Hard No.

From Damian’s POV his disowned twin showed up with a billionaire in Damian’s ‘territory’ between the two and realized Bruce and co were unaware Danny existed, let alone was with a pair of mad scientists loosely related to the League’s scientific and occult endeavors… and said twin is with a man that is not those approved individuals claiming to be his twin’s father. Was his brother kidnapped after the adoption? Adoptive parents dead or otherwise lost custody? He has no way of knowing as he’s not in the League anymore and lost that right to know when he chose his father over the LOA.

From danny’s POV he just found out Bruce Wayne is in bed with the LOA, and does not want to deal with the fallout of Damian a) catching him in his territory b) associating with a man that’s team ‘murder solves problems’ and c) is claiming to be his father when there’s no way Vlad’s ass would pass LOA standards for a branch member’s foster/adoptive family. He does not want Damian’s murdery smoke and is bailing as fast as he can without outing he’s meta/supernatural now. No idea how Grandfather would react or if he’s be used like Freakshow had puppeted his body with the red orb. Danny does not want to Find Out and has no clue Damian left the league.

Batfam POV is Damian had a secret twin who likely needs rescue, and knows too much about cloning. Is he in the LOA still? Escaped? Is a clone of Danyal and presumed his ID? They dont know and will find out. After capturing him and the shady guy claiming Bruce’s parental rights.

Right Reasons; Wrong Kid

Summary: Batfam thinks Damian is being kidnapped when they see Danny getting manhandled into a car by Vlad; Danny loves to make Vlad's life difficult and puts up a fight getting into the car.

Word Count: 1450

Being in Gotham was the last place Danny wanted to be today, especially when he had to be here with Vlad. The fruitloop had somehow convinced his parents that he should go to this stupid three day business conference with him.

While Danny can't make any decisions right now he can certainly make Vlad regret his. Which is why Danny doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment at what he is currently doing.

"Daniel, get in the car." Vlad hissed at him with a tight smile as they both stood outside of the building the conference was being hosted in.

"No." He said; even going as far as to take a step backwards to further spite the man in front of him.

It was clear Vlad was losing his patience with him if the subtle flash of red in his eyes is anything to go off of. "Daniel, I won't ask again. Get in the car now, or I can drag you in. The choice is yours, but you will be getting in this car one way or another."

"You really gonna drag a kid into your car in front of all these people you're trying so hard to impress?" Danny looked from side to side at all the people congregating on the sidewalk and steps as they wait for their vehicles to arrive.

"I'm hardly the first person they've seen that has had to deal with a stubborn child refusing to listen." Vlad says as he takes a threatening step forward, "Now get in the car."

"No."

Seemingly annoyed but not surprised Vlad takes a deep breath before his hand, like a snake, strikes forward and grabs a hold of him before beginning to pull. Just as quickly though Danny is trying to pull away with just as much strength. Quickly taking a moment to look around he sees that others are already starting to look in their direction; perfect.

With him distracted though Vlad was able to get a sharp tug on him causing him to stubble towards the car. Before he can fall into the car though Danny is shooting his foot forward, firmly planting it down as his hands land on both sides of the open car door.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, fruitloop. I can't make it too easy for you." Danny teased as he fought against Vlad’s pushing.

Vlad doesn't say anything back to him besides giving a low growl. This situation is clearly not going the way he wanted to and Vlad’s frustration was starting to show, and Danny was determined to watch this man break in front of all these people he so desperately wanted to impress.

He locked his arms and knees when he felt Vlad start pushing harder against his back. Preparing himself to jump to the side the moment Vlad loosened his grip even slightly. What he wasn't prepared for though was for the weight pushing against him to suddenly disappear.

"What is going on here?" A deceivingly friendly voice sounds out behind him.

Before Danny can realize what has just happened though a much stronger hand is gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the open car door. Finally able to see more than just the car's interior Danny see's that three other men are now standing by the car.

Two of them, a teen not much older than himself and a middle aged man, are standing in front of him as if forming a wall between him and Vlad. Who is being held in place by the third man.

Danny can see that Vlad was just as thrown off by these strangers as he is based on the startled look on his face. What confuses him though is when instead of becoming angry like he expects Vlad only looks surprised as he takes in the three guys with them.

"Bruce Wayne!" Vlad announces with a tight grin, "I was just trying to get my son to cooperate with me and get in the car. I'm sure you understand how teenage boys are."

"I'm not your son!" Danny instinctively yells out; no way in hell was he going to let Vlad tell people they were any way related.

It took him a second to register what name Vlad had even said.

Bruce Wayne? He remembers Sam and Tucker talking about that guy and his family when they found out he was going to Gotham. Which means if he's remembering correctly then the young man next to Vlad is most likely Dick Grayson and the older teen next to him is Tim Drake.

Without looking at him Bruce leans towards him and whispers, "Shh Damian, let me handle this."

Wait. What?

"I'm not-" Danny tried to say that his name wasn't Damian, but was quickly interrupted before he could.

"Damian, quiet." Bruce lowly growls; still not moving his gaze to look at Danny. "Actually, Mr. Masters, you'll find that this is my son, and I don't think you should be putting your hands on him."

Vlad looks from Bruce to Danny and then back to Bruce, "While I do agree that you and Daniel share some resemblance this is not your son Mr. Wayne."

It seems Bruce wasn't going to entertain Vlad's "lie" because he still doesn't bother to even look at Danny. Tim on the other hand seems to consider what Vlad said, and turns to actually look at his face.

Danny almost laughs out loud when he sees shock immediately overtake Tim's face. At least one of these fruit loops is smart enough to recognize that he isn't the youngest Wayne.

"Bruce, this isn't Damian." Tim states with wide eyes still locked with his.

Upon hearing this the other two Wayne's finally take a hard look at Danny for themselves.

"Oh my God B, that's not Damian!" Dick exclaims before releasing his hold on Vlad.

Bruce on the other hand is frozen in shock as he stares at Danny as he comes to the realization that the boy in front of him is in fact not his youngest son. Snapping himself out of his stupor, the older man finally addresses Vlad. "Mr. Masters, my deepest apologies. It seems this young man and my son look remarkably alike, and I assumed the worst when I saw him fighting to get into the car."

Vlad takes a step forward towards Danny clear with his intentions of getting them into the car now, but before he can grab him Bruce is once more taking a step in front of Danny. "I would actually like to have a quick word with Daniel if you won't mind."

"And why is that?"

"I have a son his age after all, maybe I can help ease this teenage rebellion phase, and cause less fights when it comes to getting in the car."

Danny must have been more focused on the growing argument in front of him more than he thought because he ends up slightly jumping when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right he sees that Dick is now standing next him with a soft smile. "Daniel, right?"

“Danny actually, and you’re Dick?”

"Yup! That's me," He gestures to the boy standing on Danny's other side, "and this is Tim. Sorry about all this; we thought our brother was being kidnapped."

"Do I seriously look that much like him?" At this point Danny had to meet Damian if the guy's family was even confusing the two of them.

Tim is giving him a concentrated look when he replies, "It's like the two of you could be twins or maybe even clones. The eye color is the biggest difference between the two of you."

If Danny didn't know any better he would think Tim was accusing him of being a clone based on the tone of his voice. He knew Gotham was weird, but he didn't think he would have to worry about cloning here. "While I was adopted when I was pretty young, but I think I'd know if I had a twin or if I was a clone."

"Crazy things happen all the time in Gotham."

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Danny can't believe saying this, but it's probably time to get Vlad's attention and get the hell out of here. He already has one crazy fruitloop to worry about; he doesn't need more. "Vlad, I think we really need to-."

“Father, what is the meaning of all this?” A new voice interrupts him, and when he sees who it is truly shocking to see a mirror of his own face. The other is also now looking at him with something akin to shock and grief.

“Damian?”

“Danyal.”

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 2

Squeeee!!! I am absolutely loving the response for this story! This story is going to be a wild ride and I cannot wait for you guys to go on this journey with me!!

In this one we have some backstory and little bit of world building.

Part 1

~

Eddie was not home when Steve arrived at the Munson’s door laden with his goodies. Wayne opened the door and shook his head at the bread and jam.

“You spoil me, Steve,” he said gruffly, taking the basket from him. “Surely that favor I did for you has been repaid by now.”

Steve stepped into the small and homily cottage, shaking his head. “What you did was invaluable. I wouldn’t have been able to setup shop in this town if it wasn’t for you.”

Wayne smiled back and went to go cut the bread. He came back with a plate full of the slices and the tea kettle. He poured them tea and sat down to dig into the raspberry jam.

“You do know the crux of the problem between you and my nephew, right?” Wayne asked after their second cup of tea.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yes, my ‘go away and don’t come back’ spell I place on every charm I make.” He cocked his head to side. “Except the love ones.”

“Did I ever tell you, Eddie’s mama was a witch?” he asked after polishing off the last of the jam and bread.

Steve furrowed his brow. “You hadn’t, actually. Make it makes sense with the packet of medicine you asked me to replicate. I hope I’m not in her place. That would be really bad.”

Wayne chuckled. “No, you’re not in her place. She lived in a large city not far from here. His father dropped Eddie off on my doorstep merely a week after the funeral and he’s been here ever since.”

Steve looked around at the dark paint job that filled the interior as it had the outside of the cottage. “Was it always like this? Goth, I guess.”

“Mostly,” Wayne said. “The house always had a black roof, but when Eddie moved in, painting the rest of it gave him something to do rather than focus on his mother’s death.”

“I could give him some herbs to help with the sorrow,” Steve said, draining the last of his tea. “I wouldn’t charge. It can be hard to lose a parent so young and then to have the other abandon him so soon after.”

“That’s kind of you,” Wayne said, “but he’s fine now. He was just expecting a much quieter life then people always knocking on our door.”

Steve blushed. “I wish I could help with that, but as my latest customer pointed out, I don’t look ‘the part’, so they completely miss the huge sign in front.”

“I’ve been wondering,” Wayne asked as he cleared the table, “do people who’ve been spelled not be able to return see the sign?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said with a chuckle. “Only it says: If you’re reading this, that means I’ve given you all I can. GO AWAY!”

Wayne burst out laughing. “Good on you, Steve. I’m sorry it’s caused such a mess for both you and us. He’ll come around once he’s use to it.”

Steve shook his head. He doubted that Eddie would ever. But he appreciated the sentiment. He got up to leave, taking his basket with him.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Wayne huffed. “Stop by anytime and not just to drop off my medicine.”

“Tell that to your nephew,” he said with a weary smile. “See you around, Wayne. Take better care of those bones and do those exercises I told you about.” And then he was gone.

Wayne shook his head. Then a head peeked in through the back door.

“Is he gone?” Eddie asked in a harsh whisper.

Wayne turned around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, scaredy-cat. The big, bad, evil witch is gone now.”

Eddie slipped into the cottage and sat down next to Wayne with a sigh. “It’s so annoying. There has got to be a trick because there is no way he is just vanishing. And one day I will catch him at it.”

“Your mother was an actual witch,” Wayne huffed, standing up to wash the tea things. “I still don’t understand how you don’t believe in magic.”

Eddie pulled out a necklace that held a little doll with a lock of dark, curly hair and bit of cloth. “This is why. She told me I find my true love and that they would love me for me all the rest of my days. Then I found out I only like boys and knew it to be some fucking pipe dream. Magic isn’t real, old man. The herbs he gives are just an herbal remedy. There’s no power in that powder.”

Wayne let out a sigh and turned around to lean against the counter top. “I think it’s time I show you something.”

He went over to the trunk in the corner that was never opened and pulled out a key on a chair around his neck. He gently removed the key and used to open the trunk. He rummaged around for a moment and then came back to the table with a photo album and a small doll, very much like Eddie’s own.

“When you’re mama was an apprentice witch she loved making love charms,” he said softly. “It was her favorite thing. She would make charms for anyone who would sit down long enough for her to snip a bit of their hair and clothing.”

Eddie snorted. “Fat lot of good it did her. Dad was a piece of shit.”

Wayne tilted his head to the side. “Your daddy loved your mama. He just wasn’t good at anything else. And that included fatherhood. But she made me one a couple of years after she had you. Said she had a good feeling about this one.” He opened the photo album and flipped through the pages. He landed on a specific page and turned it around to face Eddie.

There beaming up at Eddie in sepia was his uncle, Wayne standing next to another bright young man at what appeared to be their wedding. They were both in tuxes and holding the knife to cut the cake. A cake that had two men as toppers.

“You were married to a man?” Eddie asked frowning up at his uncle in confusion. “How come you never talk about him?”

“His name as Benjamin Hammond and he was the love of my life,” Wayne said, choked up. He ran his fingers over the picture, tracing the lines of the man’s face. “But about a year before your mama died, Benny got real sick. He was a large man, but before he took his own life, he had almost completely wasted away to nothing. Doctors couldn’t find anything wrong and the medicines your mama gave him on eased his physical pain and not the torment of his own mind.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “I’m not sure I would have wanted to talk about my true love if he had gone out that way.”

“During that year before your mama got sick,” Wayne continued, fighting back tears, “I blamed her for bringing Benny into my life if love hurt that much to lose.”

“So what changed?” Eddie asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She got sick and your daddy gave me you,” Wayne said with a smile. “Made me realize that there was more to life than just your true love. That sometimes the love that sticks around in the one that needs you the most.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face. “Not really a ringing endorsement of true love.”

“I guess not,” Wayne huffed with a small, fragile smile. “But it’s one for magic though. Because I’ll bet every tile on this roof that your mama used her magic to ensure that you would land somewhere safe, instead of being dragged around God knows where with your daddy.”

Eddie pushed the photo album back to Wayne. “Thanks for telling me. I guess there really is magic in this world, if it brought me to you.”

“Damn right,” Wayne huffed. “Now go wash up and help me make dinner.” He got up and put the album and the doll away.

“How are you still hungry?” Eddie pouted. “You and Steve finished an entire loaf of bread, a jar of jam, and a pot of tea between the two of you.”

Wayne burst out laughing. “Boy, I don’t eat all that, Steve does! Being magical burns up a lot of calories and if he doesn’t eat he can pass out. He brings it over to share so he can honestly tell Robin that he didn’t eat the whole thing.”

Eddie snorted but did as he was told. He helped Wayne peel the potatoes and carrots for a soup that Wayne was going to get started. He pulled a couple of chicken breasts from the ice box. They moved in unison and in no time at all, the soup was bubbling away on the fire.

“What would you say if I said I wanted to strike out on my own?” Eddie murmured, grabbing the broom to sweep out the cottage for something to do with his hands while he talked about an uncomfortable topic.

“Did you want to?” Wayne asked, leaning on the counter with hand on his hip. “I’ll miss the hell out of you, but if that’s truly what you want, you can do as you wish. You’re an adult.”

Eddie stared at the floor for a moment and then pulled out of his vest pocket a letter. “This came today.”

Wayne took it slowly and read even slower. “You striking out on your own or are you falling for the siren song of your daddy?”

Eddie flushed and began sweeping again. “I swear I’m three minds about it at any given moment. One the one hand, he is my father and I want to see him. On another hand, he left me and I’m still angry about that and worry I’ll hit him if I see his face. And that I should steer clear of him.”

“And the third hand?” Wayne prodded gently, handing the letter back to him.

“That I should just strike out on my own,” he said softly. “But pick a direction he ain’t and just find myself out there.”

Wayne nodded. “It’s up to you, but you have to know, you’re father isn’t sincere. I got my own letter from him a week ago asking for money. I don’t have it to give. I do trades to put food on this table and whatever little money I do get it goes back into this cottage.”

Eddie’s lower lip quivered and he nodded back. He finished the sweeping, brushing out of the backdoor.

“I’m going to my room,” he murmured. “Call me when dinner is ready.”

“Of course, Eddie,” he said. “Just know that whatever you chose, I’ll support you the best that I can.”

Eddie nodded and slunk off to his room and closed the door. A few moments later music could be heard coming from the room, the melancholy sounds of his boy’s guitar.

~

One of the best children Steve had as erran runners was Maxine. She preferred Max, but only where her mother couldn’t hear it said. She was a rough and tumble girl who would run around in trousers if her mother would let her.

Susan, her mother had recently remarried to the town’s carpenter and moved in with them. Neil Hargrove and his son and apprentice, Billy were also the town drunks and bullies. They were also damn fine carpenters and the town tolerated them as such.

It was inevitable that Max would come to him for his help. Her request made him chuckle though.

“I just want something to mellow their mood,” she huffed. “I’m not looking for a charm or whatever. I just need them to chill out so that I’m not walking on eggshells all the time.”

“Of course,” Steve said in all seriousness. “I’ll brew you up a tea that you can give everyone and it will improve the mood all around.”

She sighed in relief. “Thank goodness, I would hate to have to stop coming here. It’s my safe space.”

Steve chuckled and got to work. Max watched in interest as he mixed both dry and fresh in equal measure and then set it to side to completely dry out. Then he started on something else. And even though she could see him clearly, his movements seemed covered in a kind of fog.

Once he was done he pulled out a loaf of bread and some cheese and ate about half of each.

She raised her eyebrows, that meant he had used magic. And a lot of it, if how much he ate was any indication.

He put the now dried powder into severally light blue packets. “One packet is enough for an entire pot of tea. I’ve given you about a month’s supply.” He put it in a small basket for her and then handed her the basket. He didn’t mind giving them away. Robin made them in her spare time as something to while away the hours.

And then he handed her a black packet. “No one will be able to see this packet but you. And even then only when you intend to use it. You know the tea will only make your stepfather and brother biddable for so long. And when the time comes that it is clear nothing will change them, use this.”

She looked up at him in confusion. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Steve chuckled at her response. Not what it was, but that she didn’t ask for it. “No, but one day you will fear for your life and you will need it.”

She took the packet from him with a frown. “What does it do?”

“It is the final solution,” he said gravely. “But know this, even if you use and you can no one longer see my house, I will come visit you every day. I will never abandon you. Not ever.”

“Will people know I used it?”

He shook his head. “No. Nor will you ever feel guilt about doing so.”

Max nodded and took the packet and put in it the basket. “Will you know when I’ve used it?”

Steve gave her a huge hug. “Yes, I will come the instant that I feel it, okay?”

She hugged back fiercely and then went on her way.

Circe cawed and landed on his shoulder. He stroked her feathers. “I’ll be all right and so will she. It is just the way of the witch that such things are necessary.”

Circe cawed again and then took off out the window, following Max home to make sure she got there safely.

~

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

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9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @themoonagainstmers

[sitepathos]

I'm curious, how do you think the batfamily would react when they found out that reader's a sweet tooth? (Alfred already know, obvs. The man probably have fed him so much sweets before reader moves out)

You lived in Wayne Manor for over 10 years with Alfred’s cooking filling your belly, so yeah, it’s safe to say you have a sweet tooth, your favorite being his award-winning cookies.

Alfred’s really slick, so he’d be very methodical about gaining entry into your house, his deserts being the perfect way to grease the door.

First, he started calling you on a regular basis, constantly slipping baking into the conversation, making your mouth water and cry out for his sweets.

After a few days, he’d say he went too crazy on baking and made too many deserts to eat himself (the rest of the family is being punished for allowing you to be kidnapped and nearly killed, with being left to fend for themselves food-wise being among the punishments).

Just as he planned, you tell him you’d really like to eat his baking (just as he planned) and he says he can use Bruce’s jet to fly to Nevada and the two of you can catch up and eat at your house.

Of course, you try to dissuade him, saying that’s completely unnecessary, but he insists, sweetening the deal (pun intended) by saying he made the jello cake from the Fallout Show with you in mind.

As he expected, you agreed to it and told him you’d pick him up from the airport, but only after he promised you that he was the only one coming, to which he agreed (he’s trying to bring you home and your father and siblings are only making things worse).

You’re blown away be the amount of desserts he brought, all neatly packing in boxes of various sizes, ranging from small enough to be carried by one hand to so large, you need a cart to carry it (but with the Megamycete, you’re more than capable of carrying it).

When he enters your house, he makes sure to complement how clean it is and how you decorated it (your father and siblings could really learn a thing or two from you).

As you two eat, he talks about how empty the manor’s been since you left and how much he misses you, to which you respond that you miss him as well, but you’re really happy to be back in Goodsprings and you’ve definitely improved since leaving Gotham.

As much as he wants to persuade you to come back home, or at least consider moving back to Gotham (he’d be more than happy to make Bruce pay for a penthouse apartment for you if it meant having you close), he knows it’ll take more than one day of talking and eating sweets to make that a reality and he’s more than willing to play the long game.

Still, he did have another objective coming here: finding your baby pictures (someone asked me about Alfred getting baby photos, so I decided to combine the two), so he finds a way to shift the conversation about your mother, wishing he could’ve met her before her tragic death.

Of course, you’re more than happy to offer to show him the pictures you put in storage (you’ve always been a sweet boy, so helpful) and he takes you up on your offer.

After showing him a few pictures of just her prior to your birth, he laments that you look just like her and how cute you must’ve looked as a baby and how he wishes he was there to welcome you into the world, leading to you pulling out your Baby’s First Photo Album, featuring pictures of your pregnant mother to her holding you in her arms after giving birth to you.

This album is a treasure trove to him, giving him glimpses into moments of time that your father should’ve been a part of.

That he should’ve been a part of.

He can’t help but tear up when you get to the part where you took your first steps, walking towards the person holding the camera, most likely your mother.

He manages to get you to leave the room to get him a tissue because he forgot his handkerchief (it’s a lie, he never leave the manor without at least two of them) and while you’re gone, he gets to work.

You’d no doubt notice if pictures from this album went missing after he left, but he can get out his phone and take pictures of these photos.

Until you return home (and all your pictures are placed in the Wayne Family archives where they belong), these crude pictures will have to tie him over.

He’s quick to take pictures of everything, including pictures of your mother because even if she and Bruce never married, she’s still part of the Wayne Family (and he’ll die on that hill).

When he returns home, he tells them that he managed to enter your home no problem and in fact, you welcomed him with open arms (part of their punishment is having to listen to him gloat, making all of them feel even worse).

Things only escalate when he nonchalantly tells them that he not only saw your baby photos, but that he managed to take pictures of them.

They beg, they plead, they barter (Bruce is the worst of them, throwing away all his dignity), but he refuses to let them get even a glimpse of them.

These pictures are meant for him.

They’ll just have to wait until you return home to see the originals.

And in the meantime, he’ll make sure to emphasize how adorable you looked as a baby every chance he gets.

[hybbart]

ok I love ur apocalypse au to death but as someone who works in healthcare I need to let you know that I keep seeing jimmy and tango together and just imagining jimmys nasal cannula exploding horrifically from the fire igniting the oxygen and it makes me laugh often

(I’m not being critical or anything btw I’m genuinely laughing cause I’ll see all the cute moments and be like ���� *snaps fingers* explodes cutely)

He would explode cutely lmao. Tbf Tango's hair is both fire and not fire. Cartoon logic. Tango would die if he couldn't cuddle his friends.

Jimmy's medical stuff is the thing I take the most liberties with for sure for the sake of storytelling, realistically it would need far more maitenance than tango giving it a wack now and then and I doubt they could spend as much time out and about away from a reliable power source, nevermind how much Jimmy gets away with having his mask off. I've also like... completely lost all the research I've done twice now so I keep having to figure these things out again. I try to keep it to things that could be reasonably ansered with "they're in a solar/biopunk setting with slightly more advanced technology" but sometimes the only reason is "this is a fictional story".

Like realistically Jimmy and Tango would be having A Time rn recovering from Hels' kidnapping, but given the whole story arc was upsetting and the loss of Revy afterwards, I toned down the rest of their current troubles and added bigger gaps between pages. They may or may not get their own page, and it may or may not suffice to just assume they dealt within between the large offscreen gaps, either way, sadly Jimmy will not be exploding cutely today.

[themuseumofwitchcraftandpaganism]

This is true.

Below is a New England newspaper editorial article, written by Boston to New York. The writer likens the 1741 slave conspiracy to the frenzy of the Salem Witch Trials where accusations were being thrown around and panic was being stirred up for no good reason. This editorial shows a pivotal moment in American rhetoric; the phrase "witch hunt" no longer meant a literal hunt for witches but rather its contemporary use of a metaphorical hunt marked by paranoia and wild accusations to uncover a supposed conspiracy.

The best account of the 1741 slave conspiracy is in the book New York Buring: Liberty, Slavery, and Conspiracy in the Eighteenth Century Manhattan by Jill Lepore.

The transcription below is taken from The New England Weekly Journal, September 29, 1741, pages 1-2. This passage has period-typical language that is now considered offensive; I have not censored it to preserve its historical accuracy.

"Province of the Massachusetts Bay, 1741. Sir, I am a stranger to you and to New York, and so must beg pardon for the mistakes I may be guilty of in the subsequent attempt, the design wherof is to put an end to the bloody tragedy that has been, and I suppose is still acting among you, in regard of the poor Negros and the whites too.

I observe in one of the Boston newsletters, dated July 13, that 2 Negros were executed in one day at the gallows, a favor indeed! For one the next day was burned at the stake, where he impeached several others, and among them some whites, which, with the former terrible executions among you upon this occasion, puts me in mind of our New England witchcraft in the year 1692, which, if I don't mistake, New York justly reproached us for and mocked at our credulity about. But may it not now be justly retorted, Mutato nomine, de te Fabula Narratur? What ground you proceed upon, I must acknowledge myself not sufficiently informed of. But finding that those five that were executed in July denied any guilt, it makes me suspect that your present case, and ours heretofore, are much the same, and that Negro and specter evidence will turn out alike. We had near 50 confessors who accused multitudes of others, alleging time and place and various other circumstances to render their confessions credible, that they had their meetings, formed confederacies, signed the Devil's book, et cetera. And as long as confessions were received and encouraged, accusations multiplied and increased: But I am humbly of opinion that such confessions and the evidences founded theron are not worth a straw, unless some certain overt act (that nobody else could preform) appear to confirm the fame. For many times they are obtained by foul means, by force or torture, by flattery or surprise, by over watch or distraction, by discontent with their circumstances, through envy or malice, or in hopes of a longer time to live, or to die an easier death, et cetera. For anybody would choose rather to be hanged that to be burned. It is true I have heard something of your forts being burned, but that might be by lightning from heaven, by accident, by some malicious person or persons of our own color. What other facts have been performed to petrify your hearts against the poor blacks, and some of your neighbors, the whites, I can't tell. Possibly there have been some murmurings among the Negros, and a few mad fellows may have threatened and designed revenge for the cruelty and inhumanity they have met with, which is too rife in the English plantations, and not long since occasioned such another tremendous and unreasonable a massacre at Antigua. But two things seem to me almost as impossible as for witches to fly in the air, or change themselves into cats, namely, that the whites should join with blacks; or that the blacks (among whom there are no doubt some rational persons) should attempt the destruction of a city, when it is impossible they should escape the just and direful vengeance of the countries round about, which would immediately pour in upon, and swallow them up quick. And therefore if nothing will put an end to the doleful tragedy till some of higher degree and better circumstances and characters are accused (which finished our Salem witchcraft), the sooner the better, lest all the poor people of your government perish in the merciless flames of an imaginary plot. In the meantime don't be offended if out of friendship to my poor countrymen, and compassion to the Negros (who are partakers of the same nature with us and ought to be treated with humanity), I entreat you not to go on to destroy your own estates by making bonfires of your Negros, and thereby perhaps loading yourselves with greater guilt than theirs. For we have too much reason to fear that the divine vengeance does and will pursue us for our ill treatment to the bodies and souls of our poor slaves, and the meaner sort of people. And therefore let justice be done whenever you sit in judicature about their affairs. All which is humbly submitted by a well-wisher to all human beings, and one that ever desires to be of the merciful side, et cetera."

in 1741 there was a pogrom against the enslaved black population of new york who made up around 20% of the city. this came during a time of economic decline in colonial new york, as white settlers began to feel threatened by the growing number of women and enslaved people in the workforce. reports of slave revolts in other american colonies and abroad fueled increasing paranoia among the white population of a large scale revolt or insurrection.

after various fires were found around the new york, white settlers quickly spread rumors that the enslaved people were planning to burn down city and kill its inhabitants. other unrelated incidents that happened around the same time, such as three enslaved people robbing a store owned by a white couple, were seen as proof of the conspiracy and fueled the racist hysteria.

the evidence of the 'conspiracy' was based mainly on the testimony of one 16 year old girl, mary burton, a white indentured servant. promised a reward for her cooperation, mary accused dozens people of taking part in the conspiracy. nearly 200 people were arrested, including 20 white settlers. despite the lack of evidence, the judge sentenced nearly 40 people to death and many others to exile and forced labor in slave plantations in the carribean. many of those executed were burned alive, tortured, and had their corpses left to rot in the public square. slavery wasn't outlawed in new york until nearly a decade later.

fuck this country 1000000 million times forever. very little has changed

[echantedtoon]

A war riddled Lover returns- Some Kokushibo content based off the fanart above found on Pinterest, also an Xmas gift for @gilded-sunrays / @crescent-blades

@supernovacoffeestop

Warnings for death and blood mentioned.

"You look at me with cold eyes. You see me me and turn away as if you didn't know me."

"...Do I know you?"

"You know that I couldn't have shown you me. Gave you me. I couldn't show you my weakness so I put on a mask to see you but I still want you. A flower that resembles you blossomed in this garden of loneliness. I wanted to give it to you as I rip off this mask. But I know this can't go on forever."

Her eyes still gazed at the ground. Her body small but still so strong as to crush his soul. Rip his heart out to serve on a platter to herself but somehow still rejected the notion she could do that. The whole world sitting in her grasp yet she was completely naive to it or didn't care she had it.

"I will not satisfy your desires for more than what was agreed. I can accept your apologies but I cannot forgive."

"I have made peace with that notion. But I am not here to beg for forgiveness that I will never receive, for I have hurt you and I accept you're stubborn enough to always hold that grudge."

Her form was ever calm. Looking at him for what felt like a millennia of wait. Time vanishing and space darkening except for the gravitational orbit of beauty that revolved around his mind and shown through his sights since the day he laid his eyes on her visage.

"Then what is it do you seek from me, Michikatsu?"

"It's not what I seek. It's what I desire. Wishing that love is as perfect itself. Wishing all my weaknesses are hidden." The room fell sideways in his mind. An oozing feeling on continuous falling for her over and over again. Swallowed by the monster that demanded he claim and the beast that roared at him for everything he did wrong to be made right again. "In a life where nothing was ever genuine, you carved a piece out of my heart that will never feel complete unless you yourself abide by it's beating."

Her answer a head tilt. Eyes grazing the state he was in. Clawing through bodies. Ravaged by the onslaught of the horrors of war. No doubt such a sight she disliked but was more than ready to accept given the circumstances.

"What desire do you want that I haven't already given to you?"

Blood ran black fading to a possessive desire. A stark contrast the dripping liquid made compared to the delicate object the palm held out. Staining it purity by the blood of the slain and war. Presented to her gaze which widened slightly at soft petals. A beacon of softness in the blight around them.

A flower.

So delicate and small. It's once pure petals soaked in his tainted blood like some offering. The blood he was covered in was his own, caused by an enemy in battle no doubt, and karma for hurting her by leaving in the first place.

"Accept my devotion and become my wife. A place not beneath but beside me. For we were lovers before we were ever born in this world. My name shall be your own, your blood shall be mine, and all combinations of life will be one. Accept all of me, as I already have all of you."

She stared at him like that he told her was the most foolish thing he ever said. Heart racing. Eyes staring. Her hand slowly reaching out to him. His eyes widening as the desire he's been wanting finally being fulfilled- Until she stopped.

Her lungs filled with a shaking breath. "....Finish talking if you must, but I have no intention of bowing to a king who wears a crown studded with the jewels of every sin he committed. Who's hands are stained with every life he's taken."

For once he looked taken aback stopping just a few steps away from herself. "I-....Can not leave so easily."

"Then why?" Her face as cold as the blade he used, cutting him to the core with just her eyes. "It was so easy the first time."

"Why? You have got the arms I want to be wrapped in. You have got the eyes I want to get lost in. You have the smile I can never resist. You have got the voice I want to listen to for hours. I decided on you. I want you and only you."

"I fell in love with your words! Unfortunately they were all lies!"

"No. That's not true." His face unwavered as he approached her once more. "I didn't lie that I love you. It wasn't a lie before and it certainly isn't a lie now."

Her body did not give him the satisfaction of an embrace nor the courtesy of a smile as his other hand caressed her cheeks.

"You're a dangerous man."

"The most dangerous person is the one who listens, thinks, and observes."

"And that means what to me?"

His face unchanged as did hers as the two stared. Both in familiarity and as strangers to each other. Bound by a string he continued to refuse to be cut to untie them.

"I'm not so sure yet myself but for now..my mind is unchanged."

[starkid2464]

I just. Mastermind!!!

I have so many feelings man.

Stolas just lost EVERYTHING. I feel so bad for him, he has nothing but the clothes on his back and they got trashed. He’s likely not going to have custody of Octavia anymore, and I doubt Stella would voluntarily let him anywhere near her.

On that note, Stella, bitch, GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER! Get away from Octavia or I will burn you so far to the ground, they won’t be able to tell where the ash from you and the ash from the house intersect. Stella is going to at least try and manipulate this kid so hard. Granted, I don’t think she’s going to let Octavia think Stolas died (Octavia has a penstagram after all and would likely figure out he’s alive pretty quick with how the news seems to be spreading) but Stella could very easily manipulate Octavia into thinking Stolas did it to abandon Octavia, instead of saving a life, expecting nothing in return.

I can tell in the next episode (Sinsmas), Octavia going to say and do some things that once she figures out the full situation, she is going to regret. But I’ll forgive her for that, I was in that place too once, craving comfort from the only ones around, yet knowing that love comes only if you behave how they like, and because Stolas sheltered her, she likely can’t even tell that she is being manipulated.

And on the other hand we have Blitzø, he’s just made history as the first imp to survive after being sentenced to death. It seems like all of imp-kind is rooting for him, requests for his services are through the roof. For once, this man is catching a break. Then again, this will likely only pay back the obscene debt he got into during his breakup blues. Not only that but his daughter, his Loonie, finally called him dad. And Stolas, the man who he is just barely ready to say the L word to yet very much feels it, is in his house, staying with him. It’s gotta feel surreal considering how bad this day got.

And while we’re talking about Blitz, he almost died. That’s going to leave a scar, on all of them. Blitz might feel guilty for still being alive, when it cost Stolas so much. Stolas, as previously stated, lost everything he had except for his life, but is glad to have Blitzø alive.

Moxie and Millie… if Blitz died, IMP likely would have went down, leaving them jobless and putting Millie back in the position she was before she met Blitz, just with a husband and a daughter as well.

And Loona, sweet Loonie, almost lost the only reason she wasn’t put down at 18. The man who has given her so much, a home, food, a license, a job and a family.

And god, Fizz. I swear he and Ozzie are gonna get in a fight. Not a relationship ending one, nor a big one that’ll have them spending weeks apart but one closer to this: Ozzie comes home, and calls out “Fizz, I’m home. I picked up the sushi.” Fizz is on the couch, curled up, a death grip on his phone, the TV is off. Ozzie comes around the back of the couch “Fizz?” Fizz looks up, at the man he loves then down at the floor and croaks out “I don’t want to talk Asmodeus.” Fizz takes a breath before sighing “But why’d you have to do that.” Ozzie tries to take his hand but Fizz moves it away “Fizz, -“ but Fizz cuts him off just beforehand “I know, I know, it’s your job and it’s not like you could have taken all of them. It’s just. You knew, just as well as I did that Blitzø was innocent… and you didn’t say something?! I- I just can’t right now.” Fizz gets up and starts walking toward the door. Asmodeus calls out “Wait, can you at least tell me where you’re going?” Fizz looks back while gathering the essentials “I’m going to visit Blitz… I’ll be back before tomorrow. We’ll talk about it in the morning?” Ozzie bends down, passing Fizz the keys to the car “If this is what you need go ahead. I’ll tell the driver to meet you downstairs.”

And the next time Fizz and Blitzø see each other, I need something like this to happen: Fizz shaking Blitz violently “You asshole, you are never allowed to scare me like that again!”

Also, getting away from the more headcannony stuff, Stella’s probably still going to have a hit on Stolas’s head. It would let her keep the palace and everything else in the house to herself, with the added bonus of Andrelphus remaining a prince. A second assassination attempt would be wild to have to witness.

Also, I have a feeling that if/when Stolas comes into the IMP office, he will not be anywhere near the customers. They just got an influx in imp customers who aren’t happy with what he just said about their kind. (You don’t want to drive away the main source of business you just got)

Also, they really showed the classism in this episode. They put Loona in a MUZZLE! a muzzle! And they didn’t even let the I.M.P. defend themselves, automatically giving them all the death penalty until Blitzø begged for only him to die. Then when they hear Stolas is the one who committed the crime, they give him a slap on the wrist in their terms.

[fellthemarvelous]

How can you be on the council and not be a master?

I need to stop looking at Star Wars TikTok posts because I guess the concept of personal accountability is lost on so many people.

I love Anakin Skywalker. I do. I think he is one of the best fictional characters ever created because he is so fucking complex. I love him for all the good he did and in spite of all the bad things he did as Darth Vader. In the end, he sacrificed his own life to save his son.

That's the thing that's killing me right now.

People want to blame everyone else except for Anakin for the choices he made. They want to blame the Jedi because the Jedi don't strictly adhere to their vision of love and are therefore responsible for why Anakin fell to the dark side.

I saw a few comments where someone blamed the Jedi (specifically Obi-Wan), blamed the council, blamed Ahsoka because she left him, blamed Padme (because if we can't blame female characters for something then what are we even doing, right?), blamed the Jedi for not trusting him (and therefore somehow preventing him from believing in himself), and then at the end was like...oh and I guess Palpatine too since he groomed him for 13 years.

First of all, why is it a chore to blame Palpatine for Anakin's problems but so easy to blame the Jedi?

Imagine the heartbreak Anakin felt when he learned that the man who spent 13 years mentoring him turned out to be the Sith lord the Jedi had been searching for. That's reason enough to be angry at Palpatine because it was Palpatine who broke Anakin's spirit.

Secondly, not one of these people is responsible for Anakin's actions. Not one of them. Not even Palpatine. That's why it had to be Anakin's choice. Palpatine could not force him to fall, so he had to resort to manipulation and gaslighting to fuck with Anakin's head. He spent 13 years planting seeds of self-doubt and mistrust in the Jedi in Anakin's head. Because what happened when Palpatine assigned Anakin to the Jedi council despite having zero authority to do so??

"How can you be on the council and not be a master?"

The Jedi Council would like to ask Anakin the same question.

You have to be a Jedi master before you can be on the council.

Anakin became upset because he was denied the rank of master. It didn't occur to him at all that Palpatine intentionally placed him in that situation for that exact reason. Palpatine knew the Jedi well, and he knew how they would react. He knew it would lead the Jedi to asking Anakin to spy on him. He played the long game and it paid off.

The Jedi taught Anakin what they could, but they have no control over whether or not Anakin put the Jedi code into practice. The Jedi trusted Anakin. We saw them trust Anakin with their lives many many times during the Clone Wars.

They gave him a padawan for crying out loud. They looked at this 19-year-old, freshly knighted Jedi General and trusted him to mentor Ahsoka, a 14-year-old girl who was more advanced than everyone else her age. He's a vergence in the Force and they gave him a padawan who was already incredibly powerful. It's rare for Jedi to get their own padawans at such a young age, but Anakin was a Force prodigy and Ahsoka could have become a knight herself at 16 if she had not left the Order.

The Jedi trusted him. Until they didn't.

Anakin is the one who slaughtered an entire clan of Tusken Raiders in anger after the death of his mother. Even the women and the children. He killed all of them because he hated all of them and he was angry because he wasn't able to prevent his mother from dying in his arms. The only people who knew about that were Padme and Palpatine.

Anakin is the one who spent three years lying to the Jedi because he kept his relationship with Padme a secret from everyone (except Rex). He believed he could have it all if he tried hard enough, and trying to have it all is what lead to him losing everything when he chose to fall to the dark side, when he chose to sacrifice the galaxy for one person, only to lose her and his unborn child for good.

During the war, Ahsoka told Barriss that Anakin will always do what needs to be done, leaving out the part that includes the use of terror and torture. Barriss got to witness Anakin's rage personally when he figured out that she was the one who framed Ahsoka for treason.

We all saw how Luminara reacted to Ahsoka violently threatening Nute Gunray to get him to talk. She was horrified and immediately reprimanded Ahsoka because it is not the Jedi way to resort to terror. The Jedi were supposed to negotiate, not terrorize. And Anakin taught Ahsoka his version of aggressive negotiations. (And she hinted at the fact that she used aggressive negotiations against Morgan Elsbeth when Huyang questioned her about how she obtained the information to locate the map to Peridea and she told him that she did not follow Jedi protocol.)

When Anakin interrogated Poggle the Lesser during Brain Invaders, he physically hit Poggle before force choking him. He used brutality to get the answers he needed. Obi-Wan, Luminara and Ki-Adi all expressed concern over how he got Poggle to talk, and he wouldn't tell them what he did. What he did went against the Jedi code. He made that choice. No one else made it for him. He knows it was wrong. It's why he didn't answer their questions.

Yes, he was doing it because Ahsoka was in imminent danger and he needed to save her (and Barriss and the infected clones) and there wasn't enough time to negotiate with Poggle. Anakin did what an older brother would have done for his little sister, but she was also his padawan and he was her master. And it was very clear that Ahsoka was a lot like him.

It's not Anakin's fault that Ahsoka left the Jedi Order, but it is not Ahsoka's fault that Anakin fell. He was incapable of letting go of his padawan (he literally resurrected her from the dead on Mortis), which was an important part of the reason he was given a padawan in the first place. He had formed a strong attachment to her just as he had Padme and Obi-Wan and Rex and C-3PO and R2-D2.

His unwillingness to let go of his attachments is what caused him to fall. He was a Jedi, and Jedi are not supposed to form attachments. So when he betrayed the Jedi Order to save Padme's life, his fall to the dark side was a result of him giving into his hatred and his anger. He took his rage out on an entire galaxy for 25 years because he was unable to let go.

Attachment does not equal love.

Maul was attached to Obi-Wan and there was nothing loving about it. It was violent and many people died because of Maul's inability to let go of his anger and hatred for Obi-Wan.

The whole reason that Anakin gave into the dark side completely was because he fell for the trap. He believed he could use the dark side without letting it consume him, but the dark side is all about controlling others. He couldn't control Padme and he ended up force choking her. He couldn't control Ahsoka and she left. He couldn't control Obi-Wan and chose to fight against him instead of listening to Obi-Wan's pleas.

No one could save Anakin Skywalker from himself. He had to save himself from his own darkness.

Which he did, in the end, because he saw his son being tortured by Palpatine, and he realized what it meant to let go. He finally understood what he needed to do and accepted that he would have to give up his own life to do so.

It took him a long time to understand what it means to let go, because letting go isn't giving up. Letting go is about accepting that there are some things beyond his control.

The conversation he had with his mother on Mortis was key to helping him accept who he was in the end. "Your guilt does not define you. You define your guilt."

He knew he was going to die, but he died saving someone he loved, doing the right thing and ultimately returning balance to the Force. He accepted his destiny. He accepted responsibility for who he was as Anakin Skywalker and that Anakin Skywalker was also responsible for the actions of Darth Vader because they were one in the same.

It's the problem we see Ahsoka struggling with when she's with him in the World Between Worlds. She struggled with the knowledge that her master became a monster and worried about what that meant for her. She struggled to figure out who she would have become if she had not left the Order. She had to wrestle with her own darkness, and Anakin's final lesson to her also took a weight off her shoulders. It's why she's suddenly that same girl we saw at the beginning of the war. The one who always smiled and was always so sure of herself. She chose the light and it was reflected in the way she suddenly began wearing white, a contrast to what she'd been wearing decades.

It's understanding that she has control of her own destiny, whatever that might be, and that she gets to choose who she decides to be. Anakin chose to be a Jedi in the end, and he was able to pass a hard-learned lesson onto a padawan he loved like his own sister. He was still able to watch out for her in the end while teaching her one more time.

It's never too late to do the right thing, but it's Anakin who has to take responsibility for his actions instead of blaming everyone else for all of his problems.

Apparently that's a lesson a lot of fans need to learn too.

A question Star Wars has always asked us is "how far are you willing to go to save what you love?"

[thebiggerbear]

Wow this was amazing!!! This was my very first foray into reading Sansa x Reader and it did not disappoint. I really enjoyed the Lady of Bear Island aspect that the reader came from.

Grey was a simple color but you thought it had never looked more regal on someone else than it did her. Sansa Stark was, indeed, truly beautiful as everyone else had said. She had a stoic look on her face that was very fitting for the plain Stark colors, but her fiery red hair seemed to compliment it in a way you had never thought was possible.

Love this bit. Really paints the picture of Sansa not only as the flame-haired beauty but also as a Stark and how she is complemented by the House colors. Beautifully written!!!

She was extremely tall, even sitting down, but her arms were placed neatly in her lap as she wore a small but pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t seem to try and be intimidating in any sense, yet somehow her raw beauty still managed to have you shaking.

I love this, too. It really does capture the essence of Sansa and as Queen in the North, and I can imagine being just as nervous as the Reader.

“Lady Mormont,” there was that word again you said to yourself. “I’m afraid the name doesn’t truly fit me. There has never been a Lady of Bear Island declared such from a lower house before.” “There’s never been a Queen in the North before either,” the Stark girl offered catching on to your feelings of uneasiness. “And yet, here we are.”

Perfection. Pure Sansa.

“You may call me Sansa,” she gives you a warmer smile this time and you feel yourself smiling back at her. You can’t help but think you’ve just passed some sort of test the Starks give to test others’ loyalty and hope this means your relationship with the Queen is at least off to a pleasant start. For too long, conflict between leaders and their people had caused bloodshed across the continent and peace seemed unattainable. But now, you had a truly devoted, just, yet sharp-minded ruler of the independent North that you were certain would lead you all to prosperity.

I feel like this really describes not only Sansa, but everything relating to the Starks as a House to a tee. Sansa was the just woman that was needed on a Throne and I believe she proved that, even before her ending in the series finale. And she is very sharp-minded, incredibly intelligent and devoted to her family, House, and The North. All of this to say that I love how you put all of this into words here.

A somber smile struck her face again. “Thank you, the fabric belonged to a friend of mine back in King’s Landing.” “You made friends in King’s Landing?” you asked genuinely surprised. She seemed to sound serious but you had heard enough stories from the south to know that Northerners generally don’t do well in the capital.  “Just one. Her name was Margaery Tyrell.” “Oh,” a lump formed in your throat. The former Queen and the Rose of Highgarden had supposedly been so beautiful that she could melt any Northerner’s cold frozen heart. You’d heard tales of her beauty and didn’t doubt that they were wrong, but aside from her charm and grace the only thing you knew about her was her unfortunate fate. “Then I am so sorry for your loss, Sansa. Truly.” “Thank you, Y/N. But she did teach me a lot and was kind to me when I had nobody else. She gave me hope when I needed it the most.”

I LOVE this callback to Margaery. I have to admit, that was one thing in the show that bothered me that they never touched upon again: Sansa hearing of Margaery's death or reacting to it in any way shape or form. So thank you for putting this in here and for doing it in such a way that is a beautiful tribute to that friendship/mentorship they had and just how important Margaery was to Sansa. Just

“Of course! I would be delighted. I was hoping to leave before the new Lord Umber gets too drunk anyway. He can be very handsy after a few glasses of wine,” you joke which makes her laugh for the first time in a long time. It’s so gentle and it lights up her face so marvelously that you can’t help but think it is the most beautiful thing in the entire North and you hope to make her laugh again.

This is just lovely. Such a beautiful salute to not only Queen Sansa but Sansa herself as the woman she is, the character we came to know over eight seasons. Thank you so much for writing this, I truly enjoyed it!!! 😊💖💖

The Wolf Queen Part 1/? (Sansa Stark x female reader)

As the new Lady of Bear island you are called to the coronation of the new Queen in the North. After a harsh winter that seemed to take all hope of future happiness away from you, a certain red headed beauty’s kind heart rekindles a flame in your heart brighter than ever before. This is just you meeting Sansa and the two of you becoming acquainted. Things will definitely heat up as the story progresses and I’ll let y’all know when the next part will be up real soon :)

House Whitewater had lived on Bear Island under the banner of the Mormonts for thousands of years. Between the War of the Five Kings and the Great War, there had been too many loses across the island for you to handle. Personally, your brothers had been taken from you when they went off with Robb Stark and then your mother, the matriarch of your family since your father died when you were two, had been lost to the army of the dead. Soon after you saw her engulfed by a wall of wights as she pushed you to safety, you learned of the loss of your fierce lady: Lady Lyanna Mormont. She had been your lady but more importantly your dear cousin, since your mother was born a Mormont. After you had lost her, you struggled to find a reason to continue living.

However, with what was left of the Bear Island population, you were technically next in line to take over for House Mormont and you were encouraged to take the name due to the special circumstances. So at the tender age of 17, you were called to attend the coronation of Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, as the Lady of Bear Island.

Keep reading

[crying-fantasies]

Size difference

Masterlist

Featuring TFA! Megatron, smut/fluff/angst, if the size difference is the thing then this Megatron is the one, CW: mentions suicide/death, grief (denial), TFA Megatron first form (I prefer that one over the Earth one), mention of deep emotion, infiltration, use of drugs and alcohol, long fic.

“Devotion inspires courage, courage inspires sacrifice, sacrifice inspires death”, or in other words, TF One has destroyed me beyond recognition, putting me in the deepest sadness (and you all are coming with me).

Watching you all overcharged by your ethanol-based liquid is always amusing, sometimes you cry, pleading for your weak planet and your horrendous kind, sometimes you laugh, making fun of all that you tried so hard to keep in one piece, intact, probably shattered once again by your social interactions out of his reach while getting whatever resources he needs to keep his plans afloat; you hate your kind, sometimes with the same fervor Lugnut hates the Autobots or whoever gets on the way for the decepticon cause, and as fast as you consume a bottle you are, once again, trying to squeeze your humorous tiny brain module for reasons to make him spare this black water planet that has only provide him endless annoyance.

“Music!”, your little watery eyes seem to brighten up as he only seems slightly amused by the way you try so hard to make him see the good in humanity, no matter the fact you already know his very much unchangeable point of view, “you guys have music, right?”

If any other decepticon were present more than one would have squashed you by the mere idea that music was something only humans had, “we do”, Megatron doesn't elaborate, he has heard war chants long enough, songs almost lost in the back of his processor, nevertheless, those out of reach memories are better than the awful music turned propaganda of the Autobots.

Since that day, you have tried your best to save your species by what they can give him over what they are, you show him arts, show him chemicals once the topic of food is mentioned.

“You guys only eat energon?”

“We consume it almost raw as our fuel”, at your fallen curiosity, by that shine of yours dying a little bit, Megatron pushes on with nothing more horrible and visceral than the truth, “Only flimsy Autobots had the shanix and riches to add elements or upgrade it”, he only has so much expression to give with his sorry state, but the way your body reflects the sudden realization and sadness is surely telling, “We were given only the scraps of their lowest grade energon, but no more”.

Day by day your view of the Autobots is twisted by him, he likes to say and think that he is only showing you how things were and still are, what once was awe upon the image of the heroes in the news changed to unconscious doubt, day by day Megatron tells you the truth about the Autobots and feels an ounce of glee when you stop looking at the news and just go about your day trying to help him back to his feet; it’s a hassle, sure, but you said it could help him, something to do with his processor, that people talked about their problems, he pushed your head down with one of his digits by the mere idea of putting your people at the same level as him, but he didn't kill you for such transgressions as you wanted to hear more, makes him remember of the days he guided the young and stray into the decepticon cause even when you are a meat bag, you added his teachings with ease and gave your comments once he was finished, long gone seem to be the days you feared him, trembling in your place, now you have the gall to talk to him, you still say “Lord Megatron” when his soldiers are present, but if not, you are brave enough to call directly his designation after poking around the topic, he couldn't care less about your perception of things as humans tend to bond easily as it seems, the push of his digit over your head was perceived by you as an endearment, even affection if he listened well to your little puff of air and laugh when you had time to realize he isn't squishing you right then and there, but what for, you've your use, with what little alchemy you make a mean energon fuel.

“Copper and other things are very common on Earth”, the little metal vase on your hands shakes with the movement, the fear of being in front of several optics is long gone to this point, maybe a little bit of your sanity too because who shakes hardly processed energon with metal inside the same container like that without the fear of it exploding? Not even the craziest decepticon can try that, and if they did then they are long gone, but no, he is presented by hardly a shot of energon in your strange concoction, or two, as you make another for him to try, one tasting better than the other, Megatron is surprised, even amazed, by the difference and the good results showed by his internal computer when the takes the second one, the nutrients on it, “the first one has industrial copper”, you smile, almost understanding, a knowing smile that portrays your human nature just right, “the second one, I bought it from traditional miners in south America, human miners that work with their hands”, by the corner of his optic he can catch Blitzwing fidgeting, maybe his tanks are empty and he wants a taste, or you lied and he isn't the first to try your alchemy if Lugnut scornful glare tells something.

Sly human, still not stopping to prove the worthiness of your people, “I may take it into consideration”.

It was a wrong move, as now you take that little victory as your biggest move yet, your tiny project of people he admits to “maybe keep alive” and next thing he knows you're walking without much care around, you clean them and make it feel good, you make fuel as the long lost alchemist back on Cybertron, you come up with spare parts for him to choose, your wielding work is pitiful at best, but you keep searching videos for it, other humans showing how to patch a broken metal table and you use it to fix a blaster hole.

You have your use, Megatron is a bit amused and bothered at the same time for it.

Until you dry out again, distraught, Megatron finds you looking at a patch of nature, or more like a patch robbed of anything worth in it, “humanity is like this”, you tell him, “they need a lot of steel and other things for the robots”, Megatron can almost sense you distressed levels of cortisol, he may do the same, take everything, but what for? This planet heals itself if you leave half intact, humans are far too greedy, and way too destructive if the contamination in the area is anything to go by, Megatron is mad more over the fact this patch of the planet can't contribute more for him in the long run, and for some reason that makes you laugh, before taking a little sip of your bottle and be done with it.

But your consumption of ethanol-based liquids doesn't stop, at least you do it when almost no one is present so your sad, ugly behavior is unknown most of the time, just once Megatron asks for it, and your inhibited answer makes him see you in another perspective, “they aren't paying me the extra time, they give me the extra work because she took a sick leave but her social media is full of pictures of her in the freaking beach, I’m yelled at for passing out during work hours, I don't have time to eat because I must work and then come here, my family is mad I don't spend more time with them, they make me feel guilty”, you laugh, like the last shards of your sanity are slipping by your tiny fingers, “but you guys are better than them”, how humorous and miserable, for an alien species made of metal to treat you better than your own, and that's a lot to say about those people if you feel more at ease with the Decepticons.

Your sanity gets down to another low blow when Megatron finds you with little chalky things on your hands, a doctor prescribed them to you, they are rich in vitamins and he can tell by the smell, that there is something under them, it smells like poison.

A rotten smell started to come from you, slightly covered by the smell of sweet ethanol .

“Can I see the real Megatron?”

He takes a moment to take in the idea, so he moves forward to let you get a better side of his faceplate and helm, but your face shows how lost you are, your usual smell has subdued once again, and you have one of those natural essences on.

“The real Megatron?”, takes a moment to understand, and your smile grows at his transformation, he can do this, all his people can, but you seem almost moved to tears when he takes on his original form, words barely a whisper as you mutter a low “perfect”.

Your comment about his helm resembling a crown earns you a smirk, your fingers itching to touch it if he is right, he is handsome you say, flattery won't get you far but you rebuke him, recounting all the times you have seen pretty words and pretty bodies and faces win the best job, the best everything, your words drip poison, the thought is ridiculous, but you would make a good decepticon if only you weren't bond to your meat carcass.

Turns out, not even that stops you or him, it would be a lie to say that the softness of your bare body doesn't do things to him under the obvious discomfort of pushing his digits under the fabrics covering you, it's one of the very few moments your body doesn't reek of alcohol, its absence conveying your mind and body together as one once again as he lets your tiny hands roam his faceplate with reverence, touching his supposed crown in something akin to affection.

You've always been affectionate, even when it was your default mode all along your surroundings made it impossible to show it.

He catches on the badly sewed purple patch in your clothes, just above where your primitive fuel pump should be, one which runs faster when he comments an amused “Really?” once noticing the badge made by hand, you hug his faceplate, as far as you can reach, smiling in content and pursuing asylum of his optics in the middle of them, out of reach, kissing just in the middle, Megatron is no stranger to your outbursts of affection, he has come to accept it with time as much as he had to learn to handle you without breaking a rib, again.

He could kill you, but you make an interesting diversion from what is burning outside the hideout.

Wasting energon in mass displacement is out of the question, you don't seem to mind, except when you do and pitifully cry about not being fair, Megatron smiles, handsomely you add, when the tip of his spike brushes against your entrance, impossible to fit, but your warm mouth is focused over his anterior node, hands pushing along his biolights, time and his low vents, huffing above you as steam, have taught you enough, the lack of words from his part igniting curiosity on how far he will let you do and what makes the grin in his faceplate grow, you've learned enough to know where to use those stupidly tiny nails, dull enough to catch the mesh under, drag it down, your chest, insufficient by any means, but plush as you drag it around him, getting pleasure yourself when those peaks press in the most giving mesh you seem to like, using your arms to do your best and hug tight his spike, Megatron almost laughs when your mouth stops it's work and kiss under the node, opting to vent some vapor by his intake when you look back up at him; those watery eyes of yours, for once, seem normal, giving him the best angle to look at you, the real you, licking slowly, so slowly, your eyes don't leave his optics, you're missing his spike, loving him, giving him reverence, your harmless teeth dragging above his protomesh, trying to go hard with him, wishful thinking if anything, the lame excuse of a sting makes his engines rev, watching you make a show of one person, trying to hold into the best your body can give.

Soon, your tiredness puts an end to the play, now he gets serious and overstimulated with no real release unless he gets his servos dirty, holding you in one and looking at your entrance directly even when you yell by the surprise, Megatron seems it moisture enough, you meat bags get aroused so easily, but who is he to make fun of you when he can still hear his engines revving by your heated administrations of affection, even worse yet as you also hear them, smiling with that inherent cunning nature of yours, smile soon leaving you when his glossa makes contact to your sorry entrance, all small that it can barely hold the tip of his glossa at bay, your body almost fall down his servo when your head drops back by the sheer pressure, Megatron is expecting to feel your toes on his face, your pathetic leg struts kicking at him to go slower or faster, instead, he catches your body distracted in other places, your face is flush with blood, glancing intently to his weeping spike out of your reach, toes soon curling by the deep rumble of his chuckle, moaning, hands flying to hold your face, trying to keep it all together.

“Should know you have your priorities set”, giving a fast and final taste to your entrance Megatron puts you where you want to be, and, being honest, he also does, already with practice in hand in how to put you under the side of his spike, letting you get a good hold of your space, pushing your hips, inviting him to destroy and ruin you.

He laughs lowly to himself, he has already ruined you for anyone else, he has already ruined you for your species, there will be no one else after him, and you seem content with it as you moan, freely, drowning in pleasure as his hips finally move and give you the friction you've been waiting for, holding for dear life to his servo, the practice has resulted in experience, he knows what you like too, more by the fact you two are similar down there even when it is increasingly concerning, but once his nodes push against your weeping entrance, once your fluids make it easy for him to take and for you to give, all those concerns seem to fade away, feeling a concentrated rush of desire flow through his frame as his optics take on the image of your little body taking all it can, imagining how a tight feat it will be once he can claim you.

He has already done it, your mind is his, he just needs time and resources to claim your body entirely.

Later on, while he is resting in the berth of his quarters you have the confidence to put a blanket over yourself, feeling brave enough to wander around with only the fabric on but still short to walk naked around him in the privacy of his territory.

It's okay, soon, he will fix your broken self-esteem, and make you see your use and strength, till then, Megatron is satisfied, hearing you promise him to make an alternative fuel for his people, Megatron can hardly hear your hypothesis about combining carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen and some kind of acid with energon, the lust and passion of an organic seem to know no limitations if you two have been at it for so long, but you just promise him, he will see the real potential of your people, something worth to keep, and Megatron believes you may have some truth in your words if your keep fighting on for it, something worth fighting for.

Something worth fighting for, Megateon reminds himself of such when he is taken, broken, and all the hideout falls, he supposed you succumbed under the debris and made peace with the idea of dying fast under a rock, no suffering, no questioning, just death, deeming it enough and fair for you.

Megatron, instead, is forced to watch the organic news, in between, he sees you, your face and name, pointed as the main culprit of an unfruitful act of rebellion against the Autobots, the new allies of humanity, blinded flesh bags that know nothing of the deep hatred and disgust the very same Autobots teach as nature, Megatron knows, as his kind, the war frames, the flying frames, and the worker frames have always been on the short side of any real benefit, he expects to see you still fighting, but it soon changes when he sees the pieces scattered and poorly covered, the space bridge painted with red and explosive energon, all washed away as it never happened.

As it didn't matter at all.

Nobody mourns you as the title of a traitor is branded next to your name, no matter that Megatron has seen you do the possible and impossible to save your people from his plans, people that hardly knew the real you spew lies to make them feel and be seen better, Sentinel Prime makes him see all, amused by the flesh bag that wore the decepticon badge on its covers, telling Megatron, with words heavy with fake appreciation and genuine scorn: “how did you train that organic to bid your every word?”.

It's far from the truth, as Megatron hoped for your easy death, he would have never instructed or led you down to such a gruesome and painful one.

But alas, he is the big, bad, murderous decepticon that consumes autobot protoforms.

Once the Prime has had his fun, he lets him be, displayed for everyone to see, an example of the Autobots’ power, new sparks look at him from behind the glass, in the ocean of bright optics, ready to learn and be corrupted by the Autobots' lies, he notices a knowing pair, a visor, and Soundwave looking at him, Megatron can listen to him in his mind, and shows him the amount of your devotion for the Decepticon cause, using your body and all the components in it to create the bomb you promised him, “the power enough to force the space bridge to work”, drowning in the energon and the metal by one big intake, power enough to fuel any space bridge to let the little decepticon cross back to Cybertron and create a cover, if Megatron has anything to say about it while lowering his helm Soundwave already knows and walks with the rest of the new sparks, carrying out his mission, all that Megatron has to do is wait, get the upper hand, take all the advantages he can and all the outcomes, play the game of war in a very human fashion, something the Autobots have not encountered yet.

Megatron, helm down and spark heavy, won't mourn you, not yet, he has to avenge you first and claim back the planet you tried to protect.

.

If you look deep enough, the TFA universe can be very dark and scary, especially if you think about how they managed to get so much technology in such a short amount of time, as in Megatron cut down to pieces to know how he works.

@tf-kinktober2024

[wc-confessions]

I honestly think warriors as a whole would’ve been better if it ended with Firestar’s death. Hear me out! They built the whole serious around Firestar, and then his family, and even spin offs around his friends. They started so Thunderclan focused and leaned into it so far that when they try to make it neutral or have a protagonist from a different clan it just comes off as canned and they inevitably end up in Thunderclan. If they had just kept the main series about Firestar’s life they would’ve had a perfect ending. Sad, yes, but a perfect wrap up. The clans are saved, the prophesies fulfilled, he’s survived by his wife and children obituary type beat. Bramblestar succession implied because Firestar sees him as wow RTHU leader, he’s not his father. Power of three fulfilled and implied they’ll take care of the clans after. That’s it to the Thunderclan and Firestar story. Now it’s just ongoing until the Erins either decide to pass it on to the next gen or kill the cash cow (unlikely) and I fear we’ll be stuck in Firestar’s Great great great great great great great great Grandchild protagonist territory for just…forever.

If they REALLY wanted to, then they could’ve done prequels and novellas without actually altering the main story, or making things weird with/for beloved characters. They had a great setup with the prologue in TLH having the Tribe of Endless Huntinh meeting with Starclan. But I doubt we’ll ever get a Tribe focused/protagonist book let alone series because *coughcoughracismcough*.

Or they could’ve even focused on a different clan or time period with an entirely new set of characters for readers to love that don’t need to connect to main events at all! I’d love to see stories far FAR in the future where Firestar is just a kit story or maybe even only known in Thunderclan. Or they could go really crazy and have new clans being made far away (maybe even back in the old territories. It’s be cool to see callbacks like maybe the houses the twolegs built were abandoned and cats starting living there and they come across a dried riverbed with rocks that have been worn down by generations of paw pads. Do you hear me.) because stories of the forest clans passed around by travelers resonated with many cats who decided to make their own. We don’t have to be stuck with Firestar! And don’t get me wrong I LOVED Firestar as a kid and I still love love him now but if they want to keep old fans engaged and get new readers having to read and re-read alllllll those books just to peace together what the hell is going on in the new ones is…difficult to say the least.

If they start new stories with an entirely new cast, protags from different clans, or even do ambiguous time periods it opens them up to a whole world of possibilities.

Tldr I really think they should’ve let the main series die, with dignity, with Firestar.

.

[sassenach77yle]

7x10 “Brotherly Love”

WHEN IAN FELT WELL enough, he came out walking with Jamie. Sometimes only as far as the yard or the barn, to lean on the fence and make remarks to Jenny’s sheep. Sometimes he felt well enough to walk miles, which amazed—and alarmed—Jamie. Still, he thought, it was good to walk side by side through the moors and the forest and down beside the loch, not talking much but side by side. It didn’t matter that they walked slowly; they always had, since Ian had come back from France with a wooden leg.“I’m lookin’ forward to having back my leg,” Ian had remarked casually once, when they sat in the shelter of the big rock where Fergus had lost his hand, looking out over the small burn that ran down at the foot of the hill, watching for the stray flash of a leaping trout.“Aye, that’ll be good,” Jamie had said, smiling a little—and a little wry about it, too, recalling when he’d waked after Culloden and thought his own leg missing. He’d been upset and tried to comfort himself with the thought that he’d get it back eventually, if he made it out of purgatory and into heaven. Of course, he’d thought he was dead, too, but that hadn’t seemed nearly as bad as the imagined loss of his leg.“I dinna suppose ye’ll have to wait,” he said idly, and Ian blinked at him.“Wait for what?”“Your leg.” He realized suddenly that Ian had no notion what he’d been thinking, and hastened to explain.“So I was only thinking, ye wouldna spend much time in purgatory—if at all—so ye’ll have it back soon.”Ian grinned at him. “What makes ye sae sure I willna spend a thousand years in purgatory? I might be a terrible sinner, aye?”“Well, aye, ye might be,” Jamie admitted. “Though if so, ye must think the devil of a lot of wicked thoughts, because if ye’d been doing anything, I’d know about it.”“Oh, ye think so?” Ian seemed to find this funny. “Ye havena seen me in years. I might ha’ been doing anything, and ye’d never ken a thing about it!”“Of course I would,” Jamie said logically. “Jenny would tell me. And ye dinna mean to suggest she wouldna ken if ye had a mistress and six bastard bairns, or ye’d taken to the highways and been robbing folk in a black silk mask?”“Well, possibly she would,” Ian admitted. “Though come on, man, there’s nothing ye could call a highway within a hundred miles. And I’d freeze to death long before I came across anyone worth robbin’ in one o’ the passes.” He paused, eyes narrowed against the wind, contemplating the criminal possibilities open to him.

“I could ha’ been stealing cattle,” he offered. “Though there’re sae few beasts these days, the whole parish would ken it at once should one go missing. And I doubt I could hide it amongst Jenny’s sheep wi’ any hope of its not bein’ noticed.”He thought further, chin in hand, then reluctantly shook his head.“The sad truth is, Jamie, no one’s had a thing worth stealin’ in the Highlands these twenty years past. Nay, theft’s right out, I’m afraid. So is fornication, because Jenny would ha’ killed me already. What does that leave? There’s no really anything to covet…. I suppose lying and murder is all that’s left, and while I’ve met the odd man I would ha’ liked to kill, I never did.” He shook his head regretfully, and Jamie laughed.“Oh, aye? Ye told me ye killed men in France.”“Well, aye, I did, but that was a matter of war—or business,” he added fairly. “I was bein’ paid to kill them; I didna do it out o’ spite.”“Well, then, I’m right,” Jamie pointed out. “Ye’ll sail straight through purgatory like a rising cloud, for I canna think of a single lie ye’ve ever told me.”Ian smiled with great affection.“Aye, well, I may ha’ told lies now and then, Jamie—but no, not to you.”He looked down at the worn wooden peg stretched before him and scratched at the knee on that side.“I wonder, will it feel different?”“How could it not?”“Well, the thing is,” Ian said, wiggling his sound foot to and fro, “I can still feel my missing foot. Always have been able to, ever since it went. Not all the time, mind,” he added, looking up. “But I do feel it. A verra strange thing. Do ye feel your finger?” he asked curiously, raising his chin at Jamie’s right hand.“Well… aye, I do. Not all the time, but now and then—and the nasty thing is that even though it’s gone, it still hurts like damnation, which doesna seem really fair.”He could have bitten his tongue at that, for here Ian was dying, and him complaining that the loss of his finger wasn’t fair. Ian wheezed with amusement, though, and leaned back, shaking his head.“If life was fair, then what?”They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the wind move through the pines on the hillside opposite. Then Jamie reached into his sporran and brought out the tiny white-wrapped package. It was a bit grubby from being in his sporran but had been tidily preserved and tightly wrapped.Ian eyed the little bundle in his palm.“What’s this?”My finger,” Jamie said. “I—well… I wondered whether ye’d maybe not mind to have it buried with ye.”Ian looked at him for a moment. Then his shoulders started to shake.“God, don’t laugh!” Jamie said, alarmed. “I didna mean to make ye laugh! Christ, Jenny will kill me if ye cough up a lung and die out here!”Ian was coughing, fits of it interspersed with long-drawn-out wheezes of laughter. Tears of mirth stood in his eyes, and he pressed both fists into his chest, struggling to breathe. At last, though, he left off and straightened slowly up, making a sound like a bellows. He sniffed deep and casually spat a glob of horrifying scarlet into the rocks.“I’d rather die out here laughin’ at you than in my bed wi’ six priests say-in’ prayers,” he said. “Doubt I’ll get the chance, though.” He put out a hand, palm up. “Aye, give it here.”Jamie laid the little white-wrapped cylinder in his hand, and Ian tucked the finger casually into his own sporran.“I’ll keep it safe ’til ye catch me up.”

81 PURGATORY II ~ An echo in the Bone

He had been holding Ian’s hand, clasping hard, trying to force some notion of well-being from his own calloused palm into Ian’s thin gray skin. His thumb slid upward now, pressing on the wrist where he had seen Claire grip, searching out the truth of a patient’s health.He felt the skin give, sliding across the bones of Ian’s wrist. He thought suddenly of the blood vow given at his marriage, the sting of the blade and Claire’s cold wrist pressed to his and the blood slick between them. Ian’s wrist was cold, too, but not from fear.He glanced at his own wrist, but there was no trace of a scar, either from vows or fetters; those wounds were fleeting, long-healed.

“D’ye remember when we gave each other blood for blood?”

Ian’s eyes were closed, but he smiled. Jamie’s hand tightened on the bony wrist, a little startled but not truly surprised that Ian had reached into his mind and caught the echo of his thoughts.

“Aye, of course.”

He couldn’t help a small smile of his own, a painful one.They’d been eight years old, the two of them. Jamie’s mother and her bairn had died the day before. The house had been full of mourners, his father dazed with shock. They had slipped out, he and Ian, scrambling up the hill behind the house, trying not to look at the fresh-dug grave by the broch. Into the wood, safe under the trees.Had slowed then, wandering, come to a stop at last at the top of the high hill, where some old stone building that they called the fort had fallen down long ago. They’d sat on the rubble, wrapped in their plaids against the wind, not talking much.“I thought I’d have a new brother,” he’d said suddenly. “But I don’t. It’s just Jenny and me, still.” In the years since, he’d succeeded in forgetting that small pain, the loss of his hoped-for brother, the boy who might have given him back a little of his love for his older brother, Willie, dead of the smallpox. He’d cherished that pain for a little, a flimsy shield against the enormity of knowing his mother gone forever.Ian had sat thinking for a bit, then reached into his sporran and got out the wee knife his father had given him on his last birthday.

“I’ll be your brother,” he’d said, matter-of-fact, and cut across his thumb, hissing a little through his teeth.He’d handed the knife to Jamie, who’d cut himself, surprised that it hurt so much, and then they’d pressed their thumbs together and sworn to be brothers always. And had been.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself against the nearness of death, the black finality.“Ian. Shall I…” Ian’s eyelids lifted, the soft brown of his gaze sharpening into clarity at what he heard in the thickness of Jamie’s voice. Jamie cleared his throat hard and looked away, then looked back, feeling obscurely that to look away was cowardly.“Will ye have me hasten ye?” he asked, very softly. Even as he spoke, the cold part of his mind sought the way. Not by the blade, no; it was quick and clean, a proper man’s departure, but it would cause his sister and the weans grief; neither he nor Ian had the right to leave a final memory stained with blood.Ian’s grip neither slackened nor clung, but of a sudden Jamie felt the pulse he had looked for in vain, a small, steady throb against his own palm.He hadn’t looked away, but his eyes blurred, and he bent his head to hide the tears.Claire… She would know how, but he couldn’t ask her to do it. Her own vow kept her from it.“No,” Ian said. “Not yet, anyway.” He’d smiled, eyes soft. “But I’m glad to ken ye’ll do it if I need ye to, mo brathair.”

[boobsoutforbeeduo]

Im gonna be honest, yesterdays episode of wildlife really had me in the feels.

Grian was without Skizz and Mumbo for such a short amount of time, and yet he had started having 'conversations' with their graves. He makes it so that he can see them again, to get back on lost time and to apologize for ultimately being the cause of their deaths, but when they come back they aren't the same.

He knew they wouldn't be the same, but he tried to steal them back from death anyways, because he missed them just that much. And he did, he stole Cleo's power and brought them back for himself, but they still weren't the same. They never are, after death. Even if brought back.

Instead of having his lost friends back he got shells of them, he got small, broken pieces of them, in rotted and broken bodies. And so he killed them, over and over, but they kept coming back. So he killed them again. All he wanted was his friends back, but instead he had to suffer through seeing them, dead and wrong, barely alive, and through killing them. They had to kill him, too, and even though they were zombies, and they were different from before, I doubt they wanted to.