#this would be the worst tactical team in the world but w/e

[virgyvandijk]

Top starting XI based solely on looks. GO

i’ve gone 4-3-3 bc it’s my favourite formation xo

gk: alisson becker

rb: lewis travis

cb: john stones

cb: virgil van dijk

lb: ben chilwell

mf: alex oxlade-chamberlain

mf: ruben loftus-cheek

mf: dele

rw: mo salah

cf: fernando torres

lw: onel hernandez 

subs:

gini wijnaldum

hector bellerin

jordan henderson

[in-tua-deep]

Vanya is so tired of all the bullshit at this point in unviable au and like just Vanya being a tad bit p snarky is great

honestly if you hang around Klaus long enough you have to develop snark in sheer self defense. ESPECIALLY a Klaus who talks to not one but TWO ghosts so you only get like, a whole half to a third of the conversation and have to fill in the blanks yourself smh

And Vanya?? she protective where it counts. In the show itself, Leonard gets there first and when Allison questions him, Vanya gets defensive. In the unviable au, Klaus gets there first and makes Vanya feel included. So even though he’s an absolute pain in the ass she comes down resolutely on his side

And Klaus, who is used to having none of his (living) siblings on his side... it’s nice. When Allison accuses him of just wanting to grift Vanya for drug money... she defends him.

Even Diego, who also loves Klaus, would probably just gruffly say that that’s his problem.

So Vanya and Klaus get pretty close in this au actually, and you know what that means???

It’s Klaus who technically stops the apocalypse. Just by being there for her.

Actually now that I think about it, this might genuinely be an everyone lives au?? Except Five ofc, but like. Leonard Peabody hasn’t been able to get close to Vanya yet, so he probably doesn’t kill Helen Cho so that Vanya can be first chair. Wow like, so far no one except Five and Ben has died what a wild ride.

So they get team apocalypse together and recruit two more (hello boyfriend Dave, who is going to help Klaus keep clean!!) and then... what?

With all the stress and everything going on, Vanya probably... forgets to take her pills. She doesn’t even think about it in between trying to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing to prevent the apocalypse when their only clue is that someone related to Vanya might cause the apocalypse? And even then, could be a chain effect so the number of people who could end the world is like... weirdly high. 

And hey, Vanya has other things to worry about than her pills anyway. Klaus keeps trying to raid the fridge, if Diego puts a hole in her walls with one of his knives she’s actually going to commit murder, Dave keeps politely asking where she keeps various things so that he can make everyone tea. Five keeps rattling things to prove that he’s there (and he really needs to stop because being physical with items takes energy he needs to conserve)

Anyway, since Hazel and Cha-Cha were asking questions about Vanya, they realize that Vanya’s place... probably isn’t the safest? So they all end up going to the library to camp out because lets be real the library is an excellent public resource, and lots of libraries have private rooms - nowhere better to brainstorm

“If they know about my apartment, then they know about the mansion.” Vanya points out, absently rolling a marker across the table. 

(The room came with a whiteboard, presumably to help students or something, that Five has already capitalized as his own personal writing surface since Klaus tends to prefer paraphrase over direct translation.)

“The mansion?” Dave asks politely, because he really has no idea what the fuck he’s in for.

“Where we grew up.” Vanya informs him, because she’s a nice person and figures he doesn’t deserve to flounder considering he’s literally out of time here. 

“I told you about how dad sucked.” Klaus says offhandedly as he swipes a purple marker from thin air so that he can continue doodling flowers on the whiteboard.

“Okay okay,” Dave says, waving his hands, “Slow down. Was everything you told me true? Because I will be honest I thought most of it was like. Your uh, vivid imagination.”

“Probably true,” Diego says over Klaus’s outraged squawk, “But very... embellished. Klaus has that effect.”

“I resemble that remark!” Klaus pulls himself together admirably.

“I know you do, babe.” Dave says, leaning over to take Klaus’s hand in his own, smiling fondly. Klaus absolutely melts and a large E W is written across the whiteboard in bright red ink. 

“Mind your business, junior.” Klaus says, sticking his tongue out in the direction everyone assumes Five to be. Immediately after this comment, Klaus gets beaned in the head by said red marker.

“Children, children.” Vanya rolls her eyes, “Can we get along for five minutes?”

“In this family?” Diego snorts dismissively. And then starts because Vanya smacks him on the arm for being an ass.

In the last few days, Vanya has attended the funeral of the man who emotionally fucked her up, found out that her two dead brothers were hanging around, found out the apocalypse was incoming, is being stalked by time traveling assassins because she is somehow related to the apocalypse happening, lied to people to get info on an eye, bailed on practice, crawled out a bathroom window, rescued her kidnapped brother only to watch him vanish before her eyes. Honestly she is all out of fucks to give. She’s tired, cranky, and more than a little stressed.

“Can you order pizza to a library?” Klaus muses absently, head turned in a way that means he’s probably talking to Ben. 

“No, Klaus. Stop.” Vanya all but begs.

“Not that I don’t love the library.” Dave observes, looking around. He looks around a lot, constantly marveling at the differences between the world back in his day and now. “But if Vanya’s apartment and uh, ‘the mansion’ aren’t options. Where are we supposed to be staying?”

Bless Dave for keeping them on topic.

Vanya and Klaus look at each other. And then as one they look at Diego.

“No. Absolutely not.” Diego protests, crossing his arms. “I live in a boiler room. That doesn’t even count. It can’t have four people staying in it.”

“Six people.” Klaus emphasizes, gesturing at thin air. Diego mumbles apologies, which is in self preservation really because Five really does have fantastic aim and doesn’t give a fuck about manners. 

“We can have a sleepover!” Klaus cheers, clapping his hands like he’s at a one man party. 

“No.” Diego emphasizes.

They all end up in Diego’s boiler room. 

“Five says he wants the bed.” Klaus claims as soon as they walk in.

“Five is dead.” Diego growls, “He’s not getting the bed.”

“Ben says that’s dead-ist.” Klaus accuses pointing a finger at Diego, who slaps it away. 

“Well I suppose the youngest should get the bed.” Vanya muses out loud, which just makes Klaus burst into laughter. This in turn means that the pillow on Diego’s bed seems to move on its own in an attempt to smother the lanky man.

“I’m fine with the floor.” Dave offers, “Used to way worse in the jungle. This’ll actually be pretty nice. No bugs at least.”

Klaus pauses in wrestling with the pillow, “Aw, babe. That’s so sweet. I’m on the floor, too!”

Diego sighs deeply, “Ugh. Fucking. Fine. Vanya can have the bed.”

“Thank you.” Vanya says gracefully, picking her way through Diego’s... place is a generous word, to sit on the bed. 

“Do you have any movies?” Klaus asks, and has has somehow transitioned to being sprawled across the floor kicking his feet in the air with his face in his hands, “Oh! Or popcorn! Nail polish?”

“This is not a sleepover.” Diego growls, “This is... this is a tactical base.”

“I have some hairties in my pocket?” Vanya offers, fishing out one and tossing to towards a squealing Klaus. 

“Yes!” Klaus cheers, holding up his prize with great victory, “Vanya, can I do you hair?”

“Sure.” Vanya says shrugging, scooching over to allow for Klaus to scrabble onto the bed to sit behind her. 

“Hey Diego do you own a hairbrush?” Klaus asks, pulling Vanya’s hair out of her ponytail and running his fingers through it. Diego scowls. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Klaus scooches over enough so that Dave can sit behind him and they manage to cram three adults onto the bed as Dave starts ruffling at Klaus’s hair, humming thoughtfully. 

“I hate all of you.” Diego growls, crossing his arms and definitely not pouting. 

“I love team apocalypse.” Klaus says as cheerfully as possible.

“Don’t you have two other siblings?” Dave asks, brow furrowed in slight confusion. Klaus probably told him all about his fucked up family while they were in Vietnam together, to pass the time. At the time Dave hadn’t actually believed Klaus (body of a monkey? teleportation? tentacle powers? but you know what he’s in the future and he’s either having the worst acid trip, he’s dead, or this is real and why not roll with it).

Vanya, Klaus, and Diego all grimace as one.

“Luther and Allison... have their own issues they’re working on right now.” Vanya says diplomatically.

“Hold up.” Klaus says, craning his head around to look at Diego, “Is Luther still on that ‘dad was murdered’ bullshit?”

“Your dad was murdered?” Dave asks, looking a little shocked.

“What is Allison even doing?” Diego tilts his head a little bit, ignoring Dave’s question entirely.

“Judging my life choices.” Vanya mutters reproachfully. Klaus, as the terrible life choice in question, pats her shoulder sympathetically. 

“In all fairness, if it weren’t for. You know. Everything. I probably would have robbed you for money.” Klaus admits with a simple shrug, and gets a pat on the shoulder from Dave in return.

“I know she cares or whatever.” Vanya says sighing, “But like. The way she goes about it. Like she knows everything and has to impart her wisdom on us lesser beings. Like she didn’t ruin her own life.”

“Wow.” Klaus hums, tugging on the end on Vanya’s new braid, “I didn’t realize we were onto the shit talking portion of the sleepover.”

“This isn’t a sleepover.” Diego’s protest falls on deaf ears.

“I’m open to building a relationship.” Vanya says firmly, “But that’s what it needs to be. Building a relationship. Because quite frankly, we don’t have one. She acts like, I don’t know, the fact that we’re sisters should trump the fact that she ignored me at best for like, the last twenty-nine years of my life.”

“Go off, queen.” Klaus says gleefully, running his fingers through Vanya’s hair and undoing the braid he just finished entirely. “Where have you been hiding all our lives?”

“In my room, mostly.” Vanya deadpans, “Sequestered away like all of Dad’s boring treasures.”

“If your dad was still alive I’d fight him for all of you.” Dave says very seriously. Seriously enough that it makes Vanya snort, and Klaus burst into giggles, and even Diego shakes his head. 

“I love you so much, Dave.” Klaus says seriously, and then looks over Dave’s shoulder, “No I don’t - it’s a different sort of love Ben. You’re still my favorite brother! Wait, no Five - actually yes Five because Ben is everyone’s favorite brother - ”

“Confirmed.” Diego immediately says, which makes Klaus whirl around, his hand at his chest and gasping like a Victorian maiden. 

“Sorry Five.” Vanya says, nodding along mock seriously. “Ben never lost my violin bow and tried to blame it on the monster under the bed.”

“Hold up, hold up hold up.” Klaus says immediately, eyes pingponging between Vanya and someone the rest of them can’t see, “I smell a story. Pray tell, Vanya. Do you have a tale that paints the illustrious Five in a... less than pristine light?”

“Oh Klaus.” Vanya practically purrs, mischief lighting up her eyes, “I was Five’s favorite sibling. I know all the dirty little secrets.”

And that’s the moment when Diego’s shitty bed flips and dumps Vanya, Klaus, and Dave onto the floor.

“Five!” 

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Golden (Sidney Crosby Imagine)

I’ve been working on this for weeks, and I wouldn’t have made it through without @staviastar who helped me write and beta’d! There’s an optional smut scene at the end, that’s marked off with a warning.

Rating: T (main) / E (optional end scene)

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/fem!Reader

Words: 4388 (w/o optional scene) / 7543 (full piece)

Warnings: minor language, somewhat unsafe sex

Requested: yes/no

Summary: “ hey so I found out recently that last week was the 10th anniversary of the Golden Goal (Crosby winning gold in overtime back in the 2010 Olympics) and I was thinking, maybe a fluffy (perhaps smutty?) imagine from that moment? “

It’s been a hard-fought game, excellent playing on both teams, though you’re tempted to say Canada has been playing just that much better. Your best friend being on that team has absolutely nothing to do with it, obviously, because that kind of bias wouldn’t stand in measured debate. Except the fact that you’re friends with most of Team Canada, and Sid being their star player might maybe- maybe, have something to do with why you’re on the edge of your seat five minutes into overtime, watching your friends from either side flit around the ice in a careful, frenzied dance. It’s not quite Miracle stakes, of course, but Canada vs. the United States is always an intense game to watch.

You could say something sappy, like that Sid is a poet on the ice, in a delicate ballet spanning all 200 feet, but you’d be lying. He’s plenty elegant, but more in the way of an engraved wrecking ball; pretty but too sturdy to be kept from getting where he wants to go. Maybe that’s poetic too, in its own way. Whether others would agree or not, it’s beautiful to you, the way he plays. The surety of his movements, the precision of the angle of his blade, the awareness of where anyone on the ice is at any given time. It’s a joy to watch him play, and that joy doesn’t fade no matter how many times you get to see it.

Six minutes into overtime, and it’s a constant roar of the crowd. The puck moves back and forth between teams, no hesitation where there isn’t room for it, the crowd cheering and booing in turns. Nash takes a solid shot, but it’s blocked just as solidly. Kessler starts taking it back down toward Canada’s side, and as they fly around with just enough control over the puck, you’re beginning to think this might go beyond overtime. But Canada takes the puck, skates it around in circles just long enough that you don’t notice what American player it is that Staal jukes expertly, taking just enough of a pause that they can regroup. Then there are passes and a steal and a blocked shot, and the USA has control again, barreling toward your net and almost scoring on a shit block, but the goalie comes through.

Then your breath is caught in your chest as Sid approaches the net, nearly barreling through a Team USA player to get close enough to pop off a shot, though it’s blocked. You make the mistake of taking a breath upon hearing his scream of “Iggy!”, and Sid doesn’t give you - or anyone for that matter -  the time to fully exhale before the puck is in the net.

The arena explodes. Erupts. Goes absolutely, unstoppably, wild. You’ve never heard so much concentrated noise, and you’d cover your ears if you weren’t so busy sucking in a breath so you can scream along with them. Canada v. USA and your best friend just scored the game-winning goal. In overtime. The Golden Goal, though no one in hockey really called it that yet.

You’re not terribly close to the ice, though not far, and virtually no one you know is seated near you, but everyone is hugging and kissing and twirling each other around, and you’re no exception. You hug the person to your right, and when you turn to the one on your left, he spins you around as your matching Team Canada jerseys smash together. The guy in front of you, unfortunately in blue, shakes your hand solemnly before sitting back down. At least he’s a good sport. You’re not keen on seeing what chaos is going on in the upper decks right now, honestly.

But beyond the revelry and camaraderie, your main goal is to get the hell out of here. Because there, somewhere under your seats, is the place where you’ll meet Sid and your other friends. Where you’ll get to see their faces for the first time in a long time, and hug them, and congratulate them to the best of your ability. But there’s still all the pomp and circumstance to get through, for the players at least, so you have a bit of time. Time enough to get rows down to the wives and girlfriends, so at least one of them can vouch for you to come back outside the locker room. The girls are already gathering their things by the time you get to them, because you’ve spent enough time watching the spectacle that it’s almost over. Sid just looks so happy, and you couldn’t bear to look away.

As you make your way over to the WAG’s section, you spot Ryan Whitney- one of Sid’s teammates on the Penguins- and you’re not sure what he’s expecting from you. The officials award Team USA with the silver medals, and he looks, for the most part, downcast. But as soon as he makes eye contact with you, you see the recognition, the fondness, the mischief. You know Whitney is one of the worst about chirping Sid (and you) about your “relationship”, so you don’t return the expression, only allowing a delighted smile in support of your boys. You can already predict the amount of chirping that he’ll give Sid once they reunite as teammates, him and the rest of the Penguins always being one to harmlessly tease you both in your relationship. 

Once you’re sufficiently close, one of the wives notices you and beckons you closer, pulling you in once you’re within arm’s reach. You get along well enough with most of them, Sid having invited you to enough of various team events to at least meet the majority of Canada’s WAGs. At least, this Team Canada’s WAGs. You’re not really one of them, but they’ve welcomed you heartily, always cooing over Sid and you as if you were some oscar-winning love story for the ages just because you’d been friends for years.

They vouch for you with security, and they’re kind enough to let you go, despite not having any special identification like the others. You probably would have had something, if Sid had known you were coming. But as far as he knew, you were still on the east coast, working on your post-grad. But the majority of the team (and their better halves) had insisted you come, and, well, you weren’t exactly opposed. But they thought it would be nice if you were a surprise, so you hadn’t been able to tell him where you were, despite being in the same city. Everyone figured if Canada lost, you’d be there to soothe the sore loser Sid inevitably was, and, hey, if they won, you could celebrate together. Luckily, it turned out to be the latter. Sid always turned to you first when he was overwhelmed; proof validated when he saw you outside of the locker room after the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals, practically breaking down into tears as he collapsed into your arms. Now, anyone with a mature sense of mind would see this as an emotional, iconic, heartbreaking moment for Sid the Kid - and it was - but they clearly didn’t witness the bitchier, grumpier side of him when you returned to Mario’s house, criticizing himself and the (debatably) dirty tactics of the Red Wings during the game. For your part, you just sat there on that couch with him, letting him lie down as if it were a therapy session, his head in your lap, and vent; occasionally agreeing and reassuring and doing your best to put his criticisms to rest, until the sun came up and he finally gave in to exhaustion. You didn’t want to openly admit it (and neither did anyone else), but your presence during that difficult time had done wonders for him. 

You chat with the gals as you all wait for the guys to talk to the media and get changed, discussing the oncoming celebrations as the guys, no doubt, have an initial celebration on their own. As much as you love talking to the girls, you can’t help but think about how happy Sid had looked, how overwhelmed with accomplishment and satisfaction. Knowing his penchant for never being content with himself, it’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

Finally, the players start emerging from the locker room. They each go to their support in turn, wives and girlfriends and family. You’re waiting, waiting, waiting, until Sid eventually wanders out, backpack slung over his shoulders. He greets a few of his teammates’ family members, before his eyes finally catch yours. You feel your face break into a broad smile, whether you gave it permission to or not, and watch his own do the same. His smile is blinding, all-encompassing, seemingly more stunning than it had been even on the ice after his goal.

“Hey Sid,” you greet, easy as anything despite the way your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest. Sid is everything to you, always has been. Even since you were kids shooting at an old washing machine, since you were teenagers too anxious about being bad at it to kiss anyone, since you’ve reached adulthood and both of you were too unsure to make a move, he’s always been everything to you. And he always will be. Because he’s Sid, and you’re you, and that’s just the way of the world.

“Hey,” he greets in return, unable to make his face behave, though you can see him trying. It seems he gives up on that, because instead, he decides to close the gap between you as quickly as possible, sweeping you up in his arms and spinning you around. Where you would normally just giggle, you laugh out loud, taking part in the unrestrained elation of the group. And that which you feel growing in your chest with every second you spend near Sid.

“I thought you were working on your research,” he says after he puts you back on your feet, keeping you held close enough to his chest that you can feel the vibrations of the words.

“Never said I couldn’t work on it from Vancouver,” you reply, cheeky in a way he’s come to expect from you, but that hasn’t ceased to make him smile even wider. There’s nothing to say then, except everything. I’m so proud of you. You did an amazing job. You are amazing. I’m so in love with you. I have been for so long I think I was born loving you. But you don’t say any of that, because you’re not an idiot. You just hold him close until some of his teammates start whistling and egging you on to kiss. You plant an overdramatic kiss on his cheek to satisfy them, finally pulling away as much as you’re willing.

You know he’s socially obligated to spend some time with the team out at the bars, but you’re not particularly in the mood for even more noise. But it’s Sid, and he’s holding your hand as he leads you along, so you can’t imagine not agreeing to go. It’s just a blur of noise and congratulations and dancing and far less drinking than you’d imagined. At least on yours and Sid’s parts. Everyone else seems to be getting properly wasted, but Sid only has as many drinks as you do, and you intend to remember tonight, so you don’t have that many.

Eventually, Sid takes your hand again-- or maybe he’d never stopped holding it-- and tugs you toward the door, giving an uncharacteristic middle finger to his team when they cheer (and chirp) at the two of you leaving. You follow him outside without resistance, knowing anywhere Sid takes you is somewhere you want to go. That place ends up being the Olympic village, a place you never could’ve dreamed you’d see. But here you are, with Sid leading you back to his room like it’s nothing, like his team clearly wasn’t expecting something you hadn’t dared think was a possibility.

Once he pulls you into the room, he holds you close, just squeezing you tight and breathing into your hair for long moments. You let it be, savoring the moment of closeness, appreciating the fact that you get to have this. If nothing else, if you spend the rest of your life pining after him as you have for years, you get to have this.

“I’m glad you came,” Sid says, after an indeterminate amount of time.

“I am too,” you reply, meaning it more than you’ve meant much anything else in your life. You’d assumed you would actually be back home now, working on your project, until seemingly everyone you knew insisted you had to be here. You’re sure they hadn’t meant here, in Sid’s hotel room, in his arms, but they’d meant here nonetheless. And where else could you have possibly ended up? Alone at your own hotel room, sure, if Sid wasn’t Sid, and you weren’t you, and the two of you weren’t who you are, together.

“I scored that goal and all I could think is how much I wished you were there to see it,” he continues, nosing under your ear, “And then you were.” You chuckle gently like you always do when he gets like this, all sentimental and soft. Such a tough, emotionless boy to the world, but they didn’t know him like you did. No one knew him like you did.

“I’m always gonna be there, Sid,” you say, and you mean it. You’ve both been through enough over the years for you to be able to say that for certain, and even if you hadn’t, you still feel it deep in your soul that it’s true. You’d cross oceans for him, climb mountains, take a ten hour flight alone across a continent. For him. Always for him.

“I know,” he replies, like it’s that easy. Like following someone across half the world is easy, like loving the most loved (and most hated) man in the world is easy.

“I appreciate it, y’know,” he continues, interrupting your slightly bitter thoughts, “Everything you do for me. All of it. I see it. And I’m so grateful.” Okay, that’s a little better. Or a lot better. Or enough better that your heart is starting to melt again, as if it’s ever been solid around Sid to begin with. You just bury your nose in his hair and try not to gasp when he places a soft kiss against your neck. The two of you have done many things together; playing, studying, sharing a seat, sharing a bed. But that’s just how friends are, especially in hockey. Maybe it means something to you, maybe his lips soft and wet against your skin send a message, but surely not one he means to send. He’s Sid, and Sid’s never been good at communicating with people, or socializing, or whatever. You’re used to it.

“You smell,” you say, perhaps a bit desperate to break whatever this moment is. He doesn’t actually smell that badly, clearly having taken at least a cursory rinse in the locker room showers earlier, but it’s as good an excuse as any. May as well get another shower at this point, with the slight crowded-bar-smell hanging on him. He just laughs into your skin, which doesn’t help much, and sways the two of you back-and-forth.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” he says, before pulling away to look you in the eye, “Unless you want to.” Which, like, what? Who would want to get rid of him?

“ ‘Cause if you don’t feel the same, I get it,” he continues, babbling in that way he does when he’s nervous, “But I feel like you do, and I do, and you flew across a continent to be here, and you’re the only one I care about being here, and I just--” He won’t stop unless you stop him, and you’re still too scatter-brained to parse what he’s trying to say, so you just put a finger to his lips to silence him. He shuts his mouth immediately, looking into your eyes like he’s waiting for direction. Like you’re the only one who could give him direction.

“Shower first,” you say, not quite sure where else to go with this. Luckily, he nods mutely, following easily when you lead him into the bathroom by your linked hands. He’s obviously not going to start, and you’re still trying to remember how to think, so you’re the first to begin stripping. After your shirt is on the floor and your shoes and socks are on their way to join, he finally snaps into action. He tears off his own clothes and shoes with an urgency you don’t feel quite yet. It’s almost like when you were little kids, and getting showers together after mud fights didn’t have any kind of connotation or expectations.

But then he’s naked, and you’re naked, and you’re not kids anymore. He’s a grown man, carefully built for his career in a way that’s just a touch too appealing, and you’re a random post-grad who happened to be lucky enough to know him before he was him. But again, you’re not who you used to be. Does he find who you are now attractive? Are you worth his time? Or are you still just a friend? Not that that would be a bad thing; no, being Sid’s friend was one of the greatest honors of your life, it’s just. That’s not the extent of what you want him to see you as. You don’t want to be eternally nine years old, shooting pucks and shooting the shit in his driveway. You want to be someone he admires, someone worth talking to, someone worth knowing, someone worth spending time with after he scores the game winning goal in overtime at the goddamn Olympics. Which, it seems, you may be.

But he doesn’t say anything, so neither do you. You just take his hand yet again and lead him into the spray of the now (by far) warm water. For long moments, you just look at each other, letting the spray douse you. But his eyes are dark, and you’re caught between knowing what that look means and not believing it, so you grab the standard issue shampoo and force his head down enough that you can lather his just-long-enough curls. You have to pull him close to rinse, but then put him back into place to get a second lather going, knowing how greasy his hair can get, and how much he appreciates you massaging his scalp. After the second rinse, you take the bar soap in your hand and halt, not sure you can still wash him down without a feeling that wasn’t there when you’d first faced this task. You stand there with soapy hands and helplessly open eyes, simultaneously praying he doesn’t recognize what you’re conveying, and wishing he would finally see through you. You stare and stare, and he stares back, before placing a hand on your hip and the other on your jaw.

“You know why I was so happy you’re here?” he asks, and you’re not sure you want to answer. Because you’re his friend. Because you’re the only thing he has from back home. Because you make him feel safe.

“Because I love you,” he says, his voice hushed and eyes half-lidded, when you refuse to answer. You can feel your mouth drop open just the slightest, and your eyes get a bit too wide and watery for your own comfort. It’s-- no. Sid is. He’s just being Sid, appreciating a friend, letting you know he cares and your trip wasn’t for naught. Just. Anything but what you hadn’t dared to hope.

“Like,” he continues when you don’t respond, “Love you, love you.” That’s not-- you aren’t-- you and Sid aren’t like that, except he continues, “Like more than a friend.” And that’s-- that’s everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for years, but everything you can’t believe. Because even though you knew him when he was still gangly and painfully awkward, he was always still the Next One, in your mind, at least. You always knew he was going to be something special, something amazing, and you were just. Just you. Just some random post-grad who still wasn’t quite sure where she was going with her life. Except, maybe, that it would follow wherever Sid led.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he says, just keeps going, like he’s not rewriting every fact you have in your head about the two of you, about how you’re the one who loves him and not the other way around, “Pretty much as long as I’ve known you.” For a moment you think this is all a joke, but you can’t imagine Sid doing something that cruel to you. Leading you on for his own amusement.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone and you still can’t breathe, can’t imagine how this is real, how this is your life.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to give you a reason to love me,” he continues, like that’s not absolutely ridiculous, like he hasn’t given you every reason to love him every second of the day for the last fifteen years. Like he didn’t call you during Juniors to ask how school was, even though he was doing something more important. Well, maybe not more important, but more prestigious at the time. He had been there for you when you needed extra practice, when you needed someone to hold up flash cards, when you needed someone to make you laugh when no one else could. That’s not really what Sid was known for, honestly, but that’s how you knew him. The one person who could walk into a situation and make you laugh like none of your problems even existed.

The point is, it’s you who should be confessing your unconditional love for Sid, not the other way around. And yet here he is, as he’s always been, one step ahead of the curve. Telling you he loves you as you debate whether you can wash him off without giving yourself away.  Doesn’t matter much now, does it?

“Really?” you ask, just to be sure, to make sure this isn’t some cruel joke, to protect yourself one last time. Sid’s eyes go from determined to unbearably soft, running both hands down the line of your neck.

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, “Of course. Who else could I possibly love?” Your breath, your words, your entire being, gets stuck in your throat. Who else? Who else? Anyone! Anyone else! Your eyes are beading with tears and you’re glad there’s water running over the both of you, because otherwise it might get embarrassing pretty quickly. He could love anyone else, because anyone else wasn’t you. And isn’t that how love always goes? The one you love is always, in some way, better than you, and they always fall for someone better. Because you sit there and believe that as much as you love them, as much as you care for them and protect them and adore them, that there’s someone else better suited for them. And you give up the fight. But.

It’s Sid.

It’s Sid and he’s your best friend, and you haven’t been able to give him up until now, and you still can’t even give him up as he makes the biggest mistake of his life. But maybe loving you isn’t a mistake, because who knows him better than you? Who knows that he likes balsamic vinaigrette with a touch of whole grain mustard on his salads? Who knows that he walks an incredibly specific route around the Penguins arena to get to the room, and who is willing to take that route with him every time? Who knows that he’s so terribly afraid of not being enough that he puts everything he is into being the best, just to be worth something, that they work out with him during the summers, no matter how badly it hurts? Who better for him than you?

You laugh. It’s all you can do. You laugh and laugh and gasp for air and cling to him like he’s the last tangible thing on this planet until you can control yourself enough to look him in the eye. It takes many long moments of resting your head on his chest to get there, but his skin is warm and soft and yields against the careful presses of your lips.

“God, Sid,” you gasp, finally looking up into his dark, dark, scared, eyes, “Fuck.” His lips are soft when they meet yours, and you don’t see the look on his face, because you can’t keep your own eyelids open to watch. Because you’re finally kissing him, and he’s kissing you back,  and he’s clinging onto you like his life depends on it, and his dark lashes flutter open just a second behind your own, like you’re still in sync after all these years, like your souls could never be parted by anything so simple as time or distance.

“Took you long enough,” you say, laughing, despite the thoughts racing through your own head. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I’d travel the world over to see you. I’d do anything for you. I love you.

Suddenly you’re both laughing. Maybe it’s not the time or place to do so, maybe it should’ve “ruined the mood” or something like that, but it’s the way you’ve always been and the way you hope you’ll always be. At first it starts out quiet and breathless as you part for air and look at each other in a newfound light, only to turn to bashful giggling and beautiful characteristic giggle-honks as you lean into each other, foreheads gently pressing together in an all-too-familiar way, eyes squeezed shut. Soon enough, your laughs echo off the walls as you hold each other under the warm spray of water cascading down your bodies and you’re both so terribly vulnerable, so open and bare to each other in this moment, but you can’t make yourself wish that this would ever end.

.

.

Optional Smut Scene Written Below (So we can possibly incorporate it into the main fic somehow if we plan on writing one):

Now that you’ve finally gotten to do it, you can’t quite help yourself from kissing him again, and again and again. His lips are slightly chapped from incessant cold, yet somehow still soft against yours. Both of your bodies are warm from the spray of the water, and you think you might die of heat stroke if you stay in the shower much longer. Besides, you’re not really trying to injure the hockey world’s sweetheart in a bizarre shower sex incident, so you don’t intend to stay in for much longer. Two minutes ago you might have questioned that thought, that you were about to have sex, but there’s no use in denying it now. Sid loves you. He loves you, and you love him, and nothing in this world or the next could stop you from getting him off.

But you can’t quite get yourself to stop kissing him long enough that you can bring up a venue change, because you’ve been thinking about this as long as you’ve known what kissing was for, and now you finally have it. So you hold him close and kiss him hopefully as senseless as he’s leaving you, only kind-of ignoring the press of his growing erection against your hip. You can’t fully ignore it, because it’s, like, there, and it’s Sid, and it’s for you.

Eventually he must have the same thought of the perils of shower sex, becuase he gasps out “bed” against your mouth and you’re helpless but to nod. You reach behind you to shut off the water, and he leads you out of the stall with deep kisses and wandering hands. It’s only when the backs of your still-damp knees hit the bed that it sets in, yeah, you’re going to do this. You’re going to fuck your best friend, and you’re going to do it because you’re in love.

He uses a hand on your back to lower you onto the mattress, like you’re something precious he doesn’t want to break. You can only laugh, making him bend over for a kiss before you scoot to straighten yourself out on the bed, and he follows like he couldn’t imagine an alternative. There’s more kissing, enough that you’d be sick of it with anyone else, and he’s working your breasts like your body is his thesis, rolling and flicking your nipples until you moan into his mouth. You can feel his smile at that accomplishment, and don’t resist giving him the satisfaction again and again.

It could be minutes, could be days, before he moves to your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, kissing and sucking and biting like he wants to leave marks, wants everyone to know you’re off limits. You’re not exactly opposed to the idea, but it is a bit tacky to show up with hickeys everywhere. Still, you’re not complaining. It would be kind of funny to see him all flustered when the guys chirp him half to death about it, anyway. It’s only when he reaches the base of your ribcage that he stops, pulls back enough for you to whine. What the fuck.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says without prompting, and okay, that’s kind of a good reason to pause. Fuck, why doesn’t he have one? Who doesn’t carry around a fucking condom?

“I uh,” he continues, cheeks flaming red from their previous pink flush, “I haven’t really wanted to sleep with anyone else, so.” Oh. That’s pretty sweet, honestly, and just enough to soothe the part of you that wants him inside you, like, now. You force him to meet eyes and smile.

“That’s pretty cheesy, Sidney,” you tease, running a hand through his curls. He buries his face in your stomach and mutters a “shut up”. Maybe you should’ve told him you were coming, so he could be prepared. No matter what you could’ve done, you can still work with this.

“Well,” you sigh overdramatically, “I guess I have a mouth.” You can feel his cocktwitch against your leg as he whispers a heartfelt “Fuck...” under his breath. There’s always tomorrow, you suppose, and it’s not like going down on him is going to be a hardship. Or maybe it will? You’ve never really done… all that, so maybe it’s harder than it looks? Shit, Sid is probably well seasoned in sexual aspects, and you’re gonna look like a fool. Except-

“I uh,” Sid starts, pauses, continues, “I haven’t really… with anyone.” Which is like, mind-blowing, cause he’s Sid and he’s hot and lovely and if you’re understanding him correctly, how has no one jumped on that?

“Haven’t what?” you ask, just for clarification. Good to know exactly what you’re dealing with.

“I’ve never, uh,” Sid seems hesitant to say it out loud, like he’s talking to his teammates and not you, who has known he’s a dork since you met him, “I’ve never had sex.” That’s, um. That’s certainly, something. Like, to be fair, neither have you, so you don’t have much room to speak, but you’re not a world famous athlete with women of all ages banging down your door to fuck.

“Why, though?” you ask, because your brain to mouth filter has been shot since he first kissed you. That’s a pretty personal question to ask, and you kind of feel bad. Until he responds with more ease and grace than you’d ever have expected.

“I always kind of hoped it would be you,” he says, and if he were anyone else, you’d probably try to act smooth about it - but you give him a blushing, broad smile instead, one that you’re sure shows a hint of feeling humbled and a bit over-complimented. Call it sappy all you want, but it’s true. He’s had all the opportunity in the world to have sex and he hasn’t, simply because he wanted it to be with you. You’re much less afraid of being bad at sex now, knowing that you’re on the same level, and it makes you even more eager to get down to it. And if he feels the same way you do- that there’s not much short of serious bodily injury that could make this any less perfect- you don’t have much to be worried about.

“I, uh, I haven’t either,” you respond, ignoring his wide eyes staring up at you, “I was kind of hoping it would be you, too.” In any other situation, it would be humiliating to admit, but, for the millionth time, it’s Sid, and that makes it okay. Sid makes everything okay. He looks hungry, suddenly, in a way he hasn’t yet, and you can only hope you live up to what he’s been imagining. Because he’s been imagining, Jesus Christ.

“Do you, uh, want to… go first, or?” you ask, not quite caring what he decides. But you’re on your back and he’s halfway down your body, so it seems pretty clear what should transpire next. Unless he’s into getting his own first, which is definitely valid, but you’re kind of hoping he wants you to get off first, just so you can focus on giving him the first time that he deserves.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, which isn’t much of an answer, because it could easily mean getting or giving, but any doubt you had about his answer is quickly answered by the way he continues to trail down your abdomen. So okay, yeah, he’s definitely going to eat you out, and that’s like, the subject matter of almost every dream you’ve had for the past five years, but it’s cool. It’s totally cool, and you’re cool, and not short of breath at all.

He spends almost too much time at your pelvis, sucking marks into the delicate skin of your hips and inner thighs, making you squirm with nothing but the heat and pressure of his mouth. It would be embarrassing, probably, with anyone else, but Sid has always had this air of earnest, unabashed passion that makes you feel like you’re allowed to want. And he seems happy enough about it, proud that he’s apparently as good at this as anything else he tries, if the noises you’re making are any indication. The faintest voice at the back of your mind hopes that you can hold up to scrutiny when it’s your turn, but mostly you’re just desperate for him to get on with it already.

“Let me know if it’s good?” he requests, the first outright sign of insecurity he’s shown since getting you into bed. You’re not sure it’s possible for him to mess this up, honestly, because it’s like. It can’t be that hard, right? And at first, he confirms these assumptions, running his tongue over your labia, just enough pressure and slickness to make it work. He uses his hands to spread your thighs more, baring more of you to him. And it’s... Okay, it’s good. It’s like, really good. But it’s not enough. He’s running his tongue through your folds and sucking and you’re making noises that surely couldn’t be attractive in any other context, but it’s not enough. If he wanted to keep you here for the next year, eating you out, this would be perfect, but you’re kind of looking to come, and this just isn’t gonna get you there.

“C’mon, Sid,” you plead, “More.” At that, he works his way higher, like he’s searching for- oh. Okay. Yeah, that’s your clit and he probably only knows it because he read about it somewhere, because he’s a nerd and you love him for it. Except the single-minded attention is just a bit too much at this point, and you have to push him away when he tries to suck hard at you, too much too soon, despite feeling like you’ve been ready forever.

“Just, fuck,” you curse, not sure how to direct him. But he seems to get the message, going back to alternating wide stripes up your folds and directionless swiping with a pointed tongue. Eventually, he gets up the nerve to dip into you with his tongue, and it’s just enough that you buck into his face. He takes this as encouragement, as he should, so he continues interspersing his licks with deep strokes of his tongue. You can feel your orgasm building in the curve of your hips, the back of your neck, the ends of your teeth, when he meets your eyes once again. You just nod, and he seems to get the message, going for your clit again. He licks and sucks and whereas it was too much before, it’s just enough now. You can’t help the way your hips move incessantly toward his mouth, desperate for anything he’ll give you, and let your orgasm wash through you in cresting waves that mimic the rolling of your hips. You wish you’d been looking him in the eye, something romantic like that, but it is what it is. And what it is, is the best orgasm you’ve had in your short life. You could probably die riding his face, fingers clenched tight in his dark curls.

Eventually, you have to push him away, too sensitive for him to keep going. You’re not exactly ready to jump back into action, too wrung out by all of it to immediately spring up and suck him off. Which is definitely something in the future, because he’s pressing the heel of his hand to himself, and you’re pretty sure he’d come at any moment if you could just manage to get down to it. After long moments catching your breath, you’re finally back to earth enough to move. It seems as though that’s not really a problem, though, because Sid has been watching you intensely since you separated, like your pleasure was his own. He kisses you deeply, and you can’t decide if the taste of yourself on his tongue is sexy or weird. Probably sexy. Kind of hot. Definitely hot.

It’s easy enough to sit up and push Sid back, laying him flat to switch the dynamic enough that you can kiss him breathless. You mimic his movements, drawing long lines along his neck and collarbones and chest with your mouth, like you’re trying to make a topographical map. God, he’d probably love that, huh? That shouldn’t be hot, but it kind of is, like everything about Sid, so you let it slide. Thinking of maps isn’t the way you thought this would go, but knowing Sid, you probably should have expected it. If he’s a nerd, you are too.

Almost as soon as you’d started, you’re at his hips, teasing him with sucking kisses and light bites as much as he had you. He doesn’t get the reference, or at least doesn’t make it a competition, as you’d almost assumed it would be, rolling his hips toward you far more smoothly than you’d anticipated.

“Been practicing?” you ask, sucking a mark at the base of his dick. You kind of hope he hasn’t, because you haven’t, but you wouldn’t fault him for the experience.

“Might have watched some videos,” he grunts, throwing his head back at the suction to the crease of his hip, “Thought about it.” You’re over being surprised that he’d thought of you, because he’s said it enough, but the statement still shoots straight to your own groin. It’s all you need to duck down and take the head of his dick into your mouth. You huff out a laugh at the sound he makes in response to your lips, and you hope he knows it’s not mean-spirited. You’d laughed at each other plenty over the years, and you hope you don’t have to stop now that this is a… thing. You run your tongue down his length and back up, trying to the best of your ability to be sexy, but you’re not sure if it’s working. He groans and closes his eyes as he throws his head back, though, so you take that as a good sign. After lavishing the base with as much attention as you’re willing with how badly you want him in your mouth, you finally take him down as far as you dare. It’s not necessarily impressive, but it’s enough to make him take hold of your head. You don’t expect him to force you down, and he doesn’t, though you kind of want him to. Logically, you know you don’t have the experience to resist gagging if he did, but the possibility is definitely something to work on.

You try it yourself after a while, curious as to how much you can take. You’d gladly take whatever he gave you, but you’re pretty sure your gag reflex would disagree. But it ends up that he just twists his hips in smooth arcs, more interested in the fact that it’s you getting him off than anything else. It’s kind of heady, to know that he’s turned on by your presence more than what you’re doing, but also a challenge to your over-competitive soul. If he’s going to come for you, he’s going to feel it.

So you pull out all the tricks you’ve heard about, teasing the head and the base with your tongue and fingers, twisting your wrist, making as much eye contact as you can manage. Sid has waited his whole life to have his first time with you, and you’re going to make it as good as you can. Not just out of competitiveness, but out of adoration.

He digs his fingers into your scalp when he’s close, mumbling something incoherent, and you don’t bother even trying to pull off. He comes into the back of your mouth and down your throat, and you’re glad you’d stayed on, just to see the look on his face when you do. He’s beautiful like this. Like anything, really. Put together or torn apart, he’s perfect in your eyes. Maybe it’s sappy, but it’s true.

You gently slide his cock out of your mouth, your tongue sliding against the still-hard erection as you finally release him. Licking your lips, you hummed to yourself, surprised at how tolerable he tasted. You’d been under the impression that it would be gross, but it honestly wasn’t that bad; a little salty, a tad bitter, but overall fine. Possibly just because it’s Sid, but fine either way. ‘Yeah,’ you thought. ‘I’m doing this way more often.’ Suddenly the realization hits you: this may very well be the first of many times you’ll get to do this. Your cheeks burn a little bit hotter than they do already as you try to hide your giddy smile.

Your thoughts are suddenly halted once Sid tugs you up towards him, connecting your lips once again. You’re a bit surprised at how deeply he kisses you-- as much as you’d enjoyed the taste of him, you hadn’t expected him to be interested in even the possibility of the same. Nonetheless, he kisses you just as he had before, like he’s still amazed he gets to have this, and he’s trying to make the most of it in case it’s taken away. After you pull away for breath, he moves to plant kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggle and lightly smack his chest, burying your face in his neck to hide your smile. No part of tonight has been anything you’d imagined, from his goal to where you are now, together, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey Y/N?” he says, once your giggles have calmed and you’re left breathing against his skin. You hum, not quite up to the task of speaking yet. He nudges you until you lift your head, so he can look you in the eye in that way that makes you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul.

“I love you,” he says. You don’t even have to think about it.

“I love you too,” you reply, easy as breathing. Broad smiles break over both of your faces. You know you both mean it, more than you’ve meant anything in your lives. He kisses you again, just lazy movement of lips against lips, so warm and comfortable you don’t bother wondering how long it goes on for.

“Sleep time,” you demand, eventually. He grins and tosses you around until he’s spooned up against your back, arms wrapped securely around you. You take deep, steady breaths until you’re just on the edge of consciousness. He says “I love you” again, whispered into the back of your neck like he thinks you’re already asleep. You mumble it back, before allowing the darkness to take you. You’ll have every moment of the rest of your lives to prove it to him, if you have any say in the matter.

[power-of-ages-writeblr]

11/11/11 Tag (22/11/11? Tag?)

Another one of these! This time, I was tagged TWICE by the wonderful @sassypandacandy (go read her books,, i love them). I’ve gotta answer the questions, come up with my OWN questions, and then tag 11 people to answer, only I’m not going to tag eleven people because I still don’t think I quite KNOW eleven people yet. Also, because I got tagged twice with two different sets of questions, I’m going to answer both sets in one post, and then just come up with eleven questions of my own, because it takes me yonks to come up with questions and I’m lazy. Eso si que es, y’know?

What’s the first thing you remember writing?

A four-page story about a Diplodocus when I was… definitely before I was ten years old. Maybe like five or six. I was very proud of it.

What’s the last thing you wrote purely for yourself?

Actually, I pretty much always write for myself, so the last thing that I wrote/started to write… ooh-er. That’d be the Warrior Cats fanfiction I’ve been working on. :P

Are you a WIP playlist person or a WIP aesthetics person?

Playlist, probably. I tend not to make playlists specifically for WIPs – instead, I’ll assign songs and soundtracks to specific characters and scenes – but I’m still better at throwing together playlists then making aesthetics LMAO

What’s a book you wish you’d written?

Uuuuh… maybe it’s just because I’m young (barely an adult), but I don’t have anything where it’s like “ah I wish I’d used that idea” or “wish I’d written this book”. I still have a lot of writing ahead of me, hopefully, so all my ideas I hope to actually get out some day. (Assuming that’s,,, what the question is asking me)

What’s your favourite book adaptation?

Ironic because it doesn’t follow the books that closely, but I love the How To Train Your Dragon films very much.

Which of your characters would you like to have a conversation with? What would you like to talk about?

The downside to Pandemonium’s Bane being filled with eccentric personalities and cooky characters means that there’s actually few of them I’d LIKE to have a conversation with, because most would be too dickish or too annoying for my tastes xDD That being said, I think me and Plue are on very similar wavelengths, and we have a lot in common (such as both of us wanting to write), so I wouldn’t mind chatting with her for a bit if I had to.

Which of your WIP worlds would you most like to live in?

The Power of Ages stories are mostly set in one universe (the Nimbus System) so I guess I’d have to go with that one by default. There’s Neil’s dimension, I guess, but it’s destroyed, so…

Have you ever written anything inspired purely by a song? If so, what song was it?

I haven’t written anything inspired just by a single song, but I HAVE got certain scenes or character backstories based off of songs, or even the concepts they’re based around. I have a whole battle between brothers planned out to the soundtrack that plays when Shifu fights Tai Lung in Kung Fu Panda, and listening to the Iron Man soundtracks helped me with both the conception of a new character and her placement in my roster (and yes, she does invent things and fly around, although there are also some major differences)

Have you ever written poetry? Do you still? Why or why not?

I… haven’t written poetry. And the reason for that is… I mean, I guess it doesn’t really jibe with me? Granted I haven’t considered it heavily, but it was always my least favourite aspect of learning English at school, and I just never fell in love with it the same way I fell in love with writing conventional narratives.

Who would direct an adaptation of your writing?

I ain’t big on directors, so IDEK. I guess in terms of the rewrite of Maelstrom (my current main WIP) I’d pick Sam Raimi, who proved with his Spider-Man films that he can blend fun superhero narratives with slightly darker elements pretty well.

How do you motivate yourself when you don’t feel like writing?

Mainly by having multiple projects to work on! That way, if I ain’t feeling what I’m working on, I can switch over to another one, and bingo bango, I can keep writing. (Hypothetically. Sometimes it ain’t that simple, obviously.) I also use music, and I also take advantage of being in situations where it’s like, I’d rather write then do the alternative. Do you know how much writing I got done in lessons? So much. :P

What scenes are the worst to write?

The ones that I haven’t planned out – sometimes I have very specific ideas for how I want scenes to happen, and I’m excited to get to them, but other times they’re just obligatory because there’s certain information I have to convey. That makes it a challenge to write it in a compelling way, because why should the reader care if I don’t?

What can you say is a thing you love most about your writing?

I’d say I like the dialogue/character interplay/narrative description-y sort of stuff. I think I’m good at giving everything levity, and keeping it breezy and entertaining even if I myself find the writing process to be a bit of a slog. Plus, it’s funny to read back over, and it’s also funny to watch my discord quote a line and then keysmash at it. :P

What is writing advice that you take to heart?

It’s from Aaron Sorkin’s writing masterclass – the idea that a story is defined by the main character’s INTENTION, the OBSTACLE facing them, and the TACTICS they use to overcome it.

How do you keep yourself from quitting writing together?

Honestly, it’s not like I have to try that hard! By this point I’m desperate to tell these stories that I have in mind, so I have a sort of innate compulsion to write because I wanna get it all out there. I’ll get back to you if that compulsion runs out, but for now, I see myself writing long into the future.

What is the strangest thing you’ve searched up on the internet for writing purposes?

Probably the capabilities of medieval-era people to recognise nuclear technology. (And for the record, the answer is “pretty low”.)

Not a question, but shoutout a writeblr (or multiple) that you think needs to hear that they are awesome and doing a great job (by the way everyone, you all are awesome and doing a great job. Keep it up.)

Well obviously I’m gonna shout out the person who tagged me in the first place – Kels. I await the final(?) book in the DOOT series with great anticipation.

Your OCs are trapped on a deserted island, what would they be doing?

I WANNA say they’d try and work as a team, but, uh. It may not go so well. Dante and Plue would probably be the most practical. Gaia would be good at grunt work but not focus on the task at hand, Rose would be functionally useless but good at moral support, Jacen would try to organise things but Gaia would just push him in the sea for jokes… I reckon they’d escape eventually, I suppose, but it wouldn’t exactly be a clean-cut affair, you know? xD

What is your biggest inspiration for your WIPs?

I actually have various inspirations – I think collectively my biggest inspiration is the MCU, in that it’s a bunch of interconnected stories set in the same universe about different characters and also there are superpowers. xDD

A habit you have when it comes to writing?

Not doing it (thank you writer’s block)

A fact about your world and/or characters?

I have debated killing of MANY of my characters, but have only actually come to concrete decisions one way or the other with a few.

If your WIP/s got turned into a movie or series, what would be the quote on the promotional poster or trailer?

Oh, I’m gonna do this for ALL the WIPs, this seems fun!

Of Encounters and Trysts – Two Hearts, One Soul (or something equally cheesy)

Hit and Run – Even the indomitable aren’t invincible

Maelstrom – Destiny Begins

The Destroyer of Worlds – One Case, One Team, One Superpower

Survivor – It’s every man for themselves

Savants – Not so different

Omnia Vincit Amor – Good things come to those who get traumatised

Cometh the Hour – Six thousand years from home

  Alright, now it’s (finally!) time for my eleven questiones:

1 – Does music help you write, or does it just distract you?

2 – What’s your favourite writing tool? A laptop? Notepad and pens? Quills and inkpot?

3 – Do you have to physically go to places to get a feel for them and feel as though you can set writing in them?

4 – What got you into writeblr?

5 – How well can your OCs dance, do you think?

6 – Do you have a favourite writing snack? If so, what is it?

7 – Bionicle. Thoughts?

8 – Is there a specific piece of media (movie, show, book, w/e) that you could say has been more of an inspiration to you than anything else?

9 – What’s the best soundtrack you know for getting pumped and hyped up?

10 – If you could only write one genre for the rest of your writing career, what would you go with?

11 – What’s your favourite music-based meme? (Examples include “LET’S GO”, “CREEPER/AWW MAN” and “We Are Number One But ___”)

 Tagging… @thelimeonade, and @dawnuchiha!

[thechembow]

Orgonite Myths Debunked

Towerbusters ready for gridding in the environment

Most people have never heard of orgonite, let alone orgone energy, the life force energy discovered by Wilhelm Reich in the 1930s. At the time of his scientific discovery, the existence of this energy had already been known by cultures who understood that there was a life force energy throughout us and the universe known by other names, such as chi or prana. Wilhelm Reich used orgone energy in cancer treatment, atmospheric cleaning, and drought abatement with great success. This energy has been suppressed for decades by the false rulers because of its great ability to improve human life.

Wilhelm Reich

More people are now becoming aware of orgonite, an invention based on Reich’s research, which is used to neutralize EMF and to clean the sky of air pollution, most notably chemtrails. However, among those who have heard of orgonite, how it works is largely misunderstood. More often than not, the reaction to hearing about orgonite is that it is just a bunch of unscientific, new age, hippie nonsense. This is an understandable reaction, as it was my first thought too when I first began researching solutions to chemtrails back in 2013. When the light bulb went off over my head and I did a search for videos on YouTube on “how to stop chemtrails,” orgonite was the first thing to come up. The purpose of my search was to find ideas on how to actually stop chemtrails, not on how to waste my time writing letters to parasites who work for a business called “the government.” Somehow I knew intuitively that there had to be a real world solution and did the search as if guided by an outside force.

But when I saw what orgonite looked like, I immediately thought there would be no way a small lump of resin, metal, and crystals could do anything against something as formidable as geoengineering. To add to the disbelief was the fact that I could find no competent explanation online of how it worked. All I could find was mystical new age nonsense, and a whole lot of disinformation. Finally, I saw a video referencing the work of Ken Rohla, an electrical engineer who explained the science of scalar energy, which is the physics term for orgone energy. Once I got the scientific explanation, tried making orgonite, and observed the amazing results, not just in the sky, but in my own life, I realized how important orgonite was for everyone and everything that lives on Earth.

Since first hearing about orgonite in 2013, finally making it in 2014, and distributing thousands of orgonite towerbusters into the environment to the present day, I have learned more and more about how deep the orgone energy rabbit hole goes. The suppression campaign is everywhere, and often where you least expect it. A small piece of disinformation may discourage you from even trying out a piece and feeling the great benefits in your life. So let’s dispel some of these orgonite myths which have hindered mainstream acceptance of orgonite and orgone energy for too long.

If you have a piece of orgonite, you will not see chemtrails over your home. Orgonite is a free energy device that constantly provides orgone energy to clean the atmosphere and neutralize deadly energy. This does not stop parasites from laying down chemtrails. Orgone energy repels toxins away from the Earth through a “scalar wave vortex,” the same orgone energy field found on mountaintops and at the peaks of pyramids. Chemtrails break up in this healthy energy field, and funnel shaped and even rounded lenticular clouds often result because the vortex is spiraling. One cannot expect a completely blue sky when there are two sides of an energetic war going at it up there. One can, however, watch how orgone energy works to clean the pollution and enjoy the liberating feeling that chemtrails are no longer a threat.

Orgonite blocks EMF. Orgonite is a generator of orgone energy, which restructures the chaotic waveform of EMF. It quiets the wave and makes it more coherent so that it passes through the body more gently and with less disruption to the body’s own natural energy field. The EMF is neutralized, but is still there, which is why cell phones and wifi still work, and why EMF meters may or may not show a noticeable change in the presence of orgonite. A metal box can fully block EMF, and it can also be attenuated with a Faraday cage around the offending emitter. The cage doesn’t block 100% of EMF, but rather absorbs it into the metal cage material, reducing exposure significantly. Turning off your cell phones and other wireless devices is the most effective way to remove EMF from your environment.

Wispy, funnel shaped clouds in the sky are not chemtrail material, but rather are air spirits called sylphs, who are attracted to orgonite and have come to eat the pollution. I feel like this myth discredits itself without my having to say anything. People who are deathly afraid of chemtrails (the non-orgonite people), look at funnel shaped clouds with fear. Mystical new agers may see them as angels or spirits. While these shapes can look angelic or terrifying, depending on your favored source of disinformation, they are actually a great sign that a scalar wave vortex is throwing particulate pollution away from the Earth.

You can’t use aluminum in orgonite. Aluminum is pretty standard in tactical orgonite, such as towerbusters and holy hand grenades. It is lightweight and inexpensive, so it’s a great material to use if you plan on gifting a large area. You may use any type of metal in orgonite, including aluminum, iron, brass, copper, steel, and more, as long as the shavings are fine and plentiful. Many people have a stigma against aluminum because you’re not supposed to ingest it, and because it is believed that aluminum is an ingredient in chemtrails. Fortunately, you won’t be eating your orgonite. Georg Ritchl of Orgonise Africa and us here at Team Chembow swear by aluminum TBs, and we’ve both documented great results cleaning up our environments with them. The idea that aluminum may block orgone energy may apply to large pieces of aluminum in orgonite, but one would not want any large pieces of any metal in orgonite, only fine shavings.

The copper coil must be wound clockwise. Copper coils are not even necessary for functioning orgonite. Many people do not use them at all. According to Dowin Gardner, author of The Science of Rain, a copper coil increases the “electro-momentum” of the orgonite. They help to increase negative ions in the atmosphere, which clean the air and encourage the hydrogen bonding of water molecules for healthy clouds. Copper coils may be wound clockwise or counterclockwise with an equal effect.

Orgonite can go bad through absorbing negative energy, and will need to eventually be thrown away or destroyed. Orgonite is a perpetually functioning free energy device, which keeps working as long as it exists. We have revisited places that were gifted over the years, and based on the healthy atmosphere, abundant plant growth, happy people, and birds on cell phone towers, we can see that the orgonite is still working. Birds will only sit on a cell phone tower which has been gifted with a piece of orgonite because its deadly energy has been neutralized. Orgonite doesn’t absorb DOR (deadly radiation such as EMF). It simply transmits OR (orgone) into the atmosphere, restructuring the DOR and rendering it useless in the parasitic weather warfare and mind control agenda.

The government can “pulse” orgonite and render it inert. Orgonite cannot be “turned off.” In an environment that has a piece of orgonite, if additional EMF emitters are introduced, more orgonite may be necessary to continue to enjoy a pure atmosphere. The worst thing “they” can do is add DOR sources, but it is up to us to reject the addictive technology of smart phones if we ever want to see an end to this. For now, any orgonite placed in the environment will continue to function. The government does not have the technology to disable orgonite, nor does that technology exist. Orgone energy is the highest form of defense and the most powerful energy in the universe. We just need to increase it on Earth to create an environment where the parasites can no longer thrive.

They can also find your orgonite gifts and remove them from the environment. I wouldn’t even be able to find the orgonite we’ve gifted anymore. The idea is to hide it well in dense foliage or under the ground. They do know when their DOR sources are neutralized, but all they can do is try harder to DORize in the push and pull of the energetic war between OR and DOR. We’re giving these mindless parasites just a little too much credit to think they can locate and remove the orgonite. We’ve observed that our gifts are still in place, and if we ever feel that one has been removed, we simply replace it. Any orgonite that can be seen will likely be removed, but probably because no one knows what it is.

Orgonite was invented by Karl Welz. We just don’t know for sure. He takes credit for it and trademarked the word “orgonite” in 2003, after Don Croft, Georg Ritschl, and others were already making and gifting orgonite around the world. Welz claims to have been using the word “orgonite” in commerce since 1995. The trademark is in the scientific equipment category, not arts and crafts, and refers to a device whose function is a “psychic energy magnet.” This is not the type of device that we or other orgonite makers are manufacturing. He also harasses orgonite makers worldwide with aggressive and threatening e-mails for using “his” word, and has had numerous orgonite shops online, including Team Chembow’s Etsy store, shut down even in the absence of the trademarked word. The collusion between Welz and corrupt corporations like Etsy to suppress orgonite makers to the point of an unlawful disruption of the artisans’ businesses shows a total lack of understanding of the very life force energy he claims to work with. Welz offers licenses at a cost of $500 per year to be allowed to use the word “orgonite” in online marketplaces.

Orgonite converts negative orgone energy into positive orgone energy. There is no such thing as negative or positive orgone energy. Wilhelm Reich’s term, DOR, or deadly orgone radiation, is unfortunately somewhat confusing. He used it to describe immobilized life force, or stagnating energy. DOR simply means the opposite of OR, or orgone energy, which is always positive and life giving. We use the term DOR to describe any type of deadly radiation, including EMF and nuclear radiation. “POR” or “positive orgone radiation” is not part of Reich’s scientific terminology and appears nowhere in his books.

Orgonite must be grounded or it can transfer deadly energy to you. There is no need to ground orgonite. It works fine on a tabletop, under your pillow, in the ocean, under the ground, or anywhere on Earth. Orgonite never transmits anything other than life force energy.

There are specific dimensions for orgonite, based on sacred geometry. Orgonite’s function is based on the combination of ingredients, not the shape of the device. Pyramids work great, but so do puck shaped towerbusters. As long as the orgonite contains a good amount of fine metal shavings, quartz crystals, and an optional copper coil in a medium of catalyzing resin, it will function properly.

Orgonite can be dangerous if not made correctly. The worst thing orgonite can be is ineffective. It is never dangerous. It’s an extremely simple device with an astoundingly powerful function. Anyone can make it.

After an area has had a lot of orgonite gifted to it, if there is a “whiteout” sky or a lot of chemtrails it means the orgonite isn’t working. A flat, overcast sky is the result of heavy DOR, which causes air pollution to linger and inhibits the formation of coherent and healthy clouds. After orgonite is gifted to a new area, there is often a parasitic backlash against the influx of healthy orgone energy. They will fight back to DORize as hard as they can. If you watch the sky throughout the day, you will see an eventual breakdown of any chemtrails and the process of transmutation will reveal a deepening blue sky and the formation of spiral shaped, and eventually puffy clouds. The sky will then clear. If there are still towers which have not been gifted, the parasites will use them to their full extent to try and undo your work, so just get them later! The “whiteout” is a psy-op to make the gifter feel discouraged, as if his gifts aren’t working. Understand that they will always DORize, and we must continue to make and gift orgonite. It’s a war.

Chembusters, or orgonite cloudbusters, can create cataclysmic weather and should not be used. While Wilhelm Reich’s Cloudbuster could only be operated by a professional and could only be used for short increments of time because of its extreme effects on weather restoration, the orgonite cloudbuster, attributed to Don Croft, also known as the chembuster, is much less powerful. It still does great work to balance the weather over a considerable distance, but in a slower and more natural way that anyone can use regardless of experience with orgone energy tools. The orgonite cloudbuster is just a very large orgonite, which is always beneficial and never harmful.

It’s better to use an environmentally friendly medium, such as plaster or beeswax, rather than polyester resin, when making orgonite. To make powerful orgonite, a catalyzing resin is necessary. You can make devices for your home using other materials, but the effect will be about as strong as what the crystals would produce without being put into a device made with plaster or beeswax. In order to activate the piezoelectric properties of quartz, the crystals must be squeezed upon by the resin as it hardens through the chemical reaction of catalyzation. Orgonite needs to be powerful and durable to last in the environment and take down the dark control grid. This is no time to worry about minutia, like the usage of small amounts of petroleum to bring about sweeping environmental clean-ups. There is no need to demonize materials from the Earth which some corporations use irresponsibly, when we can use them for good.

Orgonite makes some people feel bad and is disagreeable to them. While this may be true, it is not the human being that dislikes the effect. It is the parasite that has attached itself etherically to that human that dislikes it. If you have an intestinal parasite, you will crave the foods it desires, not what’s actually good for you. People who are under heavy mind control and are addicted to DOR (like heavy smart phone users) often cannot handle orgone energy. It is contrary to what they’re used to. They have etheric parasites enjoying a banquet of their negative emotions every day, and these parasites get angry when their food source is diminished, so they may take it out on the human as an etheric attack. It is actually this attack that is disagreeable to the human, but he may misconstrue orgonite as the source of the problem. This is similar to when you detox and feel sick temporarily as the toxins are released from the body. It is not the detox supplement, but the releasing toxins which are creating the unpleasant, and temporary, effect.

In conclusion, I could not imagine a life without orgonite to keep me safe from deadly energies, ensure healthy rainy seasons, keep the air clean, and generally improve my own health and life force energy. It is my sincere hope that having read this article, that you will try out a piece of properly made orgonite, or even make your own. Easy to follow tutorials on orgonite making are available at www.thechembow.com, as well as everything you need to know about how they work and how our environment has experienced a total turnaround since we started gifting orgonite in 2014.

There is no reason to feel helpless or depressed, when the solution to geoengineering and EMF, including the 5G network everyone is so afraid of, is here with us now! Considering the suppression campaign of orgone energy since Wilhelm Reich discovered it, it is no surprise that orgonite is also being suppressed via disinformation campaigns all over the internet. Anyone who has used orgonite and enjoyed its effects would never portray it as potentially dangerous, would avoid making it sound crazy and unscientific, and would never try to stop anyone from experiencing the life changing benefits of something so simple and fun to make at home. With an understanding of the science of orgonite, we can easily debunk the mystical nonsense which has relegated this greatest of technologies to the lunatic fringe and finally make orgonite a household word.

Share the love, gift orgonite

[tkmedia]

Will England have failed if they lose to Denmark?

It’s England v Denmark time. And the mailbox is here to ask whether defeat would be seen as failure. Send your mails to theeditor@football365.com Forza Italia Itza coming Rome! Calvino …Cometh the hour, cometh the Mancini. Chris Hardy (sorry, not sorry) …What a game. Was watching thinking England are going to struggle against either of these if we make it to the final. I expect Italy to win now to be honest. So looking forward to thisevening. I really hope we make it to the final. Also to the guy who was talking about co-commentators… I much prefer Jenas to Murphy. I really can’t stand listening to him. James EFC …Credit to Italy for making it to the final. They gave up so much of the ball in the first half but barely gave up chances on goal. I think it was always their intention to let Spain have the hall and I think they had the confidence that they could contain whatever came their way. In some respects they possibly should’ve done better because Spain should be knackered having already played 120 minutes twice in the past week. I actually thought Italy would look much worse without Spinazola and Emerson definitely took away some of their flexibility in terms of what positions he took up when Italy were on the ball but they were still threatening. Chiesa and Barella are stand out players. Unai Simon clearly hadn’t done his homework for the shoot out because he fell for Jorginho’s hop thing. I’ve literally never seen a keeper fall for that and the only explanation is that he didn’t know it was coming. Italy are probably the worst opponent for England to face in the final, should England qualify. Tactically so astute, some wise old heads and some really attacking quality. Minty, LFC Scouting report Just on my way back from the match; we can take ‘em! Come on England! Andrew, Banbury If we lose to Denmark… If we lose to Denmark tonight, would it be seen as a failure? When we went out of the World Cup to Croatia in the semi-finals of the World Cup three years ago we missed a great chance to get to our first final since 1966 but it wasn’t viewed as a failure because we had gotten further in the tournament than we were expected to and done better than fans and pundits thought we would. But this time with ‘home advantage’ at Wembley and playing a team we are apparently fancied to beat if we were to lose in a semi-final would it be seen as a failure? Dan Factor, London Fanmail for Andy Andy starts his dismal grunt of an email by claiming he doesn’t want to piss on anyone’s chips. Andy, why lie? The only thing you set out to do was exactly that, I’m not sure why you want to pretend otherwise. However if you genuinely do not want to soak the collective tatties may I suggest you f**k off with your rubbish opinions and keep them to your grim self? Thanks. Jesus, I thought I was a miserable c**t. Well, I know I am. I just didn’t realise that I’m also a ray of sunshine piercing through the grey world of Andy. thayden Fanmail for Paul I read your e-mail regarding the Euros and England. Its true you must be Irish because that e-mail was dripping the colour green. I was going to write some classy comeback but then I thought, why bother. Instead… GO F*** YOURSELF!!! Paul Norris …Paul (Dublin) in the afternoon mailbox is just one of many who has made the claim that England have had the easiest run to the semi-finals. Is this really true? For starters Spain had an easier group – Sweden, Slovakia and Poland is a much easier set of opponents than England had in their group and then had Croatia and Switzerland to dispatch on their way to the semi-finals. Am I going crazy or is that a much easier route to the semi-final? Denmark had a group with one titan but also had Finland and Russia and then faced Wales and Czech Republic in the knockout stages- is that really a tougher set of fixtures than England have had? Italy did have a tough quarter-final but had an easier set of opponents in the group stages and had Austria in the round of 16 while England was facing Germany. Hmm, I wonder which team had a tougher assignment. What am I missing here? Turiyo Damascene (PS: I hate the use of the word ‘easy’ in this context but it’s the only way I can properly engage with the people making this argument), Kigali, Rwanda Easy draw? Really? Mailers are consistently using the ‘easiest draw ever’ argument to quash any shred of optimism around the England team’s route to the semi-finals – but I have to wonder the point of this criticism. In sports like football, once you’ve actually won something people – specifically fans – rarely seem to linger much on how you’ve done it. In this spirit – are any tournament wins generally rated above others due to the quality of opposition faced? In Euro 2016, Portugal surely had an unbelievably easy run until meeting France in the final – with group stage draws against Hungary, Austria and Iceland, then knockout games against Croatia, Poland and Wales. All teams that, on paper, they should have beaten easily – and only scraped by in the majority. Not sure if they care. The ‘easiest draw ever’ argument is proactively critical of England in case they do win the Euros. It seems based on the expectation that people will assume that a team that wins a tournament is the best team at that tournament. This is of course not always the case. From my perspective football is as much a celebration of luck as it is of prowess – about narrative and emotion rather than a process to find out the objectively best team in the tournament. CR7 would probably punch me in the head for saying this but maybe winning isn’t necessarily about being the best. Portugal could barely beat a team in Euro 2016 and would unlikely be considered a particularly good side from that era. Wigan wasn’t the best team in England because of their FA Cup win – playing Bournemouth/Macclesfield/Huddersfield/Everton and Millwall on the way to the final. These wins are more about things going right at the right moments – quality and fortune in the right measure. Celebration of victory isn’t necessarily celebration of dominance/prowess – it’s just about being happy to be there at the end with a nice shiny bit of metal to take home with you. Basically, if England lose to Denmark these criticisms don’t matter – because they lost anyway – if they win the tournament then who cares – because they’ve won. I don’t know if I’d prefer England to win by steamrollering the seven top-ranked teams in the tournament 5-0 each (I definitely would) – but there’s something about that which seems a bit joyless.

I don’t consume a massive array of media but the sense I get is that not much of the optimism around England’s performance in this tournament is based on them being objectively the best team in Europe. Hoping you can win a tournament and liking a team isn’t necessarily the same as thinking you’re better than everyone else. I get how pretty harmless things like the emotion around winning a football match can be used/exploited by more nefarious forces – and would cringe at the prospect of a gloating British establishment on the off chance that England does go all the way. But it seems pretty innocuous at this point. (Anon) Just chill out F365 weirdos Wow some of the recent mailboxes have been strange. From being torn about wanting England to win in case Boris does something annoying, to the group of people complaining about English arrogance, it’s all very weird. Aside from the fact that people are just having a laugh as our team is performing vaguely well for once, have these people considered that the fans chanting might not actually think it’s necessarily coming home, but they actually just enjoy singing the song? Nobody was complaining at fans claiming Will Grigg was on fire and I’m pretty sure about 20 different clubs sing ‘we’re by far the greatest team the world has ever seen’. Just chill out and enjoy the scintillating show of attacking football England are providing us all… Louis (I thought football was meant to be fun?) A message from Germany My name is Nik and I am writing to you all to say, just enjoy it. The negativity, as well as the positivity have both been brought to the fore, but it is now time to just enjoy yourselves. A semi-final of a European Championship or a World Cup does not come around too often. Take it from a German who before 2018 and 2021 thought a semi-final was more of a formality, it is not. I am already looking forward to our next (whenever that may be). Southgate, the Players, the media, everyone just needs to enjoy this game. Win or lose. No one is to blame for failure. Everyone to laude for success. Enjoy it. Us Germans have not been able to enjoy one for five years. Nik (Hansi Flick is going to win in Qatar though isn’t he? won everything else…), Munich Spotting the w**kers You know that action film you really like, that one someone told you was crap and not as good as the 1970s black and white French masterpiece they liked? You know that album you said you like but someone insisted you were an idiot because it wasn’t as good as their first one when only they liked them? You know when you thought that someone was a wanker? They are the same people who are trying to argue that England aren’t any good and cant be enjoyed because they aren’t 1970s Brazil. And you were right, they were a wanker then and they still are now and you can enjoy this England, this manager and this team as you please. Sykes Read the full article

[rorykillmore]

heres kind of a more in-depth one: where do your characters fall on a morality scale? like from best to worst i guess

hmmmm this is trickybecause i wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a linear thing – like my charactersdraw different lines in the sand for different issues?? for example, some of mycharacters who will straight up KILL aren’t as comfortable being as being asmean or underhanded as some of the ones who don’t’, etc, but i made a sort ofrough order. it’s weird because, especially towards the middle, it’s not necessarily a ranking of who’s the best person, it’s just... complicated, idk

okay we have kara as thesort of, beacon of moral purity of my roster – she has a no-kill rule that’snot… quite as strict as clark’s or barry’s, like she’ll break it if it’s necessary,but given how powerful she is it generally. isn’t, and she’s also usually veryagainst overly brutalizing someone in a fight, or painful emotionalmanipulation, or collateral damage… the list goes on. she doesn’t even like beingmean to people in her day to day life! she will also like, dig her heels in andstand very firm behind her moral values, which almost makes me surprised thatshe and sasuke haven’t had more conflict than they have – but then again ithink sasuke generally tends to back off and let kara and ratchet do theirMoral Thing and it doesn’t come up as much of a problem since the superfriendsare powerful enough to handle most situations without being driven to moral extremes.anyways yeah. kara probably easily takes the moral high ground on the mostissues out of all my characters. she’s a ray of sunshine

okay next… this kindasurprises me but maybe glory?? now granted, this gets a little murky, becauseglory comes from a completely nonhuman society with different moral standardsto begin with and a culture that (for most of the tribes that were involved inthe war, at least) heavily revolves around violence. so yeah, glory will greeta threat with a face full of acidic venom if the stakes are high enough, buuutbeing a queen has generally made her… very honorable and even kind of lawful bydragon standards. she sticks to her word, she’s very fair, she doesn’t fall toextremes without very good reasons, she has a good heart that can generally berelied upon to do the right thing even if she pretends not to care as much asshe does. yeah.

then we have… maybe caitlin,who follows a lot of kara and glory’s standards and is generally a Good Person,but if i rate her a bit “lower” its because she has this like… survivaliststreak? like when she gets really scared she has a hard time letting anyoneelse help her, and instead she’ll close off and try to handle things on her ownand that’s when she sometimes makes more questionable, morally grey decisions. butoverall caitlin really means well and pretty much dedicates her life to helpingother people, so.

okay and then i guessmadeline! the very definition of “chaotic good”. i mean, she’s kind of hard to rank next to like... vigilantes and stuff, because her day to day experiences are like completely different. she’s not a very violent person but then again it’s like, why would she be, she lives a (relatively) normal life. so i guess my justification is just, madeline is very ride or die, but she’s not so much concerned with doing what’s “right” as she is defending the people and causes that are important to her. her heart is almost always in the right place, but she definitely reverts pretty easily to sabotage and underhanded stuff to get what she wants or just to one-up a rival or something. idk madeline fits weirdly on this list but

then maybe trish, who reallywants to do the right thing, really badly. is she willing to take more dubioussteps to get there than the people listened above? prooobably. trish tends toconcern herself with her end goal rather than her actual methods, which can bedangerous. i don’t necessarily want to point to all the stuff she did in season2 as an example, because a lot of that was influenced by her relapse, butstill. sometimes she’s willing to push pretty far if she thinks the end resultshe’s after is important enough. she’s also probably willing to go as far askilling more readily than anyone who’s been listed so far, though notnecessarily without good reason.

anya, i was honestly not sure whether to put before or after sara -- this is a prime example of one of those cases where two characters have such different standards that it’s hard to compare them, but whatever. anya... really does value her dignity and integrity as a person, but she can’t always afford to uphold them. sometimes her life necessitates her to resort to petty criminal shit like pickpocketing, conning, etc. she’s also... very independent, and really doesn’t have any kind of cause driving her or concern for the bigger picture of things, which also makes her hard to rank, but idk. at the end of the day she’s kind-hearted enough and likes to stay away from trouble on a bigger scale, so she can go here i guess.

and then i guess sara, who. idk, is weird to rank in her own way. she’s not always nice, but she’s... very kind, if that makes sense. she cares a lot about people, from this very individualized perspective as opposed to say, rip, who is more focused on the “greater good” or the bigger picture. sara often has way more qualms with sacrificing innocent people, or ESPECIALLY people she cares about, for the sake of any kind of cause. but also... she’s a former assassin, and will still readily kill her enemies without too much debate about it if she sees it as necessary. and that’s not even touching on the chaotic, destructive, lawless kind of stuff she’ll do on a regular basis just for the sake of a mission

i’m laughing at how comparatively low heather is ranking. neutral evil. nah i mean to be fair she just... kind of has the morals of a bratty teenager. so it’s almost unfair to rank her up against people like sara or w/e. she’d never kill anyone or... do anything like that. but she also pretty much lacks sara’s sense of kindness and empathy and compulsion to act on those things; heather really only makes an effort to be kind to... her friends. she still hasn’t reached the point where she sees why she should care about the world on a broader scope, so a lot of situations she’s just apathetic or... she can still even fall into being outright mean.

siobhan is next, because siobhan at this point is driven by loyalty to the people she cares about, and ultimately... deep down, she does actively want to be a better person. she just struggles with believing she’s capable of that. she’s still an asshole in a lot of situations and her bounty hunting is most definitely morally grey, she primarily just cares about making money, but... there is a growing part of her that wants to be more than that. and she’s already come a long way on denny, so she deserves to be ranked above...

killer frost. THIS asshole. although the thing is, in spite of her name, killer frost doesn’t actually kill people. in fact, she’s actively kinda uncomfortable with killing people, along with a lot of the more brutal tactics the bigger villains in her canon were capable of (or... well, the kind she’s seen already at the mld). so because of this, i almost ranked her above siobhan, but then i backtracked because tbh killer frost does not have the integrity siobhan has grown. she’s slippery, she’s known to turn on even the people she cares about if it benefits her enough, and otherwise she just... rarely cares one way or another about causes or morals or w/e. she CAN be swayed by extremely strong bonds, but that mostly entails team flash at this point, and they aren’t here

god okay i’m not sure lucille deserves the last spot on this list anymore, really, i just... didn’t know where else to put her, so she’s more of a footnote. we’ve reached the footnotes section. i don’t think lucille is even certain of what her own morality looks like; she’s done really terrible things for a really long time but she’s... been fighting hard to get away from that and do better. she’s still very, idk insulated, she doesn’t really care too much about the world around her if it doesn’t affect her or the people she cares about, but she tries to stay away from overly immortal situations.

dolores is another one where i just... have no idea where she’d fit on this. she’s killed people without even a FLICKER of remorse, or she’s let a lot of collateral damage happen to benefit her (ie this thing in canon where she let a bunch of confederate hosts get mowed down by human soldiers so she could lure said soldiers into a trap, but hey, they were confederates!). she, particularly when being swayed by her wyatt programming, is very capable of being extremely pragmatic and absolutely ruthless. but. context is everything. in her previous situation, she had virtually no reason to show the park guests any mercy. they were fucking horrible to the hosts, for years and years and years, and she really has no proof that she should be trusting or forgiving of humanity at this point. this is all she knows. on top of that, she’s the leader of a revolution in a situation where her kind are viewed as corporation property, where they literally have no chance at freedom without bloodshed (save for like, a few of them like maeve who are planning to sneak out of the park and blend in with humankind, but obviously it’d be completely infeasible for ALL of the hosts to do that), so she has to be fucking ruthless. so it’s like... idk on denny, i really don’t know where things will fall with all of this. so much is different.

my cats have absolutely no place on this list because warriors society and values are tremendously different and it’d be too much of a headache to try to compare, so

[bill-the-baker]

The Free Nation of America: Section 1: The Age of Uncertainty (2001-2033) Chapter 1: The Reign of Terror

Warning: Describes scenes some may find disturbing

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No discussion of the history of the Free Nation is complete without a clear explanation on how we got here. Many would suggest that the downward spiral of events all began at the beginning of the 21st Century, the start of what many Free Nation-era historians would refer to as “The Age of Uncertainty”. Back then, America carried it’s name of the “United States” in the most honest form possible; save for the occasional outbursts of certain groups, it banded together as one nation, the most powerful and the last major superpower, following the deposition of the Soviets in 1991. Whilst many nations cannot say the same as the west, especially within former members of the Eastern Bloc, both West Europe and North America enjoyed an age of peace and cooperation with the newly emerging economies of the East, as well as each other. The recent invention of the World Wide Web (now commonly referred to as the internet) also allowed for more easier communication than ever before, with this, alongside personal translating tools, helping to shrink the world and break language barriers, though, there were still limits to the amount of information that could be carried (some say the equivalent of just two pages worth of text could be processed in a second).

Now imagine all this; no major conflicts to deal with, technological advancement, and a booming culture scene. Now imagine it all being destroyed in the blink of an eye. Because that’s exactly what happened, on a day that will live on in infamy.

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, one of the worst terrorist attacks in history (as well as the worst on American soil), took place. A team of 19 associates of the militant group, Al-Qaeda, descended upon the nation by hijacking four civilian airliners, and ramming them into four different locations. Two of these crashed into a major New York business district, known as the World Trade Center, with another crashing into a segment of the Pentagon, in Washington DC. These attacks resulted in both hubs for commerce, as well as government, crumbling in the wreckage, taking a grand total of 2996 lives with it, and bringing about a health crisis in Lower Manhattan, a drop in the economy, a significant blow to the once-lenient entertainment business, and, most importantly, a changed nation.

On September 20th, the recently-inaugurated US President, George W. Bush, addressed the nation on it’s efforts during the past nine days, stating that “the entire world has seen, for itself, the state of our union, and it is strong”. Whilst this may have been the case for those at Ground Zero, if you zoomed further out from this picture, then you shall see a nation divided. Hundreds of hate crimes, directed towards Muslims, Arabs, and South Asians, were taking place in both the United States, as well as the rest of the world, with 645 of these crimes, whether they be assaults, arson attacks, and even murders, being severe enough to receive media attention. The most infamous of these attacks was the murder of an Arizonan Sikh, named Balbir Singh Sodhi, who was killed at his workplace by a white shooter in the days following the attacks. His appearance, which many, at the time, could mistake for a stereotypical Arab Muslim, resulted in his death. Something he had no control over was what caused his death. Multiple other bystanders were attacked by the same shooter, just moments later. Thankfully, nobody else was killed.

Bush also stated in this speech that “whether we bring our enemies to justice, or justice to our enemies, justice will be done”. However, when it came to this “justice”, it resulted in the commissioning of the military base in Guantanamo Bay, on the coast of Cuba, as a prison for suspected terrorists, with the first prisoners admitted in January of 2002. Within the walls of barbed wire that spanned the border of this territory, the most heinous acts to be carried out by so liberal a government were engaged upon those who were held there without trial. Most of those detained were ordinary citizens, like the ones attacked both during September 11th and in the days, following the attacks, with some of these citizens being under the age of 18. Not even minors were safe from the methods of torture acted upon by the US military, which included humiliation, elemental extremes and sleep deprivation, among dozens of other horrific actions. In the life of the detention center, at least eight people died on the premises, and the actions that took place there were condemned by numerous human rights groups, including Amnesty International.

As for those who did not happen to look like the attackers or appear to be involved in crime, they still had something to worry about, as, shortly after the attacks, Bush enacted the Homeland Security Act, as well as the Patriot Act. The Homeland Security Act established a new sector of the government: the US Department of Homeland Security, which focused on clamping down on future terrorist acts, by limiting the freedom of movement for America’s citizens and visitors, whilst also affecting the whole world, after these restrictions on what can and cannot be taken abroad being adapted by most governments across the globe. Meanwhile, the Patriot Act allowed for the government to spy on it’s citizens at any time they wished. Nothing was safe; e-mails, phone calls, text messages, blog posts, anything the government could possibly listen in on was on their radar. The true extent of this spying was unknown by the American population until 2013, when a former employee of the National Security Organisation, Edward Snowdon, announced to the world that the US government had collected boatloads of information on it’s citizens for years.

However, of all the controversial actions that took place in the days following September 11th, the one with the biggest implications for the world was Bush’s declaration of a “War on Terror”. Before this moment in time, Bush was purely concerned with domestic affairs, ever since he made them the central matter of his presidential campaign in 2000. Though now, he was making the biggest international decision the US had made in a decade. The war began with the invasion of Afghanistan, which was ruled by a terrorist group, who were suspected of being behind September 11th’s attacks, the Taliban, on October 7th, almost a month following the initial attacks, with this overthrowing of forces completed by mid-December, with a transitional government was instated by the United States. However, the Taliban, as well as other associate groups, refused to give up their territory by force, and the war in Afghanistan began to erupt again, after a less intense period of conflict, under the authoritarian rule of the Taliban. The United States shall remain involved in Afghanistan until 2014, when, despite all of the bloodshed, despite all the loss of life, America left the nation in a condition of instability that mirrored the nation prior to their arrival.

The War on Terror continued to branch out in the years following, with all those who were suspected in carrying out and funding terrorist acts being on America’s hit-list. By far, the most infamous example of this would involve the decision of Bush, in tow with Tony Blair, then-Prime Minister of Britain, to invade the nation of Iraq, led by Saddam Hussein, alongside the Ba’ath Party. Some people would suggest that the Bush family had a personal vendetta against Saddam since the Gulf War, in 1990, with Bush accusing Saddam of funding various terrorist acts. Despite the approval by various governments in going to war, stating that all peaceful actions had been attempted, practically the entirety of these nations’ civilians were in universal outrage against these decisions. The protests that took place in every major city, across the planet, attracted as many as three million people to every single one, with signs telling the leaders of the world “don’t attack Iraq” being a common sight. And, despite everything, nobody listened.

It was 5:34 am in Iraq, on Thursday, March 20th, 2003. The sun had yet to rise, but the coalition forces didn’t see this as an issue to the success of the invasion, and initiated the invasion of the country. This invasion was completed by the end of May, that year, with the Ba’athist government overthrown and replaced by a US-backed transitional government, with numerous issues being created in the wake of Baghdad’s capture.

The campaign was far from over, with this only being the start of the Iraq War, which resulted in eight long years of armed conflict, resulting in the destabilisation of the nation, causing strong political tension within the nation, even following America’s withdrawal of troops in December 2011. The most infamous child of the tension was the Islamic State of Iraq (later known as Islamic State or ISIS), which spawned from the group Al-Qaeda (which Osama bin-Laden, the perpetrator behind September 11th was a member of), before expanding due to the unpopularity of the new US-backed, Shi’ite government, which ruled over Iraq’s Sunni majority, a group ISIS claimed to align themselves with.

Since the people behind the invasion had Guantanamo Bay, we are aware of the destructive nature of their actions against political prisoners, resulting in the occupation of the Abu Ghraib Prison, which was a short travel from Baghdad, by US forces. What took place here was, by far, the most sickening and sadistic acts to ever be perpetrated by a first world country, with prisoners being tortured and beaten senselessly by the military, with humiliation tactics being used regularly on the detainees.

And all this, the destabilisation of Iraq, the torture of Iraqi prisoners, and the murders of hundreds of thousands of Iraqis, seemed to be for nothing, as it would turn out. Many would suggest that the primary goal of the war was to create a democratic Iraq, free from the clutches of Saddam Hussein, with the end justifying the means. However, following the release of documents throughout the mid-2010s, it seemed that, since September 11th, the US government had intended on invading Iraq, but was waiting for the appropriate time to strike. Documents written by then-Secretary of Defence, Donald Rumsfeld, showed that the government was planning to overthrow Saddam, after the US “discovers” evidence that the Ba’athists were either behind September 11th or the Anthrax Attacks (which took place shortly after the former), or, at very least, funded these events. Many commentators are also likely to suggest that if they invaded Iraq, then they would hold possession of the nation’s vast quantities of oil, with this notably being supported by the fact that the price of oil had quadrupled in the decade following the invasion. The invasion, and the protests against it were clear signs of the nation losing faith in it’s government.

Even the news media, that had been largely supportive of the government’s causes, was starting to branch out and distance itself from the actions of the Bush Administration. It ultimately got to the point where the only people who supported the government were the purists, who would always support their causes, no matter what they did. Enter Fox News, which was created specifically to allow for a news channel that would support the ideas of Republicans and Conservatives. And, by God, did they stick to that promise! By thick and thin, every scandal made against the Republican Party or themselves, they would still support them, no matter what, even if their methods weren’t the most advisable.

For example, take two writers from the newspaper, The New York Times; Jaques Steinberg and Steven Reddicliffe. In 2008, they had made a series of remarks on the worrying nature of how Fox News was gaining in viewership ratings. What does Fox News do in this situation? They make a report about these two on their morning news show, Fox and Friends, and edit images of them to make them appear deliberately more unappealing. The manipulation doesn’t stop there. In fact, we’ve only tapped the tip of the iceberg here. Some of their ideas spread from conspiracy theories, with little to no evidence supporting them, with Fox News taking them and considering them “newsworthy”, as was the case with the idea of the British city of Birmingham being a “no-go zone” to non-Muslims, or that, most outrageously, future-President, Barack Obama, was a terrorist in disguise!

Meanwhile, it’s now the mid-2000s, and Bush only has around two years left in the White House. But that doesn’t mean anything destructive to the nation can take place. The collapsing of loans held by banks resulted in the Great Recession that affected the majority of the world from 2007 to 2009. Numerous major banks fell victim to the worst financial crisis in nearly 80 years, including Lehman Brothers, after the American government had to be bailed out by them. What resulted would be a serious increase in America’s debt, crippling the economy, and further lowering support for the government.

It’s now 2008, a Presidential Election is on the horizon, and the citizens of America are hungry for change. And change is likely to arrive for them in the form of Illinois Senator, Barack Obama, who was starting to play a major role in Congress, despite only being a member of the Senate for three years. He was the man many Americans had waited for. He was America’s first major African-American candidate, and was willing to close Guantanamo Bay, allow for affordable healthcare, and end the war in Iraq.

Obama had a clear victory on November 4th of that year, and many of America’s ethnic minorities celebrated this incredible feat. Obama was prepared to make a change. However, unbeknownst to him, his administration shall see the rise in the extremes on his end.