#and Perry of course lol

[tblsomedoodles]

an abridged summary of how i ended up with two bitty guinea pigs

(the long version is several days long, and involved an entire emotional rollercoaster that no one wants to hear. long story short, i got the pigs and they are perfect in every way)

anyways! they're named Murry and Perry (Left to right in first doodle lol) (i haven't wanted to pester them very much while they're adjusting so i don't have any good pictures otherwise i'd share b/c i don't think i did them justice. they are very spikey and their colors are a lot more mixed, especially Perry's.) and i love them so damn much and i haven't even had them half a day yet.

[son1c]

Why does 3 look so sad?

Why?

because he "grew up" adored by shadow, constantly tended to, fed and brushed and held. because for the first part of his very short life, 3 felt loved. but then, one day, that suddenly stopped, and it's like the person that 3 knew, died. even though shadow was still there, he wasn't the same... and he would never be the same again.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

*squeals* I never realized this footage and audio existed! Although I guess I wouldn't have looked for it specifically since "My Misery" isn't one of my favorite Phantom Blue songs, and I kind of have to be in the right mood to listen to it. (Apparently now is the right time.)

Two things I noticed (one important, one not): Gigi's vocals are SO BEAUTIFUL on this, and - I know that other people (especially musicians for some reason) say this shit all the time but I'm also going to say it now - SHE SOUNDS JUST LIKE SHE DOES ON THE RECORD?! I MEAN, WOW. Absolutely incredible. The other thing I noticed that apparently I hadn't noticed before is that Gigi has a nose ring? Actually, all of the jewelry that she's wearing here looks amazing.

Of course, I must also mention: Michelle. 💗 Beautiful guitar playing. Especially when (as a Phantom Blue fan, at least) I've never seen or heard her play acoustically. Beauuuuutifuuuuuuuul.

[shortscircuits]

i wonder what my old professor thinks about twitch

[reverie-starlight]

all three little mix girls finally have their solo music out, I’m so happy 🥹🫶🏻

[familiaanteomnia]

Starter Call

-like this for an multi para, iconless starter

-open to everybody just specify which of my muses & which of yours if applicable

(I'm of course really feeling the halloween season mood, so am especially up for those threads/my more gritty+horror muses so let me know if you'd be game for any of that and we could do that too <3)

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

my pitch for a phineas and ferb-themed ride at the disney parks (hire me disney you cowards)

the queue is an interior building with pnf-themed decorations. kinda like the figment ride in epcot, a lot of it is winding through a "museum" of pnf and/or doof inventions. most of those inventions disappeared of course, so they're models, parts in glass cases, etc. overhead are tv monitors that play a shuffled loop of phineas and ferb songs, but bc there are so many good songs they can use it hopefully won't get repetitive unless you're there for nine hours. the exception to this is one small part of the queue (small to avoid people being stuck there too long) where it exclusively plays the quirky worky song and you see the pnf gang building the ride you're about to go on, either as statues/figures or through a "screen" that shows looping animation

you get onto the coaster car from the first episode as phineas, baljeet or isabella reads the safety spiel over the loudspeaker. actually as i'm typing this it might be fun to loop each of the backyard gang doing their own version that'd be cute

the ride takes off and you hear the vamp from the "rollercoaster" song as you're loading in.

once inside, the ride is styled like epcot's guardians of the galaxy ride, where you're on a track looping through a mix of screens and sets. the first part plays more of the "rollercoaster" song as you run through the "coolest coaster ever" scenes.

miscellaneous room/scene ideas: fireside girl action segment, carpe diem room, obviously a space segment w/ meap and queen candace and the catu aliens, obligatory scary bit through the haunted house, rock concert w/ love handel, backyard beach/atlantis, owca headquarters, 2nd dimension bit (might be too confusing for new fans?), relatively normal area where candace is gesturing wildly to a linda animatronic that won't turn around and see the rollercoaster car, idk a hamster & gretel segment or smth

a little bit in, you hear a beep and a call for agent p. a small animatronic of perry rises from the front of the car as you enter a tunnel, where a screen of major monogram tells perry to get his ass to doofenshmirtz evil incorporated to fight doof. perry salutes and slides back down into the car, and the ride then takes a "wrong track" (kinda like when you run into a "broken track" on everest) to DEI.

we go inside and see animatronics of perry fighting doof as an inator sparks. it goes off, sending us down yet another "wrong track," which shoots through wilder parts of danville. at the climax, we start looping and the climax of the "rollercoaster" song starts playing ("we're rightside-up and upside-down...")

at the end of the ride, we see an animatronic/animation of doof hanging upside-down from rope as perry glares at him cross-armed, and doof intermittently yells "curse you, perry the platypus!" on a screen, monogram congratulates the riders for saving the tri-state area with agent p. perry makes platypus noise.

you go to another room, right before the exit. you see candace pointing to an empty backyard, saying stuff like "but it was right here! and it was huge!" as phineas and ferb sit under the tree and address the guests. if you're far enough away from the last room, perry can be sitting under them being cute.

the exit queue has posters for dwampyverse stuff, like "love handel reunion", "doctor zone: the movie", the og rollercoaster poster, etc.

you exit in a gift shop where you can buy perry the platypus inaction figure (he doesn't do anything!) and big sticks

lastly,

you know when rides break down or stop for a sec and you get in-character voiceovers telling you to stay seated or w/e? i think we should have three that loop: one of doof giving a basic spiel, one of milo murphy being like "yeah i went on the ride. sorry about that. it should start working soon lol" and one where literally the whole thing is candace yelling "NO MOM I SWEAR IT'S A WORKING ROLLERCOASTER AND PHINEAS AND FERB BUILT IT! MOM LISTEN–"

[introverting-rn]

would like to think that edgeworth’s cravat/jabot/frilly white thing has the perry the platypus effect. like he can go to steel samurai conventions without anyone going “hey isn’t that the guy who tried to prosecute will powers?” just cause of course it isn’t that guy! that guy was an entirely seperate human being who doesn’t have a neck! THIS is a different one

and then at some point he’s probably accused of another murder or some shit and edgeworth is resigned to hanging - not because he did it or because the defence job was too hard, but because he knows full well that his only alibi is buying merch at a steel samurai convention and there is no world in which he’d confess that to the court. however, phoenix gets his grimy little hands on the security tape footage and, having SEEN edgeworth’s neck for reasons i think we all know, he presents it triumphantly to save edgeworth’s life…

and then the judge penalises him and tells him to stop presenting irrelevant evidence and he goes ???? and he zooms in on edgeworth in the footage and the whole court is still going nah lol stop being an idiot

so phoenix wright, ace attorney and dropout art student, prints out a screenshot (the entire court accompanies him to the printer to make sure he’s not tampering with evidence. they all stand crammed into a room and staring at this ancient printer as it slowly chugs along. the judge sits on top of the printer so he can be taller than them) and draws three white lines on the edgeworth image. this is intended to be the start of the drawing but suddenly the entire court gasps and shrieks and falls off their chairs / printers in shock because THAT’S THE DEFENDANT RIGHT THERE HOLY SHIT

and edgeworth is just fuming over on his bench and turning beet red and hoping to be framed of another murder so he can die right about now

[dearsnow]

THE LAST TIME

- ten out of the countless times you have seen neil perry, and nine where you saw him alive. (neil perry x gn! implied to be shy reader, fluff to angst, canon-typical main character death, major spoilers for dps but i assume you’ve watched it before, i included my own poetry so i hope y’all like it, sad face emoji i teared up while writing this).

word count: 9,006

a/n - thank you so so much to my beta readers @sorencd and @chuudidit for reading this massive piece, i appreciate you endlessly <3 this was definitely a labor of love, one that i took a considerable amount of time to write and edit. i adore dead poets society and poetry in general (i have written 130+ poems and never plan on stopping) so i definitely needed to put my thoughts into words lol 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy, because i definitely enjoyed writing this for you.

When Neil Perry first saw you, and god, did he see you, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

You were simply sitting there under the old tree just outside the borders of Welton with a book under your nose and the soft rays of a flashlight filtering through your hair. You had one knee up, holding the book in a gentle balancing act as he stared. Charlie gave him a nudge, eyebrows raised and a tease on the tip of his tongue, but Neil couldn’t even move. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. The moon was hanging above your head, full and bright, drowning you in a poetic haze. You flipped a page and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he had no idea why.

After a long minute, he peeled his gaze away from the figure under the tree and followed the other dead poets to their second ever meeting. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw you glance up at him when he passed, but no one else seemed to notice.

When Neil and the poets were walking back to Welton, you weren’t there- something Neil noticed instantly. Of course, being who he was, Todd noticed that Neil noticed, and Charlie noticed that Todd noticed, and before he knew it, Neil and his fixation were the new tortured topics of the evening. 

“Oh, love at first sight! The most beautiful kind.” Charlie teased, clasping his hands and spinning around. “How romantic.”

Neil shook his head, trying desperately to clear his suspicions. “It’s not like that. I swear, it’s not even a crush. I just thought it was weird.”

Cameron chimed in with a slightly hushed tone. At least he was aware of the fact that they were quickly approaching the earshot of every single person in Welton Academy. “I wonder where they came from. I mean, it couldn’t have been comfortable or safe to be out here at night. Especially alone.”

“Same. What do you think they were reading?” Neil responded, quick to try and put the teasing behind him. Despite his efforts, the teasing carried long into the night and the days following it. It seemed like nothing and no one would ever let him forget he ever saw you.

He would find out later that you were reading a poetry book.

He saw you for the second time on a trip to the main town. He recognized you instantly, from what little knowledge of you he had gained. You had the same hair, the same stature, the same book tucked under your arm as you peered into the musty old bookstore in the back corner. Just Todd was with him this time, and he definitely knew what was up.

Todd glanced at him, a warm expression on his face. Once again, Neil was entranced.

In the new glorious daylight, he noticed things he never could’ve before. The undertones of your hair, your skin, the way you seemed to glow even when you dipped into the shadows. He saw the pure beauty of you in a manner he had never seen anyone else in before. He took a step forward, pulled towards you somehow as his heart beat a mile a minute. The bookstore loomed over you, cracked and imperfect, yet casting the evening in a scene plucked out of a storybook. You turned, seeming to have seen him in the window’s reflection, and he flinched. He almost had a heart attack as his brain registered the color of your eyes and exactly how your mouth pulled up into a smile. Quickly turning away, he grabbed Todd’s sleeve and hightailed it out of there. Todd followed, as he always did. Neil was enamored, and Todd could tell.

“Do you think they saw me?” Neil gasped, pulling Todd into the square’s corner. He was panting lightly, red-cheeked, with a lopsided grin on his face. Todd had never seen him nervous, much less shy. In fact, he was the opposite- friendly, inclusive, and not the type to run away from a challenge. Something must have been different about you.

Todd raised his eyebrows. “Probably, Neil, they looked back.” He, too, saw your eyes, though he was mostly focused on the anxiety coursing through his veins rather than committing them to memory.

Neil’s gasping breaths were definitely louder than they needed to be. “Oh god, they definitely saw me. They probably think I’m a creep. Jesus, it’s definitely over.”

“What’s over?” Todd put a hand on his shoulder worriedly. “There was nothing there to begin with. They’re just a person, you’ll be fine.”

“Way to kill my dreams, Todd. Look, can you promise me that you won’t tell this to anyone else?” Neil asked, suddenly very serious. He glanced around like someone would waltz into the trash-filled and truthfully disgusting corner. The bathrooms were just around the bend, and he could smell it.

Intrigued, Todd nodded.

“I need you to say it. Promise me.” Neil whispered. His coat crinkled as he moved closer to Todd, the material dipping around his sweater. The fall air was the perfect background for whatever Neil was trying to get up to.

“I promise.”

Neil grinned boyishly and glanced around the corner again. “This is stupid, but I think I’m in love.” From the look in his eyes, Todd could definitely tell. His friend was suddenly more animated than he had been in a very long while, and he knew that he would do anything to keep him that way. His caution, however, took over.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if you never see them again?”

“And what if I do?” Neil breathed. “What if I see them tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now? What if I see them every day of my life because I just went out and said something?”

Todd shook his head. “Just be careful, alright? There’s a very good chance that nothing will come of it.” Neil clasped Todd’s jacket, quirking his eyebrows.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Just no.”

The first time you saw Neil Perry, you didn’t even know you saw him. You were sitting under a tree, reading an Emily Dickinson book you bought in the town’s bookstore. It was a way to relax to you. A way to forget all of your troubles and just enjoy the wonders of the world. You don’t know why you picked that tree, or why you stayed so long you had to use the flashlight you so hastily packed, but life has its ways of pulling you towards something you didn’t know existed.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful, even at night. You wrapped your thick coat tightly around your shoulders. The fall leaves beneath you gave a crackle and the moon hung high above your head, slightly illuminating your page. Welton Academy loomed just outside of your line of sight. It was beautiful, too, but something about the cold stone walls made you shiver.

As time slipped away, you began to hear a hushed cacophony of boys around your age coming out of the school to the side of you. They had their hoods up, laughing and giggling like they were in some sort of secret club. You looked up, and one of them stopped dead in his tracks. You could see his breaths clouding in the night as the others urged him forward. Your eyes drifted back down to your book, as if you were embarrassed. The moment broke, and he was on his way.

You weren’t there for his return back to Welton.

The second time you saw him, you noticed him a lot more clearly. You were window shopping just outside of the bookstore. Even though the building was dusty and marred, it smelled like home. It smelled like stories and adventures and comfort. You were a frequent visitor to this place, and one of the owner’s best customers. 

He often set up his new imports in the big, yellow-tinted window in front of you. As you gazed in, you noticed a face appear in the space next to you. You turned around partially, meeting his dark brown eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him.

It was an electric moment. His lips were slightly parted, and the gray clouds above him were engorged with unshed tears. You gaped at him, dumbfounded, as milliseconds ticked away like hours.

Before you knew it, he had sped away with his friend in tow. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed he had a friend. All you could think about was the fact that he looked familiar, and the fact that he was the most handsome boy you had ever had the pleasure of locking eyes with.

His stature reminded you of the boy by the tree, the boy from Welton Academy. There was just something about him that screamed “you saw him once in a dream”.

Somehow, you thought one simple thought: you were in love with someone you did not know.

When Neil saw you for the third time, and the third time you saw him, he worked up the courage to talk to you.

Mr. Keating was instructing the boys outside yet again. They were in the courtyard, taking inspiration from the world around them. From leaves, patches of mud, anything that struck their fancy. 

You were taking a walk by campus. Once again, you didn’t know why; you just were. The boys were not a quiet group, and you could hear their shouts very clearly. You strained your ears, hoping to hear one voice in particular. Of course, you didn’t know what his voice sounded like, but you were listening anyway. If you were right, and he was a boy from Welton, maybe you might be able to catch a word or two.

That’s when Neil spotted the person walking loops around the front of campus. Maybe, for the first time, you could be his inspiration.

He looked over his shoulder, quickly trying to assess whether he could slip away unnoticed or not. No one seemed to be looking at him. He left his group behind and jogged up next to you.

You saw him coming. Even from a distance, you knew it was him. Your heart began to pound in your ears, loud and fast and just a little bit lovesick. You were right.

“Hey!” He exclaimed. You took a small step back. Your nerves were on their highest setting and your mind was reeling. What did he think of you, you wondered. More importantly, who was he?

As he approached, you put on your best nervous smile. “Hi.”

“My name’s Neil.” He said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You complied quickly, saying your own name in turn. His palms were slightly damp, but you couldn’t blame him. Yours were probably worse.

The moment your hand held his, fitting perfectly under his fingers, he knew you were made for him. “I saw you in town the other day. Do you like books?” 

Your voice was hesitant, unsure, and Neil wished he could reach out and smooth the wrinkles in the sound like an old coat. “Yeah.”

“What were you reading?” Neil asked. He tried to stamp down his own nerves, but something about you made his breaths flutter in and out like butterfly wings. It was a feeling he was completely and entirely new to.

You shifted the bag on your shoulder to your hands, reaching in to pull out the book. “Oh, Poems by Emily Dickinson. It’s not the traditional type of book, but I love poetry.” Your cheeks began to warm. You knew nothing about this boy. What if he thought poetry was stupid, just a lesson in his English class and nothing else? How could anyone know how much those words meant to you?

Neil beamed, big and wide and lovesick. You truly were perfect for him, he thought. Poetry. You certainly were poetic, with those gorgeous eyes and an equally beautiful mind. “I love poetry too.” He breathed.

Your tense smile turned genuine. “You do? That’s awesome.” A quiet flutter started to pick up in your heart.

“Yeah. You know what?” He grinned, “my friends and I have a sort of poetry club. The dead poets society- we do readings, original works, whatever the members are feeling at the moment.” He sucked in a silent breath, pausing just enough to let his reeling mind decide on what he wanted to say. “It’s at night in the old Indian cave.” You nodded along to his words, growing increasingly intrigued the further he carried on. This dead poets society began to excite you. It was all you ever wanted in life: a community of like-minded people sharing the verses that made your heart tick. “If you want, I mean, you should go to our next meeting. It’s tonight.” Neil offered. He could tell his words were cycling through your mind, finally catching up to his proposal.

You wanted to join the dead poets society so badly it made your heart ache. A little inkling, though, in the back of your head, sparked a pit in your stomach. “Would your friends be okay with me being there? I… I don’t exactly know them.”

Neil was head over heels. You were so wonderfully lively, in the way that a breeze touching his eyelashes with the tips of its fingers would be. You were exactly how he expected, and exactly who he needed.

He waved away your concern with the flip of a hand and a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. The others bring guests too, and gosh, I’m sure they’re going to love you! Especially Todd. I’m sure you two would get along real well.” 

“Then I’ll definitely be there.” You replied. The sparkle in your eye shot Neil at full force. You were excited, smiling, happy. He made you happy. He mentally patted himself on the back.

“Great!” Leaves rustled from behind Neil, and you could see a group of boys approaching in the near distance. “Shoot. I gotta go, but make sure to show up. I’ll be waiting for you.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you before turning around to walk towards the group. You felt cold air where he had once been, and you wished for a moment that he would come back. His friends, however, were hooting and hollering, and you thought you could hear a kissy noise or two. You shook your head, a shaky warmth creeping its way up your neck, before turning to walk away.

You were going to go to a secret meeting in a secret cave at a hauntingly secret hour, and you had never been quite so excited in your entire life.

The fourth time you saw each other was the dead poets society meeting. You were brimming with nerves beforehand, shaking fingers gathering your materials as you tried to prepare for waltzing into a place with people entirely unknown to you. The bag you were holding contained a couple of your favorite poetry books, your own poems scratched in the empty spaces on certain pages that really inspired you. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to read a poem out loud, especially your own work, but earlier in the evening, you resolved to “go with the flow” and do what the others were doing. You hoped you wouldn’t have to regret that decision later.

After putting everything together and making sure to turn off your light and close your door, you slipped out of your house into the black night.

The scenery on your walk was entirely too beautiful. You never noticed just how much the bark on trees formed swirling patterns, or how the stars seemed to twinkle on their own. The ground under your feet was littered with fallen leaves in fiery shades and clumps of moist dirt. You began to smile just a little bit, thinking of a poem you had written when autumn had first started. That is surely what you would say if the dead poets wanted you to speak.

Nothing felt greater than breathing in the crisp, cold air and swinging your arms as you stepped along the path less traveled on. 

When you finally reached the cave, heart significantly lighter, the sound of laughter floated up to your ears. It was bountiful and boyish and beautiful. You peered around the edge of the cave entrance, and Neil’s eye immediately caught on you.

“Come in, come in! We’re just about to begin.” He called. You stepped fully into the light and glanced around at your company.

They were giggling and shoving, gaping at you and Neil with a sort of uncertain certainty. Some were standing, some sitting, a couple moving around, and all of them male. You took a seat next to Neil, between him and the boy you saw with him in town. He gave you a meaningful nod and looked to Neil, who was opening an old, thick book. He was frightened to so much as speak in front of you, as silly as it might have seemed.

“Attention, dead poets. Today is another wonderful night.” He announced, voice deep and commanding and humorously theatrical. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately… I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life… And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” His voice trailed off, and someone from the back of the cave echoed his last word. He closed the book with a snap, and the boys began to murmur excitedly.

Neil took a seat and turned to you, a glimmer of something sweet in his eye. When he looked at you, all he saw was magnificence. “Who wants to start?”

A boy jumped up. In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper, which he made a show of unfolding. “For those of you who don’t know,” He said, with a pointed glance at you, “my name is Nuwanda, and today, I actually made a poem.”

A couple boys yelled in support, and Neil gave you a nudge. “Charlie Dalton.” He whispered, making sure to not alert the others. You thanked him with a shy nod. Then, as “Nuwanda” was starting to begin his woefully homemade poem, Neil put his arm around your shoulders. 

His touch sent jitters through your entire body, lighting you up like a firework. It just felt so right, so natural, so breathtaking. It felt exactly like shaking his hand and feeling his eyes and seeing his breath hang in the air- like it was destined, written in the stars, utterly perfect. You leaned into his touch, feeling his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and shoulder. “To live, to learn, to die,

my boys, 

to see, to love, to burn. 

To touch, to know, to harm, 

my dear,

to eat, to reap, to sow.” 

Charlie recited. For someone who seemingly took poetry lightly, he wasn’t particularly bad. He put more passion into his words than most other boys you knew. In fact, you’re sure he would be a great writer if he put more than an ounce of effort into it.

He took a bow as the room erupted into applause, Neil’s arm still wrapped around you. He could feel it too, the electricity. He wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling and keep it forever.

Charlie sat, staring at you and Neil with a smirk on the corners of his lips. “Hey, why don’t we let our guest take a crack at it?”

The cave filled with a rumble of excitement from all of the poets. Neil’s brows were furrowed, but he gave an urge of support anyway. “If you want to, of course.”

You wanted to. Energy thrummed throughout your company, filling you with a sense of confidence you rarely had anywhere else. For once, you truly wanted to speak up. The air was crackling with a sense of anxious anticipation, and you could smell the love each boy held for each other. They knew, somehow, that the moment meant a lot to Neil, and they were willing to put aside any inhibitions to help him enjoy the night.

“I’ll go.” You uttered. Neil’s face lit up as his previous worries slunk away into the night.

You pulled out a book from your usual bag and opened it to the page you knew so well you could recite the poem it held without looking. And, of course, your own poem was scribbled in the margins. 

Everyone was attempting to peer over your shoulder, to take a glimpse of what made you a poet. Having attention on you was an odd feeling, like ants crawling along the back of your spine. You took a deep breath. “When you die,

the beetles will still sing.

The trout will still jump,

and the earth will still rumble.

When you die, the moon will still turn

and the stars will still burn.

When you die,

The lakes will still ripple

and the trees will still creak

and I will lower you into the ground

and I will cry so hard the world stops moving.”

As the last words left your lips, a profound silence enveloped the group. Then, all at once, it exploded.

“We’ve got a real poet in here!” Came Charlie’s teasing (yet not entirely unkind) voice. “Truly Keating material. What sparked your creative melancholy?”

You felt yourself glowing as you sat. If you were being honest, you never could have imagined that anyone would genuinely enjoy your work. That notion was entirely unfounded and untrue, considering they were a group of poets, but it persisted nonetheless. “I don’t know, really. Just the notion of losing a loved one, I suppose.”

When Neil saw you, in that moment, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t breathe. He knew so little about you, yet you pumped his pulse up to be as fast as a racehorse. He wanted, no, he needed to learn everything that made you you. He needed to know what you looked like when waking up in the morning, or how your fingers felt threading through his hair, or your deepest, most desperate passions. He needed to be so close to you he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your shirt. He was intrigued. 

When he first discovered acting, he felt the same exact way- a burning desire to learn, to know, to discover. If you let him, he would recite his lines all the way into your heart.

The meeting continued as the sky grew ever darker, complete with poems and rhymes and words spoken in deliberately lyrical tones. You fell into every verse and every story as easily as you would if they were written in a book. You began to learn every name in the room, and they quickly caught on to yours. It was a community, a group of people that began to feel like home. 

Of course, by the time they decided to end things, the stars were full and bright. The sun would surely peek its head out of the fog in a couple hours. You were smiling harder and more genuinely than you ever had before, with Neil by your side, and Todd on your other. As they all stood up to leave with boisterous whispers, Neil turned to you.

“Will you come tomorrow? And the next, and every day after that?” His question was so excited, so innocent, like he didn’t know that you would kill for the chance to be near him and everything he held dear.

You smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a dead poet for life.”

Your eighth encounter with Neil was not a lucky twist of fate. He got permission to leave school for some something or other that you never bothered to find out. Now, it was just you two and the big town square looming in front of you.

In truth, it wasn’t that big, but when you’re standing at the beginning of a new day with the boy that holds your heart, everything feels intense.

He took hold of the sleeve of your sweater, as he so often did, and you descended upon the shops.

“Come on, you’ve absolutely got to try the milkshakes at Tom’s Ice Cream Parlor! They’re just the best. Hurry, hurry!” He tugged you along, a bright smile on his face. God, how you loved him.

You had grown closer in the past five dead poets society meetings. Often, he would stay with you in the cave long after the meetings had ended. You would talk about whatever crossed your mind in the moment, and he would spin stories out of thin air. He didn’t ever seem to talk about real life things, though. His work at school, sure, but anything outside of that was uncharted territory. When you asked him about his family, he just clammed up.

You laughed as he weaved through the clumps of people with you in tow. “Slow down, Neil! You’re gonna get us killed.”

The sound of your voice, especially your laugh, was something Neil had come to relish. He would keep you talking all day if it meant he could hear that giddy ring in his ears every time he craved your presence. “You’ve just got to go faster. The line is horrific at this time of day.” 

“This place had better be good.”

“It is, believe me. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

When you arrived, bodies hot and just a little uncomfortably sweaty, the sight of the ice cream parlor was a welcome one. He led you through the doors and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. You wished you could do it for him. The line was, unsurprisingly, quite long. You made idle chat, but his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at him.

“…he was real impressed when Charlie played his sax. Mr. Nolan, though, he definitely wasn’t-“ And, before you could think about it, before the screaming in your head could tell you no, you reached up and smoothed the cowlick that always seemed to mess up his part. When you pulled your hand away, he was beaming.

“Thanks.” He said, simply. You smiled back at him.

“No problem. So, what happened to Charlie afterwards?” You questioned. Neil gave you a look, one you had come to realize meant “I’ll tell you later”.

As you stood three people away from the front counter, Neil fumbled around in his pockets. “Shoot, I could’ve sworn I brought more money than this…” He muttered. He pulled out a dime and three pennies, all slightly covered in the fuzz from his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I must’ve spaced out- I’m usually so good about things like this.”

You took his arm with one hand and slipped the other in your pocket, rooting around for any spare change you had. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I have more than enough.”

You did not, in fact, have more than enough. You had a single quarter and a spare button. Pooled together, you could get exactly one milkshake and have his three pennies left over. Neil looked at you regretfully.

“You take it. I’ll get one another time.” He said, putting on a smile. “I’ve had too many sweet things today anyways.”

You would not accept this as an answer. Not here, not now. He deserved all the good things life had to offer, and you would be damned if he didn’t get them- starting with this milkshake. “It’s alright, you have it.”

Neil looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “You should have it, really.” He would be damned if you didn’t get what he dragged you out here to experience. If he could see your face, smiling and sticky-lipped, after taking a sip from something he contributed to, he would be the happiest man on earth. 

The back-and-forth was getting nowhere and you both knew it. “Why don’t we just share it then? Ask for two straws?” You sighed. “It’s the best solution.”

He paused. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t the life he wanted to give you (if this was any indicator), but it would work. Everything would work as long as you were there. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

There was another quick conversation about which flavor to choose, but you settled on one that you both liked equal amounts. You discovered that he had far different tastes than you milkshake-wise. If you were any less filtered, you would’ve told him his opinions were downright wrong.

You sat with him, smiling so hard you thought your face would break as he finally told you what happened to Charlie. Apparently, Nolan had reprimanded him as he so often had to do, but Charlie couldn’t stop smiling during the lecture. Eventually, Nolan just stopped mid-sentence and ushered the boy out the door. Apparently nothing and no one could ever crush Charlie’s spirit, not even the hardships of wooden rulers.

You leaned in to take a sip absentmindedly. As you reached your straw, you felt the tip of Neil’s nose brush against yours, and you realized you were so close to him you were almost kissing. You pulled back quickly, a hotness enveloping your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You uttered, trying not to look him in the eye. You were so mortified you almost killed yourself on the spot.

Neil, however, was overjoyed. He felt your breath on his chin and it was all he could think about. You, close to him, like you would’ve touched him if you hadn’t pulled away. He relished the feeling.

He shrugged, trying in vain to make it seem like he was just simply all right with it. “It wasn’t a problem,” He said, before noticing that the milkshake was running dangerously low. “Hey, why don’t you take the last sip?”

You cocked your head slightly. “Why?”

“Because I never want to be the one to end it.” He grinned. You shook your head, the corners of your lips rising up as he let out a little laugh. You adored his laugh.

“If you say so.”

That conversation stuck with you a long time after it happened.

It took four more dead poets meetings for Neil to ask you to go somewhere with him again. By the twelfth experience, though, you knew him like the back of your hand.

He loved acting. Loved it. He loved it so desperately that he was willing to face the wrath of his father to pursue the play he was casted in. Oh, and you learned about his father through whispers, mostly from Charlie. Neil, he told you, would never say a word about him. Tyrannical, inhospitable, red-hot like fire and ice-cold like ice. You knew of his mother, too, and her quiet indifference. Neil held a special place in his heart for Todd, the new boy at Welton. He loved puppies and poetry and soft scarves. Not the scratchy ones, as those irritated his neck. He wanted to be an actor in the future, but his father wanted him to be a doctor. He loved so many things, and yet could not have them; however, he definitely hated when people felt sorry for him.

So, you weren’t sorry. You felt his desires like a burning in your gut, stripped away piece by piece, but you were not sorry. You loved him.

You needed him to be fulfilled in every way possible, and you were not sorry. He was going through so many conflicting things, and you were not sorry. You were hopeful.

Life would turn around, you told him. He would see. In ten years, he would be on Broadway, waving at you and Todd and Charlie from the stage. He would be great, and you knew it.

“I’ve never skated like this before. Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked, standing at the edge of Welton’s lake. It was late in fall, with powdery snow dusting the edges of the ground, but the lake may have been in the process of freezing still. Neil took your gloved hands.

“Trust me, it’s good.”

He often asked you to trust him, and you always did. There was just something in his deep, dark eyes that whispered exactly how strong he was.

You took a tentative step onto the ice, nose already feeling the cold burn of pre-winter air. The ground under your feet was slick, but it held. Neil walked backwards, gently guiding you, and you followed.

You found a sort of rhythm in the movements, pushing off with your feet and letting them slide forward on the ice. Neil’s face was tinged with red as you skated on flat shoes, never letting go of your hands. You laughed, truly and honestly. The world spun around you in a blur, white and brown and beautiful. The air snuck through the gaps on your clothes, but you did not care. In that second, it was just you and Neil and the most beautiful day you had ever known.

His eyes softened when he looked at you. Even through the lack of words, he knew exactly what you were thinking. That crinkle by your eyes, the curve of your lips, your laugh. You were content, happy even, because he brought you here. When you reached the middle of the lake, leaning against him, trusting him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach. 

Throughout his days with you, he had come to discover the person behind the book, behind the shy smile. He could firmly say that he knew you, and he loved you even more for it.

He knew your favorite book, which jokes made you laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes, your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn’t his, but it was completely and entirely you. There was nothing he adored more in the world than you.

You stared at him with a smile gracing your lips as you came to a stop. He reached his hand up to your face and brushed a small snowflake away from the corner of your mouth gently. His hands were soft.

He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his face. It was now or never, he thought. Carpe diem.

Neil pressed his lips to yours, and all of your feelings exploded from your connected flesh like dynamite.

He was warm, so warm. You kissed him fervently with your arms wrapped around his shoulders like you were dancing. He had finally done it, put to action the kind thoughts he had expressed, and you were glowing. There were stars in your tightly shut eyes, and you reveled in how they spun.

Neil’s mind was racing as you didn’t pull away. He didn’t know what he expected, but you pulling him closer was not his first thought. He most definitely didn’t mind.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both panting feverishly and looking starved for more. Your combined breaths hung in front of your faces.

“We should do that again.” He whispered. You huffed a laugh, feeling every bit as blushy as he looked.

“Only if you’re okay with never stopping.”

It was a week and a half before Neil’s big play, and the twenty-fourth (maybe twenty-fifth, you had lost count) time you saw him. It was also your tenth official date.

“Date” may have been a loose term, as it was more practicing lines than talking, but the atmosphere was quiet and calm at the café you sat in. There were grainy pictures of favorite customers on the wall and the chairs were just the right amount of wobbly. It felt like a place where you could relax without abandon. Neil’s hand was on top of yours and he was staring deep into your eyes as he spoke line after line, trying to steel his nerves and push past the stress of his approaching deadline.

“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…” He hesitated for a moment, eyes unfocused. You squeezed his hand in support and he gave you a small smile. Clearing his throat, he continued. “…now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the Puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” 

You gave a quiet cheer and clasped your hands together. “I think that was your best runthrough yet! I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes lit up as he gazed at you bashfully. “You think?”

“Absolutely. You’re good, you’re really good. You could probably perform tomorrow if you wanted to.” He smiled and ran his fingers over his fleece sleeves as you spoke. If you were in the audience, he was sure he would be able to do anything. “In fact, you could perform any time you wanted to. You’re just that amazing.”

You were so impressed by the sheer amount of talent and emotion he had that you just couldn’t help but smother him in compliments. Every single one was true.

Neil tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blushing like a madman. Every time you said something kind about him, his heart leapt for joy. “What about you? What have you been working on?” He posed. He had heard your poetry before, of course, but you always seemed to be creating something new.

You pulled out a book from the bag sitting next to you and flipped around. There was one specific poem you wanted him to hear. One you had written about him.

When you found it, you turned the book sideways so you both could see and pointed at it. “This one.” Neil tilted his head, opening his mouth to read it aloud. “I think, 

if I was blind,

I would still know your face.

The curve of your nose would call to me

and your eyelids would flutter under my touch.

There is no one else, no one at all

who could make the pads of my fingers

see the entire world.”

He gazed up at you with a starstruck expression. “Is this about anyone in particular?” Neil leaned forward and dipped his head down to rest on his propped-up hand. He had a grin on his face. He absolutely knew who it was about.

“I wrote that one for Meeks. He’s just so cute, don’t you think?” You teased. Neil’s mouth dropped open as his expression turned to comical shock. 

“I’m wounded, my love! How dare you.” He shouted, throwing his arms up. You started laughing as he continued his theatrical expressions, much to the dismay of the café workers.

“Be careful, we might get thrown out!”

“I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t stop laughing at my demise.” He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose as you giggled from your seat. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He murmured, suddenly as soft as a spring rain. You ran your fingers over his hand underneath the table, finding every groove like it was your own.

“And I’m lucky to have you. I love you, you know.” 

Neil smiled gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat in that café for a few hours more, until the workers had to politely remind you of their closing hours. You laughed and talked and felt the sheer joy of being with the boy you had begun to consider your soulmate. He was a star, shining his light and illuminating you with his rays. Too often, however, the brightest lights fade within the snap of a finger.

“I hope that when I die,” Neil wrote, right before your thirty-first meeting,

“God will send me back to Earth.

He will say,

‘Live again. Run again,

hope again,

plunge your body into ice-cold water again. 

Hate again, 

and cry again,

run your fingers through the grass again.

Kiss them again, 

press your palms to their faces again,

and lose them again.

Let yourself feel again,

and never forget

that life is what matters, 

not death.’

And I will say,

‘I promise

to do everything I have ever told myself I could not do

again and again and again.’”

He closed his journal with a thump and tucked it into his drawer calmly. That was something he would rather not share with anyone, not even you. 

The day was cold and drizzly, but he stood up with a kind of manic smile. He walked out of the doors of Welton and into your awaiting arms.

You both sat down on a park bench under the cover of a tree. Your seats were slightly wet and very cold, but it didn’t matter all that much. You were just glad to be there with him, with Neil. He was the love of your life, and any time with him was well-spent.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. He was the same as he always was, you thought. But his eyes were welling up with tears and you just felt the need to ask, like some unearthly force was telling you that you needed to.

He leaned back, putting his arm around the back of the bench with a sigh. “I’m trapped.” He was smiling, but there was such an utter lack of humor behind it that it made you shiver. You shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as a silent sign of comfort. By this point, knew everything there was to know about Neil Perry- even the parts he tried to keep hidden.

“How so?”

“I don’t even know, I just… I want to be an actor. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t, and I’m trapped, and no one can help me, no matter how much they try.” His voice was sullen, but he was still smiling. Curse him for trying to make you feel better even then.

You placed a kiss on the back of his hand and threaded your fingers through his. Your heart ached for him. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, though, and that’s what made it even harder. Holding his hand, telling him it’ll all work out, everything ultimately did nothing for his situation, and you cursed the being that forced him into this position. If you could scream into the night, into the big, black sky to execrate the universe, you would. You did, in the future. You regretted not doing it sooner.

“I���m sorry.” You started, squeezing his hand. “ Just keep going, alright? I promise you, in the future, none of this will matter at all. You just have to stick with it. The world will find a way of figuring it out.”

His face formed a more genuine smile as he laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah. I guess it will.”

The last time Neil Perry saw you was the night he had been anticipating, dreaming about, and dreading: the night of his play. He was prepared. He knew every line and cue by heart, and yet he was still nervous. He was so nervous he could hardly think. 

He stood behind the curtains listening to the chatter of the audience. The rest of the cast members and some of the technicians were scrambling to put everything in place, but he just stared at the dark walls of fabric separating him from his new life. That was it. He was going to put on the best performance of his goddamn life.

The lights dimmed, and he stepped away to take his place.

When it was finally time for him to make his entrance, Neil did it with flourish. “How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He spoke. Cheers came from the audience, whoops and hollers from the dead poets. He could hardly keep himself from smiling.

Then, he saw you. You were grinning wide and large from your seat, giving him that quiet encouragement he had always loved. You whispered his name, and Neil could hear it in his heart.

He was having fun. So much fun. With every line he spoke, with every movement he made, Neil was sinking deeper and deeper into the play and his love for acting. He didn’t remember the last time he had ever felt that alive. 

But with every sinking, there comes a point where one drowns.

His father was there. When had he come? Neil hadn’t seen him before. God. He was burning a hole in the back of his head with his piercing gaze, and it took everything in Neil not to turn and run. That was it, he thought. He was done. But gods be good, he was going to finish his play. He would not let his father ruin this for him.

By the time he was speaking his last lines, the ones he had practiced with you, he barely remembered his father was part of the audience. The curtains closed, and the audience exploded into cheers. He could hear your voice, he swore he could- he was the happiest man on Earth. He had put on the performance of his lifetime, and he couldn’t be more proud. Until, of course, he was dragged out the door by his father.

He was back home before he had even registered his father’s anger. All he could feel was emptiness as the gnawing hole in his stomach expanded to encompass his entire being.

“We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You're going to Harvard and you're gonna be a doctor.” His father stated, eyes sharp. Neil let out a noise of protest.

“But that's ten more years. Father, that's a lifetime! I won’t be able to see any of them again, not one person I knew before. You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Tears formed in Neil’s eyes, and as he looked at his mother, she was feeling the same way. And yet she said nothing. He could feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate. 

His father scoffed. “Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term. You don't understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of and I am not going to let you waste them.”

Neil rose to his feet, suddenly angry. He needed to fight for this, for himself. He couldn’t just let one man take away everything he had ever loved. If he couldn’t see you, his friends, if he couldn’t act, there was no purpose in his life. “I've got to tell you what I feel.”

Neil’s mother reached for him. “We’ve been so worried about-“ 

“What? What? Tell me what you feel. What is it? Is it more of this, this acting business? Because you can forget that. What?” And just like that, it was gone. Neil sat back down, staring blankly at his lap. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything because he was just a stupid boy who wouldn’t listen. His father scoffed once again before leaving the room.

His mother, ever the soft one, paused.

“I was good. I was really good.” He whispered. She sighed, urging him to his feet. 

“Go on, get some sleep.”

Neil nodded, still in a trance, before trudging to his room. That was it. He was done. He would never see you again, no matter what, and it hurt him so badly he didn’t know what else to do. He ran his fingers over his things lightly before removing his shirt. That was it. He grasped his crown of twigs and placed it on his head, staring out through his open window. The cool air kissed his body sweetly, like your lips on a rainy day. He took a deep breath.

It was time for his last act, his curtain call, his final carpe diem. There was no warning, and yet there did not need to be one. That night, that cold, bitter night, he knew what he needed to do. 

The last time you saw Neil Perry, he didn’t see you. He couldn’t see you. It was December 18th, and you had been asked to read a poem at his funeral. 

God, the word “funeral” hit you like a train. Neil was dead. His sweet demeanor, his gentle words, his soft hair, they were all going to be covered in dirt within the next few hours. You couldn’t stand it. The world needed so much more of him, but terribly, horribly, the world did not deserve it. No one deserved him.

It was odd, you thought, how the sound of one gunshot could replay over and over again in your mind without you ever having heard it at all. The boom, the thud, the scream. It was all so clear in your mind.

As the priest spoke, you felt an emptiness pool in your guts. He was really gone. Your Neil, your poor Neil. You sat between Charlie and Todd, all three of your faces streaked with tears. You could feel more welling up in your eyes, and you let them free without a care. Neil was dead, and nothing else in the world mattered.

In a way, you couldn’t believe it. He was just here, warm and happy and yours. When you got that phone call, you almost joined him. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing at all. The eulogies, the sobs, they faded into the background as you stared down at the ground.

Before you knew what was happening, you were standing at a podium with a piece of paper clutched between your shaking fingers. Neil’s mom looked up at you in silent support.

You took a breath, so much like the breaths you always took before reading a poem and yet so different. Neil could not hear this one.

“When you died,

the beetles still sang.

The trout still jumped,

and the earth still rumbled.

When you died, the moon still turned

and the stars still burned.

When you died,” Your voice cracked. Looking out into the audience, at people you didn’t know and people you knew so well you could identify them by a strand of their hair, it was too much. Hot tears slipped their way down your face as the pit in your stomach grew ever-wider. 

“The lakes still rippled 

and the trees still creaked

and I lowered you into the ground

and I cried so hard the world stopped moving.” 

There was a murmur throughout the audience, choked sobs and utters of agreement. “For Neil, who lived as he died and died as he lived.” You rasped.

You were quickly ushered away from the podium and back into your seat.

Neil was one in a million. There was no one else in the history of ever that could make you feel so amazing. Like you were a real person, like you mattered. He made everyone feel that way, but something in him burned for you in a way that you believed was unique. And, of course, you burned for him the same. 

The rest of the service went by in a blur. Everyone around you began to get up, and you knew it was time. As you sat there, still as a rock, when everyone went to say their final farewells, you were extinguished. 

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. When you looked up from your tear-soaked lap, Todd was there, and he clasped your hand. “Let’s go.” He whispered. “Let’s say goodbye.”

You pulled a page from the book by your feet and shoved it into your pocket. It was for him, it always was and it always had been.

“In some other universe, I found you again.

Maybe in this one we held hands, gently and honestly,

or leaned against each other’s shoulders on the train,

or sobbed against each other’s shirts when we crashed and burned,

because anything with you

means flying too close to the sun.” It read. 

As you stood in front of his casket, you could hardly bear to focus on his pale face.

He was cold, so cold. The embalmer had done well with his head, but there was so much that just looked off. He didn’t look like your Neil. He looked empty. You gripped his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It was winter, and he was colder and paler than the snow.

You held him far longer than what was deemed socially acceptable before tucking the page into his lapel and swiftly walking away.

You weren’t there for his burial, and you knew you couldn’t be. It was just too much. If you had seen his casket close, if you had watched them shovel dirt on top of the wooden box, you would’ve dropped to your knees and screamed. Much like you’re doing now.

You sat on that same old park bench, knees clutched up to your soaked chest, sobbing harder than you ever had before. Your Neil was gone and you could never see him again, not ever.

When you saw Neil Perry for the last time, and god, did you see him, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

[thelonelyshore-if]

I'm sure this would be so much work over the course of the game so absolutely no pressure for a bunch of housing swaps LOL this is mostly jokes, but I am deeply amused by the idea of MC romancing Ravi but being frustrated with him after last chapter and showing up on someone else's porch like 😤😤 let me in (while knowing full well that they will almost definitely want to go back)

Like, it's giving lovers spat "I'm staying with my sister for a week" but they literally just met 💀😂

Yessss Nonnie you get where I'm coming from. It's endlessly funny to me. Like I'm very excited to write MC hunting down Beck or Perri just like:

MC: "I need a place to stay."

Beck/Perri: "Omg why what happened?? Is everything okay???"

MC: "Everything's fine the guy I met yesterday really pissed me off 😤"

[aquaaquila]

The Owl House Family Tree

Behold, the family of the Owl House mixed with my headcanons that I made because I felt like it, and gosh is it crazy. Explanation under the cut lol

The Grimwalkers (and Hunter who's a grimwalker) were created by Philip, essentially being his children, but Philip created them using Caleb's DNA and modeled them in his image. So yeah, they pretty much are both parents of Grimwalkers as they're not perfect clones of Caleb and it's fucked up in plenty of ways

Since both Gwen and Dell are theorized to be descendants of Clawthorne with how Gwendolyn follows the mold of Clawthorne women with her looks, power, and name. Still, then there's Dell who has an uncanny resemblance to Philip and Caleb, along with being the best wood-carver in the wood-carving family, so it's not clear who's the Clawthorne and who was married to Clawthornes, I went a different route. I made Gwendolyn a very very distant descendant of Clawthorne's ancestor (16 generations and possibly even more), whereas Dell is the descendant of Caleb as a compromise.

Lilith and Hooty are in QPR.

I included Hooty's mom along with possible ancestors and used the tapeworm in Titan's eye as a point of reference.

The BATTs are adopted children of Raine and Eda's co-parent to them. She however adopted the Collector, King, and Luz individually, even though Raine also would co-parent them to an extent. Granted Eda was called "mama Eda" by Amber, whereas Luz, King, and the Collector never referred to Raine as their parent.

Raine and Eda are neither dating nor married, but a secret third thing. And the same applies to Darius and Alador

Camila and Perry Porter (Gus's dad) are in QPR as well.

Professor Hermonculus is Amity's grandparent because yes xD

Eberwolf and Darius are "like brothers" but they aren't officially brothers by either blood or adoption, or they're necessarily in QPR. They're just bros.

Darius had a failed relationship that resulted in Gavin (that abomination Glandus kid). That's rather a leftover theory with plenty of story-telling potential that came back from season 2A days when we knew nothing about Darius and were looking for some connections. The picture of the mom came from the old photo from Reaching Out.

Gavin is dating Cat (Amity's former friend, she set them up).

There was a funny theory that once I heard about Mason being dad of Willow's dad and I decided to go along with it because A) I find it funny, especially since the point of connection is how alike they look, and B) explains where Willow got her green eyes from.

Mason is a grandparent of Matt and Steve, as I figured he's too old to maybe be just their dad IMO, but he could still be. It's also an old and forgotten theory from times of TOH S2B when Steve got revealed to be Matt's step-brother (meaning they share one parent and have 2 different parents of their own) and there were storyboards of ASIAS that revealed there was a storyline with Mason and Tholomules, granted as I said, it was forgotten so I can't say it's really valid.

Steve and Katya are dating. @secretly-of-course here is your Stevatya mention.

Any other questions? The ones that aren't asking who is who, unless it is a really obscure character then let me know.

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Clark Kent would include:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: None

A/N: Felt like writing for clark lately, I'm down horrifically for this man. This can be for any incarnation of Superman but I based it off the comics and my adventures with superman

It all started with a random encounter at the library while he was researching an old historical site in Metropolis(aka busy work for the new guy). He saw you with a couple of books in your hand, eyes browsing the shelves. 

He worked up the nerve to start a conversation with you and actually managed to get your number. He left the library with butterflies in his stomach and an angry call from Perry asking his whereabouts. 

A good starter date for him was obviously coffee. He spends hours deciding where to meet up with you, trying to find reasonably priced coffee with a good atmosphere. He tries to come up with a bunch of different outfit combinations, making the attempt to look nice but not too dressed up. This proved difficult since his wardrobe is 90% dress shirts and slacks, he’s still gotta look casual. Clark is such an overthinker, he just wants things to go well ; v; 

Of course the date goes well cause he’s so perfectly himself and he charms you so naturally. He’s surprised when you ask to see him again, the whole time he was sweating bullets praying you didn’t notice. After that the second, third, and fourth date all are perfect. Well not perfect but the time spent together makes up for the hiccups. 

Now let’s get into the nitty-gritty: early days of dating Clark still tries to be perfect, he hasn’t become totally comfortable with you, yet ;)  I think for him he wants to wow his partner in the early stages, he feels like trying to get a city slicker like you he has to bring his A-game. 

When he sees you he tries to bring you little trinkets and flowers, he likes to spoil you every now and again. 

Touching! He likes to be touching you when you’re near, a hand on your waist, brushing his pinky against your hand, pressing his knee next to yours when you’re sitting together. His love language is acts of service, words of affirmation and physical touch. He loves doing things for the people close to him. This includes: Taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting a pot of coffee on in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes. 

Now when you're really in it with him he tells you about the Superman stuff, he feels like he can trust you but there’s still the risk of you knowing that’ll get you hurt. He doesn’t underestimate your autonomy but there are very powerful forces out there that want him gone, and you are very precious to him. 

Once you can convince him that you are willing to accept the risks and tell him how much you care about him, the last of the walls come down. You’re stuck with him forever now and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

When it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see. However if you’re afraid of heights he won’t force you lol. He’ll make sure you’re properly dressed when he takes you to visit the fortress of solitude(He tries is the key phrase). You always underestimate how cold it’ll be and he has to go all the way back to metropolis to get your favorite jacket while you sit by a heater.

 Looking after him when he gets kryptonite poisoning from fighting bitch ass Lex Luthor, seeing him sweat for the first time with dark circles under his eyes. It’s more painful than what he’s feeling at that moment, and he still tries to tell you it’s not that bad. Once he’s feeling better he has to talk you down from murdering Luthor.

“Honey don’t-” “Nuh-uh call Bruce, I want a bazooka.” “You don’t need a bazooka sweetheart, I'm fine.” “No way I’m coming for his bald ass.” “Baby I’m fine, please calm down.”

Of course you’re not serious but you still want to protect him. Nobody messes with Clark and gets away with it. You and his friends will see to that, yes sir!

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[aspartame-parent]

Random X-Men Headcanons!

Me and my friend have compiled a lot of headcanons for the X-Men (mainly formulated from jokes) so I wanted to put some here! A few of these are headcanons, most are jokes lol

Kurt listens to really peppy music when he's upset, the main one being the Beach Boys. Just imagine him, poor little German boy, singing Surfin' USA tiredly, trying to turn his mood around.

Erik listens to girly pop music, mainly Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Why? Because it's funny. Let him be girly pop.

Scott tells a lot of jokes but he's deadpan so people can never really tell. Like sometimes he'll just say some insane shit, plain faced, and see how the others react.

Dancing headcanons! Remy is a very good dancer, being particularly prolific in swing dancing. Logan somewhat refuses to dance, but he can line dance. Morph doesn't know how to dance, but they act like they can, dancing like a drunk white girl. Scott and Jean like to dance in private, but Scott gets nervous to dance in front of others. Ororo can bust that shit down.

Scott tries not to laugh when he, or someone else, is doing a bit. Like he tries not to break as he jokes along, to the point where he has to stop talking to not smile, biting inside of his mouth.

Furthermore! He also has a loud laugh, and people get a little caught off guard when they hear it. Me and my friend have described his laugh as a goose honk sound.

Kurt gaslights for fun, and he can get everybody pretty good, except Scott and Jean. You may think "oh because Jean's a telepath, right?" No, because--

Scott and Jean gaslight each other for fun, and they formulate these fake, big arguments, just as a bit. So, they're very familiar with gaslighting tactics, being they lie to each other as a joke, so when Kurt tries to, they immediately meet him-- A little too well, because Kurt is used to just messing with people.

Scott will occasionally freak people out by lowering his glasses (keeping his eyes closed of course). Like someone says "Hey, take a look at that." and he'll lower his glasses and go "Where?!" as a joke.

Everyone loves Kurt. Like, everyone. If Kurt doesn't like someone, everyone has a distaste for them as well.

Jean refers to her own psychic abilities as her "Jedi Mind Tricks"

This one isn't really a headcanon, just a running gag me and my friend do, but something bad will happen, or something inconvenient, and Remy will go "Don't worry.", insistently. Like a loud explosion can go off, and Remy will just say "Don't Worry." Occasionally this will be lengthened to "Don't what? Worry!"

We don't call Leech by his name. We call him Gneep Gnorp. That's it.

Kurt and Remy are super close (as pseudo brother in laws) and they hang out a lot, also doing that guy thing where they flirt with each other as a joke.

No one likes Emma. That's it.

Scott is autistic.

Warren is well manicured. He always has his hair just as he likes it, his wings always preened, his clothes always ironed. He'll a snazzy lookin' fella.

Rogue is a great singer. This barely a headcanon, her voice actress literally put out a song "Mojo Man (Ode to Remy LeBeau)", go listen to it.

Kurt's very coy and playful. Like, "Staaahhppp, hehe!" He also laughs at his own jokes all the time, like he cracks himself up.

Music headcanons! Here's just a few of the ones we made-- Scott likes dad rock obviously, mainly soft rock and folk rock (The Beatles, Hall & Oates, The Beach Boys, CSNY), Logan likes harder rock (Metallica, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue, Iron Maiden), Morph likes new wave and glam rock (Oingo Boingo, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears For Fears), Remy likes a fun mix of jazz, country, and soul, with a little rock sprinkled in (Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, Billie Holiday, Queen), Jubilee likes a lot of pop, pop-rock, that sorta thing (Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, Wham!)

Kurt has a lil hyperfixation on pirates and ships-- this is kinda canon in the comics. But he loves talking about pirate history and ships and misconceptions.

I'm sure there's a bunch of ones I can't remember but there ya go lol

thanks to @the-death-defying-night-crawler for being funny and making these with me lol

[e-vay]

I have some song suggestions for your sonamy playlist, if you are open to listen to some! ^^

Everyone has their own taste and preferences of course, but these tracks always made me think of them in one way or another :

You’re still the one - Alex melton (this is a cover so the original by Shania Twain obviously works too lol I just prefer this cover, it’s more my genre )

Unconditionally - Katy Perry

Jet lag - simple plan ft Natasha bedingfield (Vibe of when missions or something causes them to separate for extended periods of time~ )

Your guardian angel - red jumpsuit apparatus (😭 I’m sure you know this one already but gawd damn , if that ain’t sonic fully willing to sacrifice himself for her, on his potential death bed confessing his love… )

If it kills me -From the Casa Nova Sessions - Jason Mraz **MUST BE the casa Nova sessions version, trust me, it’s so much more emotional **(This one …. Uggh this one is everything.. I have so many fic ideas birthed from this swirling around in my brain 😩)

Hungry Heart ft. Hayley Kiyoko - Steve Aoki

Million bucks - smallpools

Come on get higher - Matt nathanson

Anyways , no pressure at all if you don’t want to take a listen, only if you want to :) have a good day!

I'm sorry-

You're gonna come into MY HOUSE, suggest a bunch of BANGERS for my PLAYLIST, hint that you have SONAMY FIC IDEAS THAT YOU'RE TEMPTED TO WRITE, and then you're gonna stay ANONYMOUS ON ME?!

You heartbreaker!

Jokes aside, these songs were super great and most were totally my style of music! I had heard a few of these but forgot about them so those were a fantastic rush of nostalgia. Thank you for sharing and I hope one day you write the story/stories you were thinking and that I get to read them!

[sorchathered]

Don’t take the girl

Pairing- Rhett Abbott x reader

Summary- the after effects of Perry and Royal killing the Tillerson boys brings more trouble and heartache into Rhett’s life, can he keep what he holds most dear or will he lose it all?

Warnings- language, violence, mentions of death, smut.

A/N- I meant to put this out months ago but never did, hopefully y’all like it! It’s a rewrite of one of my first fics and I still don’t know if I like it but I’m putting it out into the tumblr-verse anyway lol.

————————————————————————

“I called my firm in Cheyenne, and they said they could get my position back for me by the end of next week, I-I think it’s the best option right now.”

Rhett reels back from you like he’s been slapped, furiously shaking his head eyes full of venom.

“Don’t you get tired of it? Constantly running from your problems?”

You give him an incredulous look, clearly he’s not going to let this go quietly like you’d (foolishly) hoped.

“I’m not running! It’s self preservation Rhett! For both of us! We can’t just dilute ourselves into thinking we could weld ourselves back together, we’re completely different people now and I love you- God I love you more than anything and always will-“

“Don’t, you don’t get to use that on me when clearly you and I have different ideas of what love is.” He looks absolutely disgusted now, you can barely stand to look at him, it brings tears to your eyes to even think you’re hurting him again.

“That’s not fair and you know it-“

“Not fair?! You wanna know how many girls I’ve slept with since you?”

“Don’t” you reply weakly

“At least a hundred, maybe more I don’t even see their faces anymore Y/N. I haven’t had a single relationship that lasted more than a month since you left, I can’t even try to make it work. I got with Maria trying to feel something, anything but I couldn’t get serious, she knew I’d never be over you and I hate that she was right. Because when I’m fucking some buckle bunny or one night stand you’re the only face I see. You came home and it was like a sign, I could get my second chance and get my shit together, be the man you deserved. But there’s something broken in you, you can’t just let me love you.” He looks into your teary eyes and shakes his head, “I refuse to be the reason we fell apart. You turn your back on me now and that’s it darlin’ don’t ever think I’ll let you in again.”

He turns on his heel and slams your front door, rattling the windows with the force of it. You want more than anything to run after him, beg him to listen but you know he’s right. You are scared; Perry and Amy were missing, Trevor and Billy were dead and Rhett had barely made it out unscathed. The Tillerson’s were still circling like vultures, Perry had admitted to murdering Trevor before he disappeared but they wanted retribution and they’d take a pound of Abbott flesh to settle the score. Dropping to your knees in your family’s home you sobbed, you knew you’d fucked up again but you didn’t know any other way but to save yourself when things got tough.

You and Rhett had fallen in love overnight it seemed, your mother’s had been attached at the hip all your lives and to say the two of you tolerated each other was an overstatement. Junior prom seemed to change everything, he asked Maria and she turned him down cold, and your boyfriend dumped you the week before so of course your parents suggested you go together. Rhett couldn’t think of anything more painful in his life, but he knew better than to question Cece so off he trudged in his suit jacket, wranglers and best pair of boots to pick you up. When you crossed the threshold it was like he’d never seen you before in his life, you’d always been one of the boys to him but in your baby blue dress and hair all curled he swore you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. You had been inseparable from that night on, always holding hands and stealing kisses; Perry attempting to take the piss out of you at every opportunity but it never phased you.

When you’d been accepted to college in another state Rhett felt like his whole world collapsed. You both promised you’d make it work and stay together but the distance became too much and before you knew it 6 years had passed between you. You’d seen each other in passing over holidays but he was jaded from the heartbreak and you knew better than to push him. Your mother had passed at the beginning of the year and you made the trek back to Wabang to settle her affairs, but ended up getting a job with the local law firm and before you knew it months had passed and you’d fully integrated yourself back into the community.

Stepping into the pit bar that summer night had changed everything, he’d been drinking with his buddies and you had let an old high school girlfriend convince you that drinks and line dancing were the cure for your melancholy. Some guy got a little too handsy, Rhett came out of nowhere and knocked him on his ass and just like that the two of you were making out like teenagers in the front of his old pickup. You’d picked right back up where you left off, and then everything went to shit that fateful fall night when Perry took Trevor’s life.

Rhett was seething as he drove back to the ranch, he felt like his skin was on fire and couldn’t stop the tears from spilling as he violently shook. How was he supposed to go without you again? He’d been patched up with tape and glue for years, just trying to make a name for himself in the pbr circuit and drowning his sorrows in beer and pussy. He’d become a shell of who he was without you, a version of himself he hated. You’d come back into his life and for once he had hope for a future outside of just surviving. He knew you were scared but damnit so was he! His family was unraveling at the seams and he couldn’t do anything to stop the onslaught of troubles that ravaged everything he held dear. He slammed the truck to a stop, tears blinding his eyes as he began to hyperventilate, sobs wracking his body and he let it all wash over him. Didn’t know how long he’d sat there until he was startled by his phone ringing, pulling himself together to see who the hell needed him this late at night.

“Rhett! Rhett please- I need you to listen-“

You sobbed into the phone, something was wrong; you hadn’t been the number on the screen when he answered, and he heard a thud and a scream from you on the line as someone else took over the call.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a dilemma Abbott, both my brothers are dead and there’s no one to pay the price for the sins your family committed. So it looks like your sweetheart will have to do.” Luke Tillerson laughs darkly as he drags you out to his truck by your hair, Rhett can hear your sobs through the phone and he nearly blacks out from the anger coursing through him.

“Luke if you hurt her-“

“Aht Aht let’s not make empty threats Rhett, you know I hold all the cards right now. You want to see her alive? Trade yourself for her, you’ve got twenty minutes.” The line goes dead and the phone lights up again with a text. With shaking hands Rhett opens the message, blood splattered across your beautiful face as you lay slumped in the bed of Luke’s truck. Coordinates for a location and a countdown pop up next, and Rhett has to wrench the door of the cab open to throw up. He unlocks his phone again and dials Sheriff Joy, he doesn’t know how to fix this but he’ll give himself up, let Luke torture him until his last breath if it means keeping you safe.

Against the sheriff and his father’s wishes Rhett is speeding down the highway, gps taking him towards the location Luke sent him. His shotgun that normally lay under the bench seat of his truck was in his lap now, knowing he would do what was needed if it meant keeping you alive; even if that meant Wayne Tillerson would bury all three sons in the span of a month.

Joy had begged him to wait for them to get there first, but he knew at the first sign of police presence Luke would do something drastic and he couldn’t take that risk. He shut off his headlights as he turned into the drive near the tiny shack the directions had led him to, putting the truck in park a couple hundred feet away. He still had a good ten minutes to spare maybe if he could get the upper hand he could subdue Luke and get you both out of this unscathed.

Creeping up towards the old building he could see a light and hear voices, as he peered into the window he found Luke pacing the floor with you tied to a chair. Bruises were blooming across your cheekbone and your nose was bloody, tears pouring from your eyes as you begged him to let you go. You catch movement in the window, his eyes meeting yours in that moment you know you need to create a diversion if you want to keep the both of you alive.

“Luke you don’t have to do this, you know Rhett isn’t responsible for what happened! You can still walk away from this, I won’t press charges and we can let this go.”

He cocks his head to the side, appraising you, something dark behind his eyes that causes a shiver to run down your spine. He shoves himself off the rickety table he was perched on, kneels down in front of you and places his hands on either side of your duct taped calves.

“Oh y/n you sweet little thing. I’m not blind you know, I’ve noticed you over the years; you grew up to be quite the woman. Accomplished lawyer, definitely more than just a pretty face and it kind of makes me wonder why the hell you’ve been wasting your time on Rhett. He’s small time darlin’, never gonna be anything more than a glorified ranch hand, constantly chasing after his daddy’s approval. Tsk tsk if your parents could see you now, all the time and money they wasted to get you out of this piece of shit town and here you are repeating your mistakes all over again.”

He’s taunting you, just looking for a fight; any excuse to take out some of the aggression that has sat under the surface as his whole world fell apart. You could give him what he wanted, go head to head and maybe keep him distracted while the clock runs out, but really you would just be prolonging the inevitable. He wanted someone to pay for what had been done to him, and you knew he’d get it. So you looked at him with the sweetest smile you could muster and spit directly into his face. While he was distracted you pushed your chair forward to land on top of him, hoping to disarm him as the gun slides across the floor. He lets out a shriek, hauling you back up by the hair just as Rhett quietly steps through the door behind him. Luke raises his open palm to strike you and as he does Rhett slams the butt of his shotgun against the back of Luke’s head, rendering him unconscious. He steps over his body as he rushes for you, your body shaking as he looks you over, making sure all your injuries are superficial.

“Baby girl look at me, you’re ok y/n. Don’t panic, this isn’t over yet.” He leans down to kiss you and you nod frantically, you know he needs to subdue Luke before he comes to and tries to attack again. Tucking the pistol Luke was carrying into his waistband he hauls his unconscious body off the floor and begins taping his arms and legs together. Flashing lights and sirens fill the quiet and you let out a sob, everything is going to be ok, you two are finally safe.

After nearly an hour of questioning and prodding from the paramedics you are finally free to go, gently placed in Rhett’s truck and tucked inside his arm as he drives you back home. Luke had been arrested, no bail was set and a protective order would be put in place to keep the two of you safe from what was left of the Tillerson family.

You’d let Rhett carry you inside and up the stairs to your room with no complaint, normally you’d fuss at him for babying you but after the events of the night you needed him close.

As he began to remove your shoes you were overcome with emotion, tangling your right hand in his hair and letting out a sob. He startled at the outburst, surging forward to pull you back into his arms, cradling you in his lap and he tried to calm your tears.

“It’s alright sug, just let it out baby I’m right here I got ya.” He was pressing kisses to the side of your head and you didn’t know what was coming over you as you quickly grasped his face and slotted your lips against his. You needed him to be closer, shivering in his arms as you began to yank at his clothes, trying to curl yourself in on him. He tried to pull back to make sure you were really up for what you were asking but you wouldn’t let him, rubbing your clothed core along his ridiculous gaudy belt buckle and sucking his tongue. Giving in to you was as easy as breathing, if he was honest he needed this as much as you the fear of losing you had shaken him to his foundation, if he could convince you to stay he’d make sure you got everything you dreamed of.

Finally stripped bare you lowered yourself onto him, tears still silently spilling from your eyes as you kissed him, the thought that you’d almost given this up mere hours ago was unimaginable. He let you take the lead, grinding down on him and letting his pubic bone catch your clit with each thrust, head thrown back in pleasure as he sucked marks all over your chest. It was pure need thrumming through you both as you cried out and reached your orgasm, whispered I love yous against each others skin while he let you ride it out. Flipping you on to your back he began to chase his own release, wrapping his rough hand around your throat and pulling you into a passionate kiss, he groaned deep into your mouth and came inside you, the heat flooding your abdomen bringing another climax of your own as you both collapsed to the floor a tangle of sweaty limbs.

You must’ve fallen asleep like that because you woke to the sun peering through your window still tangled up in Rhett’s warm embrace on the bedroom rug. You nuzzled into his neck and pressed kisses to his jaw as you felt him stir beside you.

“Wake up sleepy head, need to get us both cleaned up and fed” you cooed at him and he grinned underneath his arm, laugh rumbling through his chest and against yours at the realization that you two hadn’t even made it to bed. He let you haul him up and drag him to the shower, what should have been an innocent soaping up of bodies became a heated affair with you pressed against the shower wall as he fucked you hard until you both were spent and starving.

He knew you still had a lot to talk about, what had happened before your abduction still wasn’t resolved but he didn’t press it, content to just spend the day wrapped up in you. Cece had called you both over a dozen times, full of worry after Royal had come home to tell her what happened. You rang her after breakfast and promised everyone was ok, agreeing to come have dinner later in the week after you’d rested. You knew you’d have to field questions from most everyone in town in the aftermath but you couldn’t bring yourself to reply to any texts or messages on social media; just the thought made you nauseous all over again, memory of the feeling of Luke’s hands brutalizing you making you drop the mug in your hands shattering on the ground and making you jump.

Rhett was there in an instant to help you clean it up, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself and tossing the remnants in the trash. You looked up at him letting out another sob, since when had you become such an emotional wreck?! You couldn’t seem to keep it together as you began to apologize over and over, Rhett scooping you up into his arms and placing you on the counter to hug you close.

“Hey, hey none of that ok? You didn’t do anything wrong, you knew this shit would happen and tried to make a clean break; goddamnit I should have let you then I could have kept you safe from all of this.” He felt wretched, he’d blown you off when you said the Tillerson’s would look for revenge and then been forced to watch as you were nearly taken from him as a result of his family’s sins. You shook your head violently now, trying to force the words out because if he blamed himself for one more minute you may explode.

“I shouldn’t have tried to leave Rhett! If I hadn’t run you off last night Luke would have never been able to take me, and we wouldn’t have gone through all this!” You wailed and stuttered as you tried to continue, needing him to understand what had been consuming your thoughts all day. “I don’t ever want to be without you again, I was so scared he’d hurt you or me and we’d never get a future together. You deserve everything baby, I promise I won’t ever leave again just please don’t blame yourself for this anymore.” He couldn’t stop the tears now, didn’t know where yours began and his ended but he pressed himself to you and poured all the love he had into kissing you.

————————————————————————

*1 year later*

Rhett was exhausted. He’d finished up last years circuit in first place, made the finals and won those as well, catching the eye of scouts who signed him immediately for a professional team. Since then he’d been touring and riding in competitions, in and out of hotels but always on the run to get back to you. The season was finally over and he was bone tired, but he drove all night to make it home to your little homestead in Cheyenne in the wee hours of the morning. Moving out of Wabang had been a breath of fresh air, the two of you were thriving in your careers and had bought a small farm on the outskirts of the capital city, a new start just what you both had needed. He trudged up the steps now, quietly trying to enter your house not wanting to wake you so early. But as he entered the living space he saw the bedroom light on and heard soft cries flowing down the hall. There in the warm glow of your shared bedroom was his beautiful wife and 1 month old baby girl, you were singing softly to her as you rocked her in your chair, attempting to soothe the little one back to sleep. His heart swelled at the view, drinking both of you in as he leaned in the doorway, completely enamored.

You looked up at him, sensing his presence from his gaze and cooed down at the baby in your arms. “Look what we have here my sweet little angel, daddy is finally home.”

He crossed the room to gather you both in his embrace, he’d gotten everything he ever wanted.

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Tagging- @attapullman @bobgasm @sebsxphia

[stirringwinds]

What do you think about Canon's idea of nations having their own special nation language?

Thanks for the question! Personally, I don’t really vibe with it at all? Genuinely no shade at all to anyone who enjoys it; I can see how conceptually, it’s playing with the idea that nations are different from humans and have some things in common. I’m sure there are many ways to be creative and thoughtful with it. I do think there are other ways nations have things in common and feel other nations ‘get’ them more than humans. But to me it shouldn’t be an actual language—and the idea of a universal language personally doesn’t gel with the type of historical hetalia I usually explore. 

The acquisition of a language, who is or is not understood, or who has to learn which languages, is inseparable from power, imperialism and the socio-political relations between nations. I don't take this approach because 'no fun magic allowed in fandom' (because nations are magic and magic is fun) but because I think linguistic difference is fascinating to integrate into nation relationships and adds many human layers to the characters. Linguistic dominance (or erasure) is such a tool of empire; we only need to look at how the British Empire privileged English at the cost various languages all across the empire, from Welsh to Māori. Or how the Spanish did over Nahuatl in Mexico and so on. Since empire is a theme I’m interested in exploring in hetalia, the existence of fictional universal language that provides nations with an alternative forum to be heard and understood…rather detracts from the human, historical reality, imo, of how the ability to speak or write and be listened to is inherently unequal. This is an aspect of humanity that I don’t want nations to be exempt from experiencing, particularly when language is such a key part of their being—like I headcanon that one of Alfred's first languages wasn't just English but Carolina Algonquian, the language of the Croatan people at Roanoke, which Arthur did not speak, and that difference was one divide between them as colony and empire—Arthur certainly Anglicised Alfred's education and exerted power over him that way once he claimed him as his 'son'.

Further, if anything, I feel like the “universal language” is just…a bit redundant and not as compelling, when in historically, there are specific lingua francas that have existed for one reason or another, between countries. Which we can explore. And the politics of that ^nicely encapsulates the history of cultural exchange and power dynamics. For example, between the East Asian nations—it’s classical Chinese. Kiku and Yong-soo learned how to write in Yao’s language because he was powerful and culturally dominant. To me, it’s significant if Kiku and Yong-soo could not actually make Yao understand until they learned his language, and he, conversely, could elect to ignore them.  There was no universal language they could use (save of course, general human expressions and body language lol—which are not quite sufficient for the specifics of diplomatic relations, trade…and peace treaties). I do think Yao’s a seasoned polyglot who finds learning languages entertaining, and he does eventually learn Korean and Japanese—but the point remains that who gets to be the lingua franca and why such lingua francas exist in humanity, are compelling to explore.

And so all that’s something I want nations to directly partake in and experience just as humanity did, with no convenience of a universal nation language existing at all, in shaping their interactions with one another. It’s just more interesting anyway, for me to think of Alfred and Kiku speaking Dutch because of his long term relationship with Jan (and in real life, that’s the bridge language the Perry Expedition used).

Lastly...for me the notion of a universal language (not just a sixth sense or instinct) that all nations, big or small, colony or empire, are born knowing without having to learn, and with which they can understand every other nation—imo, detracts from the human reality of how all languages are deliberate constructions created and given meaning by a specific community’s cultural context. My two primary languages are from drastically different language families. Even the way I think and to some extent, see the world, is consequently somewhat different whether I am expressing it in English or Mandarin Chinese. Two totally dissimilar writing systems, with no common origin—English belongs to the Germanic branch of the Indo-European family, Mandarin on the Sino-Tibetan. That’s not to say they cannot both co-exist in my head—they definitely can. English and Chinese have mutually incorporated words from each other. But all languages ultimately make sense only in the context of a cultural community that the user is in contact with or at least has exposure to, even if only third or fourth-hand through written materials rather than a native speaker. Even non-verbal languages like sign language—it’s different in different countries. Language isn’t like being born with a sense of smell or touch; it is so much more specific than that, and how it's acquired is such a vital aspect of humanity that I just want these eldritch fucks to experience the same way that we humans do. I hope that explains my take on it!