#everyone of us living in countries with no war on their ground

[tenrose]

I don't get why these criminals want to control people with uterus so much. Why having an uterus does make us less of a human? Why so many patriarchal societies all around the world decided this shit? Hell, having an uterus is already a pain in the ass for a lot of us without having to deal with being considered second class citizens.

I'm so sorry for every American who don't get to decide what to do with their body. I'm sorry for everyone around the world that haven't had the right to do what they want with THEIR bodies. This shit is frightening. People like to talk about about how women have no right in the Middle East but really they are just jealous it's not in the name of Christianity. And it's spreading all across the world. It has already widely spread inside the EU too and we did NOTHING. And women rights are far from being the only human rights being violated right now.

This is CRIMINAL. Every law, in every country all around the world, having for only purpose to control another human body is a HUMAN RIGHTS ABUSE.

It's absolutely terrifying to see that everytime women, people of colour, queer people and basically every minority have been gaining a little bit of more human rights that they didn't have previously, the violence against them get even more intense. It's dreadful how they don't want us to live as free and as equal as them.

And you know how the incels, the white baby boys supremacists, the ultra religious fringes always scream "uh uh women want to emasculate us"? And how I speak before thinking sometimes and then I'm like "maybe I shouldn't be this harsh" and feel guilty about it. And how many women spend time trying to nicely educate them and saying to them that we just want equality despite them insulting them, and howw even I, am like while scrolling "I don't want to be this harsh sounding to men like some extreme feminist groups". And how all of this is in vain.

Well fuck this. I think we should give those assholes reason for once and come for their balls and throats. They want to take away our rights? Get ready to be bitten back fuckers.

[batshit-auspol]

have we talked about the woolworths debacle yet?

Sigh.

Alright kids strap in, because the culture wars are back and stupider than ever.

So there are two characters you need to be familiar with in this story before we continue:

Woolies (i.e. Woolworths) - One of two supermarket chains in Australia. Not related to the giant Woolworths chain that used to exist overseas, other than the Aussie one swiped the name because the original forgot to trademark the name 'Woolworths' here. Biggest company in Aus, and also the biggest employer. Not a brand anyone with more than two braincells would pick a fight with.

Peter Dutton - Man with less than two braincells, and current leader of the political opposition in Australia. Best known for bearing a passing resemblance to a potato and once demanding that a homophobic song get played for balance when a football halftime show performed 'Same Love'. His reputation is so bad that if you told an Australian that Dutton's favorite pastime was drowning puppies, they probably would believe you.

And to prove our point, here's the best headline a friendly newspaper could come up with to try spin his image:

The third thing you need to know is that in Australia we have a national holiday called "Australia Day" which is basically a scheduled day for everyone to get into a giant argument.

This is because for the last 30ish years it has been held on the anniversary of the British claiming the land around Sydney as a colony which was:

a) More the founding of an English prison then the founding of Australia, and more importantly

b) from the perspective of the people who were already living here, kindof a very shit day

Now not everyone agrees on this, and even those that don't 'celebrate' will often still have a get together with friends, but it can't be denied that we've shifted a long way from the days when the country used to celebrate Australia Day by kitting ourselves out in Aussie flag budgie smugglers, drinking enough beer to drown Harold Holt, and partying like it's 1789.

(Now a brief break for a real photo of Peter Dutton at a press conference)

Good luck sleeping tonight. Anyway back to the story.

As a result of this shift away from the trend of showing your patriotism by wearing Australian flag underpants, this year Woolworths decided that they were no longer going to be rolling out their box of southern cross thongs - on the grounds that "this kitschy shit never sells" and they are far too busy with more important things like blaming price gouging on inflation and installing self-checkout machines that think your canvas bag is a crime against humanity.

Never a man to miss an opportunity to act like a massive twat, upon hearing that Woolies had dumped their flag merch, Peter Dutton rushed onto the airwaves to declare that Woolworths had "gone woke" (paging 4chan circa 2009) and called for the country to boycott the store, a story which Australia's media have gleefully put on loudhale for over a week now in order to drive outrage clicks.

We at this point remind you that Woolworths is a company which, as we previously mentioned, basically has a monopoly on selling food in this country. Not exactly something you can boycott.

(Another real Dutton photo break)

Needless to say Dutton's dumbass plan did not immediately put Woolies out of business, however the relentless media campaign by Rupert Murdoch's minions did result in a bunch of innocent low-wage floor staff being harrassed by The Dark Lord's fanboys and a few Woolies stores were graffitied.

Allegedly being the 'free market' guy, Dutton also kindof snookered himself by demanding the free market not decide the fate of Australia day, but logic was never one of his strong suits.

Anyway, in the end we're just going to keep having this dumb circular argument every year, fulled by a media who love fanning the flames, until a politician has the guts to shift the date to May 8 (pronounced m8), and everyone promptly forgets this was ever a thing.

All in all, that's the long and the short of it. As a final touch we'll leave you with this real tweet by Opposition Leader Peter Dutton, in all its batshit glory.

We look forward to the absolute dumpster fire of comments this post is going to generate - as is the Australia Day tradition.

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Do the ethnostates inherent in major fantasy ever feel real weird to you? You’ve got elftopia (full of elves, where everyone speaks elf and worships the elf gods), orc-hold (full of orcs and maybe their slaves, where everyone speaks orc and worships the orc gods), and dwarfton (made by the dwarves! for the dwarves!).

You might have some cosmopolitan areas, usually human-dominant, but those are usually rare enough in-setting that they need to be pointed out separately. Is this just based on a misunderstanding of the medieval era, and the assumption that countries were all racially homogenous?

This has been bouncing around my brain the last little while. Do you have any thoughts on that? Is it just in my head?

I think what you've noticed is a quirk of derivative fantasy writing, which like a lot of hangups with the genre originates in people trying to crib Tolkien's work without really understanding what he was going for:

Though it contains a lot of detail, Tolkien's world is not grounded. It functions according a narrative logic that changes depending on what work in particular you're focusing on at the time (The Hobbit is a fairytale full of tricks and riddles, Lord of the Rings is a heroic epic, The Silmirilion is a legendary history).

One of the reasons the races are separate is to instill the feeling of wonder in the hobbits as POV characters for the reader, other folk live in far off places and are supposed to feel more legendary than our comparatively mundane friends from the shire. The Movies captured this well where going east in middle earth was like going back in time to a more and more mythologized past.

In real life, people don't stay static for thousands of years, no matter how long their people live. They meet, mingle, war and trade. Empires rise and fall creating shrapnel as they go, cultures adapt to a changing environment. This means that any geographic cross section you make is going to be a collage of different influences where uniformity is a glaring aberration.

What the bad Tolkien knockoffs did was take his image of a mythical world and tried to make it run in a realistic setting. Tolkien can say the subterranean dwarven kingdom of Erebor lasted for a thousand years without having to worry about birthrates or demographic shifts or the logistics of farming in a cave because he's writing the sort of story where those things don't matter. D&D and other properties like it however INSIST that their worlds are grounded and realistic but have to bend over backwards to keep things static and hegemonic.

Likewise contributing to the "ethnostate" feeling is early d&d (backbone of the fantasy genre that it is) being created by a bunch of White Midwestern Americans who were not only coming from a background of fantasy wargaming but were working during the depths of the coldwar. Hard borders and incompatible ideologies, cultural hegemony and intellectual isolation, a conception of the world that focused around antagonism between US and THEM. These were people born in the era of segregation for whom the idea of cultural and racial osmosis was alien, to the point where mingling between different fantasy races produced the "mongrelman" monster, natural pickpockets who combined the worst aspects of all their component parts, unwelcome in good society who were most often found as slaves.

This inability to appreciate cultural exchange is likewise why the central d&d pantheon has a ton of human gods with specific carveouts for other races (eventually supplemented with a bunch of race specific minor gods who are various riffs on the same thing). Rather than being universal ideals, the gods were seen as entities just as tribalistic as their followers.

[winterinhimring]

I AM NOT OKAY ABOUT BOROMIR

He lives his entire life in a country that's facing off against the forces of evil incarnate. The borders are shrinking yearly. Their people are dying faster than they are born. He is the son of the Steward; he must be aware of all of this from his teens.

He grows up. He grows into a general. Now every loss is on him. Every father who won't come back to his sons. Every husband who won't come back to his wife. Every son who won't come back to his parents. Every inch of ground lost. He knows it's inevitable. He knows this is an unwinnable war. It's still his orders, his men, his country. He's failing them. Nobody could succeed, but it is him that fails all the same.

He gets sent off on a quest that roughly amounts to a modern British soldier being told (in a dream) 'go find Camelot, talk to the brownies, and get Arthur to come back here with Excalibur and save the day'. He goes, because those are his orders, and he's a good soldier.

He gets yanked into the weirdest spec-ops mission in history. They are trying to destroy an atomic bomb engineered by Satan. Half the participants are the aforementioned brownies, who are waist high and have manifestly never been in so much as a skirmish in their lives. (He tries to teach them how to use a sword, in the hopes that they won't die if there is an actual fight.) One is a wizard, two are somewhat more mundane myths, and one is a weird scruffy wilderness man that people keep telling Boromir to swear allegiance to. He goes along with it because he doesn't really have orders in this situation, but when he suggested using the atomic bomb, the wizard got very angry and swore a lot in a language he didn't understand and made the sky turn black, and everyone else seemed to view this as conclusive.

(The atomic bomb could save his country if they were allowed to use it, he's pretty sure. He tries not to think about that.)

For some reason, the wizard and company are determined not to go back to the nearest fortified city and regroup. They are determined to go straight to the heart of the enemy's realm. In the course of this determination, they get chased by crows, they climb a mountain which might be sentient and trying to kill them or might just be having a snowstorm because of an evil wizard, and they get buried in snow. The hobbits almost die.

Wizard and company still refuse to return to the fortified city and regroup. They go into a mythical city where there are supposed to be friends, and they find halls full of bodies. (This is more familiar territory than he wishes it was.) They get attacked by a giant lake squid. People keep throwing hobbits at him. (Seriously, Boromir gets so many hobbits chucked at him over the course of this movie.)

They get trapped inside the fallen mythical city. They've almost made it through when one of Actual Satan's massive fire-demons starts chasing them. (Keep in mind that the Balrogs were last heard of at the end of the First Age, and Boromir is a soldier, not a scholar. From a modern perspective, this is something like having a dragon the size of an airplane show up and attack your military platoon.) The wizard dies fighting the fire-demon. He pulls the hobbits out, keeps the dwarf from running back inside (to do what, Boromir doesn't know, but Gimli probably doesn't know either; Boromir has seen men get like that before when someone dies in front of them), and accepts the orders from the weird scruffy wilderness man because he seems to at least have an idea of where to go.

He follows the wilderness man right into another myth. He meets a woman who reads his mind and tells him that there's hope for his country to survive. (Boromir has not had hope since he realised that Gondor's borders were shrinking year by year and their army dwindling and their allies weren't coming to aid them. This probably happened roughly when he was sixteen. He is forty. Hope, even the idea of it, hurts so much more than despair ever did.)

When they are on the verge of leaving even the vestiges of friendly territory behind, he finally asks for the chance to use the enemy's weapon. He is shut down. He tries to take it by force (the only thing crueller than being given hope is having it taken away)...he does and says things he never thought he'd say or do.

He tries to hurt someone he's sworn to protect.

He's sorry. He's so terribly sorry, but the damage is done. Frodo has run from him like he's an orc.

There are actual orcs. Everywhere. He doesn't know where they came from but he finds Merry and Pippin. He fights to protect them. For a while, it seems like he will be enough, for this at least. (All his life, he has not been enough. Not enough to protect Gondor. Not enough to persuade Aragorn that it is worth protecting. Not enough to resist the temptation of the Ring.)

Once again, he isn't enough. He loses.

He watches them be dragged away, shouting for him as he kneels, helpless, struggling for breath against the arrows piercing his chest.

And then. And then, for the first time in who knows how long (perhaps for the first time ever) someone takes the weight off of Boromir's shoulders. Aragorn arrives. Aragorn fights to protect him, and promises to defend Gondor in his place. He promises, I will not let our people fall.

For the first time since he first realised what was happening to his country, Boromir has real hope. Perhaps Aragorn can do what he couldn't. Perhaps Boromir never needed to win the war. He held out until Aragorn came, made sure that the promised king of legend had a country to return to, and perhaps...perhaps that was enough.

Maybe Gondor will survive this. Boromir won't, but that's alright, if his people (his brother) do.

He swears his allegiance to Aragorn now, taking back his words at the Council, with the last of his breath.

Then he dies.

[iceinherheart-kissonherlips]

RTD: yo, Steven, my friend, I am back as DW showrunner, would you like to come back Moffat: nah, I am done RTD: but it will be sponsored by Mickey Mouse Moffat: ... Moffat: okay, so The Doctor will step on a FUCKING LANDMINE, won't be able to move for the entire episode, because if he does, the whole planet will FUCKING BLOW UP. I will need a hole in a ground, five people. The whole theme? How war is evil and pointless, and how big corporations and some even bigger countries profit from war and how they don't care about people; and how capitalism is the driving force of war and suffering, and how faith can be awful and evil if it stops you from thinking for yourself; I will beat the shit out of the fact that when it comes to money, people's lives do not matter and only the money counts, and how the organised religions Are Not That Great and that they often are the cause for suffering and violence and it's been like that for AGES; everything will give off a slight whiff of the US; and there will be an opportunity for a love story, BUT one person will be KILLED by the evil machine that was supposed to heal - just to drive the point home that WAR IS POINTLESS AND EVIL AND STUPID. I will also kill a FATHER OF A SMALL GIRL, BUT in the end the hope and love of a parent will save everyone RTD: I don't- Moffat: oh and I will fucking KILL the companion. It keeps them humble

[unforth]

We are one Iowa caucus into the absolute shitshow that is going to be the US 2024 elections, and I'm already sick of seeing takes downplaying the risk that Trump and his fascist followers represent.

Look. Around 1900, my mother's grandparents immigrated to the Lower East Side of New York City. They brought with them children born in Europe (Poland? Ukraine? which country they were in depends on what year we're talking about) - we're not 100% sure they were THEIR children, even, but there were three, and they were young, and they came. But my great-grandparents had siblings, parents, cousins, uncles, aunts, huge families. And while my understanding is that an attempt was made to convince those folks to move to the US, none of them ultimately opted to.

They all kept in touch as they were able, exchanging letters and pictures, but through World War 1, through the 20s, through the Great Depression, through the worsening situation in Europe in the 1930s, my entire extended family who chose not to immigrate...continued to stay.

I think we all know how this story ends.

I have an entire family photo album of people whose names I will never know, because after every single one of them died in the Holocaust, my great-grandparents and grandparents couldn't bear to even label them. And they were PEOPLE, poor, vibrant, eager to maintain connections with their loved ones abroad. One was a Klezmer musician, and we have photos of him with all the different instruments he played. They're so real on the page, and they all ended in ashes.

And you know how that started? Fascism started with every inch allowed, with every well-intentioned moderate who tried to maintain a middle position even as the whole ground shifted right beneath their feet and even "middle" became extreme, every "no that change isn't coming fast enough, I want instant full improvement NOW" liberal who felt that doing nothing was better than accepting a slower improvement in the (truly awful!) post-World War 1 living situation in Germany.

Most of the members of my extended family also downplayed the risks. They never imagined that the worst could happen to them. They never fathomed how bad things could become.

And now I have their example always before me to know and to scream:

I KNOW HOW BAD THINGS CAN BECOME. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FAMILY THEN.

I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN TO MY FAMILY NOW.

People look at me like I'm crazy when I say I've got our passports ready (and have had since before the 2020 election).

Look. I don't know what will happen if Trump is elected, but there's a very real possibility he will, and he's been extremely clear about saying what he'll do. He did a lot of the things he said he'd do last time. I expect he'll continue to do the things he says he'll do. And the things he say he'll do will lead to the deaths of more people than we can imagine - in the US, in Palestine, throughout the world.

Don't tell me there's a middle ground here. Don't tell me I'm over-reacting. Don't tell me the worst won't happen. Don't tell me the risk is mild. Don't tell me we're safe.

We. Are. Not. Safe.

The lives of dozens, hundreds, of members of family were lost in the 1940s amid the horrifying statistic "6,000,000 dead Jews."

I will not let my life (as a Jew), my wife's life (as a disabled woman), my son's life (as a biracial boy), my daughter's life (as a biracial trans girl), be part of the statistics that come from our a second Trump presidency.

If you won't vote like YOUR life depends on it, vote like someone ELSE'S life depends on it, because IT DOES.

And if you can't even do that much, at least shut the fuck up and stop spreading your poison around. You're wrong. The danger is real. Downplaying it now won't make your conscience feel any clearer when it actually happens, and comforting everyone else downplaying it will just make you that much more complicit.

[rowiewritesstuff]

Yandere G1 Soundwave with auotbot femme reader saving one of his cassette? Please?

Yandere Soundwave X Autobot! Femme! Reader

Out of all the autobots, you were by far the most caring. Despite being enemies of the Decepticons, you never hated them. You knew why they started the war- even if they went about it the wrong way. 

Instead of participating in the violence, you opted to instead keep everything organized, and everyone cared for. You made sure the weapons were cleaned and safe to use, that everyone was recharged and fed, and kept Wheeljack from blowing up the base (every other Friday). You also knew a little bit of first aid to get by.

With that regard, no one ever expected you to fight. You were a pacifist through and through- so when you went on a mission with them, they were shocked. You were just going with the intent of recon for a possible energon source- no one ever expected the fire fight that happened an hour into the mission. 

You hid behind a rock while your Autobot friends fought with the likes of Soundwave, his minicons, and the trine. The battle was fierce as many Autobots and Decepticons alike were injured- and then you saw it. 

A minicon bird was about to be blown up. While they were your enemies, you knew that dying like that was brutal. Before you could stop yourself you were running over, throwing the bird minicon as far as you could away from the explosion.

All you could hear before you were blown up was the shouts of panic from your friends. All of the fighting seemed to have stopped as both sides realized what happened- you had saved a Decepticon.

A moment later, you were knocked unconscious. Everyone looked on in shock or horror as you were thrown into the sky. Smoke surrounded the area you were in, and no one could see what happened for a few moments as the smoke cleared. 

There was your body, lying limp on the ground. Energon leaked from several spots on your body. Many assumed you were dead- and not even the Decepticons mocked your injuries. It was pure silence as Ratchet ran over to you and checked for a spark pulse. 

“She’s alive! Get her back to base, NOW!” The terrified medic called out. The Decepticons went to fight the fleeing Autobots before Laserbeak and Soundwave stopped them. 

Soundwave couldn’t explain his feelings. He had never even seen you before. An Autobot jumping in to save a Decepticon was almost unheard of- and yet, there you were. You jumped into an explosion and there’s no telling if you’ll survive your injuries. You had saved his child, knowing full well you could die. 

Soundwave looked you up in the Decepticon database when he got back. He found out that you were a neutral for a long time until Decepticon forces destroyed your home. Instead of killing, you made it your mission to save lives- Decepticon or Autobot.

At the Autobot base, it took you a month to get back on your feet. Your body was weak, needing extensive physical therapy. Everyone was fretting over you and it drove you crazy- so you snuck out of the base for a drive. You cruised through country roads, with no clue you were being followed. 

Soundwave had been stalking you since you’d been injured, his minicons monitoring your status. He wanted to know why you helped Laserbeak. It was about a week in he found out your hatred for the war. You said you didn’t understand why the Decepticons were still fighting- however you just dreaded the idea of hating them.

Since then, Soundwave wondered if he could turn you to the Decepticons. He found you when you were driving, and jumped in front of you. You were panicked, trying to drive away. You were too slow and the minicons easily stopped you.

You transformed back into your botmode, and held your hands up in surrender. “I don’t want trouble.”

Soundwave tilted his head at you. He thought it was adorable when you shook with fear. He loved how terrified you looked- though he preferred it when you looked happy. 

“Designation: Soundwave.”

You blinked, confused that he told you his name. “O-oh. Nice to meet you- I’m (Y/N).” When he didn’t speak back, you looked down at the minicons. You saw the bird minicon, and smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Laserbeak squawked and landed on your shoulder. He nuzzled into your neck cabling. You giggled at the funny feeling and moved him to your arm. 

Soundwave watched closely- yes, you’d make a great addition to his family. The minicons needed someone motherly to keep them out of trouble when he wasn’t there. Soundwave reached out to you, touching your faceplate. 

“What are you doing?” You looked embarrassed at the close proximity.

“Order: Return with us.” Soundwave grabbed your servo and pulled you along.

“Hey, no! I have to get back to the Autobots- It’s nice to meet you, but I’m no Decepticon!”

You felt something jump on your back- it was Ravage. The other minicons pinned you down to the ground as Soundwave leaned down. “Statement: You have no choice.”

[shuttershocky]

Consider, Barret.

I'm always considering Barret!

He's my favorite FF7 character and his design in Remake is outstanding.

Parts of Barret didn't age too well (his original character concept is "big and scary man" and he's the only major black character so uhhhhh) but I love that he's an unapologetic revolutionary and a genuinely charismatic leader that cares for the people under him as much as for his cause, whether or not they're even his responsibility.

One of the more endearing parts of the Remake is all the ways that Barret still cares for Cloud despite Cloud only being a hired merc instead of being a true believer in Avalanche; he gets worried when Cloud doesn't make it back immediately after they bomb Mako Reactor 1, and when they bomb Mako Reactor 5 and Barret thinks Cloud is about to fall to his death, Barret immediately says "Listen merc, I was wrong about you!" because he won't let anyone under his command die without him doing everything he could, even if all he can do is tell them they made him proud. He even offers to to stay behind and help Cloud battle Rufus Shinra, expecting Rufus to cheat (he does) and not wanting Cloud to sacrifice himself just to buy the party time to escape when that should be his responsibility as Avalanche leader.

He's even a loving father that spoils his daughter Marlene, but instead of making that detail something that contrasts his hardass personality, it's because he has a child that he's a hardcore eco-terrorist—his child's future is on the line.

I love that he's obviously the most well-read party member, quoting books about planetology and social justice in between all of his other lines being a Mr. T caricature. When the likes of Tifa grow uncomfortable with Avalanche's mission because of the ordinary people whose lives they disrupt too, he's always there to steady her and remind them all that their fight is literally for the planet's life; most Shinra employees are ordinary people just trying to do their best for their families, but Shinra itself is slowly destroying the planet and will kill them all, this fight must be done for everyone's sakes. A good man that serves an evil master must recognize his complicity before he can redeem himself.

One of the coolest things the Yuffie DLC does is expand more on Avalanche as a resistance group with different factions, with the main faction receiving support from Wutai. Barret's group is called "the splinter cell" because the other Avalanche factions don't want to associate with them since they think bombing the Mako reactors goes too far. The rest of Avalanche don't want to destroy Shinra entirely and ruin the lives of many people in the process, they want to force it into reforms.

Sonon and Yuffie end up chatting about this and Sonon says "The problem is, Avalanche is made of good people. They're soft. They want things like better work conditions, fair elections, equality for the undercity members. They can't do what needs to be done, and will eventually be against us. If you ask me, those guys in the splinter cell are who we should be supporting." Sonon is speaking as a Wutai agent out to destabilize Midgar in vengeance for Midgar burning Wutai to the ground back in the war, but it also really highlights how Barret is the only real force for change inside Avalanche, if all the other Avalanche factions are getting support from other countries and doing nothing while Barret is waging a full on war and earning victories against Shinra with only a gun, a girl that can punch good, and a twink with a big sword.

Also gameplay-wise Barret carries this fucking team on his back. Steelskin and his huge healthpool make Barret a tank (very important when many enemies can decide to give you the finger and wipe the entire team), and Lifesaver allows Barret to take damage meant for his teammates, which is critical for surviving many tough fights, but also makes gimmick/joke builds like Nailbat Cloud viable where you want to keep him on 25% health to have that crit chance and damage boost, but can't let him get slapped once or he dies.

That's on top of Barret's skills being your best ranged options in Remake that isn't spending MP (Aerith can do way more damage with spells but also dies to a sneeze without spending materia slots on HP Up), which is also highly important as half the enemies are flying around and Cloud can barely air attack until Rebirth reworked him. There's also bossfight gimmicks like The Arsenal's guns being interrupted by Focus Shot (you normally need Thundaga to stop it and Hard mode doesn't let you use items, making MP conservation really important) Maximum Fury being amazing at building stagger on bosses from the sheer hitcount and being very satisfying to use, and Barret's incredible Deadly Dodge allowing you to cheese the super annoying Brainpod fight because he swings his gun and hits all the Brainpods at once.

Finally, it's really funny how the Remake added in a big cosmic fate force called the Whispers that have the ability to raise the dead and cause or prevent disasters as fate demands it only for them to be destroyed by Barret and Red XIII shooting it repeatedly. Capital D Destiny, a fundamental force of the multiverse, was slain by the power of a guy with a gun and a weird dog.

[innamorament0]

There wasn't much left of that creature—only emptiness, anguish, and excruciating guilt. She was the sole ruler of the dead wasteland. She persisted, and she finally reigned. She reigned over empty, crumbling cities and irradiated fields and ruled over corpses, rats, and crows.

Nevertheless, the Reign won, and the world had fallen.

When she killed Supergirl, the whole world turned against her. Humans sent armies, and when they were defeated, the Government dropped bombs in hopes of annihilating the Worldkiller, but when the US used their first nuke, other countries read it wrong.

This started a short and devastating war that lasted less than two hours, leaving the Earth a barren land and sending it into a nuclear winter that, in a few years, turned into autumn. It was beautiful—green forests turned red, and thick fog covered the dead land in the early mornings. The soil gave birth to new plants, adapted to living in the nuclear wasteland, feeding off the waste that lay thinly on the ground.

But there was no one to admire the view.

Everyone Samantha knew was dead. Everyone she loved was wiped from this world.

[lets-try-some-writing]

For the record, I blame TikTok for this idea.

So I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen or experienced one these godforsaken kiddie Jigsaw traps, but in the US we have these fucking metal slides 🛝 that are literally death contraptions on some of our public playgrounds. It’s basically a Canon Event for everyone, doesn’t matter if you’re a kid or an adult, to get their shit absolutely wrecked (and their asses and the back of their legs burned if it’s summer) on the way down these slides crafted by satan himself for character development that spit you out at Mach Jesus speed and quit literally skin you a new one during the process.

How would the TFP Autobots react to their humans going down a metal slide and just being shot out and tumbling out of the end like a can of coke in a vending machine?

Or better, what if the TFP Autobots (as holoforms) went down a metal slide? Possibly acting as a gigantic bowling balls and slamming into some poor unsuspecting human children like they were bowling pins? 🎳

Back on Cybertron, before the war, did Cybertron have their own equivalent of the notorious metal slides on their sparkling playgrounds?

I have indeed felt the wrath of the satanic metal slides. I've lived all over the globe and it seems like every country has their own lovely rendition of the terror that is the human grill disguised as playground equipment. Many a childhood memory has involved being chucked around on one like a bowling ball. I love this idea so thank you for coming up with it for me.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The team were well aware that the humans had to keep their young entertained. Cybertron has its own rendition of the human 'playgrounds' to keep rambunctious sparklings from getting into trouble. Thus they were not at all surprised when the children one day asked to stop and check out a playground on the way back from school.

Optimus and Ratchet had been out taking a drive together in order to take a break away from it all, but quickly decided to come park with the rest of the team while the children played. Ratchet would die before admitting it, but watching the children play brought him a degree of comfort. There had been no sparklings amongst their kind for centuries, and so seeing the young of another race play so freely was a minor comfort. The team shared the same sentiment as they watched Rafael go up and down on the swings and chuckled at Jack doing his best to keep Miko from fooling around and possibly breaking something.

Of course the moment of quiet joy came to an end when Miko, in all her infinite wisdom, declared that going down the slide was in their best interest. By that point Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen, and Wheeljack had parked as well, each wanting to see what had the attention of the other members of the team. They too were quickly drawn into watching as a rather spectacular scene played out that brought forth old memories in all of them.

Jack had opted to go first down the metal slide at the playground, curtesy of Miko calling him names. He seemed to contemplate the universe at large as he patted down his trousers, pulled up his socks, tucked in his shirt, and laid his arms across his chest. He looked to the team almost pleadingly before he sat down and very nearly threw himself down the slide as an unfortunate hiss echoed from where the sweat from his play was turned to vapor. The team collectively watched in horror as Jack was thrown off the end of the metal abomination and sent careening into the wood chipping that made up the ground around the playground. Arcee very nearly transformed to check on him but remained still at the prompting of the rest of the team and in response to Jack groaning and getting up, albeit with a lovely red mark on his face from where his cheek unfortunately hit the edge of the slide on the way down.

The team were still reeling when Rafael was forcefully pushed down the abomination as well, not having been given any time to prepare for the trial ahead. The small child stood no chance as his tiny body was bat around like a ping pong ball and promptly shot off the end of the slide as well, joining Jack in his misery. Ratchet almost burst a wire as he watched the two boys compare burns and cuts from where the wood chipping got them. Optimus and Ultra Magnus both were trying to comprehend what the point of going down was. Wheeljack and Smokescreen were stuck trying to understand why children would go down a grill like surface. Meanwhile Bulkhead struggled alongside Arcee to not transform and check on their charges. In the end the team remained still, each keeping their disguises in place as Miko prepared to go. However due to her cruelty toward Rafael, Jack opened up his water bottle and dunked her with it just as she was going down.

Miko screamed as she slowed down to a horrible speed on the abomination. There was not enough water to make her go faster, and so instead she got stuck, forcing her to roll the remainder of the way down to avoid burns. She tumbled off the edge like a bowling ball and careened right into the wood chips. The team were left in absolute shock as she got up, looked over her burns, and called it a day. Seeing the children's reaction toward it all had Smokescreen breaking cover somewhat to call out with a question.

Smokescreen: Why do you do that? Doesn't heat hurt you squishies?

Miko: Yeah, but this is a coming of age thing.

Smokescreen: How? This doesn't seem like a useful ritual.

Jack: Every kid goes through this Smokes. Out here where its hot, you must learn the wrath of the metal slide.

Smokescreen: But... it hurts right?

Rafael: Yeah, that's why I don't like going on them. But like Jack said, its just something you do as a kid. Its a rite of passage of sorts.

Miko: YUP! You didn't have a childhood if your legs weren't skinned by one of these bad boys!

Smokescreen: It can't be that bad. Its just a slide!

In large part due to morbid curiosity, Smokescreen took what the children said as a challenge and hurriedly formed his holoform. Before the team could stop him, he stood at the top of the slide, smiling as if he weren't about to face agony. Miko grinned, Jack groaned, and Rafael looked away as Smokescreen who with no idea how the survival strategies of metal slides worked, threw himself down it. The rookie screeched as he got stuck halfway down due to poor momentum and hurriedly scrambled to get off in time. He grabbed the edge of the slide, ignoring the burns in order to hurl himself into the bark below. He laid on the ground groaning as the children laughed and winced. The team were shocked for the most part. Smokescreen was a trained soldier, and while certainly not the most experienced, he was no weak link. Pain was not unusual for him to experience on the battlefield.

For him to scream and panic? What started as concern turned to similar morbid curiosity as one by one the team formed their holoforms to attempt the trial of humanity's children. Other children came to the playground and began to giggle and laugh as the team lined up and watched as each made an attempt to best the rite of passage for human spawn. Smokescreen only managed to drag himself to his feet after a toddler stepped on his fingers. At that point he joined the rest of the team, forming an odd line of strange adults all waiting for their turn to best the slide, or at least attempt it.

Wheeljack, in his similar infinite wisdom, opted to go next. Having seen the children's attempt and Smokescreen fudged one, he was ready. Ensuring his holoform had gloves, he prepared himself to go. However he he forgot about the benefit of having long sleeves as he threw off his jacket in a celebratory manner and plopped down on the slide, arms crossed over his chest like Jack did when he went. Unlike Smokescreen, he did not scream when the torture that was the blazing hot slide hit his bare arms, but he did make an undignified sound as he was careened off the end of the slide and sent tumbling out of the bounds of the playground and onto the cement. He proceeded to scramble to his feet to get off the cement only to promptly trip into the bark, face first. Miko laughed herself half to death, and seeing Wheeljack's attempt, Optimus, Ultra Magnys, and Ratchet raised their metaphorical white flags and sat back, none wanting to be involved.

Wheeljack and Smokescreen, both having been defeated quite brutally, sat beside the Prime and medic, both grumbling at their loss. Ultra Magnus sighed and returned to his vehicle mode as Bulkhead, quite sure of his ability, decided to be the one to go next and test his mettle on the human torture device that even children could overcome. He took great care ensuring his holoform was covered head to toe, and he even went so far as to add goggles to his outfit just to be safe. He was ready, and so he threw himself down the slide with even more aggression than Wheeljack. He did actually manage to survive the slide itself, but he ended up flying off the end of the metal abomination and skidding across the wood chips, right into a group of children. The children rightfully began crying and parents quickly hurried to chastise the wrecker. Sensing the situation was about to become worse, Bumblebee, not wanting Smokescreen to have one over on him, decided that sliding with Arcee was the most efficient.

Thus just as Optimus and Ratchet got up to try and deescalate the situation at the foot of the slide, Bumblebee with his spectacular planning ability, plopped Arcee down in front of him and sent them both sliding down the metal abomination. They screeched as they sped up, losing control about halfway down and spinning a bit. Optimus for his part hurriedly gathered up the human children and pushed the parents away in time for the duo to go flying off the end. But Bulkhead who was receiving a lecture from Ratchet, happened to see the flying set of mecha in their holoforms, and barely moved aside in time for Ratchet to get the brunt of the crash. All three were left groaning as they were skidded across the wood chips, with Ratchet cursing up a storm in Cybertronian and Bee hurriedly rushing back to his vehicle mode so as to hopefully speed off before the wrath of the resident medic could reach him.

At the end of it all the children were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe and Optimus could only sigh in the manner of a truly tired parent as the led his team back to base. Upon arrival, the children only had one thing to say aside from their mockery.

Miko: Did you bots not have slides on Cybertron?

The team fell silent as they absorbed the question. The younger members of the team looked to the elder who gained a haunted but wistful expression on their faces. Swiftly speaking in Cybertronian, Ratchet moved forward to reply.

Ratchet: We did have 'slides' in a sense. There were ramps where young sparklings would test their ability to transform and either launch into the air if they were fliers, or fly and flip if they were grounders.

Rafael: Then why do you sound so afraid of them?

Ratchet, two seconds away from cursing: Because child, much like your human rite of passage nonesense, every single sparkling with access to such a ramp tested their skill against it-

Bulkhead: And every last one of them ate slag at least a dozen times before getting it right.

Even Ultra Magnus and Optimus seemed haunted as Ratchet played a video file, one showing a young unnamed sparkling standing at the top of a ramp. The sparkling smiled, seemingly confident while others watched on and observed. Within a moment the sparkling had transformed as much as they were able considering their youth and skidded down the ramp. Only instead of performing gracefully, the young Cybertronian flew through the air, flipping and careening until they returned to root mode just in time to hit the rubbery looking ground with a thunk.

Seeing the image has the elder members of the team nodding as if it were normal while the sparkling in the video wailed in a strange mix of static and binary until their Caretaker came to soothe them. It was not the same, but Cybertronians had their own sparklinghood rite of passage.

[anekogia]

Timeline of the war till when Lilia finds Silver (Spoliers from chapter 7)

This is based on most of the game's dialogue and scenes that played out. Might not be 100% accurate.

There was conflict/war between Briar Country (Land of Faes) and the Land of Sword (Human kingdom) because the Land of Swords were illegally gathering resources from Briar Country and destroying their lands.

While out scouting, Lilia and his men recieved news that King Henrich, King of the Land of Sword, is laying seige on Nobara Castle, where Princess Maleanor is currently living in and is taking care of her unhatched egg.

They quickly made their way there to warn the princess, where they King Henrich challenges Maleanor to a duel against his best warrior, the Knight of Dawn.

Lilia, Baul and their troops manage to make their way and warn Maleanor about the seige, but the princess tasks Lilia to look after her egg and escape Nobara Castle.

Maleanor makes her way out of her castle, where she battles against the Knight of Dawn and his men. The princess gains the upper hand, and buries the Knight into the ground.

The Knight of Dawn falls into a secret passage that Lilia and his men are using. It was then revealed that the Knight of Dawn is against fighting the fae and gave Lilia and his troops safe passage so that they can escape with Maleanor's egg.

Ultimately, Lilia manages to escape safely with the egg. However, Maleanor overblots and is slain by the Knight of Dawn..Nobara Castle is then taken over by the royals of the Land of Sword.

Some time after, King Henrich dies (good), and his younger sister, Princess Leah, becomes queen. She and the Knight of Dawn also marry and had a child.

However, the conflict between their kingdom and the fae is still happening, and the Knight of Dawn is killed during one of their battles.

Knowing that there is no hope for her kingdom, Queen Leah left her son to be protected by the three fairies in Nobara Castle.

Queen Leah dies soon afterwards. In an effort to save the young prince, the fairies cast a spell on him so that he would be placed under an eternal slumber until the war is over, and until somebody who could love him finds him.

About 200 to 300 years after the war, Prince Malleus is born, much to the delight of the fae kingdom now known as Briar Valley/Valley of Thorns.

More than 100 years after that, Lilia is visiting the ruins of Nobara Castle, where he hears something coming out from the castle. He finds a baby in the throne room and quickly realizes he is the child of the Knight of Dawn (from his hair colour and his necklace).

Having not forgotten what the Knight of Dawn did for him, Lilia adopts the child and gives him the "blessing of the night", resulting in the baby's hair colour changing from gold to silver.

Lilia names the child Silver and started raising him in a cottage in the woods. Malleus drops by time after time, thinking that Silver was just some orphan Lilia found in the woods.

Notes: I wouldn't be surprised if the Knight of Dawn's name is "Stefan/Stephan" since Silver's mom's name is Leah, which is also the name of Aurora's mother in Sleeping Beauty.

Also, knowing that Malleus is probably watching over everyone's dreams, I am 100% sure that this is how he is going to find out about Silver's true heritage. And he is not going to be happy.

[awritesthings1]

The Midas Effect (Part 1)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.5k+

Note: This is a oneshot, but consists of 2 parts.

AO3 link

Next part

-

When the sun begins to ache, and the birds catch the last worm, darkness floods the land. Vermin scurry through sodden trenches, squealing in delight at a moldy pastry found next to an unearthed tree. They come in the night, like shadows chasing you down the hallway. Your father called them the Dark Ones; vicious spirits starved of the violence they craved.

You never imagined they would come like this. As a child, your father reassured you they were nothing more than monsters that lived under your bed. Of course, he wrapped an arm around your trembling shoulders while tears rushed down both cheeks. He laughed a moment later when you told him you had seen a shadow under your bed the other night. You were too small to understand.

Growing up with the epitome of luxury, monsters living under your bed was your biggest worry. With a palace cherished by those before you, and love built into the walls, it was easy to forget how lucky you were. Your father was never King to you like he was to everyone else. He was the man who checked under your bed for monsters, and said yes when your mother said no.

Now, your old life is ashes in a pile of rubble.

Because the monsters didn’t live under your bed, they lived in Imperial bases.

“Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“No thank you.” Your nose scrunches at the noise of the bubbling pot. It was too loud. What if the Dark Ones heard and were making their way up the mountain at this moment?

Vee, your maiden, knew you like the back of her hand. When you were born, she tied herself to your wrist for better or for worst. In her own right, she became your mum while your parents were busy doing whatever ruling a country meant. But with that came the inability to lie or hide things. “They won’t find us up here, now come have some tea.”

You pick at the dirt under your nails, considering her words before reluctantly grabbing the ceramic mug being shoved into your hand. The older woman sits next to you by the fireplace. Silence thins over the cackling flame, fanning away the curious insects.

You watch a spider spin a web in the corner of the miniature brick house. Luckily, a rural traditionalist farmer had found you and Vee picking at his crops and offered you some shelter for the next few days. You doubt he would have offered otherwise if you weren’t the next heir to the crown. Most traditionalists preferred to stick to themselves, living off the land the same way ancient civilizations would have.

A thunderous attack on the western front claps across the mountainside, rocking the earth beneath your feet. You are careful to clutch at the stone tiles as your drink spills into the cracks. Dirt gathers in your hair, no doubt sprinkling into the tea boiling over the fire.

That was how most of your nights started now.  

From the corner of your eye, Vee speaks up. “We can’t stay here forever. The war is getting closer.” 

You stiffen at her words, tucking your knees into your chest. “No, I cannot leave my people to fend for themselves… This is their home.” The last word bites into your flesh. You shift away from her embrace, feeling the heat of the fire burn closer to your skin. You accidentally inhale a deep breath of smoke, bursting out into a coughing fit.   

“I know, this was my home too,” Vee begins, soothing her hand down your back. “But I want to leave. My husband is waiting for me on Alderaan, and you are the only person keeping me from him.” When your coughing settles, you look to her and see tears brimming her eyes. She reaches for your hand. “Please, don’t make me stay.” 

The thorns in the palace gardens never stung as much as this. You wish you could wrap a bandage around this just as easily. But this was bigger than you, and who were you to subject her to this when she only stayed out of loyalty to your parents. 

“One more night,” you promise.

Her braid swings from her shoulder as she reaches to wrap a ratty blanket across your lap while simultaneously pulling you into a tight hug. “One more night,” she agrees, “but we leave Caridaan this time.” 

Despite not wanting to admit it, she was right. After spending months living back-to-back in freezing mountainous terrain, biding time was fruitless. Sitting around had only made you pity yourself.  

You nod your head. “First thing tomorrow,” you agree, “arrange a ship to Alderaan.” 

The woman squeals in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. The rags drag against your skin at the contact, briefly making you flinch. You certainly won’t miss wearing whatever Vee hastily stitched together once your old clothes became unmendable. A warm dip in the refresher wouldn’t hurt either.  

As the woman settles by the fire and huddles her body from the elements, you wait until her chest lulls into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Rising from your spot, you drape the blanket over her shoulders, pulling it to cover the rest of her body. Quietly, you step outside. 

The horizon is buried under countless layers of clouds and midnight shadows. But on the cliffside, a chill of frigid air ghosts past your neck, triggering a flare of goosebumps down your arms. Golden streaks light up the night sky, but it’s not beautiful or mesmerizing. It’s disgusting and twists your stomach in a way worse than hunger. Because each light is a life being snuffed out. Fires, bombs, and weapons lay siege to little villages and peaceful communities, all in efforts to take the Capital. 

To take your throne. 

And while you may not live up to the name of your father, or be anywhere near powerful enough to stop the attack on your planet, you just may know one person who might.

-

Outside your window, a ghastly storm howled across Caridaan. Not that you had noticed, of course, because you were too occupied preparing your hair for bed. Dressed in your silk nightgown, you pinned it back carefully until the movement of your door drew you away.

The gentle steps of your mother rounds the corner. Your shoulders drop at the sight of her. Vee is by her side, nervously picking at her nails.

“Your father couldn’t come to wish you a good night, so I am here.”

You recognise the wavering tone in your mother’s voice when she speaks. Her eyes linger on the floor as she purses her lips, swallowing a shaky breath. The hairs on your arm raise.

Your mother was never an emotional person.  

“What happened?” You question, peaking a glance at Vee who looks equally as disturbed as your mother.

“Nothing, my dear.” Her voice cuts off, supressing a sob.

The tension in the room pulls taut.

Your mother attempts to blink away tears before reaching for a tissue on your vanity. “…It’s just that…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, scrunching the tissue into her palm and bursting into tears. You rush over to hug her without question. She trembles into your arms, gripping the back of your nightgown like a vice. “It’s your father.”

You suck in a breath at her words, the scent of a distinguished candle lingers.  

“He’s dead.”

-

A sudden jerk of the ship throws you headfirst into the wall.

“Maker! Are you hurt?” Vee cries out from her seat in the cockpit while squeezing the armrests to death.

Her voice is lost to a flood of alarms and a grunting engine. You crumble to the ground, clutching your throbbing head with a groan.

“Hold on! We’ve been hit!” Cries the Alderaan pilot, dipping the ship into a nose dive.

Your soul leaves your body as you are flung into the ceiling of the ship faster than you can blink.

“They’ve circled us!”

“Well? Do something!”

Desperately, you clutch at anything to ease your descent when the ship levels out. Fighting through the splitting pain in your head, you cling to a pipe heaving frantically for a break. When the ship levels, you drop down only to spit out the mouthful of blood and hair in your mouth. Without wasting a moment, you scramble to lock yourself into the closest seat.

Explosions continue to shake the ship, spinning your thoughts around.

“M’good” you mumble incoherently to no one in particular.

A series of coughs explode out your lungs, when a gush of freezing air pricks at your skin.

“Emergency hatch is open!” The pilot yells while flipping a few switches and pressing a big red angry button.

Vee’s hand reaches over her armrest to squeeze your hand. Tears are pooling down her cheeks.

Was this how you die?

The moon glares from behind Vee’s head, blinding you momentarily before a dark figure crosses your vision. Biting back the pain, you glare at the silhouette, desperately trying to work out if you were seeing things.

The Alderaan pilot struggles for what only could be seconds before a bright red light slashes at something before disappearing into the dark. You hear the pilot plead before they are carelessly shoved away from the console. You turn to Vee to gauge if you were imagining things, but she appears to be transfixed at the same sight.

“Hold on!” The dark figure commands.

You don’t think to question it as both you and Vee let go of each other’s hands to clutch the armrests.

Within a matter of moments, you feel the ship pull towards the ground. Your heart is thumping loud enough for the cockpit to hear. Fire catches at the descent of the ship, illuminating the cockpit with flaming gold light. Blood rushes to your head, consuming your vision in vivid white. Despite your grip, you begin losing sensation in your fingers. Fighting to stay conscious, a fierce scream rips from your lungs before the weight of your body disappears.

This is death. This has to be death. Your head was no longer in pain, and the feeling in your fingers had returned. You feel cold drops pelt your back as you hunch over on something sodden and gasp for air. You violently cough up your lungs, as your eyes adjust to your surroundings.

A rush of adrenaline laces through your veins.

Pulled straight from the pages of a horror story, the palace you once called home sits quietly up the hill.

Shivers wrack your body. You were dreaming, you had to be. But the violent pelting of rain soaking the ground beneath your knees says otherwise. You unwind your fists from the sodden grass, clutching your muddy clothes in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, you recognise it to be the slip you use to wear to bed. You pull at them, expecting your fingers to slip through the fabric like they would in a dream but the silk brushes against your skin the same way it always did.

Your blood runs cold. This was impossible. The palace burned down in the invasion.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here this late.”

You jolt, twisting around to see the Jedi Knight that guarded you in the months following your father’s death. Rushing to stand, your back is as stiff as a board while you watch him incredulously. Mud squelches under his boots when he moves to wrap his robe around your shoulders. He appears to be unbothered by the rain, instead squeezing your shoulders to give you a gentle nudge towards the palace. Your feet refuse to move.

“Anakin?” The disbelief in your voice is evident. “What’s happening?”

Anakin’s curls are plastered to his face as he squints through the rain to meet your eyes. His mouth hangs slightly agape, blinking at you sceptically for a moment before exhaling with an amused smirk. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you would pull something like this just to get my attention, princess, but I’m flattered,” Anakin remarks, stepping over you to sling his Jedi robe across your quivering shoulders.

Your nose fills as tears build in your eyes. Frustration, anger, fear and relief battle for your next words. “I’m scared,” you decide without much thought. The tears and exhaustion slip into your voice as you snuggle into the warmth of his robe.

The smile on the Jedi’s face falls, immediately gathering you up into his arms. Your nose presses into the nape of his already soaked neck, gasping for air between each sob. Anakin doesn’t mind though, letting you shift your weight into his body. The rain continues to pour down, plastering your now translucent nightgown to your skin. Ever the gentleman, his gaze shifts to the sky, blinking away the rain drops falling into his eyes. Your cries sink his heart but he knows that if you two were to stay out here any longer, you would surely catch a cold. Carefully, he maneuvers your arms around his waist then bends to cradle the back of your thighs and carry you through the mud to the palace.

You are too immersed in gripping the back of his shirt and crying into his shoulder to care. Maybe you were dead and this was the afterlife. But what about Vee? And your people? Had you left them all to die?

Your wet feet slap onto the stone tile as Anakin sets you down. “Am I dead?” You hiccup.

Anakin’s head shakes. “No, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You sniff, nodding gently while you take in the appearance of the room connected to the back entrance. It looked the same way you had left it before the fire. The candles were all snuffed out except for the one Anakin had lit and held to see your face through the dark. Even the boots of the servants looked hastily tucked beneath the table.

“Go change into something warm,” Anakin’s spare hand cups your cheek to draw your attention back to him, “I’ll have some hot tea ready.” His thumb wipes away the remaining drops of rain on your skin. You forget to breathe at the touch of his real hand. It’s short-lived though as he retreats through a door into the servants kitchen.

You are left in the dark, partly expecting to wake up any second. For a moment, you think you might be slipping away then realise it is only a draft from a window a servant must have forgotten to close. Reluctantly, you step closer, shutting the window quietly. You consider going to your room to change, but you know you can’t face crossing the threshold and reliving all those memories. So, you settle for one of the spare servant attire draped over a hook before meeting Anakin in the kitchen.

[semi-imaginary-place]

Which characters have tragic pasts that aren’t recognized enough?

I think people don't notice because Petra is very active about her situation. She's a political hostage in a foreign land that has turned her country into a vassal state from the war that killed her dad. But she's made the most of it. Petra taught herself a new language, she trains constantly, she's made herself be involved with the politics of Fodlan, and she's always seeking to better herself and hone her skills so that she's not just a prisoner but someone useful to Brigid. Petra's the opposite of passive, she refuses to just let things happen to her, and in a lot of ways she doesn't have a choice either she is an active participant in her life or she will just be shuffled around as a political pawn and hostage against the country she loves. We don't know the specifics of the international agreement about Petra but I can easily imagine it being something like "give us a hostage as a guarantee you won't attack us or we'll continue the war we won, raze you to the ground, kill all of you, and take your land".

Claude's backstory isn't tragic and uh... at least half the cast if not more has had it worse than him but I do want to talk about it since I never see people talk about the struggles Claude has had. I think a large part of it is that like Petra, Claude doesn't show the struggles he's been through nor does he really talk about himself or his past. They both show a strong front and face forward in their lives.

Claude's spent his entire life being alienated, in Almyra for being too foreign and not Almyran enough and then in Fodlan for being too foreign and not Fodlan enough. He's faced multiple childhood assassination attempts just because of his parentage and at least some of these have come from family members. Claude is a rarity among the cast in having not only both parents but having 2 parents that love him. However his parents are of the tough love approach, that what doesn't kill will make him stronger so they offer him little support, protection, or help in a world that is hostile to him at every turn. And so Claude grew up with everyone against him, with his every action used as justification that he's weaker and lesser than a full Almyran. And this has destroyed his ability to trust or be open with people. Claude is very insecure in his interactions with other people because he's used to every slip of information given being used against him. You see this in his supports with Marianne where he sees any information about himself as possible leverage against him so it has to be exchanged like a commodity so that they both have equal leverage against the other. And yet he does genuinely want to help people and cares about those around him as clumsy as his attempts are at making friends. Claude's backstory is not nearly on the level of say Edelgard's or Lysithea's but it's a shame no one is talking about it at all.

Dimitri stans screaming and crying about poor Dimitri and yeah he's had it rough (a lot of 3H characters have traumatizing backstories) but Dedue is right there, what about his pain! The hypocrisy! The Tragedy of Duscar led to the massacre of his family and not only that but he's now a genocide survivor since Faerghus decided to wipe out Duscar, take over their land, rename and settle on it. Not to mention they were wrongfully scapegoated for it. Dedue has had everything taken from him so he doubles down on this life debt to Dimitri because it's the one thing he has left. It's a trauma response coping mechanism that he's rather override his will, opinions, and personhood for Dimitri's sake. And the of course Faerghus hates him and reminds him of that every day.

At this point I'm wondering if its a racism problem that it's Petra, Dedue, and Claude whose struggles are most often overlooked.

[100percent-shell-oil]

Time table of the bullshit

I have decided to make a timeline of events in the gimmickverse after I joined, as far as I know them.

-Before my existence. I will call this the dark ages because I have an ego.

-I exist!

-I, wanting friends, say I can officiate the wedding of Microsoft edge and google news. This is the beginning of an era

-I officiate more weddings, including the wedding of the blogs that will one day be my parents.

-The Sealand-Britain war is accidentally started by me

-Illinois becomes their own country

-Femboy epidemic, creating the majority of the femboy blogs, is started

-I get a femboy who is now my child

-I start shipping France and Italy, who absolutely hate each other. They say they will never get together.

-My assistant comes into existence

-I ask France and Georgia for islands, now I have my own country

-I start a zombie apocalypse

-I get arrested :(

-My Assistant grounds me for starting a zombie apocalypse

-I marry the US

-Somehow i adopt firehouse as my grandchild

-The pinkpocalypse is started and I instantly join because I like pink

-Apple gets amnesia. Is now less of an asshole

-The Color war begins

-I get adopted by gibberish and join the pink sparkle family.

-Yahoo and Target are acting…weird

-It turns out they were possessed and have possessed France

-France possesses Sealand who is sent to the void

-I get possessed by August and am now trapped in the void

-Sealand loses our UNO cards and it is a miracle they are still alive now

-Back in the real world, August, the dumbass that she is, has somehow managed to possess several people.

-August possesses Italy on the order of France. Italy nicknames the event “The Panic”

-The Panic is ended, some people are still possessed but have learned to live with their demons. Some apparently were fucking married to their demons. I adopted mine.

-Apparently everyone is in their villain era. I wonder how I can spin this my way as I’m already evil.

-I join up with the gimmick blog predator to Benedict Arnold my way to success. Everyone now hates me for trying to get them all killed.

-France and Italy wedding preparations are currently happening.

-I start a campaign to get Johnathan John Johnson elected as God.

-The Micronation Revolution is started. I join as I own a country.

-Micronation revolution has been disbanded until they stop trying to kill each other

-Sealand is rotting. They’ve died before so they’ll probably be fine

-Goose-waste management war is started

-Bean (my favorite child) comes into existence

-Bean Protection squad is started

-War against Australia has been started

-Bean gets kidnapped for the first time

-Bean Protection squad is changed to Bean aegis movement because BAM sounds cool

-We get bean back. They get kidnapped again

-Bean is kidnapped a third time

-My kid gives their soul to bean’s kidnapper

-I get arrested again :(

-Sealand fucking loses xir soul

-I decide nope I’m hiding

That’s it for now!

This will be updated as events happen

[yeollie-plz]

The Lovers

Knight! Pedro Pascal x Princess! Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: You always knew you would be queen one day, but you didn’t think the title came with an arranged marriage. Sir Pascal, offers you a way out.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: Y/N insert, mentions of blood and war, fantasy settings, contract marriage, age gap, fake marriage

Gif credits to owners!

The kingdom of Adéla was a small but strong one. It had a long running monarchy and a prospering army. Your family had been ruling for over five generations and soon it would be your turn.

The earliest memory you had was one of your father sitting you down on his thrown and telling you of the great things you could do for your country. His speech had made you feel empowered, you had never forgotten that moment.

Although you were a princess, your life wasn't all ballgowns and parties. It was also duty and study. When you were not in the library reading any book that was shoved towards you, you were sat beside your father learning the ins-and-outs of politics. The next moment you were learning to ride or keeping the peace in town. It seemed like there was never a moment to relax. You were stuffed into corsets and powdered with makeup. You were rushed to taste all the new offerings of the kitchen. You were...exhausted.

And when you were finally in the solitude of your room, you would think but to your earliest memory. It would make you sigh, eyes shutting, as you attempted to rub the strain out of your worried brow. You knew you had to be the queen everyone needed. You knew you had to follow your duty and keep the strength of your kingdom alive.

Your twenty-fifth birthday was arriving rapidly. Although you wouldn't become queen until your father passed (long live the king), this was the year you were to take on more responsibilities and start making decisions on your own. It was tradition. You were prepared, yet admittedly nervous.

You usually wouldn't make a fuss about your birthday but your mother insisted on it.

"This year is special." She would say. You nodded in agreeance, knowing you would never be able to get her to back down.

Preparations for your birthday party caused everyone to bustle around the palace more than usual. Your father, knowing you didn't really care, set you up in the library with a few study materials and left with a wink to deal with your stressed mother.

You tried to focus but it became difficult with all the noise from outside the large oak doors. With a sigh, you gathered all of your materials into your bag, and made your way outside to the garden. There was still some people out here but if you just went past the trees, you should be able to find some quiet.

Finally finding a comfy spot you placed your bag on the leaf covered ground. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders, you laid it out under a tree and sat down. You decided to take a breath and look up at the towering trees before getting enveloped into your books. Shutting your eyes as a gust of wind flowed over you.

Just for them to snap open at the sound of a blade slicing through the air and sticking to the tree inches from your head. You looked up at the assailant with a mixture of fury and confusion evident in your face. You couldn't see their face with the sun shining behind them.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" A man's voice asked.

"Me? I should be asking you that. Especially after almost slicing my head off." Grabbing the blade of the sword you pulled it out of the tree and away from your face. You ignored the pain from the cut you had inflicted onto yourself and stood to meet the man.

His face came into view as his brows furrowed looking down at the hand you had used to touch the blade. He was of good height and build with dark curly hair. A knight's badge glistened from his casual jacket.

"Why is an off duty knight carrying a sword?"

He ignored your question instead asking about your hand.

You rolled you eyes, "It's fine. Answer my question."

"I was on my way to bring it to the blacksmiths when I saw you."

"So you decided to use it?" You laughed out of shock. He nodded solemnly, still staring at your hand.

"I told you its fine. So, you thought I was trespassing into the palace?" Another nod.

"And what if I told you I lived here?" He finally looked up at your face.

"You live h-" He's cut off by someone calling your name. You both look towards the voice a maid coming into view.

"Ah, Princess Y/N, there you are. Your mother's been asking for you." She spoke up, glancing over at the man who was still staring at you.

"Princess?" The realization of his mistake flashing behind his eyes.

You laughed again, this time from amusement. "Yes, princess, sir..?"

"Pascal." He responded.

"Well Sir Pascal, it was very nice to-" your eyes glanced down to his sword "-meet you." Bowing your head slightly, you followed the maid back into the palace. Glancing back to still see him standing there in shock. What a strange man.

---- One Week Later, The Day Of The Party ----

Your wound was healing nicely, despite your mother had given you a lecture about going into the woods and hurting yourself. You hadn't returned to the woods and you hadn't seen Sir Pascal since that day.

Today was your birthday and the day of the party. Your mother had told you to stay in your room until tonight and not greet any guests. You weren't really sure why, but you agreed to her conditions anyway.

Your maids had been in and out of your room, getting you ready all day long. All of them convinced you had to look even prettier and more put together than usual. You just let them push you around and do anything they desired, knowing it was better to just sit still. A knock sounded at your door about an hour before your big entrance. Your maids were almost done with their preparations when your father walked into the room. Everyone stood and bowed in greeting, he smiled back.

"Ladies, can you leave us alone for a minute. I would like a word with the birthday girl." His smile now reached his eyes as you looked at you. You maids hurried out, leaving just you two.

"You look lovely, my dear." He father complimented, grabbing your hand in his. He turned it over in his hand and traced your veins.

"You know when your mother went into labor, I was so nervous. I knew one day I would have to have heirs, but when it was finally happening, I was besides myself. I didn't know how to be a father, let alone a good one. But the minute you arrived and the doctors had told me it was a girl, I felt like everything made sense. When I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew you would be a great leader. And as you grew it became more and more apparent everyday." He paused, as tears welled up in his eyes, yours mirroring his.

"Father..." You whispered.

He laughed and stood up straighter, dropping your hand. Breathing deeply to hold back his tears.

"Anyways, have a wonderful party my dear, I will see you down there." He moved towards the door and grabbed the knob. Turning it and opening it just a crack before turning back towards you.

"I'm sorry." He said before rushing out. Leaving you confused about what he was apologizing for.

Your maids finished getting you ready, after crying they had to touch up a bit of your makeup too. It was now time for you to join the rest of the guests down in the ballroom.

As you made your grand entrance down the large staircase, you scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Your eyes locked onto Sir Pascal's, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked you up and down, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks before you forced yourself to look away.

The party was going smoothly, you were greeting dignitaries, eating, drinking, and dancing. Your mother had done an amazing job with the decorations, it was gorgeous. You kept meeting eyes with Sir Pascal but he never made his way over to talk to you.

You sighed finally deciding you would talk to him first. Just as you began to make your move towards him, your father called everyone's attention.

"I feel it's only right if the father of the birthday girl makes a speech." He laughed, causing everyone in the room to join in. "Y/N, is my only child and I have always held her close to my heart. One day she will be your Queen, a very important position, that she is more than prepared for." He smiled towards you. Tearing his eyes from you he looked over at your mother who nodded.

"But the Queen and I felt she should never have to rule alone." Your brows furrowed in confusion as two men made their way next to your parents. One was short, middle aged, with red hair. The other young, tall, and blonde. You weren't sure if you had met them before.

"Your new husband." A voice whispered behind you, you turned your head to see Sir Pascal standing there.

"My what?" You whispered back, sure you had heard him incorrectly.

"Your betrothed, the blonde." He nodded his head towards the younger man.

You snapped your head back towards your father who was trying to read your face.

"We have decided to agree to a marriage between our two nations. The second son of Corenth, Prince Xavier to marry our Princess Y/N."

You couldn't hold back the shock from your face, as your jaw dropped open. You looked to the blonde, who you now knew to be Prince Xavier, he looked solemn. He must not like the idea either. Your eyes shifted to your father, he met them, a look of apology flooding his features.

Suddenly a heat rushed through you, your heart pounding inside your chest, as an applause erupted at the announcement. You were now acutely aware of the amount of bodies around you and the boning of your corset crushing your lungs, no longer able to breathe. You grasped at the lace of your dress trying to find some sort of relief but it was of no use.

Someone congratulated you from your left and it snapped you out of your stupor. You glanced quickly at the large glass doors that led out to the gardens. Without thinking, you grabbed the bottom of your dress so you wouldn’t trip and ran straight out the doors.

You kept running until you made it to a gazebo, where you feel to your knees and attempted to catch your breath. The night air had a slight chill to it, shocking your system into working again. As your breathing became more steady, you started to really process what you had just learnt. Suddenly a voice sounded behind you.

“So, looks like that wasn’t only an announcement to the kingdom, but you as well.” Out of anger you met the face that went with the voice. Sir Pascal was leaning against the banister of the gazebo. Your eyes bore into him.

“And you’re not happy about it either.” He deduced, more to himself than to you. A scoff was all you could muster.

He lifted himself back to an upright position and walked towards you. He bent down to a squat next to you and handed a glass to you. You eyed it suspiciously.

“Water.” He said with slight amusement. “Not like I’d poison you or anything.”

“You almost chopped my head off the first time we met.”

This time he did let of a laugh, “You’re right, but if I knew who you were I wouldn’t have done it.”

“So if I wasn’t the princess, you would’ve just done it, no hesitation.” You took a sip from the cup.

“No, if you weren’t so beautiful, I would’ve done it, no hesitation.” You choked at his response, quickly you covered it by clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I’m betrothed.” You said with an eye roll.

“But you don’t want to be.”

“No, I do not.” You looked down into the cup.

“What do you want?” He moved from his squatting position, fully onto the floor next to you. He rested his head on his hand and leaned in a little closer. You could almost feel his breath on your neck.

“I’m really not sure. My whole life I’ve been trained to rule. I always knew I was stuck in this box of being princess and later I’d be even more stuck as queen. But I never thought my choice of love would be taken away.”

He hummed in response. A silence washed over the two of you.

“Marry me.” He spoke up suddenly after a minute or two of the silence.

“What?” Now it was your turn to be amused.

“Marry me.” He repeated, it was a statement not a question.

“And how would that solve my problem?”

“We can say we got married in secret, I have a few friends who would be witnesses. Plus that maid saw us together the other day.” He pondered for a second.

“So your solution to me getting out of a loveless marriage is to enter a fake loveless marriage?” Your eyebrows raised in a mix between confusion and curiosity.

“Yes. We say we got married in secret and consummated it, I’m sure the King of Corenth, won’t want a daughter-in-law that’s been deflowered.” He said the last word like it was a curse. “He’s old fashioned. He’ll want the perfect, obedient wife for his son.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Well I’m actually from Corenth, my mother used to work in the palace. She told me many stories.”

You nodded.

“What about my parents reactions?” You had forgotten about them entirely.

“I’m a pretty high ranking, officer in Corenth, I’m sure they can still work out a deal with them.”

There’s a silence again as you contemplate his plan.

“So?” He spoke up.

“You’re not tricking me right?” You were suddenly aware of the distance between you. You were also now aware of the things he was implying.

“I would never trick you.”

You scoffed.

“So?” The amusement was back.

“Fine, I’ll marry you.”