#its your fault dmitri

[mintyfrostyart]

HELLO EVERYONE

Oh boy you know who it is my favourite boy <33 I've gone into detail about his character below the cut >:}

Reginald strikes me as an odd character since his personality is formed around insecurity; the slave of his own mind, and that of his own people.

You see, royalty is a special case in this universe. Despite the name being “medieval AU”, its more magical and foreign. The Copperbottom family is a line formed from two royal houses, and has prospered for 5 generations. What makes royalty so special is that they’re gifted in many ways.

Magic

Magic is an odd case study, since its formed, quite literally, in the blood stream. If a royal had a cut, their blood would be speckled with magic. The colour of said magic is also visible within the lower half iris on a royal’s eye, and all magic casted by a royal will be of that colour. However, royals are only hosted to one power each. These powers are special, however. They usually consist as the ability to conquer a specific object, or set of objects, out of magic. King Galeforce, for example, posses magic in the shade of green, and has the ability to create any weapon of his choosing. Prince Jullian (an OC) posses magic in the shade of pink, and has the ability to create mirrors that can reflect either the true, best, or worst version of people.

These powers are said to be a gift from the stars, and can only be matured through the greatest pleasure in life: laughter.

For most royals, this is not a problem. As babies, there is a lot to laugh about, is there not? Most royals develop magic very easily from a young age.

2. Height and Strength

Royals have more power than your average citizen. Most royals range in height from 6’2-7’. They’re usually built (and trained) to handle any kind of weaponry, with their body type usually reflecting whatever magic they happen to possess. This, perhaps, is how they were able to get themselves into power; for who could take down someone who had the strength of 10 men?

..

The Copperbottom has a long history of strong, powerful rulers who have never been apposed, even when facing war. Hense, what made Reginald’s life so, er, fundamental.

He was the last of the Copperbottoms to survive. His parents met a tragic fate when he was a young boy, and he is the last left. But that was the thing about it, he wasn’t a traditional royal. At his full height as an adult, he barely reached 5’1, and he had not a scrap of magic to his name. Believe me, ladies in waiting and carers for the prince when his parents passed did everything they could think of, but nothing came to light. People speculated that the passing of his parents didn’t allow his magic to develop correctly, but nobody knew. Reginald was simply a quiet child who never spoke a word.

He wasn’t like other royals, he was *different*. Terrifying, I know.

Reginald was taken under the care of Admiral Dmitri Johannes Petrov, who very much cared for the boy as his own son. Dmitri had lost his wife and son in childbirth (eyup bi-Dmitri lets gooo). The kingdom didn’t have a ruler at the moment, and since Dmitri was indeed admiral, he offered to take care of him until he was of proper age to rise to the throne.

In the current day, Reginald is 25, and very mysterious as it is. Terrence was his parent’s regent, and he accepted taking the throne in their late becomings. Terrence’s character is a whole other can of worms to get into, and I’m going to go into heavy detail of his origins in another post, but for now, Terrence remains the king as of now.

But why? Well, its half Terrence’s fault and Reginald himself. For the sake of brevity, I’ll simply talk about Reg here.

Reg is 5’1 and powerless (and a Twink). The two things that make royals, well, royal, he doesn’t have. No one *knows* why, that’s just the way he is. Reginald’s quiet, he had a stutter growing up, and he’s freckled across his face. Royals are a simple of good manners and good behaviour, and for a royal who can’t speak nor represent his family, then who even is he?

But at the same time, the castle is terrified. Reginald is the *last* of his family, and everyone who lives and serves the Copperbottom family wants to keep him safe. The walls around the castle were put In place to ensure no harm could come to the prince. Terrence is an easily swayed man, and if someone gave him a reason to tear down those walls, he would. But no one has. No one wants to risk him getting hurt. 

From Reginald’s perspective, he feels unworthy of the throne. Reginald feels as though he must do everything in his power to make up for himself. He is the last of his family, and he’s a *dud*. He’s a royal that lacks anything royal looking, and so he feels eternally guilty. His unhealthy habits of drilling himself into work are of his own poison; he believes it owes it someone. He believes he had to put in more work than anyone at the castle because of the mess he has made of his family.

For if he is powerless and lacking of power, then he had to make up for it somehow, right?

Reginald does not have resentment for his upbringing; its been told to him about what he *should* have been, but he just isn't. He is a quiet fellow, but kind. Not many can form an opinion about him since he's a mystery. He's either doing work or out in his gardens where he's usually lost in thought. But in conversation, he does try his best to please crowds.

For someone who has never been outside, no one knows his face, only his name. A lot of commoners assume he is powerful, and that the castle was hiding him for his protection. Commoners are scared of him; if he is such a mystery, then he must be greatly powerful, yes?

..

Reginald’s character is complicated. He’s genuinely a very kind and sweet soul, but it’s very overshadowed by his crumpling self-image, but he sincerely tries to make up for it by pushing himself to the very limits. His first action of doing something for himself was making an escape from the palace, which is the beginning of the main series.

What I adore about Medieval Copperright is that Right teaches Reg that indeed has to learn to love himself. Right sees beauty in every single feature he has, and Reginald is blind to it. Right drills in the fact that Reginald doesn’t owe anyone anything for simply being himself. Their relationship is really slow, and I love that, because Reginald learns to love himself and love the things about himself through someone who views him as him. It's only when Reginald learns to care about himself that he begins to develop feelings about Right, as he can finally see himself as worth being in someone else's life.

The first person that sees Reginald as himself makes him realise that he isn’t simply an object for the throne, but as someone with a dream to be alive.

Right again is another story entirely, but I hope you’ve enjoyed this ramble !! <33

If you guys have any questions, please hit me up! I would love to go into more detail :D

#medieval au #thsc #thsc au #the henry stickmin collection #reginald copperbottom #reginald #prince reginald copperbottom #princey #minty's art #mintyfrosty au #oh my god its finally done #u guys have no idea how long I've wanted to talk about Princey's updated character #he feels a lot more 3 dimensional and I'm so happy about it #just wait til we get to Right holy shit

[the-irken-pony]

Free spot to talk about your ocs!! Gimme whatever thoughts you've gotten!

Gahhhhh fuck it. If people know ahead of time then people know ahead of time, I need to talk about them hhhh.

Traci Wells:

First of all I have adjusted her palette again. Reverted her CCC uniform to its original colors, made her shoes and glasses a bit more purplish, and made her hair a bit more reddish (and more vibrant).

I haven’t gotten around to it yet but I may redo how I draw her hair bun. I know it’s possible for one person to have multiple types of curls depending on the location but bun doesn’t match the hair that’s pulled back to make it, if that makes sense.

Basically I need to draw her again so I can share an updated design

Okay some actual character info now-

The original idea for Traci came from one of Ellie’s lines in Capital Gainz. Ellie mentions having “contacts” who are capable of acquiring private info, such as where the Toppat Clan is located. The fact that said contact(s) a) are willing to rat out the Toppat Clan and b) doing have enough of a vendetta to target the Toppat Clan themselves, was what led me to make her a member of the CCC, rather than a more major faction. (Though my own favoritism towards the CCC also played a part.)

Traci is… not the most physically fit. She prefers to assist in combat from a distance, and unlike the militarily trained Charles Calvin, Traci does not adapt well to field work or close quarters combat.

That said, she’s petty as fuck and not afraid to start an argument.

As I have said before, she works for the Subject Surveillance (SS) Wing of the Center for Chaos Containment. Unlike the Area Protection (AP) Wing, SS is devoted to capturing, “tagging”, and releasing individuals known to have high chaos levels (such as Henry, Ellie, RHM, Kabbitz, etc.). This does two things: allows them to distinguish between “area chaos” (e.g. the Toppat vs Govt fight in ItA) and “localized chaos” (e.g. the Ellry vs Kabbitz fight) and approach the situation accordingly (in a way that doesn’t result in wiping out the 1% or so of the population that has superpowers), and lets them study and observe superpowers in their natural state.

Ever since the CCC started working with the Wall, SS has been underfunded because why worry about all the nitty gritty details of where the chaos is coming from when you can just lock up any chaotic specimens (alongside whatever criminals Dmitri thought looked neat) and then take any remaining chaos and blow it up?

Speaking of the Wall, I've mentioned that Traci has a vendetta against Kyle Baxter. Before Kyle was stationed at the Wall, he was another member of SS. He volunteered for the new role for a couple of reasons. 1) With SS funding going down the drain and the CCC getting buddy-buddy with the Wall, he figured it'd be a more financially stable position in the long run; 2) he had experience working with high-chaos individuals so he assumed that it would be similar. (His panic during the big bust-out? That incident falls under the "area chaos" category, which he's not as equipped to deal with.)

Traci is, shall we say... less than pleased with this. And she's not afraid to mention it.

And now, some ✨backstory✨

I have mentioned that Traci has a twin. That twin is actually RHM. They’re biological twins; RHM is transgender.

Yes that does mean that she’s Cockney. I still need to remind myself this sometimes.

Sometime in his teens, RHM got kicked out of the house. I haven’t fully settled on the reason yet; either it was related to him having superpowers or some huge fuckup that’s his fault, or possibly a combination of the two. (Toyed with the idea of it being trans related, but I imagine him discovering that a bit later on in his life.)

He’d live on the streets for a couple of years before being picked up by the Toppat Clan. Almost definitely joined a gang or two in that time.

Traci stayed at home at the time; as much as she cared about her sibling, she also didn’t want to give up the security of having a home (the fact that she wasn’t treated as a “problem child” the way RHM was didn’t help).

Over time she’d grow to regret this decision more and more until she eventually made it her goal to reunite with him somehow. This is what originally motivated her to join the CCC—not only would she have a flying mobile unit, but she’d also have equipment that would help her track down RHM.

She would quickly find her new job to be a perfect for her (even if achieving her original goal would prove to be more difficult than originally thought).

Cael Summers:

So far, there isn’t a whole lot about them that I haven’t shared yet. I was a lot more open when introducing them than I was with Traci. I’ve also had Traci for much longer so she’s had more time to develop than Cael has.

Lots of scrapped ideas incoming!

They weren’t always nonbinary—or maybe they sorta were? When I first started developing them I kept flip flopping between male and female for them. Then I decided that if it was that hard of a decision then maybe they were a secret third thing.

I originally imagined them with a bit of a calmer disposition, but I felt that it made them a bit too similar to Ellie. So I pushed them closer and closer to how they are now: nervous fella who’d rather be at home than dealing with any of this shit.

Their hair became less emo with each iteration. When working on their more recent design I tried to emphasize the fact that they were recently captured by the Wall after getting caught in the middle of a scuffle between them and the Toppats. And that’s how I settled on the more messy hair they have now.

And now some actually still relevant information,

On their off-work days they like to dress more stylishly; they do their hair all nice and add a brooch.

I already mentioned the whole “they swallowed a rock and got powers from it” thing, but I didn’t elaborate on what those were: mind-related powers. Telepathy, mind reading, mind control, mind wiping, astral projection/possession, that sorta thing.

Aside from the telepathy, most of their newfound abilities scare them. They went from “will try to avoid a fight at all costs” to “I accidentally shattered one guy’s mind and turned another guy against his gang” and they don’t quite know how to handle it.

They do meet Ellie at some point—or rather, they might meet her. Cannot share too much more about that, since that’s directly related to the actual fanfic plot. Still working out how exactly they play into her story, but their general dynamic is “Ellie is a bad influence”.

Uhhhhh that’s about it for now? Have fun with these I guess lol

#traci wells #cael summers #my ocs #thsc oc #ellie rose #right hand man #henry stickmin #the henry stickmin collection #thsc #ask #the-starry-inkwell #mine #long post

[sarcasticallydrowning]

dmitry i love you but you can’t do this every year.you start writing a series and get everyone excited, leave for the rest of the year, post some small drabbles and thirst, then announce a series, make like 3 chapters, then disappear. PLEASE STOP HYPING US UP LIKE THIS . since your wattpad days this has been a problem.

BROOOOO DONT BRING UP MY WATTPAD DAYS. that was actually a dark time period 😭. no bc i’ve been writing since 2020 and i may or may not have finished a series after making a series every year. BUT I SWEAR ITS NOT MY FAULT. it’s like my life falls into shambles the second i start making a series like this is the 4th time. ITS NOT ME I SWEAR ITS JUST THE WORLD NOT BEING ON MY SIDE. SPARE ME LET ME LIVE!!

#askdmitry 💌 #i’m going insane #im just a girl

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

I had a lot of trouble phrasing this, I’m very sorry if it comes off as overly critical of your rewrite or your plans for it. I’m just concerned about how this is being handled.

Is Nicole going to be condemned for what she does? I understand it’s the cycle of abuse and Nicole isn’t doing what she’s doing because she’s a bad person at heart or something like that, but that doesn’t really reduce the harm or fault in the situation even if it provides context for her actions.

That’s not even mentioning the balancing act that sounds like. I can’t think of a way that Dancole wouldn’t be uncomfortable because from what I gathered (please correct me if I’m wrong) Nicole tries to get with Dante when he’s a minor and then later actually gets with him when he’s an adult. I can’t see how Nicole could stay a ‘good guy’ character after trying to date him as a minor, let alone see how her dating him as an adult could be handled well.

Tw, grooming, pedophilia, the cycle of abuse and how the themes correlate to Amaranth

Dw about sounding critical! This is a sensitive topic so I completely understand any kind of critical tone that comes with discussing it. It’s part of the deal with writing this stuff that criticism is expected.

One of the reasons I didn’t want to discuss these events happening in Amaranth yet is because I haven’t fully figured it out yet and they are subject to change with ever piece of media I consume or conversation I have, or simply just if im left alone to think for too long. That’s why my most recent posts about Dante and Nicole’s relationship were from about a year ago.

Most things I’ve said about Dante and Nicole’s relationship pre-recent discussion don’t apply. Nicole and Dante never date as adults, and in fact Nicole never steps foot in Phoenix Drop between the last chapter of Amaranth season 2 and beyond, despite the 15 year gap and all the time after that. Their relationship, which is how I will be referring to it due to a lack of better terms coming to mind though it isn’t at all to be considered genuinely romantic, lasts for all about a week during the events of Amaranth s2, and despite its brevity, it was a very bad situation and Nicole does face repercussions. Those of which I am still trying to figure out, as it’s a difficult spot to try and navigate.

By the time Nicole would face the punishments for her actions, it’s is known she is the heiress of Scaleswind. It’s known that she has immense amounts of power of Ru’Aun and that no physical harm can come to her. They couldn’t even imprison her without inviting another war. So far, the list of punishments ends with permanent exile, and to cut off contact with Dante entirely. The only conversation she should ever have with him is regarding politics and nothing beyond that. Even Dmitri isn’t a topic she is allowed to bring up with him. But of course I am considering other punishments as well as to leave it at ‘oh you can’t be here anymore’ feels too little for what she did.

But aside from it being written that she is very clearly in the wrong despite her lack of understanding, and a conversation she has with Garroth, it’s hard to try and figure out how to make it clear her actions aren’t forgivable. That’s why I wanted to wait until I had done some research to really talk about it, alongside other things of course. Because I’m still figuring out the finer details.

But, to simplify, Nicole isn’t going to be treated like a good person afterwards. It’ll be clear that Nicole is someone who did good things, but they don’t negate the bad. She’s going to be punished for what she did, and it’ll never be stated that what she did was okay.

Talking about the cycle of abuse doesn’t mean that the people that are caught in it are innocent, it means they’re victims as well, and that the only way for the cycle to be broken and to make sure no one else is hurt, is to make sure that victims are given the proper means of healing and coming to terms with what happened to them. It’s why Zane is still considered a villain even though his actions are a result of the abuse he experienced. Because he was never given the chance to heal from his abuse, he abused other people. He is not a good person, his actions are his own, but there is a reason for them and if he had been able to properly heal, or if the reasons didn’t exist at all, he wouldn’t have done what he did. And the same goes for Nicole. Both characters will be treated the same way in this regard. Zane will be held accountable for what he has done, Nicole will be held accountable for what she has done, because even if there are reasons for what they have done, there are also victims.

If anything I said here isn’t clear or makes it seem like I’m justifying anything, please let me know. And if you have any questions or criticisms about how I’m handling it, I’m more than happy to receive them. I wouldn’t post this stuff if I wasn’t open to actually discussing it.

Also yes, this makes Dmitri 15 in season 3. Older than canon but I don’t want to have Dancole happen again so it’s a needed change.

#NOT DANCOLE #aphmau #aphverse #rewrite #aphblr #minecraft diaries #mcd #amaranth

[inky-duchess]

rose gold- 5, 4, 3 for olezka and misha

black- 1, 3, 5 for nikolai

silver- 3, 4, 5 for kiva

:D

Rose Gold - Olezka & Misha

3. Is your OC particularly kind to their friends? Do they easily forgive their faults and failings? Or do they consistently hold others to exacting standards, no matter how closely they may be connected?

Olezka is incredibly kind and forgiving. He will forgive almost anything, people are flawed but that doesn't mean they are bad or unworthy of kindness. Misha is kind but he finds it hard to forgive or forget, he expects his friends to adhere to a high standard - he needs to know he can trust them.

4. Which of your OC's friends is the most different from them? How did they become friends? Was this a friendship they fell into easily? Or one only forged through grudging respect or shared experiences?

Olezka's friends that he's probably most unlike are his cousins. They all grew up together but Olezka is the overexcited golden retriever in a family of temperamental black cats. Misha's friend that is probably most unlike him is Dmitry. Dmitry is a stickler for the grandness of the Imperial court and Misha is more relaxed.

5. Is your OC generally easy to get along with? Are they affable and relaxed? Or do they have qualities which make it harder for others to befriend them - or even those which actively push others away?

Olezja is very easy to get on with. He's friendly and warm and could get a smile out of anybody. Misha is more prickly, he finds it harder to make friends and keep them because of trust and jealousy issues. He does push people away when he's feeling vulnerable or distrustful.

Black - Nikolai

1. Is your OC the energetic one amongst their friends or companions? Are they always the first to suggest an adventure or trip somewhere?

Nikolai isn't an energetic partner in a friendship but he certainly steers all the adventures and voyages. He's not the engine, he's the one behind the steering wheel.

3. When your OC is feeling down or defeated, what is the best approach their friends can take? Concern and sympathy? Tough love? Humour and encouragement? Motivational lectures? Or another tactic entirely?

Send Misha in. Tough love works to a certain point but when Nikolai is truly hurting, he's better off left to his own devices.

5. Does your OC ever feel the need to retreat from others to recharge their emotional batteries? Are they something of an introvert who enjoys spending time alone? Or are they more extroverted and someone who needs to be with other people to energise themselves? Or does this vary depending upon circumstances? Or even the people in question?

Nikolai is introverted but does make an effort to try engage. He's honestly happiest amongst a small group or alone with a good book. For his sharp exterior, Nikolai is rather shy.

Silver - Kiva

3. What has been the greatest test of their friendship with a close companion or ally? Did the relationship survive this? If so, then what helped in repairing that connection? If not, then did they let the friendship go without regret?

Its very plot revelant but Kiva can't forgive it. It utterly destroys the relationship but he doesn't regret it.

4. How strong are the bonds of friendship for your OC? Do their platonic relationships always rank lower in importance than their romantic partnerships or their family loyalties? Or do they have a friend with whom they have forged a bond deeper than blood or romance could ever equal?

To Kiva there's nothing more important to him than his relationship with himself. He believes he owes no obligation to anybody but himself.

5. Does your OC draw strength from the thought of their friends? Do they sometimes push themselves onwards for the sake of their companions - or in memory of the sacrifices of others - when they would otherwise give up and accept failure? Or do they see themselves as uniquely capable or responsible, regardless of what others may or may not have done?

No. Kiva relies on people he's collected over time but his view of what a friend is very different from what others deem. They should sacrifice for him, think of him, live for him. He's not responsible for him.

#Ask answered #Thank you very much

[evangeline444]

5, 13 for Lark

5. a note/letter found in your OC’s pocket

[A neatly written list of Lark's patients and what he is treating them for]

Nydha- Arthritis in both hands, particularly aggresive in the left hand due to the anchor. Speak to Solas about possible solutions.

Melitta- Persistent pain in scar tissue across her chest and arm. Will need more information about the cause of injury to better understand how to treat. Also treat for iron deficiency. Remind her to clean her wounds and drink enough water before battles.

Sammael- Complained of a persistant ache in his jaw. Fullbody examination revealed a break in his jaw that was not set and healed properly. Made note of several other badly healed broken bones as well as bits of silver embedded in the scar tissue of several old wounds which is likely why much of his scarring is so severe and painful.

Fen'an- Remember to keep Asgeir busy elsewhere during Fen'ans visits or he gets too distracted)

Nanin- Mentioned pain in his shoulders and back, likely extreme muscle fatigue. A full body examination would be benificial though it is unlikely he will allow this.

Dhaveira- Trouble sleeping. Mentioned frequent nightmares that have worsened since the breach was opened. Speak to Revna and Iselan about possible solutions.

Dmitri- Extensive burns to his right arm and torso. Healing adminstered a day after the injury was sustained. Remind him that the quicker he finds his way to a healer the quicker he can be back on his feet fighting.

Yuo- His visits to the inquisition are rare and his visits to the infirmary are even rarer still--this is not for a lack of injuries. All things considered he maintains his injuries quite well.

13.something written about your OC in the two years between defeating Corypheus and the beginning of Trespasser

(I realized at the end of this that i did the wrong prompt but um its too late now)

[A report written by Josephine Montilyet]

Senior Enchater Orrick is both exactly what I expected and not at all what I expected. He is an extremely talented healer, such that I do not think the Inquisition would have faired quite as well without him maintaining the health of our people. He can however be quite harsh at times, particularly when it comes to any of the agents of the ex templar variety. Though I do not fault him for being wary of them, I would greatly appreciate if he could perhaps be a bit less resistent to some of our noble visitors at the very least--i understand they can be bothersome, but as a growing organization we do require their support.

[A very neat message is scrawled beneath]

Ambassador Montilyet,

I apologize if my interactions with patients have in any way caused issue with you, it is not my intent. I will do my beat to maintain more polite interactions when I can. I will not however stand for the entirely unneccesary visits from nobility. It is highly innapropriate and I will not put my patients nor my fellow healers through the indignity of being gawked at. They have no place in my infirmary unless they are in need of healing.

With respect,

Lark Orrick

#oc: lark orrick #sorry this took me 80 years to complete i have mental illness

[stargirlstudio]

Hii i’m the anon who posted that loong message to you, i’ll go by this 🦇

I do honestly feel the same as you do, its really hard to look back at that time in my life because pre-teen me was severely fucked in the head. It makes me cringe and feel for her in a sense, like i want to go back and tell her she’ll be okay one day and hug her.

Like even before my pre teen phase, i was watching a lot of grown up stuff as a kid as well as having a mother who parented differently and with having her own issues with men, so my perception of older men was so much different, border lining on dangerous.

But that Lolita phase is really damaging, and for a pre teen girl, it did one hell of a number on me. Also having social and cultural media enable you, especially 12-14 tumblr, really hurt me and so so many others, and even admitting it makes me feel sick, because i knew it was wrong and even then watching the movie, among others, at like 14? disgusted me, i just wanted an older man to come and get me and save me from what was a very low point in my life.

But like with LDR, she not only made me romanticise older men, but she became the artist i listened to when i was depressed, and in fact i had to stop listening to summertime sadness because it made me feel some pretty lowly, depressed thoughts. So being a hormonal pre teen with no common sense listening to LDR, it was crazy really, and if i could go back to teen me, i’d tell her don’t take it so seriously to the point you need to be this girl she talks about in her songs.

But yeah i still listen to some Lana stuff and its a much more healthier experience than it used to be, i can listen, enjoy, fantasise, but not make it something i obsess and chew at and something that becomes my personality, which is what she used to be, to me and others.

And You shouldn’t apologise though!

Like reading that post i knew it was a joke, hell it was great one and i loved it, i love that type of humour, but also me thinking the deep thoughts is so on me so i’m sorry 😭 i’m a huge thinker and i have anxiety so it really got me thinking and i don’t mind doing the deep thinks as they’ve been more helpful lately to realise who i am as a person and again i loved your joke, especially as a Dmitri fan and LDR listener.

And all that YouTuber stuff really, and i mean, really changed me as a person so i’m always reflecting more and checking in on where i am in my grief of that person and also reflecting on myself realising i’m a person with faults and issues.

Like admitting everything here, and in the previous post, is something i’d never do to a majority of people in my life, mostly due to my own embarrassment and other factors, so its refreshing to be able to say all this and to be able to say it to someone who isn’t burning me at the stake for it and instead listening to what i’m saying and being understanding because they know what i’m talking about.

But like i said, my relationship now with older men is so much more healthier, i understand everything about it and its no longer goblin like, Gollum obsessed with it all and i’m not willing to throw my life away for any man no matter who it is, so i’m definitely glad i’ve grown and tried to come out stronger from all the damage done.

And I’m glad that it is! I’m very proud of you for being able to navigate through things like that because it really is such a damaging mindset to get out of.

Growing up exposed to so many things does a take a toll on someone but I’m glad that you’ve managed to work through all of this and still be able to say that you have a healthy understanding now 💛💛

And I’m glad we can talk about this because I believe we’re basically the same age and this brunt of all this really did happen when we were much much younger and impressionable.

#sraya's mail

[deancaskiss]

misha turning every single one of his future projects into some kind of destiel canon confirmation

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #spn #supernatural #deancas #misha #mish #misha collins #dmitri krushnic #dmitri #its your fault dmitri

[yaboyspodcastpalace]

I know i always talk abt the friendship between eiffel and minkowski, eiffel's and hilbert's whole deal, and then hilbert's and lovelace whole relationship that isnt a friendship but its something still (happy endings is SUCH a good episode) but one thing thats less discussed but still interesting is the... friendship (??) Between minkowski and hilbert

I know its less shown but still those small moments are just! Idk! They're interesting!

#also fuck you i decide to think that eiffel told her about hilbert's backstory offscreen so hes not the only one who knows about dmitri #statement ends #wish i could write more than 'its interesting' but my brain is fried rn just know that they are! #Not as a ship (which is surprising coming from me) but just! the not quite friendship but still respectful and hilbert siding w/her onpanpa #when hes like its not your fault or smth and she gets mad bc she doesnt want Him on her side but!! i truly believe his concern was genuine #:( #maybe i want them to had been at some point Friend so what!! they're two of my fave characters ;_; #wolf relisten #eeeh

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Every Rose Has Thorns and Petals

Summary: Brain’s plan is simple: create a Valentine card with a message that the world should adore him as their new ruler. But he needs extra help in coming up with a catchy message to rein in the consumers for the outer cover. And who better to help than the expert of all things amour?

AN: I decided to see if I could write a good Suavo. Enjoy! Warning for terribly cheesy flirting. I don’t typically write this genre XD

This borrows from the HC that Pinky can still do the Suavo persona.

Written for Valentine's Day/Suavo Sunday. I regret everything.

AO3 Link

At last, a new plan came to fruition! With Valentine’s Day looming upon them with its chocolate-coated fangs and sickly sweet aroma, people would be flocking to grocery stores everywhere to purchase giant teddy bears they could barely carry around and heart-shaped boxes of gourmet chocolate. But most lucrative of all, they would buy Valentine cards with the most obnoxious lovestruck messages that were far cheesier than Pinky’s cheesecake.

Everything clicked into place. The slightly larger than average dimensions of a Valentine’s card. Various red and pink hues for the envelopes. Colorful images with hearts, roses, and Pinky on the front cover (for Pinky met all of the scientific criteria that triggered one’s protective instincts). And on the inside, an image of Brain standing on the world in royal regalia with a message declaring that all the world shall adore him as their new leader.

But there was a single, glaring flaw to his otherwise brilliant plan.

He could not come up with a ridiculous phrase for the outside cover. It had to be eye-catching, humorous, or corny enough to grab a customer’s attention. He stared at the smiling picture of Pinky for several minutes, then gave in.

Pinky was the expert in all things ridiculous after all.

“Life is the road I wanna keep going! Love is a river and I wanna keep going ooonnnn!” Pinky sang along to his playlist, leading a Barbie doll in a tender waltz.

And it was best to interrupt before Pinky’s playlist reached My Heart Will Go On. That sappy 90s love ballad was on there. He was not striking the King of the World pose until he was actually king of the world, but that assertion hadn’t gotten through Pinky’s cotton-stuffed head yet.

Brain grabbed the prototype card and pencil, marching up to the windowsill where Pinky and Barbie danced under the evening sky. The sun lowered, the moon rose, and the first twinkling stars poked out, signifying the beginning of another night.

The phone was propped against a wall, and Brain smacked the image of Anastasia and Dmitri dancing to stop the song as he passed by. Pinky continued to hum, dipping Barbie low enough that her blonde hair touched the windowsill. His eyes were half-lidded, tail swishing to an invisible beat. Though there was no music, his rhythm was steady and his feet never missed a step.

It was mesmerizing. Pinky danced with all the grace of a professional ballerina.

He pricked his finger on a sharp point of the prototype card, and the poke brought Brain back to reality. Right. No distractions.

“Hiya, Brain! Zort!”

Dear Archimedes there were otherworldly blue eyes right in front of his face.  

Startled, Brain leapt back and swung his pencil defensively. There was a muffled narf as the eraser end went into Pinky’s mouth. Once the initial shock passed, Pinky giggled and nibbled on the eraser, several rubbery shavings poking out between his teeth.  

Brain took a deep breath, trying to calm his too-fast heartbeat.

“Quit slobbering on my erasers, Pinky,” Brain snapped. He removed his pencil from Pinky’s mouth, wrinkling his nose at the saliva-coated eraser. He tossed it aside, and the pencil skittered across the counter and onto the floor.

“But they taste so good!” Pinky licked his lips. “Especially with a pinch of dryer lint. That way you get fluff and chewiness in one single fantastic bite!”

Sometimes he truly worried for the state of Pinky’s digestive tract. For now, it was best to change the topic entirely. “As much as I’d love to debate the intricacies of your exotic cuisine, I require some of your eccentric expertise for my latest plan,” Brain said, setting the prototype card on the counter.

Pinky’s tail and ears perked up. A predictable reaction, but reliable all the same.

While Pinky put Barbie away, Brain retrieved a new pencil. There were few writing utensils that weren’t chewed up by a bored employee or Pinky for fun, and it wouldn’t be long before Brain would have to acquire more.

“I gotta help Brain now, Barbie. Thanks for sharing a dance with me! Those ballroom dance classes are really paying off!” Pinky chirped, waving to the inanimate Barbie, who now sat in a pink plastic convertible next to a shirtless Ken doll. He peeked inside the card and clasped his hands together, holding them against his cheek dreamily. “Awww, Brain! This is gonna be so romantic!”

“The very atmosphere I intend to create with these mass-produced cards, Pinky,” Brain replied. “However, while I have all the elements of your typical Valentine card alongside an additional message that will aid us in our conquest, I haven’t worked out one essential component yet.”

He closed the card and tapped the empty speech bubble next to Pinky’s image.

Pinky tilted his head. “You haven’t figured out how to make single people buy your cards yet?”

Drat. He hadn’t considered those outliers.

“Then we’ll just have to infiltrate the postal service,” Brain said, mentally congratulating himself on correcting that error quickly. “But before we implement the plan, I need a Valentine phrase for this speech bubble. A saying that will entice the average infatuated consumer and hook them into purchasing my cards alone. And since you lean heavily toward the sentimental and saccharine…well, this is where I require your assistance.”

“The sentimental and the saccharine?” Pinky echoed. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that soap opera, Brain. What channel is it on?”

Brain opened his notebook and found an empty page, poised to jot down Pinky’s suggestions. “The real life channel. Don’t be concerned about missing it, Pinky. It’s on 24/7 all year long. But I digress. The sooner I find a phrase, the sooner we’ll have the world!”

Pinky tapped his foot in thought, the tip of his tongue poking out like he truly believed protruding tongues had the power to magically grant ideas. For all Brain knew, Pinky probably believed that.

Then Pinky snapped his fingers. “I got it! How ‘bout ‘be mine, valentine’?”

“Too cliché,” Brain muttered. A million Valentine cards would already have similar phrasing. They didn’t have time to seize control of a greeting card factory. “Not unique enough.”

Although the valentine bit wasn’t particularly directed toward him, his grip on the pencil slackened, the tip leaving a graphite smudge along the margins. He quickly turned the pencil around and erased it, hoping Pinky didn’t catch onto his brief moment of inattention.  

Fortunately, Pinky didn’t notice. “Alrighty then. Hmmm…you’re the sour cream to my cheese-slathered potato?”

“…I’ll save it for a last resort.”

Well, he asked for unique. But sour cream didn’t particularly invoke strong Valentine feelings. Idioms that involved sweet foods with enough sugar to induce diabetes in an elephant would be better, and he made a quick note to the side.

“I turtle-y adore you?” Pinky suggested, his blue eyes sparkling accordingly.

Brain felt a light blush settling over his cheeks, and he rubbed his fur to rid himself of the mortifying feeling. “Doesn’t match your picture. And no animal puns unless they involve mice.”

Pinky rubbed his chin, not one to be easily deterred. “There’s gotta be some good ones on the Internet.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Pinky,” Brain sighed. He sat cross-legged on the counter, massaging his forehead to intercept any headaches before they began. “Figured we should’ve gone with the photobooth plan. It’s your fault for influencing my subconscious with your caterwauling over The Princess Bride’s movie adaptation.”

“Troz! I’ll have you know Princess Buttercup and Westley have great chemistry!” Pinky pouted.

Brain rolled his eyes. “Please. They’re about as compatible as two noble gases.”

Pinky went quiet after that. Whether he’d gone off into the imaginary world of talking cheeses or taken unusually great offense on the lead couple’s behalf, Brain wasn’t sure. But the silence obliged, and Brain took the opportunity to ponder their next course of action.

Take a risk and use one of Pinky’s earlier suggestions? Scrap the plan entirely and pull one from storage? Seek a second opinion?  

Then Pinky gasped, his tail pointing high in the air like an inverted exclamation point.

“Brain, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Pinky asked, gripping Brain’s shoulders in excitement.

Brain leaned back, supporting himself on the palms of his hands. “We break out the Feldman disguises and ask Mr. Sultana for his opinion on what a hypothetical Valentine card should say?”

“I’m sure he’s got a bunch of good ones, but that’s not it,” Pinky said. “Actually, I oughta slip into something more…in-character. I’ll be right back!”

Pinky skipped away, humming as he went over to his dress-up box in the corner of their cage. He pulled a divider around himself so that all Brain could see was a shadowy silhouette rummaging through clothing and accessories.

Brain continued to ponder, though no feasible ideas were coming to him. He closed his eyes, shutting out all visual forms of distraction. He listened to Pinky dressing in the cage, but it was more white noise than a true hindrance.

Five minutes later, he still had nothing. But there was something…different.

A tantalizing scent. Not overly sharp, though just light enough that he couldn’t identify it with confidence. And he wanted to know more.

It wasn’t fruit or soap. Nor was it vanilla, like the scented candles Pinky loved so much.

Something smooth snaked its way under his nose, brushing the fur above his lips. The scent was closer now. His nose twitched.

“ACHOO!”

Startled by the force of his sudden sneeze, Brain’s eyes flew open. He rubbed his nose to wipe off the lingering sensation, staring down at Pinky’s long tail, which sat unassumingly in his lap. The tip was wrapped around the stem of a small red rose.

The tail lifted, rubbing against the fur under Brain’s chin. Brain felt his cheeks heat up again, and he quickly batted the offending appendage away.

“Pinky, you’re not helping my state of-“ Brain began, ready to launch into a verbal tirade on how he needed to think and if Pinky wasn’t going to help then he could make like a mitotic cell and split…and then he saw a very familiar, perhaps all too-familiar, lavender tuxedo with an overstuffed dark purple…something underneath.

He couldn’t tell if it was a shirt, vest, or pincushion. A gold button glinted in the middle of Pinky’s chest.

Gulping, Brain knew the mysterious article of clothing was the least of his concerns. He forced himself to look up, gaze raking past the slender neck and toward half-lidded, coy blue eyes. A sophisticated mustache poked out from each side of Pinky’s muzzle. And he was genteel, charismatic…

Suave.  

Pinky’s ability to play a character to perfection never ceased to astound him. He still remembered? Brain had long destroyed the Personalitron and its blueprints, deeming them unnecessary and cumbersome.

“Pardonnez-moi, you with the giant head and marshmallow body are seeking the passionate advice of I, the great Pinky…Suavvvo-“ he drawled every syllable with that odd French accent, r’s rolling off his tongue like smooth butter “-for your…ah, Saint Valentine card, no?”  

Fu—choose your words wisely—I mean, dear name of a historical contributor to the scientific or mathematical field who I can’t identify properly at this time.

“I fail to see how playing dress-up is going to help with this conundrum, Pinky Suavo.” Brain stood up and crossed his arms. He wasn’t about to let the Suavo persona sway him. He was the Brain, and he bowed to no one.

Exert control over the situation. Yes. That’s what he needed.

Suavo plucked the rose from his tail between two practiced fingers, inhaling its scent deeply. Where did he even get that rose from? The lab wasn’t growing flora for any reason, nor did any scientist have the green thumb to care for anything so fragile.

“Oh, but love is always…how did you say, a conundrum, is it not?” he purred, and Brain scowled. But Suavo was unperturbed. “One may pluck the petals from a pretty flower and ask if one loves or loves not, yet how will one know if they ask the flower and not the lover? Oh, I do not know.”

His voice dipped into a lower, softer register, and a strange sensation traveled up Brain’s spine. Though the riddle seemed directed at him, he wasn’t in the mood to unravel any cryptic meanings.

Just like before, Suavo’s magnetism was…hypnotizing. Like he had no choice but to do what Pinky Suavo said. And wasn’t that ironic? He, the Brain, as the hapless follower instead of the commanding leader.

Suavo appeared oblivious to Brain’s internal dilemma. He simply set the rose back into his tail and twirled one curled end of the mustache around his finger, humming a dreamy, sentimental song to himself. He was waiting on Brain in the most irritating fashion possible.

But if he wanted this plan to work, he’d just have to tolerate Pinky’s attempt at resolving his predicament.

“Pinky Suavo,” Brain sighed, forcing all his pride back. Suavo turned to him, his eyes still in that odd half-lidded position. “Is that overstuffed pincushion actually giving you ideas for the card?”

“Of course, mon ami.” Suavo slicked his ears and fur tuft back with a smooth, graceful stroke of his hand. “For it is he, who is I, who is the connoisseur of…ammooooouuuur.”

Brain grabbed his notepad and pencil, his stomach doing odd backflips like butterflies had somehow burrowed their way into his flesh and laid eggs there. He was not paying attention to Suavo’s hand movements. No, the eye was just naturally drawn to movement. That’s how it worked.

Besides, he was looking at the same being who once managed to get all his fingers and tail tangled up in a complicated cat’s cradle.

Suavo clicked his tongue, deftly plucking the items out of Brain’s grip. “No, no, you silly mouse. You cannot experience amour through pen and paper alone. You must feel it, see it, hear it. For it is everywhere and anywhere you search…if only you would use those big ears of yours.”

Brain gritted his teeth and jumped for his supplies, but Suavo simply held them out of reach with one long arm. All Brain could manage was a tiny hop. It wasn’t getting him anywhere.

So he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

“I’m listening, Pinky Suavo,” Brain said, hoping he sounded at least a little cordial. “I believe the colloquial is, I’m all ears?”

A pleased smile flitted across Suavo’s face, his arm lowering.

Perfect.

Then Brain threw himself forward, digging his hands and feet into Suavo’s clothing and hauling himself towards the notepad and pencil. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to grip. Suavo stumbled a bit, but he refused to yield. Brain grabbed a fabric fold on Suavo’s right shoulder. He was so close-

-and a red nose pushed into his own. Warm, mint-scented breath tickled the fur on his face.

“You know, it is more, ah, polite to take a mouse to dinner before you begin climbing him, is it not?” Suavo crooned.

Brain’s ears flopped against his back, a warm sensation sweeping through his body. His clammy paws lost their grip on Suavo’s clothing, and he would’ve fallen entirely if Suavo’s free arm hadn’t wrapped around his waist and secured him with a strong yet gentle grip.

In hindsight, perhaps his attempt at reclaiming his belongings was ill-thought out.

Perhaps it was for the best that the arm was covered by fabric, but at the same time, some irrational thought of wanting Pinky’s fur against his own wormed its way into his mind.  

Suavo set the notepad and pen down with care, dipping Brain in the process. Brain clutched the fabric tightly, but it was unnecessary. Suavo’s embrace was strong enough to prevent him from landing on his head. Then Suavo straightened up, once again plucking the rose from his tail and holding it next to Brain.  

“Oh, now this is…magnifique,” Suavo murmured, his eyes darting from the rose to Brain’s face. Though Brain tried to maintain eye contact to make his displeasure known, his resolve was quickly crumbling away. Surely it was the close proximity, the thumb stroking his fur, that was picking apart all rational thought and leaving some hormone-driven creature behind?

“What?” Brain asked, and he inwardly cringed. His voice wasn’t working properly. He’d meant to sound more demanding than that pathetic excuse of a question.

“Your eyes, mon ami, are just a few shades lighter this rose,” Suavo said. Brain stared at him in disbelief. Comparing eyes to flowers, or worse, gemstones, was just ridiculous.

And your comparison of Pinky’s aesthetically pleasing eyes to the wild blue yonder above isn’t?

Brain ignored the contemptuous voice. That was completely different. The sky was neither a flower nor a gemstone, and therefore it wasn’t off-limits. Besides, it was a thought for him and him alone. It’s not like anyone else was going to hear it.

“You are but a deer mouse in the headlights. Yet there is no need to hide under a thorny layer,” Suavo hummed, tilting his head curiously. Deliberately. How strange. Even the slightest movement was mesmerizing. His fingers traveled up the flower stem, until his hand rested underneath the petals, supporting the tiny rose in the palm of his hand. “A rosebush may scratch and prick, yet the great Pinky Suavo cannot be swayed. For there’s a pretty bloom hidden in the darkness, and he is who moi shall…shall…NARF!”

Shocked by the return of the nonsensical exclamation, Brain lost his hold on Pinky Suavo’s clothing. He fell onto the counter surface with a pained groan. The hard material wasn’t doing wonders for the bends in his tail.

Something fluttered against his nose, causing Brain to sneeze again. He removed the offending object, and found himself staring down at the rose he’d been teased with. If he ignored the heavy-handed rose imagery Suavo kept spouting, it was rather adequate for a specimen.

“Narf! Zort! Poit! Egad!” Pinky laughed uncontrollably between his usual tics, uttering them at such a fast rate that they started to blend together like a tongue twister. “Ooh, I haven’t—troz! Haven’t said narf in a long time! But it’s poit—it’s okay cause you needed my help!”

Idiot.

Brain sighed and pushed himself to a standing position, then placed the rose on his notepad so Pinky could reclaim it later.

Now that he thought about it, Pinky hadn’t said any of his favorite syllables in his Suavo persona. Of course, they’d been replaced by stupid love poetry and gratuitous French, but the narfs and poits and zorts were rather refreshing.

Odd. He never thought he’d actually miss Pinky’s…unique diction.

“Pinky, were you actively suppressing your usual speech patterns in your strange form of assistance?” Brain asked. He couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Zort! Oh Brain, I’m not nearly as good as suppressing things like you are!” Pinky’s chortles continued as Brain grabbed his wrist and led him straight to the water bottle in their cage. “Besides—narf! Besides, I had to stay in character!”

“Remind me to never have you play a villain for any future plans revolving around cinema,” Brain grumbled.

Pinky’s tail happily flicked against Brain’s own. Though the imbecile was just swishing it around mindlessly, the brief physical contact suddenly brought back that very odd, warm sensation.

Curse this heightened sensitivity! It’s only a principle of thermodynamics and heat transfer!  

“Brain, are you okay? Poit,” Pinky asked as Brain made him sit down in front of the water bottle. “You’re all woozy and whirlywindy. And white and red all over like a newspaper!”

“I’m f-fine,” Brain said. He was absolutely not relying on Pinky for balance. “Just drink, Pinky. And take off those silly clothes when you’re done.”

Pinky stared, not comprehending anything Brain said, but that was normal for him. Then he started to laugh, and only then did Brain realize he needed to watch his word choice, especially around a certain someone, because of course his fluff-filled mind would misconstrue it.

“Not like that!” Brain spat.

Pinky tipped onto his back, legs kicking upwards as his high-pitched laughter continued to assault Brain’s ears.

For the sake of his own sanity, he left Pinky to his own devices and stormed over to the nearest sink. He pushed on the tap for cold water until he’d created his own miniature waterfall, then hopped right in. He welcomed the cascade over his body.

As long as it pushed his homeostasis in the opposite direction, he was fine with resembling a drowned rat for now.

o-o-o-o-o

The plan failed before it ever took off. Brain had been so distracted that he’d failed to notice the lab was completely out of colored ink, rendering the copy machines completely useless.

He’d gone with the ‘you’re the sour cream to my potatoes’ message for the front cover, formatting it into the speech bubble in an elegant cursive font. Though it wasn’t conventional by any means, he simply considered it again since no other suggestions were forthcoming.

But at the same time, part of him wasn’t keen on allowing the masses to lay eyes on the Valentine card.

It seemed special. Unexplainably so.

“Brain?” Pinky called. His verbal tics had long gone back to their normal frequency. “Aren’t we taking over the world tonight?”

Brain shook his head, relieved that he finally had control over his body again. “Not tonight, Pinky. I’m afraid I’ve been prematurely thwarted by the lack of inventory in this lab.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be afraid, Brain,” Pinky said. Gone were Suavo’s clothing and mustache, and Pinky’s lean, muscular arms were on full display as he folded them across his chest. “I’ll protect you from Tory.”

It was an unnecessary gesture, but Brain couldn’t help but be touched by the admission all the same. Brain made a show of carefully placing the card into storage, just so he could distract himself momentarily.  

When he finished his task, he found Pinky holding an elegant paper rose, crafted meticulously with purple tissue paper. A light blush settled over Brain’s cheeks as he accepted the gift from Pinky, whose blue eyes shone brightly as Brain ran his fingers over the soft petals.

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said gratefully, and he resisted the urge to rush off immediately and place the paper rose with his globe keychain, another gift from his dearest friend.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky smiled, and Brain’s heart beat faster. Then Pinky’s gaze flicked to the TV screen, and Brain figured he was about to be roped into watching a cheesy love story unfold. “Brain, can we watch Beauty and the Beast please? With those special Valentine M&M’s and chocolate-coated popcorn? I saw a whole bunch in the kitchen! Narf!”  

Well…he could’ve suggested worse. At least this one was tolerable.

And it’s been a while since they’d watched a movie together.  

“Get everything set up, Pinky,” Brain ordered. “I’ll join you when I’m finished with my own tasks.”

Pinky saluted and scampered into the kitchen, grabbing the rose he’d held in his Suavo persona along the way. He sang at the top of his lungs, though he’d forgotten most of the actual words and replaced them with a series of narfs and portmanteaus. Once Pinky was sufficiently distracted, Brain moved his notepad and pen over to the TV, then laid the paper rose over it.

He heard the crinkle of a bag followed by the sound of M&M’s being poured into a bowl. Pinky would be back any minute.

Brain knocked his head against the side of a wall.

Calm yourself. Pinky believes pebbles are precious gifts. You’ll be fine. Probably.

Slowly, he approached the drawer where he’d kept his hidden present. Sifting through several sheets of paper covered with complex formulas he’d deliberately placed in there to ward off Pinky, he found the sunflower pen he’d carefully hidden towards the back.

It wasn’t exactly…traditional for a Valentine’s gift. Simple blue ink with a green body and tipped with a bright yellow sunflower.

But it was bright. And colorful. Like Pinky.

More importantly, it was practical.

Brain’s ears twitched, and he heard the whirring of the VCR as Pinky popped in the movie. Brain debated leaving the pen and presenting it after the movie, but he didn’t want to procrastinate either. Otherwise it would be impossible to enjoy their activity.

Well, he could just drop it in Pinky’s lap. And snatch up some popcorn so his actions wouldn’t be too conspicuous. He climbed out of the drawer, holding the pen behind his back.

A preview for The Little Mermaid began to play. Pinky was enraptured by the animated marine animals. He seemed so happy.

Maybe he should reconsider. Valentine items would be discounted next week. He could just hold off and give a belated…what was he thinking? Valentine’s was just another day to turn profit!

The paper rose was sitting right there. No…Valentine’s meant something to Pinky. Like Christmas.

“Goody, you’re back, Brain!” Pinky cheered, stuffing two pink M&M’s into his mouth. The large bowl beside him was overflowing with chocolate. “It’s not raining inside, but I love your parasol! Where’d you buy it?”

A parasol?

He glanced up at the sunflower. Oh. So there was a resemblance to a parasol, he supposed. If one viewed it at a certain angle, that is.

“It’s a pen. Not a parasol. Take it,” Brain said, holding out the sunflower pen.

Pinky didn’t take it.

Instead, he made a joyful noise and crushed Brain with a flying embrace. Brain dropped the pen in surprise as Pinky’s entire body curled around him, feet off the ground. Brain had to support all his weight, Pinky’s warm fur brushing against his own.

“I love it! Loveitloveitloveit! Thanks, Brain!” Pinky squealed, happy tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“You’re welcome, Pinky,” Brain murmured as Pinky nuzzled his cheek. “Now get off. I require my lungs. And heart. And my digestive system.”

Pinky didn’t get off until the Disney fanfare to herald the beginning of the movie began to play. Then he quieted down immediately, rolling the sunflower pen so that it rested across his lap.

“…happy Valentine’s Day,” Brain whispered, nibbling on a red M&M.

Pinky smiled back, teeth flecked with bits of chocolate. He shushed Brain, not wanting him to interrupt the opening narration.

As the enchanted rose appeared onscreen, Brain stroked the soft tissue paper of Pinky’s beautiful creation. Then he set it aside and reached for some popcorn.

His world was here. And there was nothing more he wanted.

Fun fact: the original name for this fic was going to be Suavo Valentino, but the current title was a last minute change cause somehow I just wrote a lot about roses.

Another change: The Princess Bride bit was originally a dig at High School Musical and how Disney Channel has bad romance in general, but since that was mid 2000s I changed it so this story could reasonably fit in the 90s.

Suavo’s lines...were interesting. I couldn’t stop laughing at how dumb some of them were though.

Brain’s got it bad here. Save him.

Are the roses corny? Yes. Do I care? Not really. Maybe. Possibly.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #pinky suavo #suavo sunday

[junipersgarden]

metanoia 4. | Hijack

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

SUMMARY: After the intense and insane day of Venice flooding again from that gigantic water monster, Y/N and Peter want things to go back to normal but Nick Fury has other plans...

WORD COUNT: 3528 words

WARNINGS: A singular swear word from Nick Fury 

a/n: hello everyone!! here is the next part of my series ‘metanoia’ and i hope you enjoy!!

[NOT MY GIF]

...

Inside Room 11 of Hotel de Matteis

...

from: F/N ✌️

HYDRO WHAT NOW?!  

                                                                                                                          from: you

Hydro-Man. apparently he's a sailor who suddenly

got water powers from an experiment or smth.

from: F/N ✌️

science. always the cause.

just y/n/n, are you okay?

we saw it all on the news and that 'thing' and what it did...

from you:

i'm okay and safe. everyone is and thankfully,

not one got hurt.

are you alright?

from: F/N ✌️

it was just, a massive scare.

after the whole 'blip' and everything and now this?

we literally can't have a break! and there's no one to protect us!

from: you

yeah ik. everything's just been chaotic.

im certain things will change tho and will get better.

plus, we have each other and pretty sure Spidey and Saviour as well.

from: F/N ✌️

guess we do... thanks y/n/n

anyways, i suggest you call your mum back or text her.

she was in hysterics and was screaming at Harrington thru the phone.

was pretty funny ngl, well without the situation.

from: you

will do.

i gtg now sorry; Harrington wants us up and early.

ill get to mum in a bit and will tell you more i promise.

gn nub!

from: F/N ✌️

you better... > : )

gn geek! : P

Slumping against the door, you sink to the ground and drop your phone lazily into your lap. The moonlight shines into your face from your open window, the night's cool breeze drifts and ruffle the worn down curtains.

I just want a break.

Your mind wonders and races with flashbacks of today's events; the screaming and collapsing buildings, water rapidly running and wrecking the streets of Venice and Venetian's homes and everyone; it's only the first day of the Europe Trip and it's already a mess... typical luck.

A vibration from your lap surprises you as you jolt upward lightly. The screen illuminates with its bright light directly into your eyes with the message notification: 1 New Message.

from: UNKNOWN

We need your assistance Saviour.

Meet at these coordinates and go alone.

You have 10 minutes to arrive and no later.

Tell no one.

Examining the order of numbers, you pin point the exact location and clicked off your phone; the location was underneath a bridge for whatever reason and is only a 5 minute flight with the suit.

"Hey ARIS?"

"Good evening Ms. L/N, how may I assist you this evening?"  Your AI responds, blinking a tiny blue light from your bracelet.

"Nothing at the moment yet. How's your status?"

"My circuits have successfully mended and the suit and myself are in full operation. I apologise for the inconvenience earlier."

"Wasn't your fault ARIS. Anyways, apparently I have a few missed calls?"

"Indeed you do. I apologise for not alerting you; I was in Power Nap Protocol as requested. You have approximately 20 missed calls from Mum, 10 missed calls from Dad, 25 missed calls from Y/F/N and 5 from Pepper Potts."

"A-any voicemails?" Your voice quivers with a hint of fear.

"Every missed call contains a voicemail except the 5 calls from Pepper Potts. Shall I send anything to the following?"

"No thank you ARIS. I'll call Mum and Dad myself." You finish and switch ARIS off.

Grabbing your phone, you unlock it and stare again at the anonymous message and groan.

from: you

i'll be there in 20.

They can wait. First, I need to call Mum and Dad and then-

"That canal water today was filthy and full of dangerous bacteria." Mr. Dell's voice abruptly interrupted your thoughts.

Then a shower and THEN I go to the bridge or whatever it is.

Standing up onto your feet, you lean against the door and go into contacts and as your finger hovers over 'Mum ❤️', a slight sense of pain hits you as you stare intensely at the name 'Pepper Potts'.

Shrugging the feeling off, you press onto the contact name and place the ringing phone to your ear, bracing for her yells and screams of relief and anger.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of water rippling against the boat's motor is the only thing Peter can seem to hear; after wishing Y/N a goodnight, Ned had started bombarding Peter with questions about the 'Water Monster' and what he as Spider-Man was going to do.

Sure Peter still had an anxious and itching feeling about the monster but all he wanted to do was rehearse his speech of his declaration of love to Y/N and score the entire day with her in Paris.

But of course that was all ruined when Ned was shot by Nick Fury with a tranquilizer and told him about more bad guys possibly lurking around. What a great way to start a 'Spider-Man free vacation'.

With his suit on, Peter stood next to Fury and gripped onto its side; in front of him and Fury was an array of monitors which appeared to be measuring amounts of frequencies within the area.

"Stark left these for you." Fury perks up and nudges a box at Peter's direction.

Carefully and with caution, Peter takes the small, rectangular box into his hands and observes it; the outside had speckles of its beige brown paint chipped away from age. Peter gently lifted the lid and in front of him was none other than Tony Stark's famed glasses with his Stark Industries card placed beneath.

Peter stared at the glasses and felt a tinge of ache of grief but in it, a feeling of content rushed over it; Peter had Tony's glasses. Peter Parker was given the possession to multibillionare, genius, literal saviour of the Universe, the Iron Man and Tony Stark's iconic and ever expensive and high end tech glasses.

Brushing over the box lightly, Peter smiled sadly at them, remembering to all the times he had seen Tony wearing them; from on the news, front pages of magazines, wearing them when he was around and now, they no longer had that owner anymore; they didn't have Tony and neither did Peter. And neither did the world or Y/N.

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown." Fury quotes and turns to Peter and even though Peter's mask was shielding his face, the raised creases of his frowned face of confusion were evidently clear as he snapped from his trance. "Stark said you wouldn't get that because it's not a Star Wars reference." A dry laugh escapes Fury's lips as he turns back away from Peter and concentrates on the boat.

"Kid if you peep one more Star Wars reference today I'm going to take your suit."

"But it's May 4th Mr Stark!"

"I do not care; right now you're in my house and there will be no Star Wars references."

Peter huffed out in irritation as he continued to focus on readjusting his webshooters on his suit.

Tony let out a chuckle at Peter's demeanor and how this kid basically came dressed as Han Solo just for this one day of the year; the commitment was real and even though Tony would never tell anyone, he loved seeing Peter passionate about the things he loves.

Working in the lab was one of Peter's favourite past times; spending quality time with Tony, tinkering with his suit and just talking was something Peter loved about the Tower; it was his second home to him.

A knock from the door caused Tony and Peter to look up.

"Ms. L/N requests to enter." FRIDAY notifies.

"Grant access." Tony permits.

The doors of the lab open to Y/N holding steaming bowls of something that smelt amazing which wafted in.

"Brought you geeks some sustenance before I head home." Y/N waltzed in and placed the two bowls next to the both of them. Y/N saw something was different about Peter; not his hair or general appearance just his clothing but the closer Y/N looked at the details in his outfit, a name popped into her head.

"Peter are you Hans Solo?"

Tony bursted into laughter as Peter hid his face to hide his red cheeks. "F-For May 4th?"

"Guess that makes me Leia?"  Y/N poked her space buns in her hair. "I wanted to wear space buns to get my hair out my face and didn't even check the date, coincidences man." Y/N giggled at the convenience.

"But Tony in all honesty, don't you think Fury looks a bit like that guy from Star Wars... what's his name-"

"Mace Windu?"

"YEAH HIM PETER!"

"...I don't remember what he looks like... FRIDAY, can you get a photo of Mace Windu?"

Observing the photo displayed in front of him, Tony wiped the hologram away and looked as if he was in deep thought.

"...Well yeah he does-"

"Incoming call: Nick Fury." FRIDAY chimed and that was when the 3 of them lost it.

God I miss him and Y/N...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Lose the mask, everyone here has seen you without it. You don't wanna be fanning around and breathing through a spandex mask for no good reason."

Trailing behind Nick Fury, stops for a brief second and takes his mask off and as he alters his senses to his surroundings, Peter is met with sight of SHIELD agents, alongside with their small set up with crates all around the joint with weapons and technology lying around as it were nothing.

By hearing Fury's footsteps echoing through the underground base, the SHIELD agents turn to face him and Peter with stoic and intimidating faces.

"Over there we have Maria Hill." Fury points to a woman with light brown hair tied into a ponytail who was busy on a computer, looked up for a split second at Peter to acknowledge his existence before getting back to work.

"That, is Dmitri." Fury gestures to a man wearing a leather jacket, seated on top of a crate as he quietly loaded his rifle.

"And this, is Mr. Beck."

As Nick Fury stepped to the side, Peter abruptly slowed to a complete stop as he gazed at the familiar figure and outfit in front of him.

"Mysterio?"

"What?" The man questioned at what Peter said.

"Doesn't matter- it's just what my friends are calling you." Peter stuttered.

"Well," As 'Mysterio' began to approach Peter, 'Mysterio' extended his hand to Peter, indicating to shake his hand.

Peter got the message as he started walking and the two met and shook the other's hand.

"You can call me Quentin." Quentin revealed his name as the two greeted one another.

"You handled yourself well out there today," Quentin implied to the earlier events of the day, "I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world." Quentin shrugged away from Peter.

"T-thanks... wait I'm sorry- your world?"

"He's from Earth, just not from ours." A voice answers from behind him.

Following the voice, Peter jumps by being startled and whips his head around quickly; walking from the entrance and to everyone else is none other than-

"You're late Saviour." Fury visibly annoyed and unimpressed exhales out.

"As my good friend Albert said, time is relative my friend." Saviour sasses back and skips straight past Fury's daggering eyes.

"S-Saviour?! W-what are you doing h-here? Oh god, now you know what I look like-"

"I've known for a while Parker and besides, you're not the only superhero SHIELD wants their hands on; Fury contacted me a while back after... Tony. And don't worry, New York is under control without me there." Saviour teases and strolls next to Beck, leans against the desk with arms crossed.

"There a multiple realities Peter; this is Earth Dimension- 616 and I'm from Earth Dimension- 833." Quentin further evaluates.

"I'm sorry, you're saying there's a multiverse?" Peter jogs up to Beck and Saviour, full of awe and amazement from his discovery. "Because I just thought that was theoretical and that changes everything and how we understand the initial singularity, we're talking about an eternal inflation system and how does that even work with all the quantum because it's insane-" Peter's rambling falters as he sees Nick, Maria and Dmitri looking at him funny.

"S-sorry, it's just really cool-"

"Don't ever apologise for being the smartest person in the room." Quentin encourages and sends a soft smile to Peter.

"Anyway Beck, wanna fill in Spidey and myself about whatever the hell that was today?"  Saviour perks up.

A diagram of a black hole suddenly emerged as everyone gathered around.

"They were born in stable orbits within black holes, these creatures formed from the primary elements: air, water, fire, earth."

As Quentin talked, the hologram changed alongside with what he was explaining, showing images of the creatures and their general appearance.

"The Science division had a- technical name, we just called them, Elementals."

"Versions of them exist throughout our mythologies." Maria Hill speaks up as the Elemental hologram changes into their mythology forms.

"Turns out the myths are real-"

"Like Thor," Peter interrupts Quentin as he pays close attention to the presentation, "Thor was a myth and now I study him in my physics class."

"These myths, are threats." Fury clarifies as he walks away from the scene as once more it changes into an image of Earth.

"They first materialized on my Earth many years ago. We mobilized and fought them but with each battle they grew and got stronger. I was apart of the last battalion that tried to stop them. All we did was prevent the inevitable."

"And now they're here and attacking the same coordinates; our satellites confirm it." Maria adds.

"You both can thank Beck for destroying the other 3; there's only 1 left: Fire."

"The strongest one of all... the one that destroyed my Earth. It's the one that took my family." Quentin mutters as the apparition of Earth is now scorned and tarnished in red. The red light reflects Quentin's face full of guilt and remorse, twiddling around his wedding ring on his finger.

"I'm sorry..." Peter murmurs.

"So where's this fire Elemental? Do we even know where it likely is?" Saviour bluntly asks.

"It'll be in Prague in approximately 48 hours." Maria responds.

"We have one mission: kill it and the both of you are coming with us." Fury demands.

Peter's face falls as he faces Maria in disbelief and asks a second time if she said Prague.

Saviour's posture lifts as the struggle and anxiety surfaces Peter as the colour from his face vanishes.

"Listen Fury this all seems like big time, like huge superhero kinda stuff and... and I mean, I'm just a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man sir."

"Bitch please, you've been to space!"

"I know but that was by accident, sir come on, I've seen Saviour in action many times and I'll admit is probably better than me for this but there's gotta be someone else you can use." Peter protests and moves closer to Fury, "What about Thor?"

"Off world."

"Okay um, Doctor Strange."

"Unavailable." Maria pipes in.

"Captain Marvel!"

"Don't invoke her name." Fury shakes his head slightly.

"I really wanna help I do but if my Aunt finds out I left my class trip, she's gonna kill me and if I'm seen like this in Europe after the Washington Monument, my whole class will figure out who I am and then the whole world will figure out who I am... and then I'm done."

"Fury if it helps," Saviour steps up and walks next to Peter, "I'm pretty sure I can manage without Parker swinging by my side."

"Okay." Fury blankly answers, scaring Peter and Saviour a tiny bit from the lack of expression, "I understand."

Taken back by his approval, Peter and Saviour share a look with one another before going back to Fury.

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter with doubt inquires.

"Why don't you get back before your teacher's miss you and it becomes suspicious. Dmitri, why don't you take him back to the hotel."

"Thank you Mr. Fury and thank you Saviour." Peter sends a soft smile to Saviour and places a hand on the suits left hand shoulder. "I believe in you and good luck." Peter whispers only to Saviour before wishing everyone else out loud good luck.

"See ya kid." Quentin farewells Peter and watches him and Dmitri exit out.

"You really let him go Fury? No strings attached?" Saviour scoffs in astonishment by Peter's success to get himself out of SHIELD business.

Fury stands up and moves to Saviour with a stern look on his face.

"Of course not."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Bzzzz...

Bzzzz...

Bzzzz...

Groaning from your exhaustion, you roll over and press on your phone's screen multiple times in attempt to hit the snooze button.

Last night had been a rollercoaster: Peter and Mysterio are working with SHIELD with you, Fury made you stay back extra late to run through diagnostics which gave you around 4 hours sleep tops and the jetlag wasn't helping your situation at all.

Sitting up in bed, you try to stretch out your tiredness and peer to see MJ reading a book in one hand and a mug within the other, sitting on her bed with her black converses draped to the side.

Greeting MJ a 'good morning', you lift yourself up from the safety and warmth of the bed covers and slipped into the bathroom and changed for the day: rocking a pair of navy blue jeans and grey t-shirt for a casual but yet stylish look and throwing a little something over the top.

MJ mentioned there was breakfast downstairs (breakfast being cereal), you quickly did your hair and retreated down to grab a bite and sat next to Yasmin and Zoha and afterwards, heading upstairs to brush teeth and pack.

You and MJ both gave each other a hand carrying luggage down and delivering it outside.

"Oh I forgot my backpack I'll be back." You call behind as you jog back up to your room.

Rushing quickly into the room, you sweep up your backpack and stuff your phone charger inside and as you whirl around, you collide into something and hear a bang.

"I- Peter?"

"H-Hey Y/N! Sorry I was hanging up a call with Aunt May and I-"

"Pete it's fine you dork." You can't help but giggle at how flustered he is.

Peter's cheeks glow faintly pink as he shyly smiles.

"I got yelled at by my Mum and Dad for not answering the phone and I'm 98% sure I'm grounded when I get back home."

"Oh that's not good..."

"Guess not but eh, stuff happens. How are you though Peter? Feels like I haven't talked to you in a while."

"Y-Yeah... I'm good. You?"

"Yeah guess I'm alright. I'm really excited for Paris today though."

"Favourite destination?"

"Hell yeah! It's gonna be great but we gotta haul our stuff or Harrington will lose his mind." You joke.

"Oh yeah! That's why I was heading down." Peter swings his suitcase in front of him with a sly beam.

Too cute.

You and Peter talked for a far while before actually going back down the stairs and outside to everyone else.

"I'm going to get you a Vitamin C pill, you cannot get sick okay babe?" You hear Betty's distant voice as you and Peter round the door.

As you're about to walk out the door, Peter tugs your sleeve before you hit the outside and perplexed as you are, you pivot to look at him, giving him your attention.

"Before we go, I was just wondering if you wanted to um, sit next to me on whatever we're transporting on?" Peter fumbles and averts his eyes to the ground.

"Of course! I'll save you a seat Pete." You playfully punch his arm.

Peter rubs the back of his neck and lets out a laugh of relief.

You both walk out and see Betty frantically trying to receive a Vitamin C pill.

"I better go help her before she explodes." You suggest and inform Peter.

"Y-Yeah. See you later?"

"See you later!" You wave and leave Peter and Ned alone.

Peter watches Y/N tap Betty on the shoulder as Betty freaks out over the situation and remembers of why Ned is feeling 'sick'.

"Hey man, are you sure you're good?"

"Dude! I'm fine! Okay don't worry! Seriously, getting tranqed in the neck by Nick Fury, probably the coolest thing to happen to me anyway."

"It is pretty cool." Peter admits as the both perform their handshake. "I'm just glad we don't have to go to Prague-"

"Good news: we're going to Prague!" Mr. Harrington announces with a wide grin plastered on his face.

Everyone buzzes around 'whats' and 'huhs' as everyone glances around.

"Tour company called and upgraded us. Should've heard I gave them hell now come on!" Harrington begins to march as everyone scrambles for their belongings.

"Check out our upgraded ride!" Harrington chirps as the class sees a black bus with a man holding a sign saying 'Midtown High'.

Peter immediately recognizes the guy to be Dmitri from last night and gulps down his irateness.

"I think Nick Fury just hijacked our summer vacation."

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[dmitri-writes]

Listen~Intruloceit Request

INFO -requested by a wattpad user -roman, virgil, and patton are all unintentionally unsympathetic -sympathetic remus and deceit -can you tell how much i love this ship? -logan is constantly cut off and told to hush -deceit has a snake and remus has an octopus -its a long one

TRIGGER WARNINGS -u!pat/ro/vee -panic attack -talk of dead bodies

***

"But what if it was his fault-" "But Thomas would never hurt his friends! And definitely not his boyfriend!" "If I may-" "Oh hush pocket protector, you don't get this topic." Interrupted again. Logan feels anger rise but pushes it back down. Logic is cold. Unemotional. He shuts his mouth tight. "Sure he'd never hurt them on purpose, but you don't know if he said something that made him uncomfortable and he just didn't wanna say anything." "I'm certain that-" "If we just call him I'm sure he'll talk to us!" More anger. It rises farther this time, so Logan pushes it deeper, trying to force it into the ground. Listen listen listen. Shut up shut up shut up. "Are you kidding Princey? He wouldn't even pick up the phone!" "We don't know that!" "He hates us! I know he does!" Logan hears Virgil's voice start to multiply. He knows he can help, if only he would listen, "Virgil-" "No! He hates us he hates us he hates us!" Anger rising again. Everyone's yelling. no one is listening WHY? Why does no one listen? "I told you to stay out of it Logan!" Up up up, it's too much, he's going to burst- "FINE."

All the sides whip their heads to look at Logan. His jaw is clenched, his fists are balled, and his shoulders are tense. "None of you are LISTENING! I can help but you don't... You just shut me up... I just... I just..." Logan's anger turns to sadness and tears start to fall. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do. Logan? Crying? Logan harshly rubs the tears away, turning his face redder than it was, "I'm leaving." Before anyone can stop him, he sinks out. He doesn't know where he's going, just leaving. Maybe some stars would be nice... Logan arrives at a destination, eyes stuck to the ground until he notices soft sounds like water. He lifts his tear-soaked cheeks to see an ocean washing quietly against a beach, moonlight reflecting on the surface. Moonlight? Logan looks up and sees a dark sky full of stars. These stars are not the same as Thomas'. The same constellations are there but they're in a new order and the stars are connected by strings of light. The planets are also visible in a perfect line, even the earth. His eyes widen as he sees a black hole. How fascinating.

He's soon interrupted from his admiration of the unnatural sky by a sensation on his ankle. Looking down, he realizes there is a small octopus on the sand next to his foot, tentacle attached to his ankle. "Strange." "Jeffrey! Let go of Logan!" Logan jumps at the voice and whips his head towards it. Remus and Deceit stand before him, Remus bending to pick up his octopus and Deceit giving Logan a curious look. "So what brings you to my side of the imagination, Logan?" "Oh um... I was ah... just leaving actually." Logan turns to leave but an arm rises up and grabs him with a gloved hand, gently, but with enough force to hold him in place. Deceit's voice follows, "That isn't suspicious at all. Tell us what you're doing here." Logan huffs and turns back around, staring intently at the ground as he speaks, "I would rather not speak of it. I apologize for intruding."

Silence follows Logan's confession until Deceit finds the words he needs. "Join us. For a walk, that is. We were following the beach to my room." Logan looks at the two warily but walks in line with them. Remus has yet to put down the octopus and is petting the top of its head. Remus must have noticed Logan staring because he smiles at him. "This is my octopus, Jeffrey Dahmer! Wanna pet her?" Logan laughs a small, short laugh, and pets the top of Jeffrey's head. "She's very interesting." Logan and Remus start a conversation about octopi and other sea animals while Deceit watches, studying Logan's face. In due time, they arrive at Deceit's room. He leads the two in and Logan is amazed. He assumed Deceit's room, where lies are the strongest, would have dark corners, many walls, and hidden doors. Logan is shocked to see that Deceit's room is well lit with an open floor plan, and very warm.

"Don't make yourself at home." Remus flops on the pale yellow couch and Logan stands awkwardly next to it. He watches Deceit approach a vivarium against the wall and stick his arm in. A moment passes and Deceit lifts his arm, Logan seeing a yellow and black snake around Deceit's wrist. Logan identifies it as a Chinese false cobra. How fitting. Deceit holds out his arm, and the snake extends its head towards Logan. "She likes to help. Pet her. She'll totally bite." Logan carefully extends a hand and the snake rubs her head into his hand. Logan smiles softly as he plays with the snake. "What's her name?" "Dmitri." Logan finally sits and Deceit's couch and plays with the snake. "She hates you. She's also a terrible comfort animal when you've been disrespected." Logan looks up at Deceit, "How did you know?" Deceit sits next to Logan on the couch, "I heard lies. I didn't listen in. Not sorry." Logan sighs as he watches Dmitri curl up his arm, "It's alright. I'd trust you to keep secrets better than anyone else."

Logan realizes Remus is still there and turns to see him happily playing with Jeffrey, paying no mind to Logan and Dee's conversation. "We both get it," Deceit says, watching Remus. "Being disrespected by the others." "I know. I apologize for them." "You don't have to. Their actions hurt us. Not yours. We know you only want to help them." Remus suddenly perks up and turns to Logan, "Hey do you know a lot about dead bodies?" Logan nods and Remus smiles wide, "Okay, okay, so, let's say I have a body, right? How long would it take to decompose?" "Cause of death?" "Blunt force trauma to the skull." "Any other wounds pre or post mortem?" "No." Deceit watches as Remus asks Logan the weirdest, darkest questions and Logan asks his own to answer Remus'. Dmitri eventually wraps up Deceit's arm and he puts her back in her vivarium, then goes back to watching Logan and Remus, occasionally adding his own input.

"Oh my." Logan stands and Deceit looks at him questioningly. "I should return to my room... Actually, Remus? May I move my room somewhere in your half of the imagination?" Remus shrugs but Deceit holds up a hand. "Moving your room will take a lot of effort and raise many questions with the others. Just pop into your room, get some clothes, leave a note saying where you are, and you can stay here. Take my bed, I'll take the couch." Logan shakes his head, "I don't want to be a burden." Deceit genty grabs Logan's arm, "You won't be. Let's go to your room, I'll talk to one of the others for you. Logan hesitantly nods and Deceit tells Remus to stay put as they sink out of Deceit's room and into Logan's.

As Logan gathers clothes, Deceit walks out of the room and into the Consciousness. He sees Roman and calls out. Roman turns to him and tenses, "Deceit. Do you know where Logan is? We've been trying to talk to him-" "Logan is with me. He'll be staying with me for a bit. Tell the others please." Roman frowns but nods and walks off to find the others. Deceit makes his way back to Logan's room to see him holding a bag. "Read to go?" Logan nods and they sink out. Thankfully, Remus is exactly where they left him. "I'm staying here too tonight Dee!" Deceit rolls his eyes, "Fine. Then what should the sleeping arrangement be?" "You two have known each other the longest, I'm fine with sleeping on the couch." Deceit tries to talk Logan out of it but Logan is determined. Deceit can sense the little lies as Logan says how "My neck will be fine. I don't like contact anyway." He gives up for now and hands Logan some blankets and pillows.

Later that night though, Deceit grins under the covers as he hears the soft padding of feet coming towards his bed. Remus shifts enough in his sleep for Deceit to also shift enough to leave a space for another person. He lifts the covers, speaking gently to Logan, "Get under, there's enough room." Logan finally gives in and gets under the covers next to Deceit. Deceit pulls him closer, "You might fall off." Remus shifts again in his sleep to put an arm across the two. Logan finally relaxes his tensed body and drapes an arm over Deceit and Remus. Deceit smiles, warmth very much welcomed on his cold body. "You'll always be listened to here."

#thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts virgil #ts remus #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #sanders sides oneshots #dmitri-writes #dmitri-writes requests #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic virgil #unsympathetic roman #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic dark sides #sympathetic remus #intruloceit #demus #loceit #intrulogical #character thomas

[yobaba30]

Long article by Eric Garland- this dude knows his shit . . .

That Donald Trump has been a front for organized crime [like his father before him] is not much of a secret. And yet he became president. Just as in many countries, democracies have been seized by organized criminal elements. How did this happen and who knew?  The most stunning historical development of the past 30 years - a multi-decade crisis - has been the merger of Russian organized crime, the Russian intelligence services, and the Russian state. We were warned by Sasha Litvinenko that the world had changed.  Litvinenko was an officer in the Russian FSB (the domestic successor to the KGB) who warned Western intel services AND law enforcement that they didn't understand - Russia had become something entirely new in history: A Mafia State. Because of his warning he was poisoned with polonium tea.  

To understand how tectonic Russia's transformation was, you have to understand how nation-states dealt with security of militaries, spies, and organized crime: Separately. Usually with discrete agencies. FBI for criminals, CIA for foreign intelligence - that kind of thing.  When Russian organized crime propelled Vladimir Putin to power, the rules of modern national security changed for the first time in 100 years. The Mob was the State was the Intelligence services. Not identical, to be sure - but centrally controlled, and DANGEROUS.  Understand that, while every true government servant in the U.S. and its allies are thoroughly dedicated to the same mission - cultures, attitudes, and techniques are vastly different. FBI's history goes back to Al Capone. CIA is a product of the post-WWII era. NSA is [REDACTED] and FBI hunts spies on domestic soil, of course. But they're in a different section from organized crime. CIA is looking outward at governments, spies, terrorists. DOD has a different view. Litvinenko told us THE WORLD DIDN'T WORK LIKE THAT ANYMORE. IT WAS ALL ONE THREAT NOW.  Russia had fused its best-in-class intelligence capabilities and the ruthlessness of its Mafiya and taken over a nation-state. The totality of this change no longer fit any one single agency, in any country, and the threat was evolving at a breakneck pace.  Understand, especially, that government intelligence work does NOT look like anything in the movies. These are tightly controlled, regimented bureaucracies that maintain strict roles and are fanatical about secrecy. They don't do light speed evolutionary threats very well.  So imagine, if you can, working your tightly controlled role in an intel or law enforcement agency, and instead of a spy, or a Mob thug, or a white collar financial criminal, you have to track a new hybrid. Like, for example, Rudy Giuliani patron Dmitry Firtash.  Instead of Mob boss like Whitey Bulger (FBI territory) or a government agent you recruit like Sergei Skripal (CIA) or Wall Street-type criminal (IRS treasury) or an arms dealer, you get dudes that do ALL OF THAT SIMULTANEOUSLY. WHO HANDLES IT? HOW?  Spies infiltrate, they don't buy half of downtown Cleveland. Captains of industry consolidate economic activity, they don't run spy operations. Diplomats don't run drugs. Except when they do and they're all interchangeable. That's what Russia innovated. SO WHO TRACKS IT?  This is the world that Clinton, Bush 43, and Obama inherited, along with their intelligence and law enforcement agencies understandably not designed for this new threat. Forget terrorism. THIS was the real change in national security since 2000. And it's been a bumpy ride since.  This still may be abstract, but let me break it down as an intelligence analyst with over 20 years’ experience: If the world doesn't match the design of your intelligence services, nothing will work right. You can't collect, analyze, or disseminate properly.  If you're looking at a transnational criminal intelligence government syndicate where criminals, spies, and regimes used to be, nobody will know whose job it is. None of the questions will match. The answers will be weird. The policies will be hard to implement.  When the transnational organized crime threat doesn't match the shape of your intelligence and law enforcement, then even when professionals are ultimately dedicated, they still may not be able to get leaders to make the necessary decisions.

Which gets us back to Trump.  

We arrive back at a few terrible problems that need exposure at long last. Our intel and law enforcement agencies KNEW Trump was owned by foreign mafia and yet he became President. It was not their fault. Their hands were largely tied. And yet - the truth must finally emerge. I brought this to the world's attention in a thread about a month after the election, my personal reaction to people expecting the Intel Community to Save America From Trump, Now! These were my colleagues. I knew they were BUSY. And doing far from nothing.  And for those who still thirst for a quick fix (I am regularly part of that group, too) I am still as aware as I was over three years ago of how unorthodox and horrible the options for the USIC were. Totally against everything they stand for.  You don't want a spookocracy. That makes us like the Soviet Union or East Germany. The USIC knows that because they studied those regimes. So they can't just "save us" from an election even where we were attacked – BUT - this time may need to be different.   Donald Trump is a treasonous sack of shit willing to let millions die. Not because he's a "dictator" or a "narcissist" - because he's a piece of property. Transnational organized crime owns him outright. He must be stopped, now more than ever.  Donald Trump has been a mortal threat since 2015, part of the hybrid national security assault we were ill-equipped to fight. But now, his role as president is at the phase of mass graves of Americans, the very ones national security is here to protect.  Our entire national security and law enforcement apparatus exists to keep a lunatic owned by foreign enemies from being president. Because that might lead to a person allowing a pandemic to slaughter Americans in a barely-concealed attempt to look "incompetent." For those crying "why didn't Mueller do his job?" or "Where is this so-called IC of yours?" you don't understand - these silent professionals, never seeking self-aggrandizement, willing to die for our freedoms - they are sick to their stomachs over this.  Understand this from the Intel perspective, this is a picture of a diseased criminal TAKING A SHIT IN FRONT OF A CEMETERY. One of his first acts was to attack those in the IC that Trump *knew* understood what he was. There are people you never met, never heard of. They died without saying goodbye to their families. They were perhaps tortured on the way out. They did it for us. Trump defecated on that duty and honor and brought a crowd to cheer him.  And now, in addition to everything for which they've given their lives, we may need to hope that the Intelligence Community may be willing to break tradition and tell us just why this pathetic, simpering blasphemy happened.

Mitch McConnell will rot in hell for ignoring what Robert S. Mueller III told the nation and refusing to remove this traitor from office. Mueller and his colleagues did their level best only to be betrayed. We now sit hoping for an unredacted report.  We expect, we say we are a better nation because our intelligence and law enforcement professionals stick to the rules. But we have to ask this time at what cost. And to prepare for what may be a breach of protocol that could save civilization.

Americans still don't understand what trump is. That is the fault of politicians, the media, propagandists - and of course his sincere supporters as well. But some know the truth. That he isn't rich, that he's Mob property. That's he's tasked with destroying anything his bosses say to.  Donald Trump was acquired by Russia when its Mob overtook the Five Families of La Cosa Nostra, his family's old owners. But now he's the joint property of murdering despots. The intelligence communities of many allied nations know this. The common people must know, too.  

I know, like LincolnsBible, the complexities and contradictions of what I'm suggesting. We already ask so much of such men and women. And this moment may call for yet more. In 2016, I said I understood why the USIC didn't "act." In 2020, I wonder if they must - lest we be lost.  I don't think American institutions will survive four more years of damage from foreign enemies being allowed to destroy us from within the White House. I don't know precisely who would reveal what, when, but I pray it is soon. The truth is simple and hideous. Let it out.  I think we all do what we can, whether it's to wear masks and stay home, or take care of our neighbors or fight crime or rise up yell the truth from the rooftops. We do our best. Which makes me think about my own last four years.  My colleagues and I knew Trump was a unique danger in 2016. Few of us thought he'd be elected. Then he was. I slept an hour a night for a month, talking to everyone. Didn't think I'd still be writing every day like this.

Somehow mainstream news isn't interested in this... but it is time.

[soft-femagines]

Once Friends

FE Three Houses Drabble

Word count: 1,454

   “Teach... what should we do?”

   Claude’s voice rang out besides you, snapping you into the reality of the situation.

   An army, clad in gold, standing with you.

   An army, garbed with blue, ahead of you.

   An army, soaked in crimson, in a steadfast march. They would arrive in moments.

   You focus your gaze on the man standing a few paces in front of you, carrying a spine-chilling spear.

   “Dmitri!” You called his name. He flinched, ever so slightly, so small you may have imagined it. Was the Dmitri you used to know still in there? “What happened to you?”

   “I think the real question here,” he growled, “is what happened to you? Ever since you’ve decided to prance around with those Deer, you’ve gone soft.” He spat out the word ‘deer’. “I do not intend to hold hands and make friends while we are being oppressed. Justice must be obtained, and we will be the ones to take it!”

   A cool voice broke in, “Is that really how you see things, Dmitri? I would’ve thought you were smarter than this.” Edelgard and her army had arrived. “You know, it really is such a shame. Years ago, we stood here as classmates”, she sighed, “But now, you choose to stand in my way. All of you.” Her eyes trailed towards you and Claude. “And if you wish to achieve something, then it must be taken by force.”

   “As big class reunions go,” Claude shook his head, a heavy-hearted smile on his face, “This one’s got to be the worst in history.”

   ‘How did it come to this?’

   You heeded your surroundings, and your heart shattered. These were your beloved students, your family. You had fought beside, argued, and laughed with these students. You did everything together. And now, they were about to slaughter each other, with you at the heart of this twisted battlefield.

   The tension in the air held a vice grip around your throat. A slight creaking to your right told you Claude was drawing his bow. You opened your mouth for one last hopeless attempt at negotia-

   "Enough”, Dmitri split the silence, driving his spear into the air. “Soldiers, our time is now! Justice will be ours! KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!”

   “For the Adrestrian Empire!” Edelgard roared, urging her army to charge with her axe lifted into the air.

   You gasped, drawing in a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You shook yourself back to your senses. “Forces, Charge! Put a stop to this madness!”

   Metal clashed before you, arrows flying, blood splattering, fallen bodies being stepped over as the three armies collided. Screams of pain pierced into your heart from every side. War is so ugly. You incapacitate one enemy after another, trying not to look too closely at their faces. ‘I’m such a coward’, you thought. ‘I can’t even look my own students in the eyes while I’m cutting them down.’  

   Amidst the chaos, you see Dmitri, mercilessly thrusting his lance into anyone foolish enough to get to close. His eyes meet yours, his face harder than stone. He begins making his way towards you through the sea of bodies and steel. ‘I’ll have to face him head on, maybe I can get through to him!’

   He lunged towards you, his lance making a path to your chest. You deflected, startled by its ferocity. He was really trying to kill you. He stabbed at you again and again, and each time you deflected. Your arms burned. “Dmitri, you don’t have to do this! We can talk this out!”

   “It’s too late for that now!” He bellowed. “If you wanted to suck up to me, you should’ve done it five years ago!”

   You grit your teeth. “Damnit man! We used to be friends!”

   “Used to be, yes. But I refuse to be friends with one who stands by and serves our oppressors!”

   The crowd around you was already thinning, as soldiers dropped one by one. The battle wouldn’t last much longer. You were getting desperate to find a way to stop the fighting.

   “Dmitri, ENOUGH!” ‘Why am I doing this...’ “I won’t fight you anymore!” You threw your weapon down.

   This caught him off gaurd. “What are you doing?”

   “We want the same thing; for peace throughout Fódlan. It’s..” Your breath caught in your throat, desperation slipping into your voice. “It’s not right for us to be killing each other like this. Don’t you see? This is what the higher ups want; for us to wipe each other out so that there’s no one left to oppose them!”

   Dmitri’s eyes wavered. He is still in there!

   “Please, Dmitri! Just listen to me, listen to reason!” It was all you could do to keep yourself from bursting into tears.

   “You... Believe so?” He warily lowered his spear.

   “I know so.” You extended your hand. “Come with us, Dmitri. We’re on the same side!”

   Moments passed as though they were hours. The chaos around you had calmed; every eye was on the two of you, waiting to see if he would take your hand, ending the fighting.

   More excruciating seconds passed. Your heart was damn near escaping your chest. Finally, after the most painful staring contest you’ve ever been a part of, Dmitri threw down his lance, and strode forwards.

   Relief washed over you, the sickening tension and fear that had previously taken hold of you. Your face split into a smile, as Dmitri took your hand, accepting your offering of peace. Wow his grip is tight!

   ...A little too tight.

   You tried to pull your hand away. He held on, his grip made of iron. Panic started to wash over you. You couldn’t reach your sword. You didn’t have any other weapons!

   He pulled a knife from his cloak with his free hand and brought it over his head, his eyes pieces of ice.

   “I don’t make deals with traitors.”

   He brought the knife down. You caught his wrist, barely, and desperately tried to keep its gleaming tip from reaching your chest, but it was futile. You looked into his eyes, and were shocked to find that they had tears in them. He didn’t want this either. The knife shook, inching ever closer to your chest. You couldn’t move.

   “It doesn’t have to be this way, Dmitri, please!” You were begging for your life. He didn’t respond, only pushing down harder than before. A sharp, burning pain in your chest told you that the knife had begun to dig in.

   This was it; this was how you were going to die. Begging and pleading at the hands of a former friend. ‘Why did it turn out like this?’

   You felt something hot splatter onto your face. Your vision went red. The grip on your hand was released, the knife in your chest stopped pushing. Dmitri’s eyes widened; there was an arrow in his neck. He stumbled back, releasing you, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. You fell backwards. He dropped to his knees, his hand reaching for his neck.

   “Y-you...” Whatever he was trying to say, he didn’t finish it. He collapsed to the ground.

   You felt footsteps to your right. A hand reached out in front of you. You didn’t take it; you were too shocked, you couldn’t take your eyes off Dmitri.

   He was your student. Your friend. And now? He was gone.

   “C’mon, teach, stand up.” Claude gently grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet on unsteady legs. “I’m sorry for what I did. But he was killing you, and it was the only way...”

   Tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn’t believe it. There was no way that one of your closest friends was lying dead on the ground in front of you, it couldn’t be true!

   The dam inside of you snapped. You started sobbing, tears pouring out for your lost friend.

   Claude didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around your shoulder and turned his face away. ‘Is he crying too?’

   The Blue Lions were retreating. They no longer had anyone to follow. The Black Eagles were nowhere to be found; they must’ve retreated earlier.

   One of your own soldiers shouted for your attention. “Should we give chase?”

   Claude answered, “No. We’ve lost enough. We’re going back to base.”

   You didn’t object. The reality of the situation stopped you cold. You had just murdered the ruler of the Kingdom of Faerghus. War was imminent. thousands upon thousands of lives are about to be lost, and it’s your fault. Your heart sunk even further than it already was. You drew in a shaky breath, and began the trek back to base. This was only the beginning of a long, blood soaked path.

#TW; Blood #TW: Violence #I kinda dropped matchups to write this #I'll get back to those jkahahfadhdfjlk #this took two days but oh boy was it a ride #I don't know how accurate this will be in regards to the actual story #but I don't want to wait and it's fun to speculate #fire emblem three houses #edelgard #dmitri #claude #fire emblem imagines #angst #mod eirika

[lovemesomerafael]

Others Like Me                                  Chapter 20:  Home and Family

                    Chapters 1-15   Chapter 16   Chapter 17   

                    Chapter 18  Chapter 19  Read It On AO3

Tony’s pissed.  He’s been in his lab all night running scenarios with Jarvis, and he’s afraid and concerned and confused and he’s just plain over it.  He knows exactly what to do.  He knows because, somewhere in the pre-dawn hours, he realized that he really wanted to talk to Steve Rogers.  And then he realized that, since he knew exactly what Steve would tell him to do, he’s known all along what he’s going to do.  

It’s just that he doesn’t want to.

Well, no, he wants to, he just doesn’t want to.  He pulls his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and realizes what time it is.  He calls Pepper anyway.    

“Tony?”  Her slow, sleep-thick voice asks.

“Hey, Pep.  Did I wake you?”

Pepper hangs up.  Tony calls her back.

“OK, I know, that was a stupid question.  Sorry. It’s just… I need to talk to you. Or, rather, I need to tell you something and I need your help.”

“Oh, not again,” she sighs, and he can practically see her shaking her head and facepalming.  “What did you do?”  

Tony feels like he might be entitled to be a little miffed at her attitude, really.  After all, he said he needed help.  For all she knows, some terrorist could be holding him hostage in a secret lair underneath a volcano right now.  Why did she just assume he’d done something?  If a terrorist was holding him hostage, that wouldn’t be his fault, would it?  No, it wouldn’t.  Probably not. Well, maybe not.  At least, not necessarily.  Oh, for fuck’s sake…

“Tony?  Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, Pep, I’m here. But I need you.  I don’t…  Pepper, I don’t wanna make weapons anymore.”

“Oh.  Oh.  Well, that’s good.  Isn’t it?”

“Yeah.  I think it is.  But I need your help, because I don’t know how to do this.  Please?”

“Of course.  Of course, I’ll help you.  I’ll be there in an hour, and when I get there, I want you to be sound asleep, do you understand?”

“Well, if I’m sound asleep, then how will we-“

“I won’t need your help for a while.  But I will, eventually, and I’ll need you coherent.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Trust me.  OK?”

Tony smiles at that.  “I do.  I do trust you.  Thor says we’re married in another universe.”

There’s a very long silence following that statement.  

“Pep?”

“Yes?”

“Well?  Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“You know, normal boyfriends don’t wake their girlfriends up in the middle of the night to say things like ‘hey, honey, my multibillion-dollar empire is going to end its core business and, by the way, the god of thunder says that we’re married in another universe.’  You’d be surprised how often that doesn’t happen, Tony.  So, I’m going to have to put off responding until after I’ve at least had some coffee.”

“Oh.  OK.  Love you.”

“I love you, too. Even at this hour.  Now go to bed.  I mean it.”

“Yes, dear.”  

Tony does go to bed, because he knows he’s made the right decision.  The only decision.  And having asked Pepper to help him make it happen means that it’s as good as done.  For about the billionth time this month, Tony wonders how he got so lucky.  He doesn’t deserve Pepper.  He knows that.  And yet, she puts up with him.  For some insane reason, she actually even loves him.  And God knows he loves her.  He falls asleep already thinking of new directions to take the company that don’t involve making toys, office supplies, or – God help him – dildos.  

A few years Later...

Bucky stands next to the truck that brought them into the Compound.  He’s laughing even as fat tears fall from his eyes to roll lazily down his cheeks.  She’s done it again.  Dmitriy’s lying on the ground, laughing and crying, too, hugging Marya for all he’s worth despite the fact that he’s also shouting for her to let him up.   When she does, Bucky sees that her forearms are scraped and bleeding and Dmitriy’s holding the back of his head.  Being loved by Marya can be dangerous.  

It’s a moment no one ever thought to dream: Marya and her brother standing together, alive and well with their arms around each other, hugging again because they can, and they need to.  As soon as their universe’s Tony Stark  figured out the switches, Bucky and Marya sent word to the Troops that they were alive and would visit the Compound as soon as they could.  Now that the testing is over and means to travel between the universes stable, they will be able to visit this universe whenever they choose.  But this is the first time they’ve visited the Troops and the Compound after believing, for years, that they never could.

The other Troops are crowding around, wanting to greet their former leader, their sister, miraculously alive even after she gave her life to free them.  It takes the Troops a very long time to finish hugging and squealing and laughing and crying on each other.  

Of course, the Troops know Bucky, too, and they greet him just as enthusiastically.  After all, he is their brother, one of them, and they’d thought he was lost to them, as well.  

Once the Troops have finished at least their initial greetings of Bucky and Marya, there is a crowd of other people to meet.  Dmitriy indulges in one of the perks of leadership by insisting on being the first to introduce someone to the visitors.  

He looks to his right and an attractive man, who seems endearingly self-conscious, steps up next to him as Dmitriy lays his arm across his shoulders.  It’s immediately obvious that the action is simply second nature to them.  Bucky hears Marya suck in her breath.  

“I am going to introduce you to this man, Marya, but I forbid you to tackle him,” Dmitriy laughs in his deep, locally-accented Spanish.

Marya’s already smiling joyfully and reaching for the man’s hands.  “You don’t have to introduce us, you fool.  This is Abarran!”

The two clasp each other’s hands, but it only lasts a few seconds before Marya is throwing her arms around the man.  Bucky can see he’s pleased, if a little nervous.  

“It’s so good to meet you,” he says.  “Please, call me Arran.”

“Of course, Arran. I’m so happy to meet you!  I know that there must be something very wrong with you to marry my brother, but he says that he is very happy, so I love you anyway.”

Arran is a few inches shorter than Dmitriy, with golden skin and light brown hair streaked by the sun. Although the sides are short, the front of his hair flops adorably into his deep brown eyes.  He wears the beginnings of a beard and mustache, more than scruff but not quite fully grown in.  He seems to relax as Marya puts an arm around his back to turn to Bucky.

“And this is Sergeant Barnes,” she says, the slight lowering of her voice as she says it and the way she looks at him betraying all that she feels for him.

Bucky shakes hands warmly with Arran.  “Bucky,” he invites.  

Dmitriy smirks, but Arran is a Basque farmer, not one of the Troops.  He was never threatened as a child with punishment by the Zimniy Soldat, so he’s happy to call Bucky by that name.

“There’s someone else I want you to meet,” Dmitry says, reaching out his arms to a chubby baby chewing on his own drool-covered fist, perched on the hip of a woman standing nearby. As he does, a little girl with dark, curly hair defying the elastic meant to tame it pulls her hand out of the woman’s grasp and runs past Dmitriy to clasp her arms around Arran’s thigh.  

“Papa, I want to meet Marya and Bucky first!  Before Antton!”

Arran laughs and pats the side of the little girl’s head while Marya goes to her knees, a look of astonishment on her face.  

“Marya,” Arran says, “This is our daughter, Nayara.”

Nayara lets go of Arran’s leg and takes four strides to stand, proud and brazen, before Marya. “I’m Nayara.  I’m three, and you are my aunt.”  

Marya can’t speak. She’s trying, but no words will come. All she can do is look several times between Nayara and Dmitriy.  Knowing her as he does, Bucky sees what she’s reacting to: Nayara is very obviously Dmitriy’s biological daughter.  Bucky squats next to Marya.

“Hello, Nayara,” he says in the same serious tone the little girl used.  “I’m Bucky.”

“You’re my uncle. You’re getting married.”

Bucky’s handsome face lights up with a wide, genuine smile.  “That’s right.”

Marya puts out a hand to touch Nayara’s curls, softly and tentatively as though afraid she might do some damage.  “You are perfect,” she tells Nayara in an awed whisper.

“Daddy says I’m like you. But why are you crying?”

“I’m not, exactly. It’s just that you’re… we are… we have the same blood.”  

Nayara’s skeptical look makes everyone laugh, even Marya.  It’s enough to break the spell, at least enough for Marya to ask, “May I hug you?”

“Of course, silly,” Nayara answers, her superior attitude clearly communicating that her new aunt is going to need some educating.  “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”  

Arran looks to Bucky like he is about to chide his daughter, but he seems to change his mind. Probably because Marya is smiling so wistfully and hugging her so carefully.

Marya keeps her hands on the little girl’s arms as she asks, “Will you introduce me to your brother?”

“He’s just a baby,” Nayara warns.

“I know, but I would still like to meet him.”

Nayara looks at Bucky. “Do you want to meet him, too?”

“Yes, I do.”

Nayara takes one of Marya’s hands and one of Bucky’s, and leads them with great solemnity to stand in front of Dmitriy, who is holding his son.  Nayara points up at the baby.  “That’s Antton.”

Dmitriy changes his stance, offering Antton to Marya to hold, but she clutches her hands together in front of her chest, alarmed.  “I don’t know how to hold him.”

“It’s easy,” Bucky says, taking him from Dmitriy and smiling at Marya when the baby’s settled in his arms. “They’re pretty sturdy.”

“Dmitriy,” Marya says in that hushed, reverent voice as she marvels at her nephew.  “These are your children.  Your true children.”

Dmitriy smiles in understanding.  “Yes.  Everyone here is our family, Marya.  These two also share our blood.  Yours and mine.”

Marya stays mildly stunned even as she and Bucky are introduced to all of the new members of the Compound.  Most of the Troops have chosen spouses since being freed from Hydra.  A few of the Troops have married each other, and others have married people they’ve met since founding the Compound.  Most, but not all, of the spouses are Spanish. There are a few boyfriends and girlfriends, too.  And there are also several children.  Nayara demands that Marya carry her, which is frightening enough, but at least it lets her avoid having to hold any of the babies.  Bucky has no such nervousness, however, and even tosses a few of them in the air, to their delight.  The older ones, none more than five, are immediately fascinated by Bucky’s metal arm.

It’s over an hour before the group is finished greeting and introducing everyone.  When someone finally suggests that they show their guests to their rooms, the big, noisy, chaotic crowd shuffles down paved walkways toward the large central building Bucky helped build so long ago.  He recognizes much of the Compound, but the community has clearly been building and evolving in the years since he was here last.  

The central building is now devoted to a meeting space with a communal kitchen, offices, and other shared spaces.  There’s another building, even larger, which is an ever-growing living quarters.  Some of the families have built themselves small houses they call cottages, although Bucky thinks they’re a little too modern to fit the name.  But most choose to live in the residence.  As a rule, the Troops no longer sleep in a haphazard pile as they had when they were Hydra captives, but they still mostly prefer to live very close together.  Bucky and Marya are shown to a small suite of rooms that are used on the infrequent occasions when there are guests at the Compound.  

The Compound is holding a huge, communal dinner to celebrate Bucky and Marya’s return.  It’s too late in the day to show them around the Compound, and Arran has convinced Dmitriy that their guests will probably be tired from their travels and appreciate some time to rest and wash up before dinner. Bucky finds himself lying on the bed, flesh arm behind his head, studying Marya as she gazes out the second-story window at the fields on the edge of the neat complex.  It’s almost a tiny town now, larger and more populated than the Avengers Compound in upstate New York.  

“You okay?”  Bucky asks gently.

Marya hums in response, still taking in the view.  “Overwhelmed, I think.”

“Yeah.  Me, too.”

There’s another silence while Bucky watches Marya’s thoughtful expression.  “They have children,” she muses.

Yeah.  That’s what Bucky thought.  

“I know.  Our Bruce thought we probably could, that’s why our supplements have contraceptives in them.”

“Yes.  It always seemed sort of… academic to me, though. Like a theory.  I don’t think I believed it.”

Bucky sits up and moves to the edge of the bed closest to Marya.  “We could have kids if you wanted to.”

Marya looks at him then, her face a weathervane, changing with her swirling emotions.  “Do you?”

“Yes.”  This seems to Bucky like a situation that calls for the clearest possible communication.

“Yes.”  Marya echoes him, her tone a request for confirmation at the same time she’s trying out the idea.  

“Yes.  You’re all the family I need, Marya, but I’d like having kids, if you want that.”

“Are you afraid?”

Bucky thinks about that, wanting to be sure he understands what she’s asking.  “I know it’s hard, raising kids, if that’s what you mean.”

“I mean, are you afraid they’ll be monsters?  Like us?”

“No, Marya.  We weren’t born like this.  We were made into this.  And we aren’t monsters.  You taught me that.”

Marya comes to sit next to Bucky as she says, “I just never thought about being a child’s mother before. It makes me look at us differently.”

“There’s no reason to make a decision right now,” Bucky tells her, taking her hand in his and kissing it before resting their entwined hands on his thigh.  “Spend time with the kids here.  Watch the Troops with them.  Take your time.”

“You are a wonderful man,” Marya says, and the look on her face is as adoring as her words.

“Then let’s put this time to good use and try out this bed.”

 Dinner is a chaotic, boisterous affair that reminds Marya of the times when Hydra would toss food into the Troops’ sleeping room as though feeding animals in a zoo.  Hydra had never understood that this wasn’t demeaning the way they’d intended; it was the Troops’ preferred way of being fed.  The Troops ensured that everyone got their share, regardless of how little Hydra sometimes gave them if they were being punished for something, and then they ate together in relaxed camaraderie.  It was nothing like eating in the stifling presence of Hydra personnel, or under the resentful supervision of guards.  Having been abducted as children and subjected to destruction of most of their memories, that was the life they knew, so they found enjoyment where they could.

During dinner, many of the members of the Compound tell stories of its founding and the work they’ve done in the years since then.  There are some poignant stories, and some tales of missions on which the Troops have helped the Avengers.  But Bucky’s stomach hurts from laughter by the end of the meal.  He and Marya tell the group about destroying the Ten Rings, and about the new peace descending on their world now that Stark Industries no longer makes weapons.  They have their own funny stories about some of the product lines their Tony Stark has experimented with.  

After dinner, they relax around a bonfire that’s been lit in a large firepit in front of the central building.  Although they haven’t lived in yurts for years, they’ve kept the tradition of sitting together around campfires whenever the weather allows it.

The fire lends a warm, comfortable light to the gathering.  Marya and Dmitriy stay next to each other all evening, often with one or both arms around each other, as Marya becomes reacquainted with the people with whom she was raised, who have always called themselves siblings.  Nayara sits on Marya’s lap for quite a while, before getting bored with adults talking and seeking out Bucky, who seems likely to be more fun.  

Dmitri eventually convinces Marya to hold Antton.  Looking at the sleepy baby sitting on her thighs, regarding her thoughtfully, Marya suddenly makes the connection.  She raises her head to meet her brother’s eyes.  “Nayara and Antton.  Natasha and Tony.”

“Yes,” Dmitriy nods solemnly.  “They are as much a part of this Compound as any of us.  Arran met them, and we wanted to honor their memories.”

“That is…”  Marya impatiently wipes a tear from her cheek. “I have wanted to see you, and all our siblings, since the day I had to leave.  And now that we’re here, all I can do is cry!”

Dmitriy laughs and squeezes her with the arm he has resting on her shoulder.  “Well, you did blow yourself up for us, so I guess I’ll forgive you.  Just don’t get tears on my son.  Anyway, we should start talking about your wedding.  People have already made a lot of plans without you.”

“That’s okay.  As long as I end up married to my Sergeant, here with you all, they can do it however they like.”

“I’m glad you are so happy, Marya.  I love the Sergeant, too.”

Marya turns a glare on him. “Yes, he mentioned that you two…”

“Am I supposed to ignore a man that beautiful?  Anyway, you were dead.”

“That was his excuse!”

“Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”  Dmitriy’s smile fades then, and he grows serious as he says, “He was a broken man then.  I was not surprised when he sent me the message that he was going to try to follow you to the other universe.”

“You are the only one he told.”

“I didn’t know what to say when Dr. Banner asked me if I knew where he was.  I told him as much of the truth as I could, that he had sent me a message saying he was leaving.  But I refused to tell him what the message said.  I was honest that I didn’t know whether he was still alive, and I told him that, either way, we would never see the Sergeant again.”

“So much pain,” Marya sighs, bouncing baby Antton on her knee to make him smile.

Dmitriy shakes his head. “That is over now.  You and the Sergeant are both alive, and he is so happy, Marya.  He is… whole. You did that.”

“Many people did that, including you, Dmitriy.  And he healed me as much as I healed him.”

“Whatever.  More maudlin talk!  Drink some more of our wine and dry your eyes, you fool.  You cry more than Antton.”

That night, Bucky and Marya learn that the Troops have not entirely abandoned their former habit of sleeping together in a pile.  When their Hydra captors had allowed them nowhere better to sleep than a single room with a mat on the floor, they didn’t have sex in the place where they slept. As a result, sleeping together was not sexual for them in the bunker, so it isn’t in the Compound, either.  In the Compound, it's usual to issue an invitation to sleep together when someone needs comfort.  They all bear the scars of their trauma, if only internally, just as Bucky and Marya do.  Nightmares are common.  

So it really isn’t that surprising that the Troops have incorporated sleeping together into their celebrations, as well.  There is even a communal sleeping room in the central building, with a massive, fluffy floor covering and a wide array of pillows and blankets.  When people get tired around the bonfire, most drift into the central building to curl up together for the night.  It's a way of keeping the celebration going, of not having to end it just because they need sleep, and to reaffirm the close ties between the Troops and all the members of the Compound.  

Bucky finds it strange, but his experience in the Army comes in handy once again as he taps into that part of himself that had learned to sleep anywhere.  It is kind of nice, he realizes.  He feels safe and he does sort of feel a sense of camaraderie, even in sleep. And Marya sleeps soundly with a faint smile on her lips, letting out a sleepy, satisfied sigh as Bucky pulls her more tightly to his chest.

Bucky is home with his family.  And when they return to their new universe, he will be home there, too, with the rest of his family.  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Epilogue:

The Avengers contacted Steve Rogers once – only once – after he returned to his own time.  When Bucky had gone missing, Bruce Banner called to ask whether he could meet with Steve, and Steve reluctantly agreed.  When he arrived, Bruce explained that Bucky had disappeared without taking anything with him, and the Avengers were worried. He asked whether Bucky had contacted Steve, or whether Steve knew where he might have gone.  

Of course, Bucky hadn’t contacted Steve, and Steve had no idea where he might have gone.  But Steve didn’t understand the concern.  Bucky Barnes, of all people, could take care of himself.  Couldn’t he? Was he all right?  Steve, in his stupid, self-destructive earnestness, had never learned to trust someone when they told him he didn’t want to know the answer to a question.  So he pushed Bruce to tell him the truth.  That’s how Steve learned, in excruciatingly painful fucking detail, what Bucky had become after he left.  Bruce hadn’t understood Steve’s decision any more than Bucky had and, God help him, it had felt kind of good to blast Steve back a little for what he’d done.

Oh, the lies Steve told himself after that!  Selfish, cowardly, willfully blind fuck that he is, even after Bruce informed him in no uncertain terms that he’d all but destroyed Bucky, Steve told himself that the Avengers were overreacting.  Bucky wasn’t “missing”.  He was fine. He’d simply had enough of life with the Avengers and had used his considerable skills to vanish into a quiet, peaceful life off the grid.  

And then, this morning, Steve had opened his front door to see Tony Stark, looking just like he did the day he died, standing on his front porch.  Steve had gasped, his chest tightening like it hadn’t even when he was a ninety-pound asthmatic.  Tony had skipped a beat, having to squint a little to be sure this old man was really Steve.  But then he’d broken into that impish grin and opened his arms, like he’d be welcome.

He wasn’t.  

Even when he explained that he wasn’t the Tony Stark from this universe, Steve hadn’t wanted to see him. It hurt like a motherfucker to see Tony again after all these years.  Especially this Tony.  Steve’s Tony hadn’t been this carefree, this light, since the Snap.  Maybe ever.  Seeing him now just reminded Steve of all that the Snap, and what came after, had cost. He doesn’t want to remember that. It’s part of why he returned to his time.

Steve resents this Tony Stark even more for the rest of what he told Steve.  About Bucky.  About what really happened when Bucky disappeared, several years ago now.  And where Bucky went.  Steve had actually tried to get Tony to leave without telling him anything about his universe, but apparently any Tony Stark is unstoppable and no universe has yet devised the means to shut him the hell up.  

Tony-from-another-universe explained, in self-congratulatory tones, how he’d figured out universe-hopping fairly quickly, once he began.  He admitted that most of the work had been done by Tony-from-Steve’s-universe, and all he’d had to do was reverse-engineer his switches and make some ingenious – Tony’s word - guesses.  The switches no longer dumped people into the other universe burned and broken, which Tony made sure Steve understood was all him.  

Steve, curse his still-too-polite ass, just had to ask what switches Tony was talking about. Up to then, Steve had still been under the impression that Tony was here alone, because he hadn’t mentioned anyone else. But Steve should have known.

It’s a beautiful, late-spring afternoon in Brooklyn, and Steve is walking, face tipped up toward the sun, soaking in the warmth.  Since the day he woke up after being rescued from the ice, he’s always felt like there’s a part of him, deep inside, that’s never really thawed.  Everyone’s always thought he ran and worked out to keep in shape, which is partly true.  But revving his body up to its maximum is also the closest he’s ever been able to get to feeling truly warm.  Peggy always used to get this look on her face when he’d wrap up in an electric blanket or sit too close to a fire, like she knew, even though he never told her about crashing the Valkyrie into the ice.  For her, it hadn’t happened.  And Steve didn’t want to talk about what he’d done, or why he’d done it.  Not when, even though he’d gotten Bucky back, he’d still walked away from him in the end.

The warmth of the sun is not the only reason Steve is blinking and looking up.  He’s also trying to hold back tears.  He promised himself on the day he returned to his time that he would never regret his decision, and he doesn’t.  Not really.  He’s caught up to himself now, to the time when he’d awakened in “the future,” but it’s different this time.  It’s so very different.  He fits now. He’s the right age now.  And this time, he has a lifetime of memories of Peggy and the family they made.  

Peggy’s been gone for a few years now, although it still feels fresh.  Her death is a wound that isn’t going to heal, and Steve accepts that. It was still worth it.  Steve himself is biologically over a hundred years old now.  He’s not immortal, of course, but the serum has given him a much longer lifespan than a normal man.  And although he’s aged, he’s still in perfect health.  At a hundred and change, Steve’s a hell of a lot healthier than he was at twenty.  That still makes him laugh a little, but it also means he’s going to be living with the pain of Peggy’s death for quite a while yet.  

That isn’t what has the tears threatening, though.  He would give in to them, if that was the case, like he has a million times since losing Peggy.  He doesn’t mind.  The pain of missing her keeps Peggy close to him, somehow.  

If anyone was paying any attention to the surprisingly fit old man on his daily walk right now, they’d see a look that’s half smile, half grimace cross his face.  Steve’s thinking about how Bucky would react if he ever heard him say that.

And it’s Bucky’s memory, not Peggy’s, that has him choked up.  

Steve’s not sure it’s accurate to say that it’s Bucky’s memory, exactly, that’s tearing him apart right now. Because the pictures aren’t from the past.  They’re from the present.  For Bucky, it’s only been a few years since he and Steve saw each other.  It’s Steve who’s been grieving the loss of Bucky for the past eighty years.  

Steve looks around him at the sunny street where he’s walking.  Had he known it, he is very near the place where Bucky was abducted by the Troops all those years ago.  He sighs, yet again, realizing that Tony might never have told him the things he had this morning if Steve hadn’t asked Tony what fucking switches he’d been talking about. But he did.  And that’s when Tony told him that Marya hadn’t died in the explosion of the Hydra bunker.  For a second, just a split second, that had been good news.  But, of course, Tony had immediately explained that she’d landed in an alternate universe – this Tony’s universe – and that Bucky hadn’t “disappeared.” Bucky had followed her there.  

Steve knew immediately, as soon as the words were out of Tony’s mouth.  Didn’t even have to think about it.  He’s not stupid, and he knows how Bucky Barnes’s mind and heart work. So Steve knows why Bucky flipped the switch, even though it was likely to kill him.  Steve knows that switch was Bucky’s Valkyrie.  Maybe flipping it hadn’t been quite so guaranteed to be fatal as crashing a plane into the ice at speed, but it was pretty close.  It was Bucky’s way of escaping a world without Steve, just as the Valkyrie had been Steve’s way of escaping a world without Bucky.  

Which tells Steve all he’ll ever need to know about what his leaving did to Bucky.

A whole lot of carefully-constructed fantasies crumble in the face of that knowledge.  All the lies Steve has told himself since Bruce had visited him go up in flames like the tissue paper they were always made of.  He burns with self-hatred now for how eagerly he’d embraced such a convenient, comfortable story.  Bucky hadn’t happily retired to a rustic little cabin in the woods to live on memories and his love for Steve.  Far from it.  What he’d driven Bucky to was nowhere near that simple, or that starkly noble.  And it sure the fuck wasn’t that complimentary to Steve.  

Bucky had floundered, desperately clawing for some kind of peace and utterly unable to find it. He’d lasted longer than Steve had, but in the end, he’d ended up in the same place Steve did after Bucky fell to his death from a train.  And he’d found it just as unsurvivable as Steve had.  

Oh, yeah, Steve understood. Who better?  The difference was, Bucky would never intentionally have caused Steve that kind of pain.  Bucky had tried desperately not to fall.  He’d done everything he could not to be separated.  But Steve?  Steve had done it consciously, and with malice aforethought.  Even knowing what it felt like, Steve had left Bucky clinging for his life and crying all alone in the freezing wind as he watched Steve disappear from his life.  

No wonder Bucky had taken an insane, suicidal risk on one of Tony Stark’s mad inventions on the off chance that he would find peace on the other side.  And he had.  Marya had been waiting for him there, arms wide open, still completely loyal and able to be everything Bucky needed.

Tony kept talking.  Steve didn’t listen.  He thought he hadn’t heard a word, but he knows now that he did, because he knows that Bucky is here, in this universe and in this time. He knows that, instead of coming with Tony to find Steve, Bucky’s gone with Marya to Spain.  And he knows that they’re going to be married there.

Steve knows why he’s upset about that.  He’s under no illusion about his own motives.  He wants Bucky to be happy; of course he wants that.  He’s supposed to want Bucky to get over him.  And yet, the idea that Bucky actually is over him hurts so bad he could howl with the unspeakable pain of it.  Steve wants to kill Marya.  As he walks, his hands curl into fists shaking with hurt rage as he thinks about her waiting for Bucky, faithful and patient and oh-so-ready to welcome him back into her arms once Steve chose peace of mind and Peggy over him.

Steve is well aware that there’s nothing to be angry with Marya about, because he himself is the one who abandoned Bucky, who robbed him of any choice and then stranded him in hell.  If he was any kind of friend, any kind of fucking man, he’d be overflowing with gratitude to Marya for making Bucky happy again.  Intellectually, he knows that.  But, oh, the craving and jealousy burn like nothing he’s ever experienced.  Not even Peggy’s death, because Steve believes he’ll be reunited with Peggy someday.  But he also knows he’s lost Bucky forever.  

Steve’s almost stomping his feet now as he strides up the avenue, trying to rid himself of the staggering avalanche of grief and rage and screaming agony he feels.  He’s gripping his phone so hard he’s likely to crush it. He doesn’t fool himself about that, either.  This morning, Tony went on and on about Bucky’s new life until Steve finally had to beg him to stop.  Tony eventually relented, but still insisted on uploading some pictures onto Steve’s phone. Steve doesn’t want to see them.  At the same time, he wants to see them so bad it’s killing him, even though he knows that his suffering now is nothing to what it will do to him to see pictures of Bucky, finally at home and content in a way he’s never been in this universe.  At home and content without Steve.

Steve does, eventually, look at the pictures.  He’d just needed to be in the right place when he did it.  The right place is the small back yard of his house.  It’s his favorite place in the world, especially when the sun is pouring its warmth on him and he can smell the lilac bush Peggy loved so much.  He feels her here.  They made years and years of memories here in this yard, together and with their children, and Steve still often has dinner on the picnic table with their kids and grandkids when they visit.  This yard is the safest place he knows.  

The pictures break his heart anyway.  Bucky is young and gorgeous and blissfully in love.  The shadows of the Winter Soldier are all but gone from his eyes.  If anything, he looks younger than he did the last time Steve saw him.  Steve knows that’s Marya’s doing.  Steve could never help Bucky heal the way that Marya can, because he hasn’t lived what they have.  Steve hates her just a little bit more for that, and hates himself for it.  

There is a picture of all the members of the Avengers Initiative, bruised and bloody after some battle or other, all smiling and laughing as though they’re having the time of their lives.  There are two James Barneses, and Steve takes in the sight of the other one – that universe’s Barnes – wearing the uniform and bearing the shield of Captain America. For the first time, Steve really lets himself think about the fact that Bucky is happy in a universe where Steve himself is dead.

There’s another picture of Bucky in front of a brick townhouse in what has to be Brooklyn in Bucky’s universe.  He’s roughhousing with two little boys who could be him and Steve at their ages, while Marya laughs from where she’s sitting on the stoop.  Steve thinks that might be Bucky and Marya’s home.  He doesn’t know who the boys are, and he’s glad he doesn’t.  

The last picture is a close-up of Bucky and Marya, smiling with their faces close together.  It looks like one Bucky took himself.  Steve can only look at that picture for long enough to be struck anew by the power Bucky’s stunning good looks have always had over him.  He imagines for just a split second that Bucky’s looking at him with those lovely, gray-blue eyes, and smiling at him like that. He has to hit the button to close the picture before the blast of desperate longing stops his heart.

So there is justice in this world, sometimes, Steve thinks.  Bucky has a full life, with people who have been gone from Steve’s world for a lifetime now.  And being forced to see Bucky, happy without him, Steve’s getting what he deserves for not having the courage to stay.  Steve’s not even trying to stem the tears, or hold in his sobs.  He thinks if he tried to hold it in, this torment would kill him.

After he looks at each picture, Steve deletes it, until he’s looking at a blank screen.  He had his life with Peggy, and it was very, very good. He’ll find his way to appreciate, even celebrate, Bucky finding his own happiness with Marya.  But he never wants to see those pictures again.

“Forgive me, Buck…” Steve pleads in a choked whisper.  “I should have been stronger.  Be happy, pal.  I’ve loved you every minute since the day we met.  I’ll love you forever.”

#The Avengers #Bucky Barnes #The WInter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #The End #Epilogue #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Endgame Fix-it #Happy Ending

[agoddamn]

All that no optimal route order is a real problem. I started with Golden Deer. I feel like I at least got to fight every major villain in the game (except Rhea for the people who count her as one) including Nemesis, who's in the fucking opening cutscene. It feels weird going from that which is like the more standard Fire Emblem experience to "let's pretend those guys who killed your dad don't exist anymore"....

I know, right? And you're always influenced the most by your first route so depending on where you start you get very different pictures of Fodlan and its struggles. To make matters worse, Edelgard was heavily pushed by advertising so something like over half of all players started with hers--and hers is the most inconsistent route with the fewest chapters!

And you can't help but feel like Dmitri is kind of a dumbass on account of his path not touching any of the dragon lore. Obviously not his fault but c'mon, he does the FE equivalent of accidentally backing over a final boss when he kills Thales without even knowing who he is. It makes Thales look like a bitch, too; imagine getting to Deer after Lions and lol, the guy Dmitri sneezed on and flattened had a whole cyber-underground full of nuclear armaments that he just forgot to fucking use?

#3h blogging