#I can't write a decent fight to save my life.

[theroundbartable]

Arthur is out with a couple coworkers whom he isn't out to. They keep encouraging him to flirt with random girls, so eventually he does due to peer pressure.

The moment he does, Merlin steps in and rants him into a pulp for harrassing those girls (who happens to be one of Merlin's friends.)

(It's the hackling from the background that ticked Merlin off, Arthur barely said anything.) Arthur's coworkers fight the fight for him but Arthur himself is more than intrigued by Merlin's courage.

After that, Arthur visits the bar more often. But he doesn't get to talk to him because Merlin doesn't like him and ignores him. At some point, Arthur becomes desperate and asks one of his girl friends to assist him to get Merlin to talk to him... By staging that he's harrassing them (they are in on it) and Merlin feels the need to step in... Time and time again until Arthur is kicked out from the bar for life.

When the bartender tells Arthur that he has to leave, Arthur's desperation grows even worse and he begs to be allowed to leave one last message. He writes it on a napkin and tells him to give it to Merlin.

"sorry for being a pratt. You're cute and I didn't know how else to talk to you!

Here is my number: xxxx-xxxx"

Naturally, Merlin thinks it's either a prank or that Arthur handed it to the wrong person, so he texts Arthur pretending to be Elena, the last girl arthur "harrassed". Btw, all Arthur's "victims" somehow ended up befriending Merlin and encouraging Arthur to keep trying because Merlin is single and his only flaw is that he doesn't listen when someone tries to explain to him that it was all a scheme.

Elena (Merlin): you gave me your number, are you serious?! You got kicked out for harrassing me!

Arthur: sorry, Who is this?

Elena (Merlin): this is Elena, the blond girl you attacked?!?! You do that often?!

Arthur: you have a new number? Jesus, Elena, I almost had a heart attack. Do you know if Merlin got my number yet?

Elena (Merlin): ???

Arthur: and why are you texting me like that?! Is he watching? Am I supposed to write something?

Elena (Merlin): I have this number from the napkin the barkeeper gave me

Arthur: That doesn't make sense, Elena. I have your number saved! I've known you since kindergarten! Why would you say that?!

Merlin: So... You MEANT to send it to me? This isn't Elena, btw, this is Merlin. What do you mean, you've known her since Kindergarten?!

Merlin: ...

Merlin: hey, why aren't you answering?!

Arthur: hey

Merlin: what?! The hell?! Why would you give the barkeeper your number to give to me? And why do you know Elena?!

Arthur (Morgana): Hello, this is Arthur's sister, my name is Morgana. My dear brother is currently panicking because he thinks you're cute and he would like to date you. But he chickened out because you actually texted him and that's why I had to take over.

Merlin: yeah... Right

Arthur (Morgana) it's true though. He asked some of his friends to help him get a rise out of you. He's truly pathetic, but he showed me a picture, so I get it. Elena and Mithian are just some of them. You can ask them, too.

Merlin: wait... What?!

Arthur (Arthur): I can't believe she told you that

Merlin: you

Merlin: what

Merlin: is this a prank

Arthur: can't you just reject me already, I'm dying over here.

Merlin: no fucking way.

Merlin: If you're actually some sort of decent person, no way I'm missing out. You're hot

Arthur (Morgana): this is Morgana again. Arthur is panicking again. Saturday 2pm?

Merlin: sounds good to me.

Merlin: I'm flattered... Haha

Arthur (Morgana): you should be. I've never seen him so excited. You're gonna have an easy game.

Arthur (Morgana): okay, I gotta go, he just passed out.

Merlin: oh... Okay. Thank you?!

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #arthur #concept #chaotic #dunno #i kinda thought it was cute

[caffeinatedrogue]

it all started with my headcanon of Vincent being good at pool and teaching Kerry, hence having to eject it from my brain in some form,

...then I got sentimental about lore BIG TIME so I did something unthinkable and I ....wrote :tm: !!! 100% forgetting that I am no native speaker and I can't write for shit so venture forth at your own risk (fluff, it's fluff, andthere's a funny pic at the end)

Curved over the green woolen surface, his brow furrowed in concentration, V. held his breath - then arm and cue moved in a smooth stroke. The white ball hit its target with a sharp ‘knock’, sending the 8-ball rolling straight into the pocket. Nice.  He didn’t have the time to smile however, as a frustrated exclamation came from somewhere behind him. 

“Ugh…goddamnit!” Perched upon his stool, Kerry smacked his thighs in a show of disappointment.  “Looks like I’m gonna have to pay  for yet another round. Fuckin’ awesome, really.”  

Vincent, still hunched over the table, quickly turned in worry - only to see that the man was actually amused, a cheeky grin upon his face. Relieved but still trying his best not to look too chuffed about having landed the winning shot he straightened up and did a little stretch before fetching the glass he’d left on the table rail. 

“Whev, you almost had me. For a second I thought I had really hurt your pride”. He gave Kerry a little wink and took a sip of whiskey. “Gotta say, you put up a fight this round”.

“Well, I’ve got a very good teacher…and he’s quite the looker, too.” Kerry hopped off his seat and walked up to him. “But seriously, how come you’re this fuckin’ good at it?’’

 Vincent gestured at the other tables. “See for yourself. Take a look around and watch who else is playing.’’

Kerry craned his neck. He had not given the other customers much thought until that moment, but now he could see it - little groups of youngsters in dusty leathers and bomber jackets were gathered all around, chattering and having a pint -  some of them bearing Aldecaldos patches. 

“Riiiight. Nomads. Heh, makes sense. Guess you had many a night like this.”

Leaning against the wooden edge of the table, V slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it. 

“Yep”, he said between puffs of smoke. “This is pretty much the best you can find in terms of nightlife, if you’re not from the big cities. Booze is decent, people are nice save from the occasional fight, and you get to wind down away from camp after a hard day of work”.

He looked down into the glass as he spoke, swirling his whiskey. Kerry could see something - nostalgia, or something else? - suddenly cloud his eyes, lost in distances only V.’s mind could see. It only lasted a moment before he snapped out of it, quickly turning his gaze back on Ker.

“Anyway that’s the secret: hundreds of matches - half of those, I played drunk as a skunk.” he quipped with a little smile, wrapping his arms around Kerry’s waist. Then his voice turned soft. “Though for city folks this kind of thing must grow old very quickly, I guess. I hope you’re not…well, bored?”  It was there that it truly hit Kerry - those nights were not only about leaving the City and all its weight behind for a few hours, looking for something different - letting their hair down at some roadside bar where nobody gave them a second look or cared about who was who. Him - he could simply drive around NC and have a tale to tell for every corner of it: crashing the car with Johnny, playing this or that gig, hell, even where his favorite record store in the 30s used to be. Meanwhile, severed from it, all Vincent had to show for his past were an old car and a bunch of sun-faded pictures on the wall near his bed. A night on a highway across the Badlands was as close as V. could get to showing him something of it, a semblance of his world and the places he’d loved, or what his life had been like: in short, who he was. And hoping Kerry would like it - would like him as he truly was, with his lack of frills and sophistication, one who found joy in the little things. A bittersweet act of vulnerability: those nights together - he’d  be cherishing them even more now, Ker thought, pressing himself against V. He nuzzled his neck, kissing one of the roses inked on his skin. “Not a chance. ‘Sides, even an empty room could be my favorite place, if it had you in it. But now…” he looked up at V mischievously, playing with the bullet pendant on his neck. “...I was thinking you could give me a few more pointers, y’know. Not quite sure my grip is quite right yet… and my uh… posture…”. Kerry stepped backwards, tugging flirtatiously at the neck of V's shirt while he did so. “Gotta get good, so you can stop missing easy shots to make me feel better.”.

 Vincent’s eyes widened. “I don’t –” “Yes, you do. And it’s goddamn sweet, you gonk.” 

His gaze never leaving Vincent’s, he retrieved the cue stick he’d abandoned against the stool, then slowly made his way back to the table and curved over it right next to V, playful eyes looking up to him from over his shoulder, his smirk an invitation. 

“So, whatcha waiting for?”

The merc put down his glass. A moment later he was behind him, and Kerry welcomed the feeling of V’s chest pressed against his back, of his hand on his waist pulling him back. Nothing in Night City, hell nothing in the world could ever come close to the way he made him feel just standing next to him: transformed, new, fearless, alive with feelings he had no names or words for yet. He shivered: V’s breath caressed his neck as he whispered in his ear.

“Farther from the table. Find your footing, you gotta distribute your weight. And… bend down lower, sunshine.”

if you made it to here ty T_T and have a bonus pic that shows another reason why Kerry enjoys pool so much (sorry but the inherent homoeroticism of it compelled me ok)

#kerry eurodyne #kerry x v #kerry x masc v #cyberpunk 2077 #art tag #cringe but free my psychologist is gonna be so proud of me for doing stuff I can't do and just yeeting it out #oc: v for vincent

[peetapiepita]

Adult Katniss responds to Peeta anti takes: Part One

(It's a Part One because I'm sure there will be more to come.)

Notes: This post and the potential other posts in this series were inspired by this post. Thanks to @mellarked-katnisseverdeen and @periwinckles for the idea!

So I've heard some people saying Peeta Mellark is weak and needed rescue all the time. I'm breaking my silence about it simply because I can't stand Peeta slander.

To whoever has been spreading these lies:

1. Do you realise how many times Peeta has saved me?

We protect each other. That's what we do. There's an old saying, no one loves for no reason. We don't risk our own lives trying to save each other for no reason. He risked his safety for me first when we were kids. He's the one who took the first step and I just followed suit.

Are you mad because I never risked my life saving yours? Well, good luck with that because there's no time machine for you to go back and save me when I was starving as a kid. Peeta was the only one who cared and he did save me.

He's still saving me every day since he planted the primrose for me. I didn't have the drive to live anymore before he came back home. He's the reason I'm alive today and I'm so pissed off that some people are slandering him in MY NAME. This needs to stop.

2. I didn't describe how strong Peeta in the books multiple times for you to say he's weak.

I'm astonished by how many people lack the ability to comprehend the surface meaning of my writing. I thought I was a decent enough writer? People like you are making me doubt my own writing ability. Thank God I didn't know you existed when I was younger. I didn't need to be insecure about my writing on top of everything I went through as a teen.

Peeta has been strong since we were younger. I explicitly described how he could carry heavy flour sacks and how he was in second place in a school wrestling match, only after his OLDER brother.

It's also false that he's not able to kill people. He killed Brutus, who was arguably the strongest contestant in the Quarter Quell, WITH HIS BARE HANDS. He lost his knife and was trying desperately to find me. He could kill almost anyone if he needs to. He just hates the idea of killing and prefers not to kill if possible. If you call that weak, I suggest you turn yourself in at a psych ward because it's only a matter of time before you try to kill for fun or to prove you're "strong."

3. Mental strength is more important than physical strength, which is what most people lack. Fortunately, Peeta has both.

Peeta's intelligence is his strongest weapon and also what I needed in the beginning. He was the first to realise what was the most important thing when he told me he didn't want them to change him. I was still struggling with the idea of survival and didn't have the mental strength to think that far. He did and he gave me the strength to fight for my true self.

He lost everything during the few years after our first games. He lost his leg, his WHOLE family, almost ALL of his friends, part of his memories and sanity, but he still came back stronger. I never thought some people would be too dumb to see how hard that is, but here we are.

I'm considered a strong person by most and I almost lost the will to live twice during those years, once when Peeta was taken and once when Prim was killed. Peeta lost his whole family and so many friends at the same time, yet he was the one to stop me from taking that Nightlock pill. I can't tell you how hard it is. I can only say I couldn't be that strong.

Don't even get me started on the hijacking. I thought for sure I lost him when that happened, but he came back to me with his unbelievably incredible mental strenghth. I honestly don't think anyone else I know would've been able to do that.

This is turning into a full-length essay so I'm leaving it here. See you losers the next time you say anything bad about Peeta!

#the hunger games #hunger games #thg #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

[heliads]

Hey darling, hope you are doing well ! If possible I'd like to request a finnick x reader, where they were rivals/enemies growing up but ever since the reaping (for the reader first) she realises that she can't live without annoying finnick (too proud to say that she loves him) and when she wins the games, she tells finnick that even though they fight and argue like 24/7 for all their life, she loves him and was thinking about him all the time during the games and that she tried to win for finnick.

[ Also if possible for a part 2 ]

Finnick gets chosen for the next hunger games and the reader won the last one so she mentors him. But Annie is with him for the games and she gets close to Finnick and it makes the reader jealous. And you can decide for the ending if you want Finnick to have a dramatic end where he has to kill Annie in the games or someone almost kills Finnick but the reader pulled some strings for it to be Annie instead. Have fun with it, I don't mind whatever ending you write !! Thank you again darling and take care ❤❤❤

hi darling! i don't take requests for fics with two parts so you simply get both parts in one :) it is long enough for two parts though LMAO

masterlist

Sunlight on a Reaping day. Two things that seem as if they should never go together in the slightest, yet do. You think it would be far more fair if the world would save its pleasant days for hours that aren’t spent on horror. What a waste of good temperature, rare beauty in this thankless existence.

You have a few hours left before you have to turn in with the rest. The town square is clear right now, eerily empty; you can see it from the top window of your house, not that you’ve been looking. Not that you’ve been wondering what it’ll look like when that entire square is full of people waiting to hear which two of you will die this year.

You’re not in your house now, even though you’re supposed to stay there until the time comes to attend the Reaping. You can’t bear to be stuck there a moment longer. You always get this way when the Reaping comes around, as if by putting yourself in any cage, it’ll be that much easier for your name to be pulled from that bowl. 

You don’t know how much time you have left until the inevitable comes. Every year, your name must come closer and closer to being pulled. Perhaps it’ll happen today. At least then the waiting would be done. You’d only have to be escorted to your death in the Capitol’s lurid glory, and what’s so wrong with that? You’d even get a decent meal out of the whole gory exchange.

You’re walking on a path near the outskirts of your district, Four. The edge of the sea is just in sight. It would be nice to walk down to where the surf meets the sand, to cool your heels in the bay even one more time, but you know better. The water’s edge is always under guard by Capitol Peacekeepers on the lookout for starving fools looking to steal some fish. You have no desire to risk their wrath on a day like this.

Your tendency to avoid being arrested doesn’t save you from being found, however. You’ve scarcely walked ten minutes before an irritatingly familiar voice sounds from behind you.

“Looking for a chance to run, Y/N?”

You roll your eyes and turn around. A boy has emerged from the shadows of the path behind you, although his golden blond hair shines just as bright as always.

“Wonderful to see you too, Finnick,” you respond coldly, “but I thought I didn’t have to face painful death until the Reaping. That means I shouldn’t have to see you until then.”

Finnick Odair, for of course it is he, bares his teeth in a broad grin. “What could you possibly mean by that? I think I’m hurt.”

You glare at him. “It means talking to you for longer than a second kills off my brain cells more than a trident to the skull. See you around,” you say pointedly, and turn back to the path ahead of you.

What a way to start the morning indeed. You and Finnick have been rivals, enemies, unwilling coworkers, everything but friends since the day you met. You don’t know how long you’ve known Finnick, only that you’ve spent far too much time around him than you’ve ever wanted. It feels like every word out of his mouth is a barb pointed in your direction, all sharp points and deadly blows.

Despite your usual rivalry, however, Finnick doesn’t seem willing to be left alone quite yet. He merely jogs to catch up to you, stretching his arms out in a tired yawn. “What a day. I think I’d almost like getting off work if it weren’t for the fact that it means I might die.”

You tilt your head to the side, considering this. “When you say it like that, it almost sounds like a bad thing.”

“What else could it possibly be?” Finnick grumbles. “Of course, if it got me away from you and into the lap of luxury, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.”

You snort. “Oh, please. If you were ever in the lap of luxury long enough to make it through the Games, I’m sure you couldn’t enjoy a second of it. You’d be mourning my absence, of course, and that would simply ruin everything for you.”

Finnick chuckles. “What, you doubt that I would win? Have I not gotten into enough fights to prove that I could?”

You shrug absentmindedly. “Oh, I’m not doubting your love for conflict. I’m merely worried that every other tribute would get so annoyed by you that they’d make you an immediate target.”

Finnick’s brows raise comically. “Is that so?”

You nod solemnly. “I can see it now. It would be rare for every single other tribute to work together, but they’d make an exception to kill you first. It would be particularly shameful for you personally.”

Finnick laughs, tilting his head back as his eyelashes briefly flutter shut. You look only when you’re certain that he can’t see you staring, and the second he opens his eyes again, your gaze is fixed on the path once more.

“Well, I would hate for any of that to happen. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t volunteer, then?”

You swat him on the shoulder. “Nobody volunteers without a death wish, you idiot. I’m not saying you don’t have one, but I thought even you were smart enough to avoid that.”

Finnick clasps a hand to his chest in the throes of mock agony. “Even me? Y/N, I can’t bear it if you call me an idiot. I may never live from the pain of this insult.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, and do your best to immediately school your expression back into a more personally satisfying neutral. “That wasn’t funny.”

Finnick grins. “No? Is that why you’re laughing?”

“I’m not laughing,” you deny, fighting the corners of your lips from where they threaten to tug up again into a smile, “I would never laugh.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick asks, pointing a condemning finger towards you, “Because I can see you laughing right now. Don’t try to deny it, I can see you.”

“No you can’t,” you call out desperately, but Finnick won’t hear a word of it.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he says triumphantly, “we all know I’m the funnier one by far, you don’t have to fight it. Just let yourself laugh. It’s what you want, deep inside.”

Now you do laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“So are you,” Finnick says, and has to quickly dodge a vengeful blow directed towards his arm. 

To avoid another hit, he grabs at your hands. After a brief moment of struggle, you find yourself staring at the scene, the two of you with your arms woven in such a tight knot that you’re not entirely sure where you end and he starts. Finnick is standing far closer than you realized, you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheeks.

You and Finnick stand there, just looking at each other. You think that the moment might stretch on into the future, never ending so long as the two of you never let go. Finnick’s grip is just as strong as yours, he won’t be the first to part ways. He never would be.

A sharp siren coming from the direction of the town square startles you. Belatedly, you realize that it’s calling everyone in the district to the Reaping. Whatever time you had to distract yourself from this event is now gone, leaving only the haunted look in Finnick’s hands as you slowly step away.

“We’d better get over there before they send Peacekeepers looking for stragglers,” you say, voice barely more than a whisper.

Finnick nods quickly. “Yeah, sounds good to me. You look like a serious troublemaker, you’d better hurry.”

You give him a look, which only makes his lips quirk up again in a smile. It’s a much more muted expression than before, though. Finnick has always been good at appearances, and right now, his mind is on all the people that will be waiting for him back in that town square.

You turn to leave, but Finnick calls something after you before you can disappear back into the waving stands of trees.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.”

You look back at him over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the last moment you saw him at peace if either of you were reaped. If it is, you think you would be alright with it. This wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” you repeat. Finnick smiles quietly again, and you take that as your last reason to leave.

Your family is waiting for you by the edges of the town square. You help a few younger friends and neighbors enter their names into the Reaping for the first time; you smooth skirts and lapels and pray that you won’t know another twelve year old sent into the arena. Eventually, you join the other girls your age in long rows of District Four pride.

Your attendant from the Capitol takes to the stage soon enough, waving blissfully at the rest of you. He babbles on for a few minutes about the delight of being able to represent your district in the Games, the wonders of the Capitol, all of that usual Reaping nonsense. 

However, even the Capitol’s latest puppet can only fill his mind with so much chatter before the time comes to send two unlucky sinners to their death. The Capitol man announces that girls will go first, and plunges his hand into a round bowl filled with names. He pulls a folded piece of paper from the vessel, and although the town square has been silent all along, you swear that an additional hush falls through the ranks of people as he squints at the name.

Every year, you complain about how whoever’s doing the Reapings takes way too long to read out the names. This time, though, you think there’s not nearly enough time in between the moment when the Capitol man unfolds the paper and when he reads the name printed there in a firm voice:

“Y/N L/N.”

Your head snaps up. It can’t be. A thousand days of accepting your fate, and the moment when your name actually is called in the Reaping, you don’t believe it. You don’t know where Finnick is in the crowd, but somehow the second you hear your name read aloud, you turn your head and manage to find him in an instant.

He’s staring right back at you, face contorted in horror. Finnick has joked a thousand times that if you were ever reaped, he’d be glad to have you gone. You’ve done the same with him, but now that the day has actually come, he looks absolutely terrified.

You don’t have time to consider how Finnick will survive with you gone, however, the crowds are already parting to give you space to walk up to the stage. You can hear your footsteps echo through the silent square as you make your way up. The Capitol man grins toothily at you.

He tries to engage you in a few questions about how excited you are to take part in the Games, but continues on when you just glare stonily at him. The name read from the boys’ bowl is one you vaguely recognize as one of the fishermen, Clay Riverflake, but it means nothing more to you than another face to see you die.

Soon enough, the Reaping ends, and the two of you are brought back so you can speak to your families one last time before the train comes to ferry you away to the Capitol. Your parents are distraught, but they manage to choke back their sobs long enough to bid you farewell. 

There’s one more person waiting to speak to you before you go, though. You’re stunned to see Finnick idling by the door when your parents leave, and say as much to him.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have been out celebrating. You get to be the best trident wielder in all of District Four now that I’m gone.”

Finnick forces a smile; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen it come with such difficulty. “Don’t think grief will get to me, Y/N, we all know my skills with a trident are leagues beyond yours.”

Despite the joke, Finnick’s voice still cracks on the last few words. He’s trying to lift your spirits, though, so you play along.

“Grief? I didn’t know that you would attribute such a strong emotion to all this.” You say casually.

For a moment, Finnick’s facade drops like a stone. “What else could I feel? You’re not supposed to go, Y/N. You’re not supposed to be reaped.”

Your hand flickers out to touch his shoulder for a second before you can stop yourself. “There’s nothing saving me, Finnick. My name is in there just like everyone else. Guess today proved it.”

A Peacekeeper at the door coughs, glancing pointedly at a clock on the wall. You’ll only have a few more moments before you have to go.

Sensing this, Finnick’s eyes shine with a strange sort of desperation, the likes of which you’ve never associated with him before. “Listen to me. Stay alive, alright? No matter what you have to do. Morals don’t matter here, none of that. I don’t care how brutal it is, just make it out. Promise me.”

You feel your breath startle in your chest. “I can’t promise anything like that, Finnick. You know that.”

Finnick shakes his head, unwilling to accept this. “Promise me!”

He’s cut off by the Peacekeeper calling for him to leave. Not wanting a fight on this day of all days, Finnick goes as asked, but he shoots you one last glance before he disappears down the hall, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you before he loses you for good.

You think about that moment the entire journey to the Capitol, even when you’re in the thick of their gaudy festivities. You don’t have much time alone to truly ponder why Finnick, who had been all too complacent in teasing you whenever he could all these years, would suddenly have a change of heart when he thought you were going to die. When the distractions fade away, though, it’s the only thing that’s on your mind.

Finnick isn’t wrong, you need to do everything in your power to survive. The interviews and private training sessions are pivotal, and you’re able to claw your way to respectable showings in both. Maybe it’s due to your actual skills with survival skills and trident fighting that you picked up back home in District Four, or maybe it’s because even the out of touch Gamemakers can tell that there is nothing you would not do to win.

The Games start soon enough. In the weeks to follow, you’ll wonder how such a traumatizing part of your life was able to fade from your memory as soon as it ended. You see the most pivotal scenes over and over in your head, every kill, every fight, but the rest of it disappears. You remember flashes of running, the pangs of hunger, the terror of never being able to truly relax, but what sticks with you most is the horror of it.

When the fifteenth day dawns, it finds you standing alone with bloodied hands, the last tribute dead at your feet. The Capitol will be talking about it for months afterwards, how some girl from District Four was able to take down the most brutal of foes. They won’t entirely know how you did it, no matter how many times they rewind the footage to watch your technique.

They’ll say that you had the right motivation, and in the end, that’s the closest they’ll ever get to understanding you. After all, how could they possibly know that you killed and hurt and massacred because there was somebody waiting for you on the other side? Somebody you need more than anybody, somebody you lay awake thinking of even when your body was weak from lack of sleep.

That somebody is Finnick Odair, and that somebody is there waiting for you the second the train bearing you back from the Capitol pulls into the District Four station. He’s waiting back in the crowds, not wanting to seem like he’s altogether too interested in what happens, but he’s the face you see first when you emerge from the door of the traincar.

You don’t get to speak to him until much later. Your family has to swarm you, of course, and make sure that you’re okay (physically, yes, but in no other regard) before anyone else can even come near you. Only when you’ve returned to your house only to leave it immediately does Finnick find you again.

You’re wandering the paths near the water when Finnick approaches you at last. For a moment, he does not say a word, and you wonder if he’s picturing the same memory as you, when the two of you had been on these same paths and talked until the Reaping began. How far away it seems. How different you have become since that day.

His eyes are soft when they clear and look at you again. “How are you?”

You chuckle bitterly. “I’m not really sure how you want me to answer that. I’m alive, if that’s enough.”

“It is,” Finnick says calmly, “I’m not asking for anything else. I know what happened.”

You want to tell Finnick that he doesn’t know a thing about what went down during those Games, that just because he had to watch every minute of the fighting didn’t mean that he was aware of what really happened. Then again, how could he?

Instead, you let go of the words you’ve really been wanting to say. “I did it for you. That’s why I was able to survive. You told me to get through it, and so I did.”

Finnick nods. “Why was it enough?”

“I don’t know,” you say softly, “Maybe it was because I like bothering you more than anything. Is that silly to say? That I don’t want anything but a quiet house, safe from torment, a place with you in it where I can come down the stairs and see you laughing at the sight of me? I don’t care what words you say, how much they hurt. I just want to be there to hear you say them.”

Finnick stares at you, a dead man’s surprise at seeing the knife protruding from his chest. “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m clearly not used to life outside of the Games. Just– promise me something, alright?”

Finnick nods mechanically, perhaps before he’s even aware of what he’s doing. “Anything.”

There’s something in his quick response that you can’t bear to decipher at the moment. “Don’t let this change us. Don’t let it make you feel guilty about making the same jokes because I had to go through the Games.”

Something almost like a smile touches Finnick’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dare let such an opportunity pass me by.”

For a second, you’re able to smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You part ways with something better than what you had before. You don’t see as much of Finnick as usual due to the fact that you’ve been relocated to the Victors’ Village, but he keeps finding ways to drop by every now and then. He’ll make sure to insult the occasional piece of furniture or bejeweled light fixture, but the retorts never have enough of a sting to truly hurt.

The months pass in a haze. You’re allowed your peace for the first few weeks, but Capitol reporters find a way to keep in contact with you. You’re their latest favorite, of course, and the wealthy don’t like to lose their toys so quickly.

Before you know it, it’s time for a new Reaping. You have to go up on that stage again, this time as a Victor. It’s a new perspective, one you don’t particularly enjoy. It felt far safer to blend in with that crowd below, up until the point where your name was called.

In truth, you’re almost just as nervous about this year’s Games as yours. This time, you have to be a Mentor, and the fact that you’ll have the lives of two kids in your hands makes a knot tighten in your stomach. How could you be trusted to save them, to forge the connections necessary to supply them with food and medicine?

You turn your head when the girl’s name is called. You recognize her, Annie Cresta, not only that familiar glint of panic in her eyes when she walks up to the stage but by memories of Finnick saying her name to you again and again. He talks about her often, it’s enough to make anyone feel discontent. By contrast, hearing the name of this year’s boy tribute is enough to send you into a terrible storm of fear.

“Finnick Odair.”

You swear that your blood slows in your veins. How could it be that both you and Finnick would be reaped? How are the odds possibly so skewed against you? Finnick’s face is calm when he’s reaped, and you wouldn’t know he feels a single shred of fear were it not for the fact that no one can hear their name called and not know themselves to be ruined.

You meet with him as soon as you can. Now that he’s out of the public eye, Finnick’s face has taken on a shade more of stress, but he still clasps your hands and asks if you’ll mentor him. He doesn’t trust anyone else, he says. You’re required to help him by Capitol law, but you promise your aid as freely as if it truly had been your choice. Of course you’ll stand by Finnick, you would never forgive yourself if you did anything else.

It’s not like Finnick needs much help, though. He takes the Capitol by storm from the second he shows up, all charming waves and dazzling grins. He blows kisses and the Capitol ladies faint by the hundreds, recites a few lines about how he’s in love with someone from his district during an interview and they fall by the thousands.

He’s unfairly proud of himself, too. The second Finnick comes out of the aforementioned interview, you don’t know that you’ve ever seen him so jubilant, even when he managed to beat you in a swimming race for the first time when you were kids.

You’re waiting for him, leaned up against the wall, and Finnick all but runs your way. “How was that?” He asks, grinning cheekily.

You fight the urge to laugh. “Absolutely absurd. What are you going to do next, start reciting poetry?”

Finnick’s head tilts to the side as he considers this. “Actually, that’s a pretty good idea.”

You scoff. “You’re unreal, it’s fascinating. Well, I hope Annie enjoys the effort as much as the rest of the Capitol.”

Finnick frowns, brought out of whatever reverie he was locked in previously. “Annie? What are you talking about?”

You spread your hands. “It’s like you were saying in your interview. Your hopeless crush on the girl from your district, remember? You’d better hope that Annie likes public displays, or you’re done for.”

Finnick nods slowly. “Yeah, right. Annie. Definitely.”

You glance at him quizzically, but Finnick quickly changes the subject, and the topic of his feelings for Annie is dropped soon enough. Despite Finnick’s momentary forgetfulness, you’re not convinced. You know without a doubt that Finnick’s crush is on Annie, it couldn’t be on anyone else.

How could it be, after all, when Finnick spends so much time with Annie? He helps her during training, you feel like you’re constantly walking into a room just to see the two of them sitting close together and talking in hushed voices. No, there is no one for Finnick except Annie. No matter how that makes you feel, Finnick likes Annie.

No matter how you feel indeed. You were able to admit it yourself during your Games, if not to Finnick’s face:  you like him, you love him. It was the hardest realization you’ve ever had, but the most true. You can’t live without him. You don’t want to ever picture a world without him, because you have needed Finnick ever since he walked into your life all those years ago with a proud grin and all the means to rile you up. He is the only person for you, even if he doesn’t feel the same way towards you.

In the meantime, you can keep this promise to yourself by keeping Finnick alive. You don’t have to work hard to convince sponsors to favor Finnick, he manages that quite handily by himself, but you are able to offer him advice on how to keep them around. You swear you’ve chatted up every wealthy soul in the Capitol by the time the number of tributes starts to dwindle.

The only problem with Finnick’s survival, as it turns out, is Annie. Finnick finds himself unable to leave the girl behind, and although Annie is capable of defending herself, her trepidation to enter into serious violence is slowing both of them down.

Eventually, when there are only three tributes left, you know that you’re going to have to do something about it. Both Annie and Finnick are alive, along with a particularly nasty Career named Digit Overbloom. Finnick can kill Digit, of that you’re certain, but then you get into an issue where Finnick and Annie would have to face each other. Finnick is enough of a gentleman that he’d have qualms with deciding which of them would live, but you don’t want him to have to make that choice.

So, you get to talking amongst your sponsors, and arrange for the situation to be taken out of Finnick’s hands. The setup is simple:  Finnick is drawn away from Annie when he’s promised a new weapon, and Digit is in turn lured to find Annie unawares. When Finnick returns to his camp to find Digit standing over Annie’s dead body, he’s filled with enough wrath to take the Career on, and from there, victory is easy.

It’s the perfect ending. The only person who doesn’t seem to agree with this, however, is Finnick himself. Once he’s been removed from the Arena and cleared by the medical officers, he storms down to your quarters, shouting at you at the top of his lungs about how you’ve killed Annie.

If there’s one thing Finnick should know about you, though, it’s that you’re always willing to fight back. So, you square your shoulders and argue right back at him.

“It had to happen this way, Finnick. You know that as well as I did. Only one person can win the Hunger Games.”

Finnick’s voice is bitter. “So you killed Annie. Makes a ton of sense.”

“I had Digit kill Annie,” you clarify, “because it gave you the chance to win. That’s what it means, Finnick, I got you out alive. In case you forgot, there’s only one victor.”

He swallows harshly. “I realize that, but you didn’t have to kill her. We could have handled it without you meddling.”

You shake your head coldly. “Alright, fine. Hate me. I don’t care, because you’re alive to do it, and I am selfish enough to say that I would gladly have you despise me for the rest of time if it meant you had enough breath to draw until then. Either you killed Annie or Digit did. And we all know you couldn’t have done the job yourself.”

Finnick blinks at you in surprise. “Why’s that?”

You look away. “Because you love her.”

Finnick steps in front of you, forcing your gaze to rest on him again. “No. No, I don’t. There has only ever been one girl that I loved, and it wasn’t Annie.”

Your brow furrows with confusion, all traces of anger gone along with Finnick’s. “Then who could it possibly be?”

Finnick almost smiles, that same half moon sliver that you keep seeing. “Isn’t it obvious? You.”

You jerk away as if he’s stabbed you. In a way, maybe he has. Finnick has your bloody, beating heart in his hand, and you’re not even sure if he is truly aware of it.

“What?”

Your voice comes out shaky, disbelieving. Finnick lifts a casual shoulder, although you notice that the rest of him is practically vibrating with nerves.

“You heard me. I love you, Y/N. Always have.”

You stare at him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Then why– you didn’t tell me– why would you be so mad about Annie dying?”

“Because she was my friend,” Finnick says simply, “and with her, I had a guarantee that she would stay my friend even after I told you how I felt. I didn’t know if you would forgive me if I said what I wanted to say. You made me promise that I wouldn’t change how we acted together, remember? Annie let me pretend that things could stay the same way forever.”

You nod slowly, almost unaware of what you’re doing. “I remember that promise. I only made you say it because I was afraid of losing you.”

Finnick reaches forward to take your hand. The brush of his fingers against yours startles you back to reality. “You’re not losing me, Y/N. I swear it. We both went through the Games, didn’t we? They can’t touch us anymore. We’re free.”

You hold your stare a second longer, then start to smile. “We’re free,” you repeat.

Finnick chuckles softly. “I missed that smile.”

You look at him, disbelieving and fully aware at the same moment, then lean forward and kiss him. You don’t think you’ve ever been able to really startle Finnick since the Reaping, but this just might do the trick.

After a moment, he recovers and kisses you back, harder than you expected. It makes you laugh against his lips, which is of course motivation for him to kiss you even more. In the end, the two of you break away through bruised lips and matching smiles.

Finnick is right, isn’t he? The two of you are free. The Capitol can try and pin you down all they want, but they can’t take this away, no matter how hard they try. Let them come for the two of you, you think. They won’t be able to do a thing.

#finnick odair #finnick odair imagines #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #thg #thg imagines #thg x reader #thg oneshot #hunger games #hunger games imagines #hunger games x reader #hunger games oneshot #hunger games finnick #hunger games finnick imagines #hunger games finnick x reader #hunger games finnick oneshot #thg finnick #thg finnick imagines #thg finnick x reader #thg finnick oneshot #finnick #finnick imagines #finnick x reader #finnick oneshot

[snootlestheangel]

Can we get more bout Truck please

I love all your OCs dude they are the best

This honestly took so long at first, but I am really excited to share this! Truck is my big boy!

I'm gonna break this up actually, cause his backstory got way out of hand from my original thing so I'm gonna do a quick physical description/some of his little quirks before I get into the mess of his life!

He's probably like 42 in my head, so old compared to most of the Shadows but close to Graves's age. Around 5'8", broad build, an absolute unit of a man, hooked nose that has been very clearly broken several times, left ear is a cauliflower ear from a fight he got into as a teen, green eyes, looks angry all the time, has so many callouses on his hands and knuckles, so many scars from fights on his face. Those are little scars, but they're still there. GINGER TRUCK!! He so ginger in my head now and it makes me so happy!

Family: Momma is still alive, and he calls/writes her regularly, visits when he can. Pops died not long after he joined, which hurt like hell but he stayed on his course. His family supported him the whole way through. He's got two sisters, both younger, and he'd commit some pretty bad war crimes if anything bad ever happened to either of them. Surprisingly, he's married. He loves his wife but never talks about her; his life is his and not anyone else's. They don't have kids (yet? can't decide if I want him to have kids or not) but they do have 2 shelter dogs they adopted, and they're the cutest freaking things.

Hates anything carbonated, like sodas and stuff. Either drinks water with a little bit of lemon in it or straight black coffee. Doesn't do sweets (unlike Ness and Flash who live off of sweet stuff). Generally keeps a really good diet and workout routine when he's not in his shop. Such a routine oriented guy that it could only take 2 days to learn his full routine. Day two is just to verify everything.

As I've said before, he struggled a lot in school. It wasn't just his dyslexia (that he didn't know he has until sometime after joining); it was his anger issues. He was constantly getting into fights as a teenager. He had been bullied a lot as a kid. He's a ginger, so already was an easy target for bullying, but then you add that he was really poor compared to a lot of kids in the area, and he just became prime bully real estate. That is until he hit puberty and got tougher and stronger. Then he became a bully to his bullies.

He had to pick up a job in high school to afford lunch, and life was just really difficult in general for him. His parents were incredible people, he still has such a great relationship with his momma, but it doesn't change how difficult life had been for him.

His Pops taking him under his wing and teaching him mechanic things was a huge respite from all the icky stuff life threw at him. He got to spend quality time with his dad, which he rarely got to do as a kid cause of how much the man worked. He got to learn in a way that didn't stress him out and make his head hurt. He got to do things and sometimes his strength was necessary to get something fixed. The mechanic shop and the time with Pops probably saved Truck from getting into much more serious trouble as a teenager, so he feels he owes his Pops his life.

He has a lot of ways to cope with his anger issues that don't lead to either self destruction or hurting others. It's actually why he joined the military in the first place. He was once told by a really horrible teacher that if he didn't "shape up and start acting right" then he'd get shipped off to the army and they'd set him right. It was meant to be demeaning, kind of a way for the teacher to tell him that he's too stupid for the real world, the only people that would take him is the army. But for Truck? Free food, free housing, free education (should he want to try his luck at that again), a lot of benefits like insurance and stuff? Hell, decent pay??? Sign him the fuck up!

Not to mention, he wanted the military to shape him up, to make him "act right". You think other people don't like dealing with his anger issues? He loathes his anger issues. It cost him a lot of good friends and ruined trust with a lot of people cause he'd blow up over something stupid and the relationship would never recover. He ended up in the hospital one too many times (literally only once but given his family's financial issues, it was too many), and that was a low point for his family. He believes/knows it's his fault, and the guilt still hangs around.

The assignment that got him on Graves's radar for Shadow Company is actually how he met his wife. It was several years ago, probably around 6-8 years, but his wife was one of the nurses on staff that helped patch up the unit afterwards. Truck wasn't injured but she had been so worried and insisted on examining him. His teammates tried to discourage her from pushing him, cause he's got a super short temper, but they all were shook when he simply said "Okay, fine." and allowed her to examine him.

He insisted on getting in touch with her afterwards because "she's the one person that can push all my buttons and I'll never blow a fuse" *catch me crying in the corner over this fire sentence that I wrote*

Anyways, that's our boy Truck!!! I love him to death even more so now!!

#thank you for letting me rant about my boy Truck #I didn't know I needed it until just now #snootles's shadow ocs #shadow ocs #shadow company oc #shadow oc truck #snootles's askbox #snootles answers

[frogizz]

The Untamed Episode 32ish spoilers

I've been real quiet about my thoughts watching The Untamed. I haven't read the novel yet but I've been looking at the fan wiki so I know how different things kinda are. Anyways, I'ma list how I feel about the characters and what not. I am at episode 32 or 33 btw.

Yanli is a sweetheart, an angel, a gift to this Earth AND HOW SHE DIES IS HEART WRENCHING! She just gave birth a month ago, she just lost her husband to some stupid fight, her injury and death is blamed on her kinda innocent brother, IM FURIOUS. She deserved so much more than she got, I knew she died young but not like this!

I never trusted Jin Guangyao from the start, I don't like his face (It's the character, not the actor, the actor is fine). He is shady and from the looks of his wiki page, I was right about my gut feeling.

Jin Zixuan has been a tough guy for me to like, but honestly, as long as he made Jiang Yanli happy, he was decent in my book.

THE HYPOCRATES THE JIN CLAN ARE. Explain to me how they think they can do whatever they want just because they aren't the Wen Clan? Their mentality is that they can do what they want because they believe they're already incapable of doing or being bad, when they should really be having the mentality of avoiding doing bad actions and reflect. Jin Zixun annoyed the hell out of me because he was the main culprit of acting just like he was all high and mighty.

Jin Zixun and the other smaller clans just HAD to point fingers and antagonize somebody, didn't they? Like of course, the Wen clan did terrible things, but you don't kill innocent people! Wei Wuxian didn't need to play the hero, but honestly, who would've stepped up to save them? Everything would've been fine if jin Zixun didn't assume Wei Wuxian cast that spell on him and went for the violent route.

I know Wen Qing doesn't show up as much in the novel, which I'll be sad reading through scenes I expected her to be in after watching The Untamed, but she is one of my favorites. She is innocent, or at least mostly, in my eyes. Her actions were those of "I don't want to exactly get involved, and I also kinda think that my clan is doing some bullsh*t but I can't exactly rebel now can I?". I could be wrong, but she deserved a better fate.

Wen Ning, oh my gosh, he deserved better too, he was such a good kid, SUCH A GOOD KID, and he got abused and basically tortured. He deserves more than to be a ghost puppet.

WEI WUXIAN YOU IDIOT, YOU MADE A PROMISE TO YOUR SISTER, YOU TOLD HER THE THREE OF YOU WOULD BE TOGETHER FOREVER YET YOU RUN OFF SO EASILY TO SAVE THE WEN REMNANTS?! Of course, who would've saved them if not Wei Wuxian, that's not necessarily bad. But he just didn't think twice about the promise he made to Jiang Yanli when he just left like that. Not cool dude. Not. Cool.

I don't hate Jiang Cheng, and I don't love him either. I like him, his actions are valid and especially his thoughts are too. To me he is reasonable and makes judgement based on what the audience sees, so I think he is sometimes portrayed as some angry guy when really, he is reacting to things without knowing the full story.

OOH I JUST KNOW THAT MOFO WHO WAS MAKING THE SPIRITS GO OUT OF CONTROL AT THE NIGHTLESS CITY WAS JIN GUANGYAO. Now, I have no evidence, but hear me out, where TF did he go after all the fighting broke out?

I really wanna write some fanfics of 2-5 chapters of different "What if" scenarios regarding Wei Wuxian's decisions in his life and how things could've been better.

Wen Yuan is so adorable and I will protect him with my life. I don't know too much about how he is as Lan Sizhui (btw, I think he's only an adult in The Untamed because he's around 3 when he was Wen Yuan and 16 passed so he's older compared to the novel which makes him 16 years old as Lan Sizhui. Fact check me please).

The music has me in a choke hold.

I have no opinion on Lan Wangji besides he's cool and Wei Wuxian's biggest supporter.

I care a lot more for Wen Ning, Wen Qing, and Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian relationships being fine and healthy than I do for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangi. Mostly because we don't get to see the romance in The Untamed but I hope to see that connection and care for their relationship more when I read the novel. Until then, the siblings are all I care about because they're family and they could've been so happy together.

The way I sobbed when the Jiang clan was attacked and the previous Jiang clan leader and his wife died. The way the Jiang siblings were now orphaned and Wei Wuxian was orphaned a second time. (I call all three of them the Jiang siblings, is there another thing I can call them that would make more sense? I know Wei Wuxian was a part of the Jiang clan but he doesn't have the family name nor is he part of the clan anymore.)

Lan Xichen is another one of my favorites. Never hated any of his actions or words for one second. He is so agreeable and likeable for me. Reminds me of how I felt towards Yue Qingyuan when reading SVSSS. 10/10 character, mwah.

Where TF are my Nie Huaisang scenes, he barely shows up and I kinda wanna see him more.

Jin Ling is so adorable as a baby but damn does he take after his uncle.

I find it sweet that even after leaving the clan, Wei Wuxian was still allowed to see Jiang Yanli's wedding dress and even name his nephew. So sweet, I cried at that scene. She was so pretty, she was so generous to give a portion of the soup to Wen Ning and I love her generosity and kindness to the heavens.

I'm not gunna lie, I wasn't expecting Jin Zixun's death to be like how it was but it was kind of deserved? I was a little sad when Jin Zixuan died though, only because Jiang Yanli would be a widow with a newborn. Can't hurt my girl emotionally like that, just can't.

Last but not least, I can't remember his name and that one chick, but that Young Master Wen, I hated his face, his smug look, I think his death was deserved. And that lady he had with him all of the time, so annoying, so pitiful, they did a great job acting because they made me hate their faces.

Oh yeah, and, Wei Wuxian is an idiot, but a thoughtful idiot. I say that affectionally and I don't think he's actually full of himself (my interpretation can be so wrong and I'll realize that later). He does things for others not to look good (or at least that isn't the main concern), but to actually do something that no one else does. He plays the hero because no one else will help. Although, yeah, he does take on big challenges to look cool but at the end of the day, It's not really all for his own gain.

Okay, that's it. See another post like this when I finish Ep. 50 and I can't wait to find access to the animated MDZS!

#wei wuxian #lan wangji #wen ning #wen qing #lan xichen #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #jiang fengmian #wen yuan #lan sizhui #jin ling #jin zixun #jin zixuan #yunmeng siblings #is that what they're called? #okay then greatt! #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs web series #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mxtx #mxtx fandom #mxtx novels

[achillesmonochrome]

Sada headcanons~

(Executive Dysfunction is kicking my ass so I did this instead.)

A bunch of headcanons about Professor Sada, these headcanons are from "With what we know about canon we could deduce-" to "because I said so." Don't take any of these too seriously.

Her mother was young when she got pregnant, and because she didn't feel ready to be a mother, she decided to give her for adoption. However for legal issues she got delayed being available as a baby, ending up bouncing on the foster system instead.

Her first pokemon was a Larvesta. Everyone thought it was dumb because it takes so long to evolve, and she stuck to her decision even more just to prove everyone wrong.

Her favourite flower are roses, is also her favourite fragrance.

Was rocking a half-shaved hairstyle in her teenage years, and complained a lot to Turo when she was asked to change it once she went into the field.

She constantly got into fights when she was in school; a lot of times she was placed in homes with too many kids fighting for attention, making her get into the habit of fighting other kids, mostly to avoid trying to look weak.

Gym rat, she listens to audio books of readings of her own documents while she is working out; insisting that it helps her to think.

Can't stay awake too late, even if she tries she eventually goes out like a light. Turo used to make fun of her for it. In return, Sada made fun of his 'raccoon eyes' (the man is a night owl and often has insomnia.)

Likes golden jewellery the most.

Loud, very loud. She learned how to module her voice once she became an adult, but even to her last year of school she was told in presentations "Miss Sada, I appreciate the enthusiasm but you don't need to yell."

A Perfectionist, she also gets easily envious of other people that are better than her.

Her favourite type are dragons.

She had the Scarlet book since she was a little girl, and it has been one of the few possessions she has been able to keep.

Neither of them knew it, but Sada is actually Iono's aunt. (Yes, I have an explanation as to how in-universe. I am not writing that little story because feels too long. If you want to know the reason why I made it this way, is because both of them have fangs.)

Socially inept, her passion and beauty normally makes up for it, at least in most social settings. She never had many friends.

Feral Bisexual.

Was best friend's with Juliana's/Florian's mom in middle school (Yes, I know they are suppose to be from Galar, I have an explanation for it. I am just not giving the long version here.)

Can't cook to save her life; she never had anyone teaching her, and when she had the chance to learn on her own lost patience often, or ended up focusing in something else. Survives out of healthy smoothies and some take out. Knows a few tricks to make a mean ramen though.

Likes outdoors; when she has the chance she would study outside under the sun, and preferred sights with nice views (the lighthouse lab is right beside the ocean, the office that is now Clavell's has big windows even if is technically a lab.)

Very loopy when she doesn't sleep, and was always the give away about her inability to stay up too late.

Can speak Spanish.

Likes spicy food.

Multiple times, has taken Turo on her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She will deliberately walk him in front of people if possible just to say "See how ridiculous this is? Go to sleep at a decent hour next time nerd."

(Yes, she is a nerd, yes, she still calls Turo that.)

Can quote the Scarlet book with ease, she has memorized the biographies of the members of that expedition, as well as absorbed every detail about the Area Zero that she could find.

Both her and Turo were squealing in glee at the idea of going to Area Zero. During their first time being down, they quoted to each other their respective books. (Yes I also have an explanation for this, and I will post about it soon.)

Had fantasized about seeing different events from the past (the ancient pokemon times, the expedition to the Area Zero, before her mother gave her up- etc.)

Was young when she got pregnant with Arven, low twenties young I mean.

Speaks to her Larvesta (now Volcarona) like it is a puppy.

Really good dancer.

That's it for now? I may talk about Turo's soon, though I have less than with Sada to be honest.

#professor sada #professor turo #lakehouseshipping #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarvio #sada pokemon #turo pokemon #larvesta #volcarona #iono #iono pokemon

[dedicatedfollower467]

fic writer ask game as promised :3 💚 3, 3, 3 (yes, really :3 ), 6, 11, 17

3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

Three of these, huh? Hoo boy. Buckle up. (These are all Trigun because that is my current obsession)

1. Time loop/reincarnation AU where 98 reincarnates to Trimax reincarnates to Tristamp. The idea is Vash (and maybe Knives) is the only person who definitely remembers previous loops, and this kind of pervasive tragedy of just... maybe THIS time he can do it, maybe THIS time he can save everybody, maybe THIS time Wolfwood doesn't have to die... Honestly the only reason I haven't written any of it yet is because idk what I want the format/framing device to be. Once I figure that out, it's over for you fuckers.

2. Red string of fate soulmate au. People are born with strings around their fingers that only they can see. The strings tie them to their soulmate(s), and the color of them can change depending on the relationship: red for romantic, blue for platonic, black for antagonistic. The strings are lax if the other person hasn't been born yet, and are "cut" when the other person dies. Vash is born with two strings on his hands: one which ties him to Nai, and one which will eventually tie him to Wolfwood. Dunno what the story is here yet so that's why I haven't written it.

3. I've already mentioned Nikki and the accidental pregnancy fic idea here, so instead I will tell you about the idea where WW's concussion during his fight with Midvalley causes brain damage that even the serum can't repair and leaves him permanently blind. Because he's fucking Wolfwood, he tries to pretend like everything is just fine, he's all healed up and can see perfectly, what are you talking about. (This does not last long.)

6.Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs? If so, elaborate!

There are two that come to mind. The first is Anne from "Anyone Can Drive A Car..." It's just an outsider POV of Dave's first heat from my omegaverse epic "Smells Like Belonging," and the point of it was to let me establish what is actually normal in this world and not just. What Bro wants Dave to THINK is normal.

The other is "A Decent Sort of Bloke" which features my useless lesbian demon OCs Maggot and Bonecruncher and their long-suffering demonic wingperson, Orzalos. I should... probably fucking finish that fic eventually lol.

11. How many words do you have on AO3 (if you use that platform)

287,920

17. Are there any writers and/or stories that you consider an influence?

Man, it's honestly very difficult to pick out writers or stories that have definitely influenced me, beyond, like... everything I've ever read in my entire life lmao. The ones I can definitely point to as being a specific influence on my writing style are Homestuck, Undertale, Embers by Vathara, The Sacrifice Arc by Lightningonthewave, and @redring91. I want to claim Terry Pratchett as well, but I think if I'm being honest my writing isn't particularly Pratchettian at all, and might actually potentially be more Gaimanic.

#fanfic #writing world problems #trimax spoilers #trigun #trimax #tri98 #tristamp #because FANFIC IDEA #fic wip #consultingjedi #answered #def answers asks #good omens #homestuck #smells like belonging #my writing

[masterwords]

a life spills into the flowers

Summary: After the events of "Mr. Scratch", Hotch can't find his keys. It's got him a little messed up.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (established, and it's only relevant at the very end because I live in a world where they're just together and that's that.)

Warnings: mind-controlling substances, panic, vomit, swearing, canon-typical stuff...if you've seen the Mr. Scratch episode you won't be surprised

Words: 2.5k

Notes: I don't know...I was going to save this for Whumptober or something but it's rambly and I sort of just wanted to post it now. I started thinking about how Peter Lewis took Hotch's weapons and he took his vest off, and Hotch was in that house for a long time semi-conscious...so of course his car keys would be missing and that might make him panic a bit. Anyway, I wrote this all in about an hour, it's just a rambly thing because I can't seem to write anything decent lately but I needed to do something with this idea.

Read on AO3: a life spills into the flowers

**

On knees that wobble like jello he wanders toward the house. Wind is whipping through the trees, whistling strange hymns through well-maintained gutters and over the silken petals of bright pink roses. He is acutely aware of each breath of wind as it gusts over his sweaty brow, each fleck of red and blue light that flickers and screams silent fury into the night sky.

“I need to find my keys,” he mumbles to JJ who is following, hasn't stopped following him since he stepped out of the ambulance with a headache that pounds like a jackhammer with each throb of his pulse. She's right on his heels.

“We can have it towed, Hotch, figure it out in the morning. You need to get home.”

He won't listen, though. Everything is so out of control, the entire scene his fault, and the only thing he can grasp with any firmness is this: his SUV keys are missing. On the front seat, all of his papers have been rifled through, his wallet is right there with his ID front and center, and he's in no frame of mind to take inventory though he's fairly certain nothing is missing. Peter Lewis wouldn't take anything, he would simply record it. Write it down, take a photo, doesn't matter. If he took it, they would know and have a lead, have an idea. This way...there is no way to track what isn't gone.

Except his damn keys. “Maybe Peter Lewis had them,” she says, speeding up to keep pace with his wobbly off-kilter stumbling through the yard and up to the front door. “Hotch, I'll call Derek and see if they find your keys on Lewis when they book him.”

He doesn't respond and she doesn't wait for it, she just makes the call while he enters the house. It's almost the same now as it was when he did it the first time, except he's not holding his gun now, his fists hang at his sides useless and trembling. Reid and Rossi have already gone back to Quantico, Morgan went with the Police as they took Lewis into custody, and JJ...well she said she'd drive Hotch home, but now they're stuck with no keys to the SUV. She's not nearly as concerned as he is.

“Hotch,” she called a minute later while he's arguing with an officer about looking under Dr. Regan's desk. That's where his gun had been, one of them anyway, after the fight and he suspects maybe the keys...

“Hotch, Will said he'd come pick us up. Come on. Let the officers do their jobs. They'll find the keys.”

His eyes are frantic and filled with tears, she can't stand seeing him this way. There is some part of her that wants to pull him in for a hug, tell him she'll help him find the keys because she knows...it isn't really about the keys. He's coming down from whatever drugs he was pumped full of and every bit of reality that seeps in brings more pain and more questions than answers. He was vulnerable for hours, at the mercy of a psychopath, and he has no real memory of it. She can see it all in the tears, but if she gives in now she might do more harm than good. “Come on,” she said, touching his forearm, his sweaty bloody shirt. “Let's go sit outside and wait for Will.”

It's going to be an hour, at least. Even if Will puts on his lights. “You want to walk?” It's a silly question to ask a man who looks like he's barely standing, but he doesn't look like he wants to sit down either. “There's a path through the estate over here. Guess this place has a nice rose garden.” He doesn't answer, he just follows her.

The roses almost glow under the moonlight. He knows they're pink, but they're more than that. They're breathing pulpy red and they're crying neon blue and they're bruise purple, all the same colors as he is. And then those deep green leaves cascade black like pools of blood in the moonlight. He can't stop thinking about his keys. No matter what path his mind tries to take him down it never winds far enough away from that one thought. Where are my keys? The keys mean freedom, they mean home. Without them he's trapped here.

JJ knows she should use this opportunity to ask him questions and she has the time. It feels wrong, the way his skin is pale and gray and sweaty, the way his hands shake, to put him through more but he would insist if it were anyone else. Insist that now was the time. When clarity was seeping in, when adrenaline was fading. “I know you talked to Rossi in the ambulance,” she started, pausing to peer into a wide open rose. “Is there anything else you can remember? Do you want to talk?”

“No,” he whispered back, his legs coming to a full stop. He blinks back the tears and rubs his fingers against his burning eyes. Whatever Lewis sprayed him with made his eyes hurt, they were dry and burned like fire beneath salty tears. “I don't know. JJ, I don't know if anything I say is true.”

“Let me figure that out. Why don't you just tell me things. Anything you want. Empty it out.”

He lets out a chuckle and wipes more tears from his lashes. “It's funny. The way they described it in the interrogation room...it sounded like Lewis put the ideas in their heads. But that isn't...it's not...they were all my ideas. I think he just asked me questions knowing I couldn't lie to him.”

She couldn't hide her frown. “What do you mean he asked you things?”

“Like,” he stares vaguely into some distance but he isn't looking at anything she can see. His trembling hand reaches up and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “A therapist. He asked me about my life. He asked me if anything...” he can't finish the sentence. He can't tell JJ about Roy, but that's new, he couldn't remember that when he was talking to Rossi. Lewis asked him about recent problems he's been having. “Any problems at home?” It was so casual, like he had a right to know.

He told Lewis all about Roy and his dementia. He told him about the things that Roy said, and suddenly Roy was standing there in front of him with a gun aimed at his forehead. You took my baby girl from me. I gave her to you, and you promised to protect her and you lied. Roy's gun was cold against his forehead, smashed there, he could feel it. You killed her.

“He didn't make me see things. I did that. He just listened.” The revelation comes with wide eyes sparkling in the night. “He guided me through the images.” Before he can say anything else, he feels the cold of that gun again and drops to his knees, dry heaving painfully into the perfectly manicured grass. JJ stays back, she wants to touch him, to comfort him, but he's trembling like a scared animal and she isn't sure she can trust him yet.

He's not himself.

“Can you tell me what you told him?”

“No.” He can, but he won't. “It doesn't matter. He's in custody,” he gasps around wretches and pulls himself up to sitting, hands planted flat against his thighs. “I didn't hurt anyone. His plan didn't work.” He's not so sure about that, but he needs JJ to believe it. He needs her to stop asking questions. You don't know what I did to him...I win. She can't let that go, can't stop thinking about it. It was what made her stay behind with him, why Derek asked that it be her...they didn't want to tell anyone else what Lewis said or how it had scared them.

He thinks about Roy and the gun, about what Roy said to him over pizza just nights before and what the ghost of Roy told him with a gun to his head. Roy's eyes, so full of fury and hate, and he's not surprised to find that he wishes it hadn't just been a mirage. If that gun had been real, if Roy had the nerve to do what he wanted to do...

Derek walks up behind them and places his hand on Hotch's back, right between his shoulder blades, startling them both. “Hey,” he says, crouching. “Found your keys. They were in the bag with his personal belongings. Swears he has no idea how they got there. Dude's a lying sack of shit. You ready to get outta here?”

JJ looks at Derek warily and makes a face, a sort of back off he's being a little weird face, and Derek drags his hand up and down the ridges of Hotch's spine in defiance. He's not worried, he's pretty sure he could take Hotch in his prime and this is definitely not his prime. “Jessica said she'd stay with Jack tonight, Will just pulled up to get JJ...come on. You're stuck with me.”

They ride home in silence. It's a long ride with only the purr of the engine and the roar of the tires turning over slick rainy asphalt. Hotch rests his temple against the cool glass window, lets his eyes close and sees Roy who becomes Sean in a faded blue jumper blaming him for not getting him out of his charges, getting his sentence reduced. I'll die in here and it'll be your fault, Sean said to him and it freezes his veins to ice. My best years behind bars because you care more about your job than my life. My brother's a FED, you know what they're gonna do to me? Sean wouldn't say that, it's only his guilty conscience, he knows that. Probably why that one faded so quickly, even Peter Lewis could see through it. But Roy, that one stuck. That one came back, and when Roy became Jack but the words were the same...you killed her, it's your fault she's dead...he figured it out. That was when he realized how in control of these visions he was, even under the influence. He'd allowed Roy, but he wouldn't allow Jack to be part of the game.

“I forced myself to see you guys,” he whispers, his lips barely moving. His stomach flops, and he thinks he's going to be sick again. “When I realized what he was doing. I knew what he wanted...and I thought about the victim who killed himself instead of his child...and I...” Made myself see you guys? See you all be killed one by one? It sounds awful, and he's not sure how to say it so that it sounds any less terrible than it is. But he watched that bullet sink right into Derek's throat, tasted his blood, he saw it all and couldn't shake it.

“I knew it,” came Derek's reply, one hand fluttering like raven wings away from the steering wheel and coming to roost on Hotch's thigh. “I knew you figured it out. Rossi's story, it didn't make any sense. Why would us dying be your worst fear? Your deepest fear? Nah, I knew there was more to it...”

“I am afraid of that,” Hotch counters, quieter, almost too quiet for Derek to hear over the white noise of the car. Defensive and breathy. Still hovering so close to tears. “I'm always afraid that I'll make a mistake and it'll cost one of you your lives. It wouldn't be the first time. Roy said it himself. I make a mistake, people die. It was an easy fear to conjure...”

“Yeah, but,” Derek starts, but he's well aware that he's treading in dangerous waters and he stops. He squeezes Hotch's thigh instead. “I get it.” He does. He does get it, he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to Haley. It was on his watch, not Hotch's, no matter what anyone tries to tell him. They don't talk about it.

Derek's street is dark, the lamps pale and muddled by overgrown oak trees. It's quiet, serene, none of the city sounds dare step into this peace. The shadows melt and move and shift beneath his feet and Hotch is mesmerized as his shadow slides like oil slick into the shadow of a tree and for a brief moment they are one. “You hungry?” Derek asks in a casual tone, as if this is a social call. As if it's date night. “I'm starving.”

He's not sure if he's hungry or if he could eat, he just follows Derek up the steps to his door and slides inside with uneasy steps. Clooney meets them at the door and Hotch crouches right away, just drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Clooney's neck and scratches behind his floppy old dog ears. There are tears in Clooney's fur, it sticks to his cheeks. Clooney moves slow these days, he's old and arthritic but he still likes to trot along beside Derek every morning before they eat breakfast, he still makes sure to greet Derek every time he comes home with his tail whacking the wood floor loud and thumpy. Hotch and Clooney's relationship is something Derek hasn't ever really understood but he leaves them to it and heads right for the kitchen. They know what they're doing. So does he.

He needs a beer and some food. When he's finished slapping together a quick sandwich and popping the top off of his second bottle of beer (the first went down a little too easy after the day he had), he makes his way out to the front room to find Hotch and Clooney sleeping on the couch. Hotch, still in his clothes, arms folded tight across his chest and hands tucked in tight. His feet still in shoes hang off the end of the couch (always polite), and Clooney snores curled up behind his knees.

It's a sight. One he's still not tired of, even after all this time.

He turns on the TV and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, eating his midnight dinner all alone to the quiet jokes and explosions of M*A*S*H

“Life, liberty and the pursuit of happy hour...” Derek says under his breath, raising his bottle to the television. He knows the quiet of this moment isn't likely to last, but the frosty foam of the beer in his bottle is worth savoring.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jj jareau #criminal minds #hotchgan #criminal minds fanfiction #clooney the dog #is clooney hotch's therapy dog? yeah maybe

[sp9culation]

Letter To A Ghost (Eruri)

Dear Erwin,

I haven't even started writing anything yet, and this already sounds pathetic. Tch. I don't know how to write a fucking letter, much lest whatever this is supposed to be.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I should've chosen you instead? ...Ha, I sound like a fucking idiot.

Perhaps that's selfish of me. I made the choice and I can't blame anyone for your death, not even those shitty crying brats. They're doing fine and I wish I could say I am fine but time crawls by without you, it's like my life has no fucking meaning anymore, which sucks.

I hope you're doing well in the afterlife too, if there is one. This is what you wanted, huh? A place away from the hellhole of a life, if you could call it that. You deserve to rest, I know, and I gave you that, but I can't help missing you and that godamned smile you greet me with every time I get a job done Hange is commander now, and though they're actually doing decent, they haven't got anything on you. I guess no one could surpass you in my eyes.

You do know that you've left me in the worst place imaginable, right, Erwin? These fucking feelings I didn't ask for keep showing up and I don't know how to deal with them without you. Maybe it's because you're the source of these feelings? Some part of me thought, childishly, that after you left me, they'd go away. But fuck, I'm still here with this shitty feeling in my heart chest that only worsened. I hate feeling like this, weak and vulnerable and just a hell of a mess. People die all the time and I'm supposed to be used to it. I'm supposed to numb out these damn emotions or some shit. Fuck, it's like...Farlan and Isabel, all over again but a thousand times worse.

I'll get to my point.

I love you.

I never got a chance to say it; or acknowledge my feelings for you in the midst of killing Titans and fighting. I don't like this, either. I don't like how you made me feel everything all at once. With you, I was unstoppable. I felt like I could do anything with you by my side. It sounds unreal, but as much as I hate to say it, it's true. Those moments of silence we shared mean more to me than I wish.

But no regrets, right? Yeah, Erwin, I entrusted the future to the kid with the same look in his eyes as you had. I didn't save you. No regrets, no regrets, that's what I keep repeating to myself every damn night.

If you were here now, you'd probably give me one of those shitty pep talks of yours. The choice has been made and you're not coming back, so why shouldn't I keep moving forward?

But just because I don't regret my choice doesn't mean I'll forget you that fucking easily. I want to get over you like I've put aside our fallen comrades over and over again, but it's not working like it has before. And maybe that's a good thing, or the thing that'll lead to my demise, but fuck, you're still driving me. I'm still yours. I'll still continue to follow you, in life and in death.

I haven't forgotten about killing that damn Beast Titan, by the way.

Love,

Levi

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #levi x erwin #eruri #aot fanfiction #aot #snk #shingeki no kyoujin #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #erwin x levi #letter #fanfiction #fanfic

[scholarofthenights]

Love, Hate and Dungeons: A divergent perspective on Baldur's Gate 3

I want to preface what I write by saying that Baldur's Gate 3 deserves every ounce of praise it has gotten so far. I've only experienced ACT I of the story and it is more than enough to see the craft that went into this. Years of development and Early Access allowed for a game which really does show what an RPG can be. As someone who plays D&D themselves, I can say that it perfectly translates all the mechanics of the game and throws in stuff like character creation, fully voiced (and well-acted I might add) NPCs and a diverging, cohesive storyline that allows for all the choices a character can make. For all the praise I could give it, the game, much like many other RPGs before, had left me frustrated. I want to enjoy this absolute masterwork, but I somehow can't. This left me asking, why? Why can't I have fun with something which, by all accounts, is one of the best games of all time?

At first, I wasn't sure if the combat system in Dungeons & Dragons was right for me in a computer setting. I had some tough fights, and poorly executed battles, and experienced some bad fortune. However, despite my personal reservations, the D&D combat system is actually quite efficient here. I learned the hard way that it's best to avoid tackling difficult battles at 2 AM. As someone who's played XCOM, I can say that a success rate of 60% is good enough. Moreover, the system also works well during dialogues, offering different options and abilities that lead to interesting outcomes. Overall, it's a decent and enjoyable system, where you can even watch the dice being rolled. And if you do fail, you can always revert to the previous save. So, alright, the combat is fine, so maybe something is wrong with the story?

I have experienced I believe a good 90% of what ACT I has to offer and it is amazing how the writers can make you interested in every single character. From the smallest NPC to your very romanceable companions, you can really feel the life behind what are in essence fictional characters. I think what revealed to me the true issue I had with the game, was when I heard Lae'zel, one of the romance options express disapproval at my actions. I was not going to for her, Karlach is the absolute best girl, but this small interaction sent me into a panic mode nonetheless. I can handle fail states in games. Every strategy game I've played, at some point, forced me to go back to a previous save. That's fine, I approach these games like a puzzle box, with a simple end condition - win the game. RPGs feel more delicate. My autistic brain sometimes has trouble reading what I should say to get the specific ending I want and when my perfectionism is added, this creates one of the worst situations for me. Can I win and finish the game? Yes, definitely. Can I do so without causing myself a lot of emotional pain? I doubt so.

For me, video games always have an escapist quality to them. Baldur's Gate 3 creates an amazing, living world, where one can truly feel like an adventurer. However, with that vividness, I also get to experience all the anxieties that come with human interaction and relationships. I want to love this game, I really do. I do not want however to spend hours on walkthroughs and guides to learn that I made a crucial mistake several hours ago and it's ever losing IRL evenings of progress to correct that or having to live with the fact that either an important character died or doesn't love or worse. All I want is to shoot Eldritch Blasts and kiss the demon girl. What I hate is that it's all underpinned with the same anxiety that makes me take 2-3 business days to respond to simple texts.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #review #d&d #video game #controversial

[thebreakfastgenie]

apologies if any of these have been done already but 💥🎉🤍

Sorry for the delay, tumblr ate my response, but I got it back.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

I had a lot of fun adapting Supernatural characters into teachers. The core teachers are the Horseman; Death is the English teach, Mr. Mort, who only assigns books related to death. Other characters are in a different English class, taught by fangirl Becky, who makes her students do fandom style homoerotic subtext analysis and honestly I still think that's hilarious now. The history teacher is War, Mr. Guerre, and he teaches exclusively about war, the bloodier the better.  In this AU, Dean and Cas meet when Cas saves him from a fight, and I wrote:  “My name is Castiel, and I am the one who just saved your ass.” And honestly I think that was pretty good, as far as AUing that line goes.  All in all, this fic (what I wrote of it) is really... prettty decent? I mean, a lot of the writing makes me cringe, but not like I expected it to. I wrote it in 2016, when I was 16.  My fic with the second-least kudos is Wake at 23, which I think is mostly because it's the most recent. I love Wake. I wrote a lot of it at 3am and I knew there were typos in it and I avoided looking at it for a couple of weeks, but when I finally did, it actually needed way less work than I thought. I basically just fixed typos and a couple sentences that didn't make sense because it was 3am but it was clear what I meant to say, and did minimal editing otherwise. I'm really happy with the writing quality on that one! 

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

I celebrate when I actually complete & post, which isn't often. I don't usually do much, but I do enjoy it and feel good about it. I always give myself credit! I wouldn't say I seek validation from others; I crave feedback and engagement, I want a response, but it's not validation I'm looking for. There have been a couple times I wanted to post a fic on a particular day, and for life reasons had to post things a bit rough, and I don't always give myself enough credit for finishing in those cases, but I'm working on it. Celebrating mostly looks like me sitting in my room feeling satisfied, but when I actually complete and post ghost AU I'm going to buy a bottle of wine or something. 

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

Wake started out as kind of an exercise in deconstruction, but it became a story in its own right and I think it's better for it. The intended message of Wake was to show BJ feeling uncomfortable now that he was back in the life he'd spent so long dreaming of, feeling as though he doesn't fit, that he no longer belongs in his home, feeling distant from Peg who's the person he's supposed to feel closest to, not recognizing himself and worrying he's not the person he's supposed to be, and then showing all those feelings as being his fears, not the truth. It's all a part of his trauma and his brain is lying to him.  I said this about this fic before, but he doesn't really wake up until Peg wakes him up by joining him in the kitchen. BJ sitting alone feeling alienated is part of the nightmare. It mirrors Peg's nightmare, where he comes home but she can't recognize him (haha I totally did that on purpose....).  But there's one line in particular in this fic: BJ and Hawkeye, awake in the small hours, listening for choppers, and the war might as well have not ended at all, because not a damn thing had changed. I'm not sure people realized this was a bad thing. It's not negative on Hawkeye and BJ's friendship generally, but the point is that they have to let go of how they were during the war, if they want to wake up from the nightmare (and maybe Hawkeye already has; we don't know, because he doesn't appear here, only BJ's fantasy of him). BJ is clinging to Hawkeye as someone who understands, but he needs to let go. BJ calling Hawkeye at a normal hour to talk to his friend would be good; BJ calling Hawkeye here would be bad, and it's a good thing that he chooses not to.  I was worried about people not getting the BJ scene in hills like white elephants. I think the part where Hawkeye suspects BJ figured out what he did but they don't discuss it for safety reasons is pretty clear. I hope so. I was concerned about that scene coming off too Hawkeye/Margaret, because I was worried people would think BJ thought Hawkeye was or might have the father, or that I was implying that. I'm very much against that interpretation of the canon version of this episode, because I think Hawkeye's role is more meaningful without that implication, and I feel that way tenfold about this fic. I don't want any implication that Hawkeye gave Margaret an abortion because he was somehow involved in her pregnancy. He did it because she needed one and that's it. However, despite all my fears, no one seems to have misinterpreted that scene! What a relief!! 

#ty ally!! <3

[emblemxeno]

To be fair to Awakening, IS was under the impression it'd be the last game in the series when they were making it, so stretching out the conflict into two separate games, while probably better than how the Valm arc was implemented into the main plot, is mostly just a neat idea that couldn't be realistically implemented.

And for what it's worth, they actually managed to wring out a decent amount of good character work out of such a filler-esque plot; not only is Walhart a really interesting character in his own right, being the stereotypical enemy emperor in FE but taken to it's logical extreme, but Chrom himself gets a lot of good character development throughout the arc, mostly in regards to his similarities with Walhart and being forced to come to terms with the fact that Walhart was, to a certain extent, right in his belief that kind words and peaceful ideals will only take you so far and that, sometimes, violence and strength are necessary things for the sake of a better world, with Chrom accepting that he's not Emmeryn and can't solve everything peacefully like she could, needing to carve his own path as a ruler instead of trying to emulate her for the rest of his life.

Honestly, even if Awakening was split into two games like you suggested, i'd at least keep Walhart just for how much he adds to Chrom's character arc.

I knew I was forgetting something in my original post cuz sometimes I blank and stuff I was meaning to write get forgotten in my head lol.

FE13 being the potential last game definitely had something to do with it too, yeah. Not only because of a shoutout to FE2, but also to incorporate other series long tropes (a red emperor, an extremely different culture than what was shown in the game so far, a sympathetic major boss fight, etc.). I will say in a vacuum that the Valm arc is decent, and were it saved for a potential Awakening sequel I think on its own the story could've stood well. I do appreciate the call backs to Chrom comparing himself to Emmeryn as well, too.

#queue #fire emblem awakening

[tiny-katara]

When You're Gone by Shawn Mendes is Also a Zutara Song

in denial? don't worry i'll help you see the truth.

"You never know how good you have it, oh-oh/Until you're staring at a picture of the only girl that matters, ah"

this is 100% katara staring zuko when he jumps in front of lightning for her. she's staring at him and is like "oh my god i can't lose him" and realizing she has feelings 👀

But it's alsO zuko when he sees azula shift her aim to katara and that's suddenly the only thing that matters and he completely disregards his own safety for hers.

"I know what we're supposed to do/It's hard for me to let go of you/So I'm just tryna hold on"

zuko moment where he knows he's supposed to be firelord but he just can't let anything happen to katara so he jumps anyway.

"Hold on/I don't wanna know what it's like when you're gone/I don't wanna move on/I don't wanna know what it's like when you're gone for good"

both of them are just frantically doing their best. zuko is (stupidly lol) trying to get up and help katara and she's trying desperately to get back to him. they don't want to lose each other--they refuse to.

"You're slipping through my fingertips/A little bit by a little bit"

you can't tell me this isn't katara trying desperately to get to zuko and heal him. it can also fit them reaching out during the fight, unable to get to the other but wanting and trying all the same.

"I didn't know that loving you was the happiest I've ever been/So I'm just tryna hold on"

it's that realization that they are definitely more than friends and they've never felt so understood, like genuinely understood. zuko and katara get each other better than they thought anyone ever could and they're just trying to get back to each other so it's not lost.

"I need to learn how to cope without you/I'm tryna protect myself but only you know how to, yeah"

d-do i really need to make a comment here? zuko is literally one of the only people who can redirect lightning lol. katara can do it herself, she can cope, but it's so much harder without him. she's almost forgotten what she did before she had someone who got her, someone who knew how to help her and did.

"Starting to feel like you don't need me/Wanna believe it's all for the better"

zuko hoping desperately that katara doesn't need him to win this fight, lying to himself so that he doesn't completely breakdown. he's convincing himself that she will be okay without him if this lightning is the last thing he does. he wants to think that this is better than the alternative. she'll be happy and alive and that's all he could ask for while azula chases her down.

"It's getting real, I'm missing you deeply/So I'm just tryna hold on"

katara is panicking. she's worried zuko's already too far gone. she can't picture her life with him gone forever, not even just not with her. katara knows she has to beat azula to have a dream of saving zuko, and she's holding onto the hope that she can make it in time for dear life.

so anyways... i have fallen back into my shawn mendes phase and he ships them, i swear it. the grammar and writing here is the product of losing a decent amount of sleep so my apologies if it doesn't make sense :)

#zutara #seriously just listen #the final agni kai energy is written all over it #i needed to share #i love this song rn #shawn mendes is so cool #shawn mendes stans zutara #its an undeniable fact

[evilwriter37]

So I had two different vigcup fic ideas and on top of not having any time to write right now, I also don't think I could do the idea in my head justice. (specifically one of them over the other since there would be a fight scene and I can't write a decent physical fight scene to save my life. Angst I can do, violence and gore is not quite in my wheelhouse yet, even after 18 years of fandom writing.). So I was wondering if it wouldn't be too forward of me to send these plot bunnies your way? One of them was hevily inspired by several of your AU fics anyway. The other may have been done already and I just hadn't found it yet.

I am going to be honest: I have 34 unwritten ideas for just How to Train Your Dragon right now. That doesn't count my original work, Whumptober work, and other fandoms.

However, I'm going to say yes, please send them. I give the disclaimer of how many ideas I have to write at the beginning just to say, if I don't get to them right away, there's a very good reason.

But I just... I love this stuff. I love writing. I can't get enough of it. So yes! Please send them!

#asks #writing #fanfiction

[tehuti88-art]

7/28/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Vischer (no first name ever given). He's a character from the first attempted reboot, whom I almost phased out for this reboot, but his character has started to develop again. He works solo for the resistance and has some odd connections to various other characters. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, I originally pictured him as gray with blue eyes, but decided to make him a red-eyed (non-albino) rat instead. He's not hairless, he just has orangish-cream fur.

TUMBLR EDIT: Vischer (he's never been given a first name) is the subject of at least one adult-themed WIP also featuring Reseda Rat; it was never finished, and at this point likely never will be, due to its outdatedness, though the basic plot point behind it still stands so it could end up redone at some future point. His character was never developed beyond being a device to help Reseda realize his attraction to LC Silver Rat. Result, I didn't really know anything about him as a person, didn't care to, and at the outset of this latest reboot, was not interested in further developing him; although I have yet to technically can any of my older characters from the old character list, there are a handful who remain in development limbo (a few because I remember absolutely nothing about them and never even wrote a summary--Dietrich and Berit Brenner, for example?--who TF are these people??), and until like ten minutes ago, Vischer was going to remain there along with them. I realized he could still be a useful development tool for Reseda's and Silver's relationship, however, plus needed a relatively minor character to draw in hopes of writing up some shorter blog entries to TRY to get caught up, but I may have defeated myself with the latter intention. Vischer returning to the plot means he needs history. I've been gently poking at him, and I think at last he's offering some up to me. It's still HIGHLY under development (as I'm typing this, it was literally late last night that he began to open up), and...le sigh...he's brought another new character or two (or three), so far unnamed but certain to obtain names soon, along with him. So, a lot of this is still rather hazy and fudgy and subject to massive change, but here we go with some general groundwork.

Through means that I haven't ironed out yet, Vischer is responsible for, or at least feels himself to be responsible for, the death of another person, originally intended to be his lover though I suppose it could be anyone, maybe even a child. Consumed by guilt, and suicidal, he decides instead to at least make a bit of use of his own likely death by enlisting in the army to fight in the Great War. Vischer is not a fighter--he's in fact rather a pacifist, peaceful and reclusive by nature--so he reasons that, despite a crash course of training, he's unlikely to survive combat in the trenches. He can serve his country and probably end his own life at the same time. Perhaps it'll help a little to repay the debt he feels he owes for causing someone else's death.

Well...Vischer's best efforts often don't pan out, and this is one instance. Despite his assumption that he'll quickly be killed, turns out he's a halfway decent soldier after all. He goes out of his way to avoid killing, but does so when necessary, and while he could always lay down his gun and let whatever happen, he finds he just can't give up like that, he feels a compulsion to make his death a noble one--preferably, giving his own life to save someone else's. And one day near the end of the war, he finally gets the chance. He throws himself at a captain he doesn't even know and shields him from a shell blast with his own body, suffering severe injuries himself, though sparing the captain from the brunt of the blast. The mud and dirt clods land in spatters around them and they lie on the ground for a few moments gasping in pain; Vischer's ears are ringing terribly, and the pain of the percussion and shrapnel leaves him dizzy and breathless and unable to react at first. The captain lets out a small pained sound at last and Vischer pushes himself up a bit to let him breathe a little better. He's rather surprised to still be alive.

Captain: "You...you saved me."

Vischer: "Are you all right?"

Captain: "Just a..." *winces* "Just a little shrapnel in my side. I owe you my life."

Vischer: "You don't owe me anything."

*medics arrive with stretchers & clamber down toward them*

Captain: "I do. Your name? What's your name?"

Vischer: *reluctantly* "...Vischer. Feldwebel (Sergeant First Class) Vischer."

Captain: "Altermann. Hauptmann Harald Altermann. Feldwebel Vischer. I won't forget." *medics start bundling them up onto the stretchers* "I owe you! I'll pay you back, I promise."

Vischer: "You owe me nothing!"

*medics start carrying them both away*

Altermann: "I do." *shouting back at him* "Someday I'll pay you back! I won't forget!"

Vischer passes out from the pain. He groggily comes to in a medical ward, battered and bandaged and in a hundred kinds of agony, yet still alive. He groans to himself--he'd hoped he might die in the trench, as planned--yet here he is. He thinks, well, it's not a complete loss; at least he saved someone else's life, first. Nurses and a doctor come to tend to him, and he says, "There was a Hauptmann with me, where is he...?" The doctor gets an uncertain look which gives Vischer pause.

Doctor: "Herr Hauptmann Altermann...? This is the one?"

Vischer: "Ja, Harald Altermann...where is he?"

Doctor: "I'm sorry...he didn't make it."

Vischer: *blinks* "...What? But--we were just talking, he said he was barely wounded..."

Doctor: "A piece of shrapnel to his liver...he lost too much blood." *Vischer puts his hands to his face & moans* "You were friends...?" *Vischer starts crying* "I'm sorry for your loss." *awkwardly* "Would...would you know where we can reach his family?"

Vischer: *head pops up* "Family--?"

Doctor: "We found this in his pocket." *shows Vischer a photograph of Altermann along with a woman & a boy, all smiling at the camera*

Vischer: *moans again & covers his face, starting to sob*

The doctor, assuming Vischer and Altermann were good friends, ushers the nurses away to give him his space. It feels like Gott or the universe is playing some cruel joke. All Vischer had hoped to do was right a wrong, pay back the debt he owed, a life for a life. Now, not only is he still alive, but he has TWO deaths on his conscience--although technically Altermann's death isn't his fault, still, the fact that he didn't save him after all, despite his efforts, hurts just the same. Plus, Altermann has a family...Vischer doesn't, and due to his own romantic preferences, never plans to. He's entirely expendable, has no one to miss him when he's gone, has no apparent use on this earth...yet here he is, still alive. It's unfair, it's pointless, and Vischer finds he has to conclude that either Gott is the nastiest, cruelest Being to ever exist, or else He just doesn't exist at all.

He decides the best course of action now is to simply remove himself from society and disappear. He has no will to live, yet neither does he have the will to actively kill himself; he'll just stay by himself and with hope he'll at least harm no one else. He's developed a form of shell shock as it is--shaking terribly and unable to stop, waking up from frequent nightmares--so he's easily declared unfit for further military duty. Not that he was likely to serve anyway--Germany surrenders, bringing the war to an end, and the military is greatly reduced, most soldiers losing their positions. Vischer is lucky, given aid from the state for his medical condition as well as some old family savings, to be able to retreat to a country house and recuperate on his own, without needing to work. He receives no visitors aside from a nurse once in a while to check on his recovery, a delivery man who brings goods and supplies ordered from the city, and, very very rarely, a distant neighbor offering some of their own goods or services for trade. Vischer is known mostly for his reclusiveness--all anyone really knows of him is he fought in the war and took it rather hard--yet he seems harmless as well, and is polite, if distant, to anyone who visits with honest intentions. Once or twice, someone with not-so-good intentions shows up, and is greeted with the business end of Vischer's rifle--despite his seclusion and pacifist attitude, he knows how to take care of himself. So aside from the occasional trade visits, everyone leaves him alone.

Time passes like this. The National Socialists come to power. The second war starts. Vischer escapes military duty thanks to his shell shock, and watches events unfold from afar. He doesn't like the turn his homeland has taken, so much so that, when he catches an escaped prisoner trespassing on his land, he steps back and lowers his gun, waving him through. He avoids getting involved with the more established resistance networks, but he never turns anyone in, either. His property is recognized as a sort of neutral ground that it's safe to pass through, though not to shelter upon, as nobody is quite sure of Vischer's political ideology. He doesn't want to be responsible either for trying to save anyone's life or for getting anyone killed, so he engages in neither.

A military truck makes the long drive up to his house one day and someone gets out to knock at his door. Vischer refuses to answer; whatever it is, it can't be good, so he ignores them and after a few moments they leave. They make a couple more efforts over the following days and Vischer never answers, feeling vaguely disgruntled to be so bothered. He falls ill not long after, and ends up falling and knocking himself out; he could very well end up just dying there, as he often goes weeks without contact with anyone, yet he wakes again in a hospital bed, and lies there blinking and confused for a while. How did he get there? A nurse passes his bed, sees him, and calls out, "Ah, he's awake," and gestures. Someone pulls the dividing curtain back a bit and peers in. Hauptmann Altermann smiles from ear to ear and exclaims, "I'm glad I found you when I did, you're a hard person to get a hold of!"

Vischer of course just gapes, unable to speak. He starts shaking even harder. Hauptmann Altermann steps up to his bed--he's dressed in a Wehrmacht uniform now, not the uniform of the Imperial German Army--and holds out his hand, but Vischer is too rattled to take it. He introduces himself: Herr Hauptmann Harald Altermann...the Second. This is Hauptmann Altermann's son, whom Vischer saw in the photograph with his parents so long ago. Vischer lets out a breath and his shaking abates just a little though he's still spooked, saying, "I thought...I thought for a moment you were your father." "I've been told we look much alike," Hauptmann Altermann says, and apologizes for frightening him. He's the one who brought Vischer here, after peering in his window and spotting him lying on the floor. "You are the one who's been stopping by my house?" Vischer asks; yes, he is. He's been trying to get a hold of Vischer, but "You don't answer your door." "I assumed if it's the military, it's bad news," Vischer murmurs, to which Altermann smiles again and says, "Ha! Ja, always seems that way, doesn't it...?"

The nurse returns to explain that Vischer has an infection they're treating with penicillin, as well as a mild concussion from his fall, and they'd like to keep him overnight just to be sure he's all right before he returns home; right now he needs his rest. The captain promises to get in touch with him later, wishes Vischer well, and leaves. Vischer realizes he didn't get the chance to ask WHY Altermann has been trying to contact him; he'll have to do so later.

The next day a doctor checks Vischer out, deems him good to go, and they wheel him through the hospital after calling a taxi to transport him, since he has no car. The closer he gets to the exit, however, the harder Vischer's heart starts to pound and the harder he shakes, his breath catching in his throat. He grabs onto a post and halts the chair, refusing to let go. He feels like if he goes out the doors, his heart may very well stop--it makes no sense, he knows it, but still, he can't go a step further. He's effectively stuck in the hospital. As the staff start discussing how to get him out, their voices are gradually drowned out by the sound of shells exploding, and Vischer slides out of his chair and huddles on the floor, ducking his head under his arms and shaking so hard his bones hurt, holding on to the pillar--tree stump?--for dear life. He can feel the hospital tiles smooth under his legs, yet he can smell the smoke and the blood and has no idea WTF's going on.

It feels like an eternity that he's stuck in this weird no man's land between trench and hospital, hyperventilating and shaking, before something touches his shoulder and he very dimly hears a voice in the midst of all the shelling. Hauptmann Altermann is calling his name. Vischer manages to lift his head a bit and open his eyes; Altermann is crouching beside him, looking just as he did on the battlefield, except not wounded; "Herr Vischer...?" he says, concern on his face, while shells keep exploding in the muddy earth just behind him. Then, oddly--"It's all right, you're safe now," he says, and Vischer blinks--his uniform is slowly fading, changing, his Stahlhelm becoming a peaked officer's cap, the mudstains vanishing, the devastated barbed-wire wasteland behind him shifting into an aseptic hallway. "You're in hospital," Altermann says, and the last sights and smells of the trenches disappear and Vischer's tensed muscles relax, his arms loosening their grasp on the pillar. "It's all right," Altermann says, this time to the hovering hospital staff, "I can handle it." He stays by Vischer for a while as he calms down, his heart and breath slowing and his bone-rattling shaking shifting into a tremble. As he comes back to reality he starts to feel immensely foolish. "H...how did you know...?" he murmurs, to which Altermann replies, "Battle fatigue...I've seen plenty of it myself."

He doesn't even question Vischer's terror of going outside, though they do need to figure out how to get him back home, where Vischer is sure he'll feel better. Altermann says he will drive him, if he can make it out to his car. Vischer trembles harder and stares at the doors: "I'm not sure I can do it." After a moment Altermann says, "Here...take my coat," removes his greatcoat, and holds it out to him; Vischer furrows his brow but takes it, and slowly stands up when Altermann does the same. "Drape it over your shoulders and head, and shut your eyes," Altermann instructs; "How do I know where I'm going?" Vischer asks, to which Altermann replies, "Hold on to my arm and I'll guide you."

Vischer is skeptical, but obeys. He covers his head with Altermann's coat, grasps at the air, finds the captain's arm and locks his elbow around his, shutting his eyes tight. Altermann starts walking and he follows; when he hears the doors open and the sound of traffic, his heart starts beating hard again and his breathing picks up, but--"Breathe slow," Altermann says, "focus on your heartbeat, try to make it slow"--Vischer does so, and with tentative steps he makes it to a car parked at the curb; Altermann opens the door and Vischer climbs into what he realizes is the backseat. "You can lie down and keep your eyes shut if it helps," Altermann says, "and I'll let you know when we get there." Vischer lies down on the seat and draws the coat around himself tighter; Altermann shuts the door, gets in the driver's seat, and they depart from the hospital.

Just as he'd suspected, when they arrive at Vischer's property, he calms down considerably, and can even return Altermann's coat; Altermann accompanies him inside to make sure he's all right, then rummages around to make some tea. They sit in Vischer's parlor in silence for a while.

Vischer: "I'm sorry to put you out so."

Altermann: "It's all right, I don't mind. Like I said though, I'm glad I found you when I did. It's so empty out here, what do you do when you need something?"

Vischer: "I don't need much. I've done fine for myself."

Altermann: "Well...seems we've found the one thing you can't do well for yourself. You have a telephone line at least, I hope...?"

Vischer: "I have a telephone. Danke for your help, but you needn't worry yourself about me."

Altermann: "Sorry, Herr Vischer, but you're on my mind now, I'm not the sort who just forgets someone. I'll check on you if it's all right. At least until you're all better."

Vischer: "I'm fine." *fidgets* "It reminds me though, you said you've been trying to get in touch with me...why are you here?"

Altermann: "I owe you a debt."

Vischer is both startled to hear those words again, and confused--how and why does he owe him a debt? Altermann explains that the debt is his father's, which he's come to pay in his place. How does he know about that? Hauptmann Altermann was alive long enough to tell his doctors and nurses about the "Feldwebel Vischer" who had helped him on the battlefield, asking them to in turn tell his family; after the doctor managed to track them down, he passed along the word. His son never forgot the information, and after rising through the ranks in the Wehrmacht, decided it was finally time to locate Vischer and pay him back. But what's the debt? "You saved his life," Altermann says; Vischer furrows his brow and says, "No I didn't. He died in spite of me. Or maybe even because of me." Altermann replies, "You tried, and you gained him a little time more. Enough time to ask the doctors to tell us he loved us. It might not seem like much to you, Herr Vischer, but to my mother and me, it was everything. I'm here to pay you back like he promised."

Lots of conversations between these two have been running through my head. The long story short, Vischer keeps trying to put Altermann off, insisting there's no debt to repay, and even if there was, it was his father's debt, not his. Altermann confidently counters every argument he comes up with, however, and no matter how short tempered Vischer gets about it, remains undeterred. And believe me when I say Vischer gets short tempered; all he wants is to be left alone, to owe no one and have no one owe him, so Altermann's insistence on paying him back for some (to him) imaginary debt wears on him greatly. Nothing he says or does, no matter how ill tempered, puts the captain off; even when he loses his temper and snaps at him, Altermann simply sits and takes it, letting him vent it out of his system before responding calmly that it doesn't matter what he thinks, a debt is a debt, and he's going to find some way to pay him back.

When Vischer gets angry one day, something in his comments finally sparks a different response from Altermann: The young captain frowns slightly, remaining silent as always while Vischer goes off, though afterward, he says something that gives Vischer pause: "Not everything is about you, you know. Do you stop to think maybe I have my own reason for wanting to repay a debt?" Vischer pauses, then asks, "Is that what this is?--you have a debt of your own that you owe?" Altermann confirms this...yet won't tell Vischer what that debt is. The only thing he needs to know is that Altermann owes someone, he's chosen Vischer to repay (largely due to his father already owing him), and he won't let it be until the debt is repaid. Various times after Altermann does favors for him, of varying complexity, Vischer asks if now, finally, they're even; yet it never seems like they are. He knows Altermann's not just being contrary--he can sense his sincerity, that he genuinely feels he hasn't fully paid him back yet, which convinces him that Altermann owes a heavy debt indeed--possibly far heavier even than his father owing Vischer an hour or so of his life. He also suggests, more than once, that Altermann name something he can do that would make them even, or set up some scenario that would make it so, but to these ideas Altermann just throws up his hands: "It doesn't work that way, Herr Vischer; I can't just tell ahead of time what will or won't settle things. It's something I need to feel in my gut. Only then will I know for sure." Out of ideas, Vischer asks, will Altermann accept it then, and move on, when his debt is paid in full...? If that's what he wants, Altermann replies, then yes. Then he'll move on.

I don't yet know what Altermann's debt actually is, though it's obviously a big/serious one. This is Vischer's entry, so I won't brainstorm what it is just yet; that can wait for Altermann's entry, if and when I should get to it. The long story short for now is that Hauptmann Altermann effectively becomes Vischer's shadow throughout much of the storyline, helping him out in various ways--one of the biggest and most lasting being to help him overcome most of his agoraphobia, to the point that he's able to finally leave his property and go out in public without suffering a panic attack, as long as Altermann is nearby. They become quite close, though it always remains more of a helper/helpee relationship rather than equal friends (and the two are never romantically interested in each other--Vischer never tells Altermann about his preferences, since he serves alongside the Nazis, after all). Neither one of them ever loses sight of the fact that Altermann's main reason for even being in touch with Vischer is to pay him back, and that once this is accomplished--if ever--it's simply assumed that they'll part ways.

At some point an American Trench Rats unit must pass by Vischer's property--they've likely been informed it's safe to pass through--and somehow, PFC/Lance Corporal Reseda Rat (I think he gets promoted at some point during the story) ends up injured and stuck on the property; he abruptly finds himself confronted by Vischer with his rifle. The Rats know Vischer as the landowner, yet that's all they know of him, and they've never established contact. Reseda passes out before he can try to defend himself. He comes to inside a house, bundled up on a couch with his injuries tended to; he's terribly confused and groggy at first, until Vischer shows up. An unwelcoming look on his face, he addresses Reseda, seeming to be asking something. "I can't speak German," Reseda says, to which Vischer replies, "Good thing for you I speak English, then."

Vischer is obviously suspicious and vaguely hostile toward Reseda at first, though it gradually becomes clear he has no malicious intent and is really just a private citizen who wishes to be left alone. He has no apparent ties to the Nazis even though a Wehrmacht officer (Altermann) has been observed visiting his property; the Rats do their typical digging and find out that Altermann, despite his necessary connections to the Party, isn't a member himself, though they can't be sure whether he's a fellow traveler or not. Vischer refuses to divulge further information on Altermann and the Rats get the feeling he's protecting him as a friend. He promises not to notify authorities about the Rats, although this is merely his standard procedure and has nothing to do with any Allied sympathies; when they make tentative overtures at requesting the usage of his land, he refuses this as well, vowing that if he finds out they've gone against his wishes and done so anyway, he'll make liberal use of his gun. The Rats take a step back from attempting to negotiate with him even as they continue trying to determine his loyalties; most private parties who disavow any relationship with the Nazis have been receptive so far to cooperation, so Vischer's neutrality is perplexing and makes them suspicious.

One thing, though, seems clear: Vischer has shown a willingness to communicate with Reseda, plus he didn't shoot him--he actually helped him. The Rats decide to use Reseda to try to collect information on him. This request doesn't sit well with Reseda at all, so he does something that, if the Rats, and especially his company commander Lance Corporal Silver, caught wind of it, would likely get him in hot water: He outright informs Vischer this is why he's been sent back to talk to him. Vischer just stands and listens, an odd expression on his face, as Reseda explains the situation; when he finishes, Vischer is silent a moment, then says, "Why are you telling me this?" Reseda admits he doesn't know; "It just doesn't feel right asking you for a favor using a ruse." Something about this answer makes the look on Vischer's face shift slightly; Reseda wonders if he's going to be asked to leave, when Vischer finally says, "Since you've been honest with me, then I'll be honest with you."

The Trench Rats aren't the first ones to request the use of Vischer's property for their own purposes. Nazi officials make the same request, promising that they intend only to have troops occasionally rest and make plans there. Hauptmann Altermann, who brought the officers along with him, stands aside and remains silent as they talk; Vischer asks for a bit of time to think it over, and they leave. He privately asks Altermann what he thinks. Altermann doesn't answer for a moment, seeming indecisive; he finally appears to mentally settle something, and replies, "I think you shouldn't believe them. They're lying to you." He explains that they'd been openly discussing their true plans for Vischer and his property on the way there, assuming that Altermann sympathized; they in fact intend to make full use of his land as both lodgings for troops and an observation base, with the intent to hunt down, capture, and kill any enemies they find upon it, and not only that, but if Vischer opposes this or raises a fuss, it must mean he's not loyal to the Reich, and he'll be put down as well: "They have a file on you already," Altermann says, "all the private details the SS could dig up on your life now and during and before the Great War. They say there are rumors about you from back then. I won't go into detail. But it's enough to give them an excuse to put you in a camp or to kill you." Vischer feels his insides knotting up, his skin going cold and his trembling growing, as Altermann talks; he knows exactly what "rumors" the file must be referring to, and he's heard stories about what the Nazis do to people like him. Just as with Reseda later on, "Why are you telling me this...?" he asks numbly, to which Altermann replies, "I know you value honesty, and I owe you. And I hope I'm right in trusting you to know that I don't agree with this. It's not my place to indulge in such rumors. But mere rumors shouldn't be enough to get someone killed, anyway."

So, there it is: Altermann's aware of Vischer's secret, and neither approves nor disapproves--he finds it's none of his business. He has no interest in outing him. And he's taking a big risk in merely telling Vischer this, since he's unsure of Vischer's loyalty to the Reich, himself. In effect, he's just shown Vischer his hand, and opened himself up to prosecution if Vischer decides to turn him in. Vischer is pretty sure he could guarantee his own continued safety from the Nazis if he were to hand them a far bigger fish such as Altermann--Altermann had absolutely everything to lose, and nothing to gain, from sharing the information he just shared. After a few tense moments of silence, Vischer ventures, "And you're sure that telling me this doesn't fulfill your debt...?" There's a brief pause before the corner of Altermann's mouth twitches. "Not by a long shot, I'm afraid," he replies.

Vischer doesn't give Reseda all the details of his relationship with Altermann, but says he's nobody to worry about. He won't grant the Rats permission to use his land without knowing what exactly they intend to do with it. Reseda calls Silver to speak with Vischer about their plans, figuring his word will carry more weight; Silver is perhaps the best known of the Rats, deeply despised by the Nazis. Vischer recognizes him by name when he arrives and clarifies that the Rats won't use his land for anything but observational purposes; he seems perplexed when Vischer insists that, should the Rats encounter any Nazis on his property, they won't attempt to capture or kill them, and will maintain neutrality. "You have to admit it doesn't sound terribly neutral," Silver says, to which Vischer coldly replies, "If you don't like my terms, you're free to take your business off my property." Communication briefly threatens to break down when Reseda steps back in to try to calm them both down. Silver grudgingly backs off and accepts Vischer's terms; Vischer seems vaguely bemused at first by his change in attitude, yet then appears to notice or realize something, and also backs off, and grants the Trench Rats the permission they were seeking. As they prepare to leave, Silver instructs Reseda that, since he seems to have established some sort of rapport with Vischer, he's to act as an intermediary; he tells him to remain behind until they return with supplies to set up an outpost. Reseda is nonplussed--he hadn't expected this--yet reluctantly accepts when Vischer offers to get him a drink while he waits. As Vischer hands him a mug of tea, he says, "I could say the same of Herr Silver." "Say what...?" Reseda asks, puzzled. Vischer replies, "That you seem to have established a rapport with him," at which Reseda nearly drops his drink. He shoots Vischer a look that's startled, hostile, guarded, and confused all at once, and Vischer knows he read him correctly: Reseda has romantic feelings for Silver.

Over time, as the two grow familiar with each other, Vischer subtly makes it clear Reseda's own secret is safe with him, and hints at the reason why. Neither of them ever goes into a great amount of detail--it isn't necessary--though they share enough for Vischer to learn that Reseda's feelings are so far unrequited, and he has no plans to make it otherwise. He briefly outlines how, recently, Silver was captured by the Nazis and tortured before escaping, and the torture included an incident with a particularly brutal Nazi sergeant; again, he doesn't give details, though the pained look that flits across his face makes it clear it was something especially dreadful. Although Silver's always been an exceptionally critical company leader, frequently targeting Reseda for a tongue lashing, Reseda insists the criticism is justified, and has been attempting to cover for Silver's occasional lapses in focus since the capture. Sensing his guilt, Vischer says, "You realize none of this is on you, ja?--he's not your responsibility." Reseda just stares at his mug before murmuring, "And what if some of it is on me...? He shouldn't end up punished on my account. I'm expendable, he's not."

Vischer understands everything Reseda's feeling, since he's dealt with all the same feelings himself. He finds himself perplexed by his desire to convince the Trench Rat that he's not to blame for the situation, when he's never managed to convince himself of the same thing. As he tries to work through these conflicting feelings he requests confirmation of Reseda's story from Altermann. Altermann, who doesn't know about Vischer's agreement with the Trench Rats--Vischer doesn't want to compromise him by clueing him in--verifies that "Der Silbergeist" was briefly captured by the Nazis while breaking into the headquarters of a medical project. He's heard of the doctor in charge of the project, and yes, he makes use of the guards to rough up his prisoners now and then. Unprompted, Altermann disdainfully mentions one particularly thuggish guard the doctor likes to use, named Lange; even the other Nazis hate him. "He...has a quite repulsive way of dealing with his captives," he says, curtly. Vischer understands exactly what he means by this and doesn't need to ask for clarification. Silver hadn't made a very good impression on him, though he muses that the Trench Rat is likely dealing with trauma similar to his own, and he knows how difficult he himself is to deal with; that Reseda is still willing to deal with Silver says a lot about how much he must care for him.

Vischer decides not to bring Silver up again unless Reseda does so first, to avoid making him uncomfortable. It takes a bit for the Rats to set up at his place--Vischer offers them his dining room to place some communication equipment, watching with detached curiosity--so he and Reseda maintain contact, and Reseda even confides in him a little, not much, though more than Vischer senses he's had the chance to tell anyone else before. He admits something one day that surprises Vischer--that he wasn't entirely honest in his earlier description of the situation. Silver had actually kissed him, just once, not so long ago. Vischer expects to feel resentment at being lied to...yet he doesn't. Instead, he furrows his brow and says, "Why did you feel you had to conceal this from me?" Reseda looks both guilty and confused; "I don't know," he admits, "maybe because I don't want to put too much thought into it...in case it means nothing." Vischer asks, "And why would you think it means nothing?" to which Reseda replies, head lowered, "Because it has to. I can't help thinking all of it is my fault. I was angry...I wanted something to humiliate him the way he humiliated me...and look what happened." Feeling a pang, Vischer says, "Herr Reseda, I know nothing I say can convince you, because nobody's ever convinced me, but that isn't how it works. You don't make something happen by thinking about it."

As soon as he says this--an odd reaction. Reseda stiffens slightly, then looks at him, seeming confused again, as if he can't believe Vischer said that. Vischer briefly wonders whether he should apologize--for what, he isn't sure--when Reseda kisses him. His eyes go wide and he blinks; his first instinct is to shove Reseda away and punch him for good measure, yet...the brief little surge of anger immediately dies when he suddenly realizes how lonely he is, and has been, all these years of self-imposed isolation. He hasn't had any meaningful contact or communication with anyone but Altermann ever since his last relationship, and Altermann's friendship does only so much. Although he isn't entirely sure it's a good idea to get so closely involved with anyone else, he finds himself returning the kiss.

For a short while, he and Reseda privately meet; it isn't difficult to conceal the relationship, given Reseda's ready-made explanation for being there, though Vischer easily senses the Trench Rat's embarrassment--not quite strong enough to be shame, so he knows that, similar to him, he's probably been fortunate enough to never deal with the sort of hatred and hostility their sort often faces. It's more likely Reseda's discomfort is self-inflicted, like his own. So he makes a point to never discuss the situation, or try to pinpoint where exactly they stand; he just assumes he's a temporary distraction while Reseda tries to figure out his feelings. And that's a bit saddening, but otherwise fine by him; he knows that, given his personal situation, it's highly unlikely he'll ever fall in love with anyone again or carry on a proper relationship, so a temporary reprieve from the loneliness will do. It's a bit more complicated for him to hide all this from Altermann, though he manages. Result, he's a bit surprised, but not offended, when Reseda accidentally calls him "Silbergeist." He finally brings up the subject again--pointing out Reseda's obvious fixation on Silver, as well as asking why he hasn't acted on it. Reseda initially insists that Silver would never be interested in him like that--here is their exchange--but pauses to recall the signs he's already seen, and Vischer knows a seed of uncertainty has taken root at last. He says, "I won't tell you to stop coming by...but what it is you really want, really need, I don't believe you'll find it here. And you won't be happy until you do find it."

Vischer is vaguely saddened and wistful when Reseda takes the step and moves on, but knows it's necessary, and the two of them were never going to be anything other than distractions for each other. They end their physical relationship but do maintain contact related to the Trench Rats' operations on Vischer's property. In passing one day (this is a developing plot point that needs ironing out) Reseda makes mention of a Luftwaffe soldier the Rats had captured, who managed to escape their custody--an unusual occurrence, given how careful the Rats usually are. He shows Vischer a photo they took of him for their records, along with the info that he's a Junker, but Vischer claims he's never seen him and knows nothing about him, and even if he did, he wouldn't turn him back over to them. It's a minor incident, soon forgotten, until much later on.

By then, Altermann's helped Vischer to manage his agoraphobia enough that he can leave his property as long as Altermann accompanies him; the Germans know of Vischer's difficulty adjusting after the Great War, so Altermann assisting him isn't questionable. Altermann informs him he's been invited to a visit with a Nazi official and despite not wishing to go, he has to, or else risk arousing suspicion about his loyalty to the Reich; he adds that Vischer's loyalty has been similarly questioned, and suggests he come along. When Vischer learns exactly where they've been invited--to a labor camp--he nearly refuses out of disgust, but reluctantly agrees, as who knows what other options the Nazis will offer. So one day Altermann drives him to the camp and they're welcomed inside by the commandant who's invited them. He has all the prisoners called out to stand in formation and brags about how obedient they are despite their obvious limitations. Altermann is better at feigning appreciation for this than Vischer is; he and the commandant get to chatting while Vischer steps away briefly to shake off his revulsion. He finds himself eyeing the rows of inmates standing at attention, perfectly silent in their striped outfits; he turns away from them and starts walking in Altermann's direction before slowing to a stop, frowning and peering back. For some reason a prisoner in one of the front rows catches his notice; although there are a handful of others with blue eyes and Aryan features, most of them have colored badges that identify them as Jews or Roma or criminals. This one is wearing a red triangle. Vischer isn't familiar with this badge. What really caught his eye, however, was how familiar the prisoner looks; he's sure he's seen him before, which is nearly impossible, as he almost never goes out. He starts feeling suspicious, though, and approaches him, careful to avoid the notice of the commandant or guards.

Vischer: "Excuse me." *stops before & a bit to the side of the prisoner, looking at him; prisoner's eyes shift toward him, toward the prisoner to his other side, back to Vischer, then forward again* "Ja, you, with the red badge. Could you tell me your name...?"

Prisoner: *stiff rehearsed voice* "We do not use our names in the camp, Mein Herr."

Vischer: "Yet you do have a name."

Prisoner: "We leave our names at the gate, Mein Herr."

Vischer: *vaguely impatient* "You were surely given a name by your mother and father before you came here, ja...?"

Prisoner: *swallows* "My identification number is--" *rattles off a letter & a bunch of numbers*

Vischer: *changing tack* "Your badge then, can you tell me what it means--? Why you're here?"

Prisoner: "It is the badge of a traitor and a deserter, Mein Herr."

Vischer: "I notice you don't say you actually are either of these things, Freund."

Prisoner: *eyes shift toward Vischer, toward the commandant, then forward again; he looks anxious now & bites his lip a little*

Vischer: *noticing his look, moves a bit closer to block the commandant's view* *whispering* "There's something you need to say...?"

Prisoner: *long pause* *lowers head toward Vischer just a little so Vischer follows suit* *whispering* "My..." *loses nerve & trails off*

Vischer: "Your name...?"

Prisoner: *pause* "Adalard von Staden."

Vischer: "Von Staden?"

Prisoner: "I am neither a traitor nor a deserter, Mein Herr. I've served the Fatherland faithfully."

Vischer: "You are a soldier?"

Prisoner: "Airman. Tell my family--" *cuts himself off & stands at attention again; Vischer looks to see the commandant approaching, Altermann following*

Vischer turns away from the prisoner; Altermann has an expression that shows he noticed Vischer's conversation with the prisoner and attempted to distract the commandant as long as he could, while the commandant himself looks suspicious. "Why are you talking to that prisoner?" he asks. "I was curious about his badge, I've never seen it before," Vischer says, to which the commandant curtly replies, "It's the badge of a political prisoner. If you wished to know, you had merely to ask me or a guard, the prisoners aren't allowed to converse. Now if you and Herr Hauptmann Altermann are done here..."

Their awkward visit concluded--"Atrocious place," Altermann mutters on the way out the gate--they head back to Vischer's home, unsure if the trip helped much to preserve the appearance of loyalty to the Reich. "Why were you so interested in that prisoner...?" Altermann asks on the way in, puzzled. Vischer says he swears he's seen him before. As expected, Altermann expresses skepticism over this--where would Vischer have the opportunity to meet someone of the prisoner's age?--he's too young to have served in the Great War. Vischer pauses before deciding to take the plunge.

Vischer: "You say you owe me a debt...you swear you'll tell no one what I tell you?"

Altermann: "Of course."

Vischer: "On your father's name."

Altermann: *furrows brow at Vischer's seriousness* "I swear on it, Herr Vischer. What is this about?"

Vischer: "That prisoner claims his name is Adalard von Staden."

Altermann: *frowning* "Von Staden...? A Junker name?"

Vischer: "He claims he was wrongly accused."

Altermann: "As vile as the whole practice is, Herr Vischer, I'm sure many prisoners claim this. And it may be odd to find a Junker in a camp but it makes sense, if he's a political prisoner. What makes this one special?"

Vischer: "I've heard his name and seen his face before."

Altermann: *confused* "How? When?"

Vischer: *pause* "You insist you owe me a debt. If I ask something of you, you'll do it...?"

Altermann: "Of course I will, if it's in my power."

Vischer: "I need to know I can trust you."

Altermann: "Herr Vischer..." *shrugs* "I'm not sure how much clearer I can make it. Whatever you need me to do, if I can, I will. And if I can't, then I still owe you. I swear you'll have nothing to regret from merely asking."

Vischer: *long pause* "I've been in communication with Allied forces. For some months now."

Even as he finally admits this, Vischer does indeed regret it: He sees the way Altermann's eyes widen and all the blood drains from his face. Of course there are limits to debts, there always are. Even as he mentally berates himself for being so foolish, Altermann exclaims, "Why would you even joke about something so serious--?" Vischer starts to protest that he isn't joking; Altermann raises his voice and interrupts, "Of course you're joking with me, and I don't find it amusing," yet even as he says this, he's hurriedly pulling a little notepad and a pencil stub out of his pocket and jotting something down, then holding it up; Vischer opens his mouth to defend himself, then sees what Altermann's written: Vorsicht bei Gesprächen, Feind hört mit! (Be careful when talking, the enemy is listening!)--and immediately shuts up, his skin going cold. "You're not being yourself," Altermann says aloud, "why would you even tell such a joke?" Vischer swallows, gathers himself a bit, and shakily replies, "I just needed to be sure you were trustworthy...and that's the biggest thing I could think of. I apologize." "Ja, well..." Altermann says, putting away the notepad and gesturing for Vischer to follow him, "You already know this, you needn't lie about such ridiculous things. Let's fetch a drink to settle you down."

Altermann points Vischer out to the patio and brings out the drinks; Vischer's not big on drinking but he needs one now, downing half of his glass in one go. "I can't be sure," Altermann says quietly as he joins him, "but I can't help but think maybe they wanted me out of your house for a bigger reason than they hinted. It's why I asked you to come with me even though I knew you'd hate it. Thing is, they could've taken advantage of your absence, as well." He pours the visibly rattled Vischer another drink. "Should be safe to talk out here," he adds, and Vischer lets out a breath.

Vischer: "I...I didn't even think."

Altermann: "Of course you wouldn't, what reason would you have?"

Vischer: "You're sure you haven't just repaid your debt to me...?"

Altermann: "Not yet I haven't. Now...what was this you were saying? About Allies?" *furrows brow* "Did I hear you right? When would you possibly have had the chance...? And why? I have so many questions."

Vischer: "I haven't much to say. While you were gone, obviously. They wanted use of my land. Same as our men. I allowed them only if they limited themselves to observations and regrouping. I told them if they attempted using my land as an outpost to attack our men, they would have to leave. The same rule I would have given our men if I granted them access, but remember, you said they wouldn't abide by it. I haven't offered or given them any information on our troops or on you. Although I know this makes little difference should you choose to report me."

Altermann: "I have no interest. They've abided by their end of the deal?"

Vischer: "So far. They ask for a little information now and then but I don't give it. I think they know where they stand."

Altermann: "How long has this been going on? You said months?"

Vischer: "A while now." *peers anxiously back at his house*

Altermann: "I have no reason to suspect they planted anything prior to today, and they would have had next-to-no opportunity, anyway. I'm not even sure if they did so today, yet I urge you to caution just in case, especially since I think I might have thwarted their original plan. If they had planted anything before, I think we would've found out by now."

Vischer: "You really believe they would have killed me...?"

Altermann: "I've told you already, given what they already know, they could take any opportunity to be rid of you. I think I'm probably the reason they haven't tried anything, though I could always be overestimating my own importance. Either way, better to be safe. What does any of this have to do with that prisoner, though...?"

Vischer: "One of them told me of an airman they captured a while back, who escaped their custody. They don't lose many prisoners. They seemed to think he might compromise them but I told them that even if I knew what became of him, I wouldn't help them track him back down, and they dropped it. They had a photo, though, and said he was a young Junker named von Staden. The same man I saw in the camp."

Altermann: "You're absolutely certain of this."

Vischer: "I remember his face clearly, Herr Altermann. The type of face they put on recruiting posters, not stick in a camp. Yet for some reason they believe he's a traitor? He insists he's loyal to the Fatherland."

Altermann: "They likely think he aided these people he escaped from. Especially if escapes are indeed as rare as you yourself say they claimed?"

Vischer: "He was very clear that he aided no one. Do not tell me they put a loyal German citizen in a camp for absolutely nothing...?"

Altermann: *uneasy look* "As much as it pains me to say, as I said before, sometimes all it takes is a rumor."

Vischer: "He wanted me to tell his family about him. He has people on the outside, Herr Altermann, who might not have any idea what's become of him. The people I'm in contact with have no information on his whereabouts so I doubt his family knows, either. It's possible I'm the only one, aside from the authorities."

Altermann: "And why is it that you tell me all this...?"

Vischer: "You said you would do what you can to repay your debt. You still mean it?"

Altermann: "If I'm able. What would you have me do?"

Vischer: "You knew about the SS file on me. You must have connections. Try to find out if this man is who he says he is and if the intel is correct. My heart and my gut tell me he's innocent. His family deserves to know. And, if it's at all possible, to get him out of that place." *pause* "I realize I'm putting you in a difficult position, Herr Altermann, and may be overstepping my bounds in what I ask. So I understand if you refuse, and considering what you did today, I'll still consider the debt paid..."

Altermann: *shaking head* "Nein...I told you I'd do what's in my power. I'm just not sure if it is. I'll do what I can, though. And actually, as foolish as it may be, now you've piqued my curiosity about this man, as well."

Altermann heads off, promising to let Vischer know anything he's learned, and warning him to watch what he says in the meantime, in case his house is bugged. Vischer returns to his house and peers around uneasily. His beloved refuge suddenly seems just as frightening and unwelcoming as the outside world, and he's unsure how to handle it. He looks around a little bit, but has no idea where he'd hide a bug were he the one trying to eavesdrop, so stops.

Silver Rat and part of his company arrive the next day for a standard visit. At the door, Silver opens his mouth to talk, when Vischer cuts him off with a shushing motion, then cups a hand to his ear and glances about. Silver presses his mouth shut, gives him a suspicious look, yet then starts gesturing silently at the Rats behind him, pointing them toward different areas of Vischer's house; they quickly disperse. Vischer stands in a hallway and watches anxiously as they feel and peer under furniture, wall art, cupboards. Eventually they start returning and whisper in Silver's ear; he frowns, nods, makes a "wait" gesture at a questioning look, and then gestures at Vischer, motioning at mouth, ear, shaking his head. Vischer signals for him to follow him back to the patio.

Vischer: "You found something?"

Silver: "Four listening devices." *Vischer shudders a little* "How did you know they were there?"

Vischer: "My friend suspected."

Silver: "Your friend in the Wehrmacht?"

Vischer: "He's none of your concern." *Silver stares at him* "Ja, him. That's all you need to know."

Silver: "How long have these been there?"

Vischer: "I believe they were placed just yesterday."

Silver: "And why would they have interest in spying on you?"

Vischer: *piqued* "Apparently I'm not loyal enough to the Reich. I didn't have to tell you about them, but I did. What are you going to do with them? Destroy them?"

Silver: "I think they'd actually be more useful left intact."

Vischer: "Intact--?"

Silver: "Now that we know where they are, they can be used to disseminate false information."

Vischer: "False--? I already told you. I'm not getting involved in your business, and you're not running missions from my house. If you think I'll start lying to the authorities--"

Silver: "You know full well you're already involved AND you've already lied to the authorities. As for these things, the moment we destroy them or remove them, it tips them off that you know, and they'll come for you. Is that what you want...?"

Vischer falls silent, steaming yet knowing it's true. Feeling rather tricked, he asks what exactly they want him to do. Reseda suggests--since Silver and Vischer look ready to deck each other--that the next time Vischer talks within range of the eavesdropping devices, he start by giving an erroneous bit of info, then seeing where it tracks back to. Perhaps someone specific is behind this. Tensions simmer down a little bit and Reseda takes Vischer aside to ask if he knows the real reason why the Nazis are so interested in him; Vischer replies that as far as he's aware, his loyalty is the real reason, though "I imagine they're going to be far more interested in me, now"--he describes the visit to the camp, the run-in with the prisoner, the reaction of the commandant. (He doesn't mention telling Altermann.) Reseda's surprise proves the Rats were indeed unaware of von Staden's fate after he escaped their custody; additionally, he verifies that, while von Staden was polite and didn't cause trouble, he never cooperated with them or fed them information. It's exactly as he said--he's neither a traitor nor a deserter. "Then they really did stick one of their own in a camp for nothing," Vischer says.

The next day when Altermann returns and Vischer brings up the bugs--without mentioning the Trench Rats' involvement--he makes a face: "I can't believe I didn't think of it, of course destroying or removing the devices would tip them off." He suggests trying to trace them back to whoever ordered them placed, by planting false info; as Reseda said the exact same thing, Vischer decides it must be a decent idea, and he and Altermann accordingly stage a brief conversation with false leads in it. Altermann then gestures for Vischer to follow him back outside, where he outlines what he's learned so far. The commandant wasn't very forthcoming with info on the prisoner, but finally relented when Altermann made a few vague threats ("Ugh, I hate trying to pull rank--on someone higher up than I am, no less!"), and located his ID number and name in their records: Adalard von Staden. Seeming genuinely confused and dismayed ("He could always have been acting, I suppose"), he offered to help get Altermann in touch with SS-Totenkopfverbände authorities, but Altermann said he would follow up on his own. The officials at SS-TV headquarters gave him a pretty chilly reception once he made his mission clear, but a vow to go speak with von Staden's family ("I'm sure, should they find some information's been withheld from them, they'll request an audience with der Führer") made them waver. At last he was left waiting for a few hours ("I think they were hoping I'd just up and leave, unfortunately for them, I'm used to sitting and waiting") before an official returned to fill him in on what they'd found. "You should have heard them then," Altermann says with obvious disgust, "that obsequious bureaucratic language! Such an egregious mistake and all that nonsense! If true then they have no idea how it happened and it'll never happen again! The nerve of hinting I was making it all up, Herr Vischer, I've dealt with plenty of government nonsense but I don't think I've ever been so angry." He adds that the SS promised to investigate further and, if a wrong had actually been committed, set it right. Altermann renewed his vow to contact von Staden's family if they dragged their feet--"Perhaps I'll reach out to der Reichsführer as well"--and left before he could wear out his welcome, and that was where things now stood. "I guess now we wait," he sighs, "and pray that Herr von Staden can hold on till then, as well."

Things start happening within days. Vischer and Altermann aren't sure whether it's the threat of contacting higher-ups, or genuine guilt that motivates the SS-TV to act--or maybe a warning nudge from the Allgemeine-SS to get a move on--but they locate the proper documentation that indeed shows von Staden was sent to the camp without a proper trial, and no one can even locate a witness or complainant against him; his superiors in the Wehrmacht questioned him yet never alleged any improper behavior. If anything, it looks like the allegations started with the SS itself, though of course nobody comes right out and admits anything. The commandant orders von Staden sent from work to the medical infirmary to be examined and treated for any health issues, then to the showers to wash up, then put back in uniform and shuttled out of the camp and to his parents, who embrace and cry over him before taking him home, utterly bewildered. And then the incident is pretty much swept back under the rug as if it never happened. Vischer and Altermann are both steamed over this, but Altermann admits that it was always basically ensured there would never be any punishment: "They're the SS, who's going to hold them responsible?--themselves?" He says they should try to be content that a wrong has been righted and von Staden is back where he belongs. As for his debt, "This may have been a lot of work, Herr Vischer, yet at the end of the day I was hardly in any danger, the lack of evidence was so overwhelming I hardly had to lift a finger to show this imprisonment was a sham. I'm afraid you're still stuck with me for now."

Time passes, Altermann still visiting Vischer every couple of days or so. The two of them are perplexed one evening when a soft knock comes at the back door. Vischer tells Altermann to wait while he checks, though he feels uneasy--visitors usually come to the front door. And indeed, he nearly starts when he opens it to peer out and finds Silver and several others from his company waiting there. "What are you doing here--?" he demands under his breath, "--I'm not alone!" Altermann's car is parked out front, and the Rats have never dropped in while he's there. He assumes they've just missed seeing the car and this is some kind of monumental mistake, though the look on Silver's face shows he had every intention of coming today no matter what. Before he can speak, his eyes shift to look at something behind Vischer--neck prickling, Vischer turns to look as well, and there's Altermann, staring back at them. "Herr Vischer...?" he says in obvious confusion; Vischer finds that he's lost his voice. "I figured you'd already told him about us," Silver says without the least hint of surprise, and gestures; Vischer has to step aside as the Rats enter, shutting the door behind them. "Hauptmann Altermann--? Sprechen Sie Englisch?" Silver says; Altermann furrows his brow but nods--"Can you read it?"--another nod--and Silver pulls out an envelope and holds it out to him. Altermann and Vischer share a look, then Altermann takes the envelope and opens it. Silver turns to Vischer.

Silver: "While you've been busy with other things we've had our ear to the ground. I take it from your reactions you haven't gotten the news yet."

Vischer: "What news? And why do you insist on endangering me like this?"

Silver: "I doubt you're in much danger just yet. We traced back the false information you gave out."

Vischer: *furrowing brow* "You--? How did you get hold of it?"

Silver: "I said we've been listening around. Rumors spread. We have yet to pinpoint a specific name but so far, the information's passing around among higher-ups in the Wehrmacht."

Vischer: "The Wehrmacht? Not the SS?"

Silver: "They're involved, but they aren't the primary parties."

Vischer: "But I've never been in the Wehrmacht. The SS are the ones who have a file on me. And surely I've just angered them even further with this von Staden business."

Silver: "Trust me, the SS already has far more than enough intel to put you in a camp if they really wished. They don't need any further justification. It's not you they're interested in."

Vischer: *confused* "Not me--? If not me, then who--?"

Altermann: "Me." *Vischer looks at him* "I'm the one they're interested in."

Altermann is still reading the papers Silver gave him, and looks utterly dismayed. "You...?" Vischer says, to which he replies, "I actually convinced myself I wasn't nearly important enough to catch their interest...but it's me they've been after all along. They put those devices in your house to listen in on me, not you. They just used you to get to me." "Then..." says Vischer, feeling his heart sucking in, "...then that means I led them right to you." Altermann immediately tries to put him at ease--"Herr Vischer, don't think for even one moment that you're to blame for this," yet to Vischer it's pretty obvious he is. Now, as for WHY the Wehrmacht, and by extension the SS, are interested in Altermann...this is a plot point that needs tweaking yet. I'm pretty sure it relates to Altermann's secret, the real reason he feels so much that he owes Vischer (more accurately, probably anybody) a debt; seeing as Altermann hasn't shared with me what this secret is just yet, I thus don't know why the authorities are so interested in collecting info on him that they're willing, so far, to let Vischer slide. The revelation about von Staden definitely helps draw even further scrutiny, yet it isn't the primary target of the Wehrmacht's focus. Altermann is the "big fish" they want.

Silver vows that the Rats will keep listening for further info. Vischer is crushed; no amount of reassurance from Altermann that he's not to blame helps. There's little they can do about it yet, though, so for the most part they have to just sit tight while keeping their ears open for further word. They receive another visitor one day--surprisingly, von Staden--who very quietly and tentatively addresses Vischer with, "You are the one who got me out of that place." Vischer clarifies that Altermann did most of the work; "Danke sehr to you both, then," von Staden says; "I feel I owe you a debt," at which Altermann and Vischer protest vehemently that this isn't necessary. Vischer notices how tightly he clutches his garrison cap in his hands, his very slight tremor, the way he keeps his head somewhat down, and especially the glassy look in his eyes, and feels an uncomfortable pang on recognizing himself; he invites the corporal inside. Von Staden politely refuses, though he does seem to relax just a little bit when Altermann retreats; Vischer guesses that interacting with superiors in uniform makes him anxious now. After they talk a little, he hesitantly asks, "Does it ever go away...?" Even without asking what "it" is, Vischer knows exactly what he's asking.

Vischer: *pause* "I'll be honest...it might fade, but it never really goes away. There's a reason I stay here in this house and still don't go out much."

Von Staden: *haltingly* "It just...I can't stop feeling this..." *trails off*

Vischer: *waits* "...Fear?"

Von Staden: "...Rage." *clutches cap tighter* "I don't like being this person. I don't know what to do with so much anger. Is this normal?"

Vischer: "I believe what you're feeling is normal, considering what they put you through. Anyone would be angry."

Von Staden: *takes in & lets out a breath, loosens his grasp a little* "And you say it gets a little bit easier over time?...I won't always be this person?"

Vischer: "I'm not going to give you false hope, Herr von Staden. You'll always be this person. It might get easier, it might not. But you can learn how to cope with it. You can choose what you do with it. They can't take that away from you anymore."

Von Staden thanks Vischer again--"You didn't fix my problem...but it helps, a little bit"--and starts to leave, though Altermann reappears and requests a word in private; Vischer retreats this time, and after Altermann and von Staden exchange a few words, the corporal nods and departs.

Toward the end of the story, things come to a head, and I'm assuming officials decide to make their move not just on Altermann but on Vischer as well. Altermann is tipped off to something about to happen and shows up at Vischer's place to warn him, though the warning comes too late for them to escape, and officials arrive with the intent not to take them into custody but to finish them off--with the country descending into chaos, nobody in a position to do anything about it will much notice a couple more extrajudicial killings. Altermann puts himself between Vischer and the advancing soldiers, insisting that he still owes his debt and "I'm the reason you're in this mess, anyway," despite Vischer's own insistence that he's the one who helped get Altermann in trouble. Result, as soon as the soldiers hired to kill them break into where they've barricaded themselves, Altermann is hit, though he does shoot their attackers first. He manages to spare Vischer from getting killed but is too badly wounded to fend off the next soldier who rushes in; all he gets to do is shout for Vischer to get running as well. Vischer hesitates--he knows if he runs, Altermann will be killed instead--yet just as the gunman enters, spots them, and raises his weapon--something slams into him, knocking him to the floor. Vischer watches dumbfounded as von Staden grasps the other soldier by the collar and bangs his head against the floor repeatedly, snarling the entire time and not letting up until he's no longer moving.

Once they've ascertained that nobody else is in the house yet surely more are on their way, Vischer takes a moment to gather a few items, hurry outside to the patio, fire a flare into the sky, then hurry back in. He and von Staden half-drag, half-carry the badly wounded Altermann into another room where they barricade themselves in again; von Staden stations himself nearest the doors, saying, "I can try to hold them off, but I'm only one." Still, he insists on trying his best. Vischer is left tending to Altermann's wound with the few medical supplies he grabbed. He asks what von Staden is doing there and what is going on. Altermann says that as soon as he was sure the officials were going to make their move, he headed to Vischer's house to try to protect him, but not before calling von Staden's home and requesting him to come out, too. The last time they met, he spoke privately to von Staden, telling him that if he truly felt he owed them a debt--"I do," von Staden had confirmed--then he could make himself available when Altermann might have need of a favor: "I don't have anything in mind just yet, but there might come a time when I need your help, and need to know how to most quickly contact you." Von Staden had replied that during the day he could contact his supervising officer--though still going on occasional missions, he'd been mostly working at a desk since returning to the Wehrmacht--whereas after hours he could be reached at his parents' house. He promised to come, no matter why Altermann might call him. And now here they all are.

Von Staden reports that he can hear others coming: "I'm pretty sure I can handle a few, but not all of them." Altermann suggests they go out the window and leave him, yet Vischer and von Staden both refuse; likewise, when von Staden suggests Vischer try to get Altermann out of there while he fends off the others, they refuse. Vischer protests most loudly when the other two say he should go. It's obvious that whatever happens, they're all going down together. Vischer fetches his rifle and stations himself beside Altermann while von Staden crouches near the door. A moment later, the door starts shaking as somebody starts ramming against it. "Get ready," von Staden says--when the window behind the other two shatters just as the door bursts in as well. Von Staden promptly starts shooting into the hall; Vischer manages to fire at the soldier coming in the window, but his rifle jams before he can get the next one. "My gun! My gun!" Altermann shouts; Vischer makes a grab for his pistol when Altermann lets out a startled yell and recoils--Vischer looks back up in time to see the soldier who'd just climbed in jerk back, gargling, head twisting at an impossible angle. He topples forward and hits the floor, hard. Vischer blinks--Silver is in the window now instead, and he drops in, pulls his own pistol and fires. Von Staden flinches a little but then apparently shrugs off his confusion when a handful of Trench Rats rather than German soldiers drop through the window and start fighting off those coming through the door--right in time, as von Staden's run out of rounds and was about to use his bare hands. Vischer, unprompted, grabs Altermann and starts trying to pull him to his feet when one of the soldiers who'd been shot pushes himself up, wheezing, and lifts his gun--only for von Staden to fall upon him and slam his head into the floor just like before, screaming with rage. Altermann yelps--Reseda pulls him up, and Vischer hurries to help--they struggle to get back out the window, where more of the Rats are waiting to receive them. "Von Staden!" Vischer shouts, and von Staden drops the limp soldier and hurries after them. He and Altermann seem perplexed by the Trench Rats' presence but there's no time to explain; they rush off together while the other Rats continue firing on the remaining soldiers.

They take shelter in the nearby woods, where Vischer knew the Rats were most likely to be concealed when he set off the flare. As everyone regroups, he breathlessly explains that he's the one who signaled for them. Altermann and especially von Staden are uneasy about this, though Altermann says he's already on the Nazis' hit list, and as for von Staden, "What real difference does it make?--they think I'm a traitor already anyway!" he says sourly. It's now Altermann's and Vischer's turn to be surprised when they learn that, following his release, von Staden was recruited by his own sister--to quietly fight back against the Nazis. He's been sabotaging their efforts ever since: "I love my Fatherland, but I hate this garbage that's taken it over. They want to punish me for something I never did, I may as well go through with it." Witnessing conditions in the camps firsthand, and contrasting that with the sanitized stories passed along to the outside, only strengthened his decision to turn on the Reich: "I didn't do anything to belong in there," he says, "and neither did anyone else." Despite this, both he and Altermann still consider themselves faithful to Germany, and are reluctant to go with the Trench Rats; Silver suggests they be treated as prisoners of war. Von Staden bristles at the idea but Vischer calms him down with the guarantee that the Americans will definitely treat them better than the SS did. Although still skeptical, Altermann and von Staden take Vischer at his word, and the three accompany the Rats back to their Headquarters.

Vischer, Altermann, and von Staden are kept relatively safe in Trench Rat custody; Altermann is taken to the medical ward for treatment, and while there, von Staden volunteers to help out, saying he has basic medical training and wishes to be useful. Nurse Lyndsey Skye replies that they're short a set of hands (Indigo Rat), so, scrub in, and von Staden does so and starts assisting with the other wounded. Burgundy Rat tends to Altermann's wound; he's weak and has lost a lot of blood but should make it. Vischer is allowed to see him afterward and, relieved, says, "I believe our debt is settled now." They determine that von Staden's debt is settled as well, as Altermann saved Vischer, and von Staden saved them both. "It feels a little bit odd now that it's over," Altermann muses groggily, "rather saddening, really, and...anticlimactic?" He adds that he still feels like he owes Vischer, and when he returns from his duties, von Staden says the same. "Maybe we'll just always feel like we owe," he suggests, "like nothing we do will ever be enough." It's a sobering realization, yet one they figure they have to accept. "Well, it's not like it's the end of everything," Altermann says; "we'll still keep in touch, of course, ja?" Vischer and von Staden both agree...as odd as it is, the three of them consider themselves good friends by now, and the fall of the Reich shouldn't spell the end of that as well.

Von Staden is informed by the Rats that they have his sister in custody; a group of resistance members has been brought in for questioning in case any Nazis are attempting to hide among them, and Mahogany Rat recognized the name von Staden--the sullen young woman lit up immediately when Adalard was mentioned, and asked to see him. Brother and sister are reunited at Trench Rat Headquarters, hugging and kissing foreheads repeatedly. Von Staden admonishes his sister for having taken shelter among the other resistance members--"Have you any idea the danger you put yourself in?"--which she throws right back in his face--"Take a look at you, you're a prisoner of war! Again!" Still, they're tearful and obviously relieved to see each other still alive; Mahogany tells them, when they ask, that they don't know the fate of their parents just yet, but will let them know if they're found. "We have each other till then," von Staden says. His sister asks the Rats if she can stay with him and is allowed to do so.

Vischer decides to stay with Altermann until he recovers, becoming his shadow the way Altermann was once his (granted, he kind of has to stick around the captain, as he risks suffering a panic attack should he leave his company for too long). The Trench Rats keep them in custody as everything is settled following the war's end; it's bittersweet to the three to be on the losing side, yet each had disapproved of the regime in his own way, so the collapse of the Third Reich itself is no real loss. What is to become of them afterwards is more of a concern; Vischer's freedom is pretty much guaranteed (he wasn't in military service, and remained largely neutral), though the fate of Altermann and von Staden, being former members of the Wehrmacht, is rather up in the air. The Wehrmacht is dissolved and Germany is stripped of its military, leaving both of them without any position; von Staden is quickly cleared of the need for denazification due to his resistance efforts, and has no interest in further military service, so returns to the family estate with his sister. (Their parents are another issue.)

This leaves Altermann, who, while he did help both Vischer and von Staden, didn't technically assist in the resistance, and essentially remained faithful to the Heer until the end. He resigns himself to having to face a military tribunal and possible prison sentence. Vischer and von Staden both vehemently speak up on his behalf, however; and questioning other prisoners and rescuees, including the labor camp commandant and several of Altermann's former coworkers, just confirms that while he was loyal to the army, he can't be proven to have participated in any overtly criminal activities, plus he gave plenty of signs of undermining the Reich whenever possible: "Were it up to me, meine Herren, I'd've had him hanged the moment he left my camp," mutters the commandant, facing a death sentence himself. The Trench Rats provide their own documentation verifying all this, and the Allies decide to focus their attention on bigger fish, so Altermann is let go without a trial. He's surprised to escape any consequences, though Vischer isn't: "Is it really so difficult for you to believe you're a decent man?" "Ja, well..." Altermann replies with a shrug, "...so are you, though I know it'll take far more than me telling you for you to believe it."

I'm not sure if Altermann joins the Bundeswehr when it forms later on, though I think he does, as unlike the other two, he likes the daily grind of bureaucracy. Vischer returns home and Altermann keeps his promise of visiting often. Von Staden stops by to speak with Vischer as well, asking if it would be all right for him to visit every so often just to talk; he explains that Vischer's words have helped him somewhat, and he would like for them to remain in touch: "Maybe I presume, but I like to hope we are friends." Touched, Vischer replies that von Staden is welcome to visit whenever he wishes; he'll always have time to talk to him. Reseda says goodbye, heartbroken by Silver's disappearance at the end of the war; Vischer gives him a brief embrace and tells him to look after himself: "I hope you find peace with yourself someday," he murmurs before the Trench Rat departs for the United States.

Vischer watches from afar as Germany is divided among the Allies; eventually Altermann convinces him to accompany him west, as the Soviets are taking over this area and Altermann suspects they'll be safer elsewhere, especially since he hopes to return to the military. Vischer hates to leave his beloved home, but, knowing the land is likely to be seized and divided as well--it helps that the von Stadens have also decided to head out--he takes his friend's advice, and relocates to a country home in the west. Although it's far from perfect and isn't quite the outcome he'd hoped for, he remains in touch with the people who matter, and is relatively content.

[Vischer 2023 [‎Friday, ‎July ‎28, ‎2023, ‏‎2:00:54 AM]]

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