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Fifty shades au: newt asks hermann to marry him [Oct. 26th, 2016|02:31 pm]
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The train is whispering through the snow when Hermann wakes from his doze. It’s rocking slightly, and when he opens his eyes, Newt has pulled one of curtains up and is peering out into the night.

Hermann sits up. Outside, it must be well below freezing, but their little car is well heated and he doesn’t even bother with a dressing gown, sliding his arms over Newt’s shoulders and resting his chin on the top of his head.

Newt mumbles something, but he doesn’t even try for annoyance. For many minutes, they don’t say anything, just looking out into the blazing, dancing lights of the aurora, the silent banks of snow and the little sleeping Swedish villages sweeping past.

The breathless magic of the moment is so perfect, Hermann doesn’t dare to move or speak. Newt’s body thrums under his hands with the rhythm of the train, Hermann can feel him swallow, move his jaw, trying to find something to say.

Hermann decides to beat him to it, in case he says something asinine and ruins the moment. “Thank you.”

“Um- okay.” Newt turns, the lights cast strange colours across the planes of his face. “What for?”

“Do you think I’d have made it here, like this, without you?”

Newt shrugs. “It was your idea. I wouldn’t have come up with it.”

There’s another long pause, the train hisses through a tunnel- the rattle and bang makes them jump- but it passes quickly, and the din stretches out into nothingness again, stifled by the snow and the lights and the cold.

“We’re-” Newt clears his throat, swallows again nervously. “We’re a pretty good team, yeah?”

“I’d like to think so.” Hermann rests his head on Newt’s shoulder and closes his eyes, savoring every sensation of this. The heat of Newt’s skin, the smell of him, warmth and slight sweat from earlier. The sway of their bunk and the blankets and the solid block of heat inside their car- so different from the void of cold outside.

“You have- amazing ideas.” Newt continues. Hermann smiles, the words sparking sweet inside him. “I’m not to dumb either, but you- you get so much stuff- better than I do-”

“Nonsense.” Hermann kisses his shoulder, licks a line over his collarbone- not in seduction or with any aim of anything further, just for the sake of it, for the sensation of smooth skin on his tongue and the faint heat of sweat. “It takes nothing but an effort to try and think about someone else- and you have been very good at that where I am concerned.”

“Thanks.” Newt’s voice is low, a bit husky. He trembles, but it’s not the train. “That’s- I really try.”

“I know you do.” Hermann smiles. “I might have come up with this idea but you- fleshed it out, made it happen. You thought of places I would like to see and I’ve enjoyed- well, most of them.”

Newt chuckles, “And- uh, if I couldn’t? If I was- poor again, and couldn’t do all this?”

Hermann pauses, half wondering if the sudden blast of cold within him could have come from outside. “Newton- is everything all right? Is there anything you need to tell me-”

“What- oh, no!” Newt smiles, “Nah, I’m not leading up to say I’m bankrupt or anything, just- if I was.”

Hermann nods, “Just as long as this is not some- desperate last splurge. Newton, I really don’t care but I hope you’d take better care of your finances whether you were a millionaire or poor as a church mouse.”

Newt turns, his eyes are crinkled in smiles, soft and sweet and- rather different. It cracks open a strange, liquid warmth inside Hermann, sweet and tender. “Would you want to be church mice with me, if I were.”

Hermann chuckles. “Little mice with a larder of nuts under a pew.” He kisses Newt. “I’d nest with you, you ridiculous little mouse.” Another kiss.

“For ever?” And there’s something under that, something wild and raw and wide open that takes Hermann’s breath away because this is real. This is not some silly late night rambling. The wrong word here could be disaster.

He seems to have done well thus far. “Of course.” He says softly. “Until we’re both old grey mice complaining about the new vicar and the sorry state of wafers nowadays.”

Newt half laughs, and it’s nearly lost as the train sweeps through a brief flash of steep banks, the noise rising, then fading as they move on through the plain. “Then- uh.” He fumbles under the blankets. “I’d really like to be an honest mouse- um, with you.”

He opens his hand. There’s a ring.

The breath is snatched away from Hermann as surely as if Newt had opened a window into the subfreezing night. The band is very simple, dark silver, no ornamentation because whatever Newt says he really does try and he knows Hermann doesn’t like ostentation. Hermann picks it up and the moment stretches on endlessly as the train, as the night, as the dancing aurora above them.

“It’s meteoric nickel.” Newt breaks it, half desperate, half helpless. “It came down in Antarctica and I had it shipped over and cast and I was kinda planning to give it to you when we got to Narvik because- top of the world, you know, but then we were here and it was so perfect and-”

“Shh.” Hermann covers his mouth. “It’s perfect, love. Its wonderful.”

Newt blinks, “Then, um-” he mumbles against Hermann’s hand, Hermann pulls it off, “Is that a yes?”

“Of course that’s a yes.” Hermann replaces the hand with his mouth. “Of course.” Against his lips.

Newt’s eyes close, the lashes flutter against Hermann’s nose as he pulls away. “Oh thank fuck.” The sudden obscenity makes Hermann laugh, “Because I kinda thought I’d fucked it up and this really wasn’t how I thought it was going to go- I got a whole speech worked out and I forgot all of it-”

Hermann kisses him again, firmly, shutting him up. “The best laid plans of mice and men.”

Newt hits him with a pillow.
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memelordrevan: rosslynpaladin: iamthethunder: s8yrboy: [Oct. 26th, 2016|01:10 pm]

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“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”

We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”

Or “little Jonathan doesn’t talk but does a good job herding the sheep, contributes to the community in his own way, and is, all around, a decent guy.” That happened a lot, too, especially before the 19th century.

Or, backing up FURTHER

and lots of people think this very likely,

“Oh little Sionnat has obviously been taken by the fairies and they’ve left us a Changeling Child who knows too much, and asks strange questions, and uses words she shouldn’t know, and watches everything with her big dark eyes, clearly a Fairy Child and not a Human Like Us.”

The Myth of the Changeling child, a human baby apparently replaced at a young age by a toddler who “suddenly” acts “strange and fey” is an almost textbook depiction of autistic children.

To this day, “autism warrior mommies” talk about autism “stealing” their “sweet normal child” and have this idea of “getting their real baby back” which (in the face of modern science)  indicates how the human psyche actually does deal with finding out their kid acts unlike what they expected.

Given this evidence, and how common we now know autism actually is, the Changeling myth is almost definitely the result of people’s confusion at the development of autistic children.

Weirdly enough, that legend is now comforting to me.

Yeah, the idea that there’s a world where everyone sees the world they way we do.
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starkwest: marvelousmavrel: silv3rdoe: tonys-bucky: starkwest... [Oct. 26th, 2016|12:25 pm]
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Dear anon. Re: ‘Tony Stark is nothing without Pepper’.

In the words of the incomparable Jules Winnfield “allow me to retort ”.

Why do I ’hate Iron Man 3’?

There are too many reasons to mention. In a nutshell: The script/character improbability/continuity/destruction of the suits/the ridiculous ‘twist’/directorial style/the removal of the arc reactor.

“Pepper fixes him like she does everything in his life”

I received so many messages and comments on how Tony ‘dominates’ Pepper’s life. How she does ‘everything’ for him. How he doesn’t ‘appreciate’ her. That she has ‘no life of her own because of him’. Honestly, the woman is a grown-up. She’s apparently smart enough to helm a company that leads the world so I’m fairly sure that if she feels Tony is ruining her life she could make a clean break and leave the man. Instead, she decides. “Hey, this man that I’ve known for some many years now, this man that I am with daily, that I know full and well what kind of man he is going into this relationship? I’m honestly sick of his ‘distractions’ and his ‘machines’ and his not being there for me. I’m going to bitch and complain at him until he makes me his first priority. Even though he was explicitly clear that the suit and the mission are paramount in his life.” Fair enough, her emotions, her call. However, to take on this man, this man who is so very obviously complex and unique, a man who she knows has deep seated issues with trust and giving his love, and for very good reasons, and then to try and change him and make him feel there is something fundamentally wrong with him at a time when he is emotionally falling apart is wrong. Just wrong.

People hold these two up as a guiding light of relationships but all I see is toxicity. In the original Iron Man, they were cute and there was the start of a chemistry. Pepper resembled Pepper from the comics. In Iron Man 2 there isn’t even a shadow of the strong and capable woman Pepper is. She is shrill and manipulative. Her lines become throw away and barbed “Not everyone runs on batteries, Tony”? When Tony, the man whom she knows has a difficult time expressing himself intimately, is so obviously reaching out to her? It’s cold and difficult to watch. By IM3, Pepper is a caricature. I took a ration of shit over the post I made commenting that her walking out on him during his panic attack was wrong. A ton of shit. But I stand by it. I get that some people felt she felt unsafe and needed to remove herself from him. However, her man is in pain, he asks her, all but begs her not to leave, and I do understand that she was shaken, that she may have needed to put a room between them but to throw ”tinker with that” at him as she left? Cold beyond words.

Tony is a mess you say? He has issues? Let’s just examine those ‘issues’ shall we.

Anthony Stark is a genius. Seriously, the man is brilliant. And with that brilliance comes all it’s attendant issues. We’re not just talking ‘good grades’ smart here. He is the second smartest man in the world. Like off the chart brilliant. He doesn’t see the world as others do. He views, processes and follows through differently. Not because he’s a ’dick’ or ‘immature’, but because his brain is programmed that way. This man was taken from his home, from his admittedly small family, but family none the less and held prisoner for 3 months. During which he was given open heart surgery with no anesthetic. They physically tied him down and cut into him, broke apart his rib cage and rearrange his chest. All while he was awake. Then they tortured him. Yeah, he came out of that cave with issues all right. Yet this ‘immature man’ took that incident and built his way out. No tools. No computers. Just his hands and his mind. Then he gets home and the man he sees as his father, the man whose shoulder he cried on at his parent’s funeral, the man he who looked up to and loved, reaches into his chest and tries to kill him. Then he almost dies from heavy metal poisoning and THEN to top it all off, he flies a nuke into space. Let’s hear it again for Tony’s “self destructive issues’ shall we.

“His company would be nothing without her.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing. Tony Stark was left a company by his father that was worth millions. He took that company (at the age of twenty-one, a scant few years after the death of both his parents left him an orphan, barely out of his teens) and made it profitable to the tune of billions. That sprawling Malibu mansion? Tony designed, built and paid for it. All those cars? Tony paid for. The office complexes you see in the movie? Tony. Not Pepper. All of this was done years before she even entered the picture as his PA. He loses everything in 616 and rebuilds. Tony does, not Pepper. Tony is the intelligence, the resource and the driving force behind both Stark Industries and Stark Resilient. Pepper may ‘run’ his company, but every design, every decision, every plan goes over Tony’s desk. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Pepper may schedule meetings for him but it is Tony that goes in there and owns the room. Tony was born for this, groomed for this. Tony is the one who learned to navigate the corporate world and all it’s sharks at a very young age. Learned it, breathed it and lived it until the language of business is his native tongue. It is in his blood.

Tony loves Pepper but he can and will survive without her. Don’t underestimate him. It takes more than a suit of armor to be Iron Man. It takes courage, intelligence, commitment and brute strength. No matter what you take from him, Tony will always come back. Toss him to the curb and he will get back up and beat the curb down. Help is always appreciated but he will do it alone if he has to. His company. His tech. His life. Pepper is his CEO not the savior of his world. He has been trodden down over and over, from the abuse he suffered at his father’s hand, through Stane’s own abuse and betrayal. Through kidnappings and beatings, Through stolen tech and the destruction of his family, his life and his company and it is Tony alone who has pulled it all back together.



So I’ve seen this post a few times now, and while initially I was fine to just leave it be and accept it as someone expressing their opinion, after having seen it now for the fourth time, it’s really starting to bother me; especially since there has been no rebuttal and the general consensus seems to be to accept the argument as it stands.

While I agree with the sentiment that Tony is NOT nothing without Pepper (because the idea that he is not a person unto himself is ridiculous and the anon message you received was completely baseless), the fact that this entire argument seems to have been bridled down to: their relationship is toxic and the blame for this toxicity lies heavily if not solely on Pepper Potts is deeply troubling and factually incorrect - as if the birth and the nature of their relationship was somehow orchestrated/manipulated by her and her alone.

What has to be appreciated is the fact that it takes the consent of BOTH parties to get into a relationship, ergo BOTH persons should be aware of exactly what it is they are entering into.

When Tony first kissed Pepper on that rooftop, he would have been well aware of what he would consider as his personal limitations, before pursuing a romantic relationship with her.

At the time, he would have made this CHOICE, his own, understanding that in order to sustain this relationship, compromises would have to be made. Because that’s how adult relationships work. Through compromise. Also important to note, Pepper did not coerce him into a relationship.

Now, onto the important aspect of why issues later arose in this relationship, where I should explicitly state, that entire blame should not be dumped onto Pepper Potts. No rational person, particularly one that is not super powered, should be expected to be absolutely okay with their significant other putting their lives constantly at risk. No one.

Pepper had to watch her then-boss, her friend, be held and tortured, not knowing if he would ever make it out alive, she had to watch her now-partner carry a nuke into space, at that time, likely of the idea that he would surely die. Then in Iron Man 3, she witnesses him go down hill, creating more and more suits, not sleeping, not confiding in her as to what was going on, before getting attacked in her sleep by one of his creations, without any real explanation.

Pepper is only human. She reacted the same as any person would. You talk about how she walked out on Tony when he was having a ptsd episode (which in fact was a nightmare), when I can argue the same, that she walked away after having been scared for her life. So are you saying that the importance of Tony’s experience in that particular situation outweighed hers? On what merit? Because her ‘man was in pain’????

When Tony finally draws the courage in IM3 to talk to her about his fears, her reaction ISN’T to turn away from him, but to sympathise. She then proceeds to stand by him the. entire. time. Despite Tony threatening terrorists, despite the Malibu mansion bombing, despite what Aldrich Killian did to her (because he held a grudge against Tony), despite Extremis, despite almost dying. She stands by Tony’s bedside while he undergoes his surgery because, “You’re all I have too, you know.“

If Tony, at any point in their relationship, had qualms with what Pepper was supposedly ‘making him give up’, then he was well within his rights to end the relationship then and there. Fact is, he didn’t. Because he himself, realised that relationships need work, it’s give and take. He couldn’t expect to remain reclusive/unresponsive every time she would request that he open up to her - re: Iron Man 2 plane scene + entirety of Iron Man 3.

So he does what he believes is compromise for him: he blows up his suits. Once again, a decision he made of his own accord, his own free will. Pepper did not at any point, force him to do this.

Then Ultron happens. And they go on a ‘break’. Understandably. Tony had essentially gone back on his compromise and Pepper rightfully so, would need space, to re-evaluate their relationship. A fact which Tony takes responsibility for.

No body doubts Tony’s ‘courage, intelligence, commitment and brute strength,’ but the fact still remains, that throughout the entirety of Civil War, he is miserable and Pepper weighs heavily on his mind, because as he so clearly declared in Iron Man 3, she is the ‘one thing I can’t live without.’

Once again - his words, his choice, his actions.

As for the anon’s claim of Tony’s company being nothing without Pepper, they have to clearly be trolling because that entire statement is without substance. Though it is important to accept that it was once again, Tony’s choice, to make Pepper CEO (again, she did not force his hand). Because he trusts her, undeniably, without question, obviously above anyone else. He knows that she is responsible, reliable and most certainly capable of overseeing S.I. That decision was not on a whim, and if you give credit to his genius, then you know he thought long and hard about it. Sure Tony Stark turned S.I. into what it is today, but who would ensure that as his successor, S.I. would not be run into the ground?

Yes Tony Stark is Iron Man, yes he is a genius, yes he has suffered much in his 46 years of life but not everyone in his life should be expected to conform to him. That’s not how reality works. The world does not change to accommodate you. You have to understand your limitations and be willing to compromise, otherwise it can end up being a very lonely life.

Also, I really didn’t want to go here, but I have to say, that this seems very rich coming from anyone who would support stony (yes that includes in any universe, not just the mcu) when for one, they have never been in a romantic relationship, and secondly would rather go to war with each other (in almost every universe) than be willing to compromise. Talk about the very definition of toxic. But seeing as I have very much to say about this non-existent relationship, I will leave that for another day.

Pepper Potts deserves many good things in her life. Criticism for a supposed failed relationship with Tony Stark where she DID NOT in fact, ‘bitch and moan at him until he makes me his first priority’, is most certainly not something she would ever deserve.

While it may seem like Tony Stark needs protection from the world, what say we focus on protecting the relationships he, himself considers very important to him. Instead of shooting holes into and tearing down the ironfam, why not nurture it and cherish it in a time when it feels like everybody else has let down terribly the man we all care about as fans.

#one of my friend’s texted me about this post so I came online just to reblog Juliet’s response#thank the gods for her because existing in this fandom is going to drive me to the point of insanity#I cannot believe this argument is still going around that pepper is to blame for any issues in the pepperony relationship#how abhorrent is this narrative??? like Juliet said it takes 2 people to sustain a relationship#not for one person to completely change how they feel to suit the other#it’s as if pepper isn’t allowed to have genuine concerns lest it take away from tony being iron man like lmao wtf????#when this relationship took off iron man was still new so how was pepper to know that tony would continue to risk his life#something she was supposed to accept without compromise???#if tony would have talked to her about any issues he had then she would have been aware of what was going on with him#you can’t enter a relationship and expect the other person to constantly accomodate for you#I understand the wilful need to constantly defend tony against nay sayers but when you reach into the realms of excusing all his actions#especially by pitting him against genuinely good people like pepper potts then you and I are going to have serious issues#because then you end up being no different from cap stans that do the same thing with barnes and tony#Also coming from stony fans this is the most hilarious thing because tony will NEVER care for rogers in even remotely the same way (via @tinmantonystark)

#I can’t believe I had to read op’s post with my own two eyes in 2016#wtf is wrong with the people just going all with this thinking it’s even remotely a good critique of pepper and her relationship with tony#??????#the fact that op fell for the bait of pitting pepper against tony is incredible#and all the stony blogs going along with it because they don’t like her getting in between their non existent ship#stop trying to tear down the actual relationships tony has#otherwise you’re going to reduce him to living out the rest of his days all alone#I know y'all like to complain about every single thing and live in your sea of depression#but maybe like chill for one second and enjoy the positive aspects of tony stark’s life good god (via @confused-em0)

#o.m.G#what is wrong with this fandom#are any of y'all ever satisfied with anything?????#like I’m genuinely curious#falling for an anon bait to pit pepper against tony??? seriously???#I wouldn’t even care about this post if it weren’t for the number of notes and the type of blogs reblogging this#like popular stony blogs#I mean really???#I expected better from you people#to openly support this unfounded wank towards pepper is deplorable#and you claim to support tony yet you would stand by and let others treat people tony stark really cares for like an inconvenience#wank for ts (via @teamtonysstank)

the amount of willful blindness in op’s post is mind blowing. when will the marvel fandom realise that not all fault lies with the woman in a relationship; blame can also lie with their faves.

Original Poster here:

I, like you, were just going to let this pass by until I read the tags. If you want to call me out on something by all means call away but don’t hide it in the tags.  You are not at all ‘genuinely curious’, if you were, you would have contacted me and asked rather than ranting in the tags. This post was made a year after the IM3 movie came out. So, in January of 2014. That was over two years ago. So the argument isn’t ‘still going around’ This post lay buried (and I do mean buried) in my blog until someone rooted through it (and it must have taken some time) and picked up on it a day or two ago..

I assure you, I am not at all ‘willfully blind’ and I do fully realize that not all fault lies with woman in a relationship. nor was this post made to address that. That, is an agenda you chose to see for yourself.  This is a post about Tony Stark. It is an opinion, an opinion that was written after seeing IM3 when the amount of ire directed toward this character from the Pepper fans was as high and ugly as the flaming between the Stark fans and the Bucky or Cap fans is today.  You are taking substance out of context.,

Finally, should you ever be ‘curious’ about one of my posts in the future, please be courteous enough to come to me directly rather than assuming you know either me, my mind or my viewpoints in a matter that occurred two years in the past. You will find that I am more than willing to debate any Stark meta you choose.


*epic smackdown of love*

I for one am glad these douchnozzles decided to ressurect this posts because otherwise I could never had read your brilliant articulation of just why MCU Tony/Pepper is one big nope for me.

And for people who still ship it in SLR: Look, I love Pepper, but the character I love existed mostly in IM1 and Avengers 1, and if I wrote her close to how she appears in Im2 and 3, I’d be being burned for shitting on a great female character.
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And I didn't even have the cheese [Oct. 25th, 2016|10:15 pm]
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Whoa, that was easily the scariest nightmare ever.

I dreamed there was this video game I was kinda connected with, which was kinda good only I’d gone to an opening dinner and couldn’t remember any of it, there were no photos, nothing but this drawing from an eight year old the poor kid couldn’t even look at- I had to describe it to him. It looked a bit like a grey bat/whale, hard to tell what it was because- it was drawn by an eight year old.

All I knew was that something really terrifying happened there and all through this dream there was this overshadowing of something unknown but really awful, until the last thing before I woke up was a news report on this game.

It said that the games company had discovered character designs that went beyond the usual ‘adult’ classification. They were sorted into 'medium’ and 'bad’. The other people at the dinner had seen the 'medium’ design and had totally freaked. My table though? Had seen the 'bad’.

And we’re so scarred none of us could even remember it.

And these designs had been leaked and would start appearing in games.

And yhat’s when I woke up and he’d us brain, what kinda creepy pasta cliffhanger was that? I freaked out at the sight of my clothes rack before I put the light on.
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Yikes! Poor Newt. And poor Hermann, when he wakes up, presumably as himself again. He'll be so paran [Oct. 25th, 2016|03:35 pm]

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Hermann tries to pull away, but Newt refuses to let him. They are the only two of their kind, the only ones they can be near, if only for fear of being found out.

“I could hurt you.” Hermann breathes.

“You didn’t.” Newt repeats, for the thousandth time.

Hermann closes his eyes. “I could.”

“I could hurt you,” Newt throws back, and Hermann snorts. Its a bit hurtful but- he does have a point, Newt would have to work very hard to get his little claws through Hermann’s tough dark hide. He’s maybe a little more dangerous with his teeth, but that would mean exposing his throat and- yeah.

“You’re not going to,” He changes tack.

“You don’t know that.” Hermann turns away, his spines rising to force Newt away. “I don’t know that.” He mumbles helplessly.

Newt sits up, hugs his knees. “How about we check that?”

Hermann’s spines flatten, he rolls over, stares. “What?”

“There are- places you can get restrains.” Newt says slowly,  carefully pacing out the idea. “Not too much-” that could only end badly, “But I could tie you to the- probably the basement railing- by your tail, and if it does go bad, at least it would slow you- him- down.”

Hermann hesitates, frowns in bewilderment at Newt. “But why?” It’s almost a wail.

“Because you’re gonna keep freaking out.” Newt says firmly, the idea is solid now, and it feels like absolutely the right thing to do. “And you were starving and mad, and you didn’t hurt me, maybe if you’re fed and- calmer, you might- I don’t know, get to know me?”

Hermann looks down at his hands, flexes his claws in and out. “This is a horrible idea.”

“I think getting you- it- the Victor- to be sure you won’t tear me to bits is kinda a great idea.” Newt rebuts, and Hermann shuts up. “I’ll get some really solid stuff to tie you down, don’t worry.”

Hermann takes a deep breath, “I will do it myself.”

“Both of us,” Newt says firmly. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.”
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Got asked for a ‘you nearly died [Oct. 25th, 2016|03:26 pm]
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(Somehow managed to delete the original ask, sorry! Cruella AU)

It happens so fast.

They are walking out of the labs, still arguing. He wants to expand their little semi-illegal operation into undermining the illegal fur trade directly- selling on sites like The Silk Road- Hermann is not quite so into that idea.

“And if the products are traced back to us,” Hermann snaps, striding across the pavement, “What do you think that will do to our stocks?”

Newt rolls his eyes, “I’m making this stuff, dude, of course I can make it different enough they can’t trace it. I’m careful.”

“So careful you almost got arrested-” Hermann is half turned to him as he storms over the gutter and into the road.

He says something more, but Newt doesn’t hear it, the volume knob for the world has suddenly turned down to mute, and Newt feels the rumble of the enormous truck in his bones, tastes the vibration of it’s roaring klaxon between his teeth.

Everything seems to slow, slick and liquid as syrup. Newt reaches out and his fingers close on the thick, clinging strands of Hermann’s furs. They clump and stick under his sweat-slick hands, clutching against him as though trying to save themselves.

Newt pulls, his mind jammed on the strength of the stitching, the tensile resistance of the furs he had made as they snatch tight against Hermann’s slender body, a tight little net as Newt hauls him- with the strength that makes children fight off bears and pregnant women lift trucks- out of the way.

Sound and time returns with deafening speed. Hermann’s body clashes against him and they stumble, a whirl of arms and legs and furs and the screaming, tearing wind of the huge truck as it catches them up and whirls them backwards to the pavement.

“Hooligan!” Hermann gasps, fights his way free of Newt and back upright. His face is pinched and bright red as he races after the disappearing truck. “Barbarian! Scoundrel! Visigoth! I’ll have you flogged, you upstart, delinquent-”

Newt should probably go after him. Hermann is working himself into a frothing rage and someone should calm him down. He should probably check the security footage, that guy was going easily twice over the legal limit-

His body doesn’t seem interested, pinned against the blissful solidity of the pavement. And Hermann is so gloriously alive, almost jumping up and down in his fury beside him. The furs swirling like stormclouds around him and not hanging, lank and filthy and sprayed with blood against the road.

Newt manages not to throw up, but his throat locks in a dry heave.

Hermann pauses, “Newton?” He turns, then the flush of rage drains for his face. “Newton! He hurries back, and drops beside him. “Oh Gott, he didn’t harm you?” Hermann fumbles with Newt’s coat, Newt half heartedly reaches up to bat those hands away but oh fuck it feels so good; those dancing, beautiful hands so warm and alive-

Hermann’s eyes are wide, “Newton- say something, if that- that brigand, that gangster hurt you-”

“No,” Newt croaks, he manages to lift a hand up, against the impossible pull of the Earth, and draws it to Hermann’s cheek. “Just- you’re okay. You nearly-”

“I would say so!” Hermann’s nostrils flares in renewed outrage, there are two little white marks on each side of his nose, and it rather makes him think of the General in a rage. “We could have been obliterated, that thing was going easily a hundred miles an hour-”

Newt’s stomach turns, he swallows. “Don’t.” He manages. “Just- don’t.”

Hermann grumbles, outragus interruptus, and subsides into a smoldering mutter about lawyers and the long arm of the law. But he doesn’t pull away from Newt’s hand, and even takes his free hand in his, squeezing, very tightly.
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Any chance of any more Newt/That Creature fic? Maybe Hermann starts "sleepwalking" as his alter ego [Oct. 24th, 2016|04:00 pm]
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Newt wakes up alone. He sits up, the bedroom is empty.

“Shit.” He throws the blankets off, and kicks his legs out. The door is open and a thin, cold breeze cuts into the bedroom. “Shit!”

He shoves his legs into a pair of pants, and doesn’t bother with more. “Hermann!”

No answer. Newt runs out into the narrow corridor. No sign of him. “Shit. Ah fuck.” Newt picks a direction, starts running, his bare feet slamming wetly on the damp ground.

Boneyard is empty at this hour, the base silent and breathless and cold. Newt shoves his head into the tiny cubby where Hermann works- nothing, dark and empty, the computers dark. Even thought it’s barely the size of a closet, Newt looks under the table just in case.

“Shit shit shit-” Newt runs his fingers through his hair. Come on, where would he go? Did he have a freakout and go back to Miami base? Nah, he’d have woken Newt, but what if-

“Oh no.” Newt moans, and runs flat out. The steel floor jars his heels with every step. He braces his shoulder and hits the outer door head on. 

The door bursts open, Newt half falls, half jumps down the six steps down to the cave floor. The air is freezing and Newt rubs his arms as he runs, teeth chattering. His breath huffs up in steam and his bare skin seems to smoke as he runs.

Most of the lights are off for night time. The ground underfoot is fine and ashlike, Newt stumbles and struggles to keep up a good pace, wincing as his foot hits something sharp.

He races around the wreckage of the pits, the waist-high remains of the walls. “Hermann!” He roars, but his voice is drawn up into the unimaginable space above him, choked and silenced.

This is horrible, this is a nightmare. He’s even had it a few times and Newt looks around despite himself not really expecting to see the Masters, but-

Just making sure.

He tries to remember where it was. Hermann’s memories are cloudy and uncertain, but Newt’s bare feet mark out the same steps as he had done- so many times, over the ruins and shattered dead earth, stumbling over wreckage and-

He almost trips over Hermann, in the end.

Newt skids, stops too short and falls back onto his ass. “Hermann!” The sheer relief sweeps through him. “Fuck man, what are you doing-”

Hermann doesn’t respond, he’s huddled against the remains of the wall. His eyes are open, but glazed. He doesn’t even seem to see Newt.

“Babe?” Newt gets up on his knees, “Are you okay?”

He reaches out to touch Hermann’s shoulder- then Hermann looks at him.

His eyes are wide, the pupils tiny. Newt freezes, and slowly lowers his hand. “Hermann?” he says softly, “D’you know me?”

A blink. Newt reaches to him through the Hive, and Hermann’s mind is- slack. Sleeping, lost in a nightmare.

“Ah fuck.” Newt mumbles, and floods the Hive between them with warm and safe and love. Hermann blinks at him again, but his clenched hands slowly relax. He’s still asleep, but in whatever dream he’s lost in, he can see Newt isn’t gonna hurt him.

“Okay babe,” Newt tries to think, waking sleepwakers is supposed to be okay, but waking Hermann here would be- not good. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

The vague emotions through the dream feed through faint hope and disbelief. They’re leaving?

“Yep, going now.” Newt gently takes his upper arm, and helps Hermann up. He takes two steps, then collapses back down onto all sixes.

“Okay.” Newt says firmly, “Come on sweeties, this way.” He puts a hand on to Hermann’s shoulders, guiding him slowly out of the ancient cave, through the boneyard and eventually out- out into the eternal sun and blessed warmth of the Anteverse.

Hermann looks at him, mouth open wordlessly. Newt wonder what he’s seeing, in his dream.

“Come on,” Newt encourages, “Just a bit further.”

It takes the best of two hours to trek through the puffball jungle and make their way to Miami base. The moment Newt opens the door, some part of Hermann seems to realises where they are. He pads over to the bed and drops flat on it, falling back into real sleep.

Newt groans and slides down to sit beside him, exhaustion crashing in after this aborted night of broken sleep.

Fuck the marshal’s orders, they are never overnighting in Boneyard again.
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Drifting causes immortality by ceasing aging at the point of drifting. To keep aging, you have to ke [Oct. 24th, 2016|03:39 pm]
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“They’re all gonna be jealous,” Newt grins, and leans back in the taxi cab. “Ten years on and we’re still sexy sexy rockstars.”

Hermann would have once rolled his eyes, hissed at Newt, acted annoyed. It’s been ten years and he no longer bothers. “Hmm,” He leans in, and paws through Newt’s hair.


“What’s this, are those grey hairs, Doctor Geiszler?”

“Oh fuck you, I’ll have you know they’ve been grey since I was like, twenty.” He elbows Hermann, “You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re not a sexy silver fox.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermann looks at himself quickly in the taxi’s rearview mirror. His hair is still dark, not a thread of grey. Funny, both of his parents had gone grey in their early forties. “Besides, are you denying you want to show me off?”

“Hell no.” Newt kisses him, “I have the sexiest boyfriend ever, totally showing you off-”

The taxi pulls in at the old Shatterdome. Hermann pays the driver and they both step out onto the ancient helipad, now cracked through ten years of typhoons and heat and monsoons.

“We’re not the first.” Newt points, and Hermann nods, two people are standing near the entrance to the ‘dome. A man and a woman, even from here, he can recognises Rangers Beckett and Mori.

The wall of the Shatterdome is covered, top to bottom by a steel plate that had once come from the Wall project. On it, scribed in tiny letters, are countless names.

Somewhere on there are the names of Stacker Pentecost and Yancy Beckett. As they watch, Mako raises her hand and traces a worn name.

“Hey, Mako!” Newt calls, hurrying across the pad.

They turn and- Hermann stops dead.

Gott, they haven’t changed.

Neither have they, and it’s only now, only here, that Hermann can see it. Newt, and Raleigh and Mako and all three of them could have stepped out ten years ago. Hermann could half imagine he could turn around and they could all be here, Marshall Pentecost, Herc Hansen, Tendo Choi-

“Hermann! My man!”

Hermann turns, and the illusion dies.

It’s Tendo, but - changed. His hair is grey around the temples, his eyes marked with crows feet and the smile lines around his mouth don’t smooth away any more. It’s a shock to see him. It’s a shock to see someone who’s changed.

His smile fades, although the wrinkles still flicker on his skin, a wink to time. He looks at them, the four of them, unchanged. Timeless.

Something cold locks in Hermann’s stomach. He looks at Newt, he’s trying to smile, but he’s shocked too. After ten years of always seeing the same face in the mirror, the same face across the breakfast table, Tendo has shaken him. “Hey man,” He forces a smile.

“Newt, great to see you!” Tendo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s an uncertainty there, almost fear. “You- look great.”

There is nothing they can say to that. If to look great is to look exactly the same as the last time you met, they cannot say it back to Tendo. “You all look great.” He hesitates.

“Great moisturiser,” Newt tries to brazen it out, although there’s a faint quaver in his voice. “I’ll send you a few cases, you’re back in the states, right-”

He’s trying to make this normal, pretend so hard maybe they could make it real. Raleigh’s eyes spark and he joins in, a brassy cheerfulness to cover up the fear.

Mako meets Hermann’s eyes, remains silent. She can’t look away, Hermann’s can’t. It’s like the Breach calculations all over again, something he doesn’t under stand but knows is wrong, something bad, hiding just under the surface. They don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there, unable to ignore, like a burrowed insect, under the skin.

They need to do something.
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“Getting” yourself to write [Oct. 22nd, 2016|12:08 pm]

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Yesterday, I was trawling iTunes for a decent podcast about writing. After a while, I gave up, because 90% of them talked incessantly about “self-discipline,” “making writing a habit,” “getting your butt in the chair,” “getting yourself to write.” To me, that’s six flavors of fucked up.

Okay, yes—I see why we might want to “make writing a habit.” If we want to finish anything, we’ll have to write at least semi-regularly. In practical terms, I get it.

But maybe before we force our butts into chairs, we should ask why it’s so hard to “get” ourselves to write. We aren’t deranged; our brains say “I don’t want to do this” for a reason. We should take that reason seriously.

Most of us resist writing because it hurts and it’s hard. Well, you say, writing isn’t supposed to be easy—but there’s hard, and then there’s hard. For many of us, sitting down to write feels like being asked to solve a problem that is both urgent and unsolvable—“I have to, but it’s impossible, but I have to, but it’s impossible.” It feels fucking awful, so naturally we avoid it.

We can’t “make writing a habit,” then, until we make it less painful. Something we don’t just “get” ourselves to do.

The “make writing a habit” people are trying to do that, in their way. If you do something regularly, the theory goes, you stop dreading it with such special intensity because it just becomes a thing you do. But my god, if you’re still in that “dreading it” phase and someone tells you to “make writing a habit,” that sounds horrible.

So many of us already dismiss our own pain constantly. If we turn writing into another occasion for mute suffering, for numb and joyless endurance, we 1) will not write more, and 2) should not write more, because we should not intentionally hurt ourselves.

Seriously. If you want to write more, don’t ask, “how can I make myself write?” Ask, “why is writing so painful for me and how can I ease that pain?” Show some compassion for yourself. Forgive yourself for not being the person you wish you were and treat the person you are with some basic decency. Give yourself a fucking break for avoiding a thing that makes you feel awful.

Daniel José Older, in my favorite article on writing ever, has this to say to the people who admonish writers to write every day:

Here’s what stops more people from writing than anything else: shame. That creeping, nagging sense of ‘should be,’ ‘should have been,’ and ‘if only I had…’ Shame lives in the body, it clenches our muscles when we sit at the keyboard, takes up valuable mental space with useless, repetitive conversations. Shame, and the resulting paralysis, are what happen when the whole world drills into you that you should be writing every day and you’re not.

The antidote, he says, is to treat yourself kindly:

For me, writing always begins with self-forgiveness. I don’t sit down and rush headlong into the blank page. I make coffee. I put on a song I like. I drink the coffee, listen to the song. I don’t write. Beginning with forgiveness revolutionizes the writing process, returns its being to a journey of creativity rather than an exercise in self-flagellation. I forgive myself for not sitting down to write sooner, for taking yesterday off, for living my life. That shame? I release it. My body unclenches; a new lightness takes over once that burden has floated off. There is room, now, for story, idea, life.

Writing has the potential to bring us so much joy. Why else would we want to do it? But first we’ve got to unlearn the pain and dread and anxiety and shame attached to writing—not just so we can write more, but for our own sakes! Forget “making writing a habit”—how about “being less miserable”? That’s a worthy goal too!

Luckily, there are ways to do this. But before I get into them, please absorb this lesson: if you want to write, start by valuing your own well-being. Start by forgiving yourself. And listen to yourself when something hurts.

Next post: freewriting

Ask me a question or send me feedback! Podcast recommendations welcome…

I need to read this again and again and again

And remember to read, because when you see how baseline so much famous literature is, you stop expecting such impossible standards from yourself.
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Would love to see more of any of the Newmann dragon AUs. Alternately, anything with Newt and Hermann [Oct. 21st, 2016|03:37 pm]
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They fan out across the sky, close enough that their wings almost touch. Newt is a little higher, flying small circles around them and keeping his eyes on the ground. 

Stacker is riding Herc, lying flat down on his neck in full harness. He’s got a spyglass to one eyes, following the roads lining the swollen Totten river.

Hermann is leading them, his shoulder muscles are tight from this long flight, but he hasn’t said a word. Newt hesitates, wondering if he should suggest a break. By the Living and the Unborn, Hermann is beautiful. The armor hides the worst of the scars, and the way he flies- a long, rippling motion like sunlight on water, like a ray in the deep sea.

He looks up, meets Newt’s eyes, and gives a tired smile. Newt smiles back and-

“South-southwest!” Stacker shouts, “Five tails wide, south riverbank!”

Newt sees them. A huddle of Mountlings, two, maybe three Wisichers. They are on what’s left of a bridge, carried away by the floods. they are so far over that their tails are almost hanging into the waters.

Newt is about to dive, but Stacker holds up a hand. “Hold.” He’s scanning the area around with the spyglass. “They aren’t flying over,” He growls, “Why aren’t they-”

As if in answer, one of the Wisicher does exactly that. She spins around and launches herself off the bridge. Her wings flare in a dark, gleaming rainbow of colours, ripple and dance with every desperate beat-

The bolt hits her in mid flight.

A cry splits the air, and Newt only realises after a moment that it came from him. The bolt hits the dragon just under her wing joint, and seems to burst, a mesh of netting wrapping around and snaring the wing. She shrieks, and drops like a stone.

“Alexis- get her!” Stacker shouts, and Herc echoes it. The white furred Polora dives down to the river. “Everyone else-”

He breaks off, because Hermann had swept down into a dive.

“No!” Newt shouts, and drops after him. He can see the soldiers now, the sun glinting off the steel arms of their bolt thrower. He’d only ever heard of these things- had barely believed they existed-

Hermann doesn’t hesitate, he swings over the terrified dragons, and a gout of white flame bursts from his jaws.

The wet tree bursts into clouds of billowing grey smoke, blinding and choking. Newt lands with a bone-jarring bump, the mud sucking and splattering his armor. “Go!” He shouts to the frozen crowd- “Fly, quickly!”

“There are-” One of the Mountlings looks at him, her eyes rolling in panic. “We saw three, mounted- they’re here-”

“Go!” Herc lands hard beside him. Sasha is with Hermann, tearing out the hunting nest. Pieces of metal clatter, smoking, out of the hollow. One of the soldiers tries to climb out and Hermann spins, so fast Newt barely sees him move, and his tail catches the man on the back. He screams, spinning through the air to be sucked down into the dirty brown river. He doesn’t come up.

Horns blare. Hermann rears up, wings flaring, his eyes are wide, white and rolling. Flame is raging around his jaws red on the smoking black blood there. He shrieks, and spins around, stumbling down to the road.

“Prince, stop him!” Stacker shouts. Newt pounces and lands on his back. Hermann howls and his claws lash out- then stop.

Newt looks into his eyes. The fear, the terror. Was that the last thing he heard, before his family was murdered? Those same horns? “It’s okay.”

Another blare, shrill and brassy. Hermann shudders.

“We do this together.” Herc growls. He prowls forward, nudges Newt and Hermann gently behind him. “Sasha?”

“Thirty horse, some of those bolters.” She lands almost on top of Newt, her thick fur damp and spotted red with blood.

Stacker looks at the huddled mass of starving, exhausted dragons. “Go,” He says, more gently. “We’ll take them.”

This seems to work. Maybe it’s finally sank in that the rescue has arrived. They flail over the river in wild, desperate wingbeats, crashing into the far back and crawling away into the thick brush.

Alexis soars over them in return, a fine rain of filthy water dropping down. He’s more grey than white, shaking himself like a wet dog and spraying Herc, who hops and flares his wings in disgust. “She’s on the North bank, safe.”

Stacker nods, “We have a patrol coming.” He looks around, carefully. “Prince Newt, on the right. Charge their flank on my order. Alexis and Sasha- I’m sorry, but there’s a good muddy bank down there, hunker down and wait for them to come abreast. Herc and I will hit them face on and- Prince Hermann?”

Hermann trembles, his wings rise, tail lash.

“Stay at our side.” Herc says softly, “We need your fire.”
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