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yandere-mha · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering if I could request a poly hawks miruko, is you do poly requests, where they share a darling? Their darling is a selective mute, but they thought that their darling was fully mute until they heard them scream. So now they try everything to get them to talk. Please?

Wow I’ve never thought of this pairing and I just now realized how much I love this. Their needs in a relationship clash a lot so I could see this being a very... chaotic dynamic lmao.

TW: SMUT, ORAL SEX, ABUSE, ABLEISM, KIDNAPPING, TORTURE, POLY RELATIONSHIPS.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Yandere Hawks x Yandere Miruko x selective mute!reader:

Hawks is extremely protective, restrained (usually fakes his nonchalant attitude) and constantly on edge. Miruko can be really aggressive, competitive (superiority complex), and oddly easy going when it comes to restrictions... extreme opposites.

A big difference between a monogamous yandere Hawks and one with a poly yandere Miruko is that, since she can be so aggressive, his usual mask of warmth and smiles is completely shattered and replaced with an almost constant scowl and cutting eyes almost always directed at Miruko whenever she gets too close to you or talks to you. Hawks has an aura of bloodthirst around him whenever they’re in the same room and his feathers seem to sharpen as he bristles like an angered cat. This is especially true for an s/o who is disabled because he sees you as something helpless he has to protect at all costs no matter how strong you are.

Miruko, who always has something Really Important To Say and can’t focus on anything else, will often not even notice his death glares and just continue to talk to you like nothing’s wrong. If she does happen to spot him though... it can get messy. She sees this non-verbal threat as a challenge and a sadistic smile on her face grows as she asks “What do ya think you’re looking at, chicken? You wanna piece of this? I won’t go easy on ya.”

Hawks doesn’t like to upset you, so he’ll usually just scoff and tell her to watch herself. If he catches her mistreating you, being too rough, or speaking to you too loudly, he immediately points a feather to her throat. If you don’t want one to literally kill the other, you’ll have to intervene which can be hard when you’re mute. Grabbing Hawks’s wrist and guiding his arm back down will usually do the trick though even if Miruko is still looking for any excuse to fight him for a while after, calling him names like “the great dictator”. She doesn’t take well to being told what to do or that giant stick up his ass.

Miruko will absolutely take advantage of the fact that you can’t speak to have very rough sex with you while he’s not there. Though Miruko likes to test Hawks’s boundaries, she likes the setup they have and she doesn’t want to be kicked out, so she tries to look like she’s following his rules... while he’s around. She loves to disobey him and she’s very sneaky about it. This ends up being both good and bad for you because she hurts you while he’s gone but she’s also kinda like the cool parent and lets you do things Hawks wouldn’t like. She may even take you out for lunch dates and on walks whereas Hawks doesn’t want you to leave the house.

Her way of trying to get you to talk would be pain, whether it’s sexual or just plain torture. She cackles when you cry out and says “If you want me to stop, say uncle”. She never goes too far with you though in fear that Hawks would see your bruising and injuries and she always makes sure to be able to cover them up with makeup. She’ll even tell you that if Hawks see your injuries, she’ll kill you. Then she tenderly swipes your hair away from your face and kisses you on the forehead while she nuzzles into your side on your bed. You’d better make sure to hide them well...

To Miruko, being the one to get you to talk first would also be a competition for her of course.

Speaking of Miruko’s competitive streak, she would have the odd relationship of being jealous of you for Hawks’s obvious preference to you and a desire to have her be your favorite. She thinks she can accomplish this by letting you break his rules but when she scares you and you cling to him, she also gets jealous of Hawks whether you actually prefer him or not. She also sees that as a challenge. This causes a weird cycle of resentment and affection with her. She doesn’t even like Hawks much as a person, but she still doesn’t like to be second in anything. She wishes she could be more gentle with you like Hawks but she just can’t control herself. She is only with Hawks as well as you because she has a very high libido that she needs more than one partner to satisfy, but she loves you and the way you let her bully you. The only reason Hawks puts up with her is because he wants someone to be able to watch you while he’s gone, and he’s gone a lot. This seems like a well oiled machine, am I right? (sarcasm)

Hawks’s way of trying to get you to speak is much nicer. He’ll have you sit in his lap and curl his wings around you protectively while he embraces you within his arms. He’ll only ask you to say different things like “I love you”, “I feel safe with you”, and even just his name. He tries to get you to say things he desperately wants to hear from you. As long as it seems like you’re trying to him, he won’t get mad at you if you fail. He has also experimented by pleasuring you with his mouth to get you to say something. Even if it takes him forever he just keeps trying, but he’s only patient if you put in effort too. He’ll definitely lay on the guilt if you don’t.

The reason he instills so many rules with you in this situation is because, now that you already know that he’s not as friendly and kind as his public persona and he doesn’t have to worry about lying to you to make you feel at ease with him, he feels free to let his anxious and suspicious nature be explicitly known. These rules aren’t put into place for control, but more for your own safety. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you and losing you is his worst fear that is constantly weighing on his mind. He’s absolutely paranoid. No one knows him like you do.

If something were to go amiss in this delicate balance of a relationship (like Hawks finding bruises on you or finding out that you’ve been breaking his rules while he’s away), everything would fall down at once like a tower made of cards. At least one of them is going to die tonight and there’s nothing you can do to stop it now. Just hope that whichever kind of treatment you prefer would be the victor.

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official-hawknose · 3 years

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I feel like more cats should have like. Just physical differences.

I want a kit to be born with folded ears that never stand up, and they have pain in their joints thats chronic. They take herbs to soothe them, just like elders do, but they don't retire until the pain gets too severe and they can't hunt or run or fight anymore, and only then do they retire. But they spend their entire life as a warrior, and with their ears folded, they were a little more immune to ear swipes that would bleed and temporarily blind the cat.

Or just cats with polydactyly like Blackstar. Just a few more toes, or thumbs. Maybe a medicine cat that's REALLY good at harvesting plants because they can break the stems better because they have extra toes.

Cats with bobbed tails that they're born with, teaching cats with amputated tails how to balance better. It makes those cats sturdier in the long run, and teaches any cats with normal tails how to balance without just using the tail. But who also eventually develop spine pain from their bobbed tail, and gain a limp, or a strange gait. It doesn't effect their abilities until much later in life when they're an elder and they've developed arthritis from old age.

I just want more cats w/ genetic things that might be something for them to adapt to as a warrior and not as a housecat. We know how housecats adapt to disabilities, new and born with, how they adapt to missing a leg, or a tail, or soft tissue damage. But they're often taken care of by humans & we don't often see cats on the streets like them, at least not 'designer' breeds like the Scottish fold, or manx cats.

I just want the clans to actually be Better. Deadfoot was born with a twisted foot that would've impacted how he walked and hunted, it's something he adapted to and even got to be deputy, something we don't see with ANY other disabled cat. Snowkit dies, Jayfeather is made into a med cat, Briarlight is retired. We don't get realistic disabilities. We're told in canon that cats understand blue eyed white furred cats are most often deaf, yet we don't ever see a deaf cat since Snowkit.

I want more disabled cats to be included and able to be a warrior with adaptions to the clan and how they function as a whole. The clans are a functioning society that tends to it's youngest and oldest members, it meets one of the most crucial points OF a modern society, which is caring for people that can't provide. Namely, injured cats, like Cinderpelt, Brightheart and Briarlight. Cats who were severely injured at a young age and survived because they were cared for so well

It makes NO sense that almost every disabled cat(physically at least) is retired or forced to be a medicine cat, or just killed off at the first chance.

#warrior cats #give me disabled warriors erins #i want WARRIORS with realistic cat disabilities and realistic adaptations for them #not even a fighting hunting only cat but we ALL know briarlight would be able to fight if needed #give us more specialized roles like mediator!! briarlight couldve been camp guard or something!!!!

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bbmyungho · 3 years

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Seventeen + an s/o with ADHD

a/n: sorry this isn’t an update on SNCTD; trust me, I’m just as excited as you guys to finish the story, but my mental health hasn’t been all that great lately if i’m being honest, and i’ve missed writing for svt so... two birds with one stone, y’know :) also, quick disclaimer: this specific reaction post will mainly center around my own experience with my ADHD/the symptoms that especially affect me. you may be able to relate to it, you may not, but i hope you enjoy it either way, i tried to include kind of a range of manifestations. if you don’t struggle with ADHD or ADD, i would definitely advise that you look into ways you can better understand people who do and maybe help them out, and if you do struggle with it, remember that you are valid and you matter so much no matter what your brain says or does <3 we all have days where we struggle to understand that, but i swear it’s true and i’m always here if you ever want to talk about it <3

s. coups/seungcheol

always reminding you to take care of yourself and your mental health first

he rubs your head and/or shoulders when you’re having trouble with grounding yourself and staying focused (like he does with jeonghan’s hair i <<<<</////3333)

he’s very good at disguising when he’s gently reminding you about things or encouraging you to get work he knows you have due soon done with jokes or banter (so you don’t feel bad about forgetting or getting distracted)

you bet he’s going to be up in the forums trying to figure out ways other people help out their loved ones and see if there’s anything else he can do to improve how he shows that he’s there for you

jeonghan

very gentle and patient

he hates the sound of his alarm but he keeps one in his phone to remind you to take your medicine (if you take it) because he knows if you’re doing something else when yours goes off you’ll just swipe off and forget about it

every once in a while just out of nowhere he’ll make it a point to remind you how special you are to him and make sure you know that you are so much more than your disability and you’re doing so well with it look at you go

encourages breaks like his life depends on it he really likes to hold you during your breaks pls let him love you

joshua

always brings an extra pair of headphones or an extra mask for you if you tend to misplace or forget things

he keeps reminders and notes about important events or appointments in your schedule in his phone alongside all of his stuff so he can a) know what you’re up to every once in a while and b) make sure you get there on time and prepared with a good luck text from your wonderful boyfriend :)))

he doesn’t mind having to repeat himself if you’re zoned out and he always reminds you you don’t have to apologize when you ask him to; he understands you’re not just uninterested, and he wants to help you get out of the cycle of apologizing for something you can’t control

your hyperfixations become his hyperfixations: he might not be able to really invest in them like you do but he will watch whatever show you want or listen to whatever music

plus whatever he sees when he’s out that relates to it or reminds him of you, he’ll pick it up; v supportive in your hyperfixations!!

jun

jun is a godsend for really bad executive dysfunction days omg

i feel like if you’re ever struggling to get your thoughts in order or think of the right word to say, he knows exactly what you mean and he’ll help you out with it

also i feel like he’s pretty good at keeping up with stuff if you’re super forgetful or tend to misplace things???

like you’ll be looking for your headphone case or something in your bag and he’ll pull it out of his jacket pocket like “oh you asked me to hold them earlier sorry i didn’t give them back”

probably better at keeping up with your stuff than is he is his own ffs

hoshi/soonyoung

idk if anyone else really does this but i tend to isolate myself especially when i feel like i’m being really overzealous or obnoxious

but soonyoung absolutely hates when you do that

he tries to make it as clear as humanly possible that you could never ever be a burden or an annoyance to him and he likes to sit with you whenever you don’t feel like talking to people

he’s a pretty loud and energetic guy himself so i feel like if you’re having a hard time controlling your hyperactivity he’ll just match your energy

if he catches you picking at your nails or playing with your fingers a lot (just generally fidgeting a lot), he’ll pull you up to dance with him and you’ll let some of that energy out together :)

wonwoo

i feel like wonwoo is super sensitive to your needs and experiences specifically

like he knows exactly how you need him to react when you’re on the verge of tears because you’re so frustrated with yourself for not being able to focus or when you get overstimulated

he’s a pretty chill guy anyways so i feel like overstimulation isn’t a big problem with wonwoo, at least when it’s just you two; when it does happen, he’s content to sit in silence with you as long as you need him to and just hold your hand or stare at your cute face until you feel like you can breathe again

if you’re in need of stimulation, he’ll read to you aloud or turn the sound of whatever game he’s playing up so you can hear what’s going on, too

woozi/jihoon

100% composes little songs for you to listen to for whatever mood you’re in or whatever amount of stimulation you need

i feel like he’s quite awkward dealing with big shutdowns or panic attacks if you get really frustrated or over/under stimulated but he tries his best to be there for you when you need him

much like soonyoung, if you’ll let him sit with you when you feel like no one wants to see you or you don’t want to bother anyone, he’ll jump at the chance

dk/seokmin

sweet boy is so patient and kind :(((

he doesn’t care how many times you trip over your words or have to restart a sentence, he’ll wait for you to finish and will listen intently

he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky doesn’t matter what kind of dumb shit you’re doing or saying

no matter what your brain comes up with or how out of left field it may seem, he’s always got something to say right back that will match your energy babes

mingyu

mingyu hums to you to help you fall asleep 100%

he can listen to you talk for forever so if your ADHD manifests itself in talkativeness, he’s just that much happier

he always asks if you’ve eaten and will cook for you if you say you’ve forgotten or just haven’t gotten around to it

he likes it when you play with his hands or when he feels your knee bouncing against his if you’re having trouble sitting still, he thinks it’s kinda cute and just a little reminder that you’re there

the8/minghao

minghao is a man of many talents and interests so he’s always got you with something to do if you’re feeling burnt out on your other interests or just generally bored

will grab your hand and play with your fingers if he notices you picking at your skin/nails a lot or cracking your knuckles

or like if he’s wearing rings that day he’ll hand you one so you can play with it

that way you’re still receiving some sort of stimulation but you’re not literally tearing skin off of your hand or about to break your wrists so win-win

seungkwan

he likes to play song association games with you sometimes, whether it be an attempt to help with your dysfunction or just to see how far out of line you guys can get

he always sends you a good morning text with a reminder to take your medicine (again, if you’re medicated) and wishing you a great day

if you get frustrated and sad with yourself then he’ll get sad as well and do everything in his power to cheer you up

he’s always encouraging you and making it a point to remind you that you’re valid and you’re doing your best even if it feels like you aren’t

vernon

mans doesn’t know where or what he is half the time tbh so i don’t think executive dysfunction would be too much of a problem for him

you two communicate without words all the time, you understand each other better than anyone else

he’s pretty go with the flow like he can be just as hyper and loud and energetic as you or he can just lay there with you cuddled up on his chest, it doesn’t matter to him, he just wants to match your energy

he tries to listen to you well and learn as much as he can about ways he can help when you need him to

like joshua, will probably carry around extra headphones or an extra mask or something just incase you misplace or forget yours

dino/chan

he’s a bit clueless, at least at first, but he tries really hard to learn

he probably is the type to carry a fidget spinner or some sort of fidget device for you to play with if those kinds of things help you

he’s also probably very awkward about handing it to you because idk he’s just weird??

always happy to try out new things with you when you’re feeling burnt out on your old hobbies or try to teach you a new dance routine or something to keep you occupied

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 135

I think y’all are in for a treat with this one. I won’t spoil it, though, other than to say that @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog thought this chapter was hilarious.

Think about that, please. Charly and Arthur think this chapter is hilarious.

Eyeah. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. I do not take responsibility for any injuries sustained.

As always, please don’t forget to check out the podcast! I will plug it shamelessly, so you may as well.

“Where are they?” Alistair murmured while he searched our shared office thoroughly. Had it been anyone else, I would say he was being calm, but the fact that he was searching for anything, at all, tagged it in my head as a downright frantic pace.

“Where are what?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed, despite continuing his search.

I furrowed my brows. “You haven’t even had your tea yet. Or your breakfast?”

A pale hand waved me off. “I am aware.”

Shrugging, I gave it up as a lost cause and went back to the list of evacuees that Tyche and I had drafted up. After whipping up a preliminary list of who was assigned where, we were doing a more thorough second pass to ensure no conflicts of personality. Deep in thought, I paid Alistair no attention until Parvati and Hannah arrived fifteen minutes later.

“Alistair, they aren’t here, so you can stop looking,” Hannah grinned as she took her accustomed seat.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surrrrre you don’t. Just like I’m sure you don’t know why several of the paint pens ran out of pigment,” Parvati assured him in the most sincere tone I had ever heard. My former therapist would have been proud.

I fought back a smile as he straightened and finally stopped his search, even going so far as to tug his shirt to get any wrinkles out. “I know no such thing.” With that, he turned his back to all three of our snickering faces, requesting his usual tea and scone from the food console.

Composing my face, I tried to be serious for a minute. “You should eat fast, because our appointment with Arthur Farro is in about fi - “

My door whooshed open. Speak of the devil.

“ - ve minutes early, apparently,” I finished.

Unperturbed as usual, the subject of my previous suggestion strolled in with his usual air of confidence. Just as he was going to take a seat beside Parvati, he leaned across the table. “Aww, no kiwi or pomegranate on your clotted cream this morning? Poor fing,” he said with a mocking pout.

“I am baffled why everyone believes such things of me,” Alistair grumbled into his tea with a scowl.

I sputtered. “You were using the pens on your breakfast?”

He didn’t even bother denying the chorus of confirmations from those around him, taking the higher road of sudden deafness. “Farro, I am still not entirely sure why a former warlord is necessary for discussions of an evacuation plan.”

“Warlords are generally just berserkers if they don’t have anyone to be ‘lord’ of.” Farro shot a dazzling smile as I supressed a groan. “But then again, being British, I’m sure you got confused, what with all the lords that were there in the last century without even land to their names.”

It really was easier sometimes to do things without either of them. Time to step in. “Gentlemen,” I purred in my most annoyingly ‘motivational’ tone possible, “the bathroom is right through that door, if you would like to continue your pissing contest. However, some of us have actual work to do, so whether you fuck it out or fight it out, please do so on your own time.”

Both mouths shut with an audible click, and both men looked away from me. But at least they were quiet. Sophia: 1, Whatever-the-hell-this-was: 0.

I forged ahead while I had the chance. “Arthur, thank you for taking time to meet with us regarding the plans for fortifying the safety points. I’m sorry that Tyche couldn’t be here, however she scheduled her stay-cation several months ago and frankly deserves it.” By which I meant I had bribed Derek with a nauseating amount of bao to disable any communications to or from this office from going to her data pad until the start of her first shift post-vacation, and threatened my entire family within an inch of their lives to keep them from bringing up work around her for the next week. “However, I do have her concerns and suggestions ready, I assure you.”

With a scowl, he glanced at me and stood, calling up the emitter-map of the Ark. Quickly, he sketch circles around each of the ‘bunkers’ we had designated. “Xiomara had very sound judgement in the locations she chose for safe-zones, and I honestly expected it. Between her and Evania, there is a frankly terrifying amount of strategic prowess in what is theoretically our Health and Safety office.”

“You can’t be healthy or safe if you’re dead,” Hannah pointed out.

He tossed her a wink and grin. “Touche. However, none of them are perfect. This location,” he leaned to tap and zoom on a mess hall, “is fortified, has access to food and drink, even if you have to furiously call up non-perishables and potable water, and only has one entrance/egress. A huge entry/egress, unfortunately: the door is ten meters wide.”

Parvati tapped a couple times on her datapad before chiming in. “It does close, however. And it locks.”

Arthur shook his head. “In two panels, each five meters wide. If even one is blown, the gap is indefensible. Both, everyone in there is free for the taking.”

“You are suggesting we ask Miys to narrow the aperture of the door?” I groaned when I heard Alistair leverage his overly-formal language.

It didn’t get any better when Arthur nodded. “Worst they can say is no, but the size of the door is simply for ease of access and to assuage anyone with proximity issues. Now that we all have these handy alerts - “ he tapped his temple for emphasis “ - it isn’t nearly as necessary. Noah? Bud? What do you think?”

The buzz from the ceiling was clearly amused. “I am amenable if this is a solution. As Arthur pointed out, the width of that door is no longer necessary.”

“Annnd there we go,” Arthur shrugged. “The boatwright said yes, if that’s what we want.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor when Alistair nodded firmly and stood. Swiftly, he highlighted three more areas. “These have the same potential concern. We should include those in the proposal.”

‘We’? ‘We’ whomst??? Since when were they on the same side?

“I agree,” Arthur continued enthusiastically, causing my head to start twinging in pain. “According to the engineers and the chemisists on board, the material of the Ark is remarkably fire-retardant despite it’s organic nature - let’s hear it for advanced civilizations - so there is no additional need for fire doors. There is however a possibility of concussive damage to the actual doors in any area, despite how thick the actual walls are.”

“Tyche recommended shock-absorbent material on the exteriors of each door, dropped via internal trigger and held taught by wires rather than any sort of scaffolding,” I suggested, recovering my focus. I flicked the concept at the emitter, where it was displayed alongside the schematic of the Ark. “Using wires would allow us to also store it in a roll at the top of the door, and allow pulleys to draw the wires embedded in the bulkhead down to cover the entire door.”

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “The materials she suggests are a good idea - definitely maximizes shock absorption as much as possible. My only concern is that we can probably double the flame resistance of the materials for only a ten-percent loss of effectiveness.”

Calling up my datapad, I smiled as I quoted. “ ‘However, Hannah is a professional weaver and seamstress, and therefore I defer to her on any suggestions regarding materials used, provided there is no more than twenty-percent loss of efficacy’. Apparently she did the calculations and had Charly and Conor both check behind her - anything below twenty percent loss, and the blast would blow the doors.”

“And when did the more sensible Miss Reid learn engineering?” Alistair asked in what sounded like genuine curiosity.

“Tuesdays - I think?” I scrunched my face and searched my memory. “It was something very important when we were cosplaying.”

Arthur snorted, but gestured an apology when Alistair affixed him with a downright lethal glare.

Hannah ignored them both. “Wool… We should be able to synthesize raw wool, instead of the plant based materials here. Best of both worlds - fluffy, incredibly flame resistant, and disperses concussive force like nothing else. Line it with silk for shrapnel? We should be good.”

“Fortress defense via quilts. I like it,” Arthur grinned savagely.

“There is a reason tapestries were so important in the Middle Ages,” Alistair snarked at him. “Both flame resistant and insulating, both very good qualities when you see by torches and candles in a drafty residence that echoes like a cathedral.”

Arthur held his hands up in surrender. “Not arguing, no worries… Genuine respect, swear.”

“Better…”

“Annnnd forging on from whatever-the-fuck-that-was,” I interjected, trying to focus on the topic at hand rather than… well, whatever the fuck that was, “That’s overlarge entries and concussive force taken care of. What other concerns did you have, Arthur?”

“Frankly? Camouflage,” he told us sternly. “The best way to protect against an invading enemy is to make it so hard to find you that it isn’t worth the effort. All these defenses are good an all, but… they’ll stick out like a sore thumb and practically scream ‘Hey! We’re in HERE!’ “ I stifled a laugh when he hopped and waved his arms furiously.

“Very dignified, Farro,” Alistair sniffed as he stood to get more tea.

“I know, right? I’m so classy…”

Rolling my eyes and still regretting having them both in my office at the same time, “We actually have the camouflage solved for.” You could have heard a pin drop, all four of them frozen, mouths open. “It came through this morning from Zach.” I swiped the fortress-quilt specs down, and popped up the plans for the camouflage. “We’re thinking on the visible spectrum, since humans are sight animals. Zach went with a ‘most common denominator’ approach - scent, infrared, acoustic, everything but electromagnetic vision. The quilts cover the infrared and the majority of the acoustic issues: if any body-heat shows through fifteen inches of fluffed wool and a bulkhead door, we’re doomed no matter what.” I highlighted a line of data. “Scent, likewise: Zach is suggesting aeresolized, low concentration sulfur throughout the majority of the Ark, excluding the safe-zones. The safe-zones will also have one of Miys stationed in each one, acting essentially as an air scrubber. This will minimize acoustics from active air filtration, while also adhering to Miys being a non-participant: they will be present to ensure our comfort due to minimizing body odor, nothing more. This was already planned, the fact that it will protect us from being detected by scent is just a lagniappe.”

I waited for the thoughtful nods to pass and decided I did not see the glance that Arthur and Alistair exchanged. As long as they didn’t draw blood during the meeting, I would let it slide. “Where it gets sticky is neuroelectric. Zach, it seems, took a page out of Charly’s manual-of-mischief.” I zoomed in on the specific line of the prospectus and waited.

“He wants to what?” Hannah asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I like this,” came the ‘devil’ in ‘devil’s advocate’.

“How would it even work?” Parvati asked, genuinely curious.

I chose that one to respond to. “Just like the microfilament wires that will support the quilts, he wants to cover the walls inside several false locations with a mesh and electrify it to mimic human synaptic energy. Needle in a haystack theory.”

“Wait,” Alistair held up a hand to interrupt. “Are you also proposing that the doors to these false locations will be covered in the quilts?”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “Given how far from prospective entry points all of the safe-zones are located, they would run into several false locations before they encounter a real one.”

“And if they decide to tear into all the locations, even the false-positives?” Arthur poked, trying to find a hole in the idea. Which, I had to concede, was why he was even here instead of sending me messages for this.

“What if they decide to tear into every mess hall? Or every door? We can’t plan for everything.” I shook my head. “However, we can factor in a few things that seem pretty consistent despite species - Beings who don’t have legitimate work and take slaves are generally prone to laziness, despite somehow working harder to avoid work than I have ever actually worked a day in my life. Point being, give them enough false positives on the way, they won’t actually search everything no matter what they say.”

“Speculation and hearsay, not admissible in court.”

“Au contraire, mon frère. Charly did the sociological analysis on all the species most likely to be pirates in the region of the galaxy where we will exit relativistic space, and her estimates are that the plan has a sixty-to-eighty-percent chance of success in the event that all human combatants fail. And I, personally, agree.”

He conceded a low whistle. “Damn. If I didn’t like Evan so much, I would say Charly is being wasted with Huynh. Objection withdrawn.”

“Quite,” Alistair agreed smugly. “Miss Harper’s plan is a sound one. The Archives, however - “

I interrupted, still irritated about the topic. “You will be stationed immediately inside the doors to defend against any intruders who make it that far, while Tyche will be defending the y-junction between the speculative fiction and historical fiction categories to prevent intruders from reaching the actual people.”

“But the religious studies section - “

“Has already been scanned down to a molecular level to preserve the information, even if we can’t restore any actual artifacts,” Parvati advised in a profoundly bored tone. “You do realize that anyone who reaches that section will not be able to reach the actual people from there without doubling back, right?”

“Miss Fletcher, there is a Gutenberg Bible on this Ark, potentially the last one in existence.” The tone was icy enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Phee,” Arthur threw out, guaranteeing my irate attention, “Is there any issue with moving the Gutenberg to the Speculative Fiction section until we meet with the Ekomari fleet?”

“Are you seri - “

“Not to placate the Monarchist, I swear. Just - that is a profoundly important historical artifact, even if I agree with nearly none of the contents. The start of the Information age! Literature in the hands of the vulgar masses! Your field of study would have never existed in the form it was without that achievement. Who cares if the first use was to print the frickin’ Bible?”

Before I could object, Parvati added her prodigious two cents. “I do not have to be Christian to appreciate the illuminations in a manuscript, any more than I have to be a Muslim to be brought to my knees by the beauty of a mosque. We can appreciate the significance of something regardless of whether we agree with it or not.”

“This is probably where Charly or Tyche would point out that I am a huge fan of laws against animal abuse, despite firmly believing that Hitler was evil incarnate,” I sighed. “Yeah, we can move the Gutenberg Bible, provided - hang on, stop cheering - PROVIDED - “ I paused to make sure they were all paying attention, “that any other works of significant cultural or historical significance are moved as well. Any first additions, significant religious texts - or in lack of ‘significant’ religious texts, just a copy of each that is agreed to be acceptable by all who follow that religion. A copy of Frankenstein, The Tale of Genji, et cetera.”

I knew my request brooked exactly zero argument from Alistair, as his eyes visibly shone when I added more books to the list. What I waited for were any objections from the other three.

Sure enough, Hannah tentatively raised her hand. When I nodded, she spoke up. “I think we should do a kind of Voyager-plate: a copy, even just digital, of all our texts around music, crafts, technology, mathematics… Art, fermentation, food preparation and the history of it. Not just for this scenario!” she insisted urgently, “For any worst-case scenario. Keep a copy, or several. And put those copies, along with all the relevant artifacts that we have on board, and keep them with the people in the Archives, in the safest part of the ship.”

“Where it would take a black hole to destroy it,” Parvati whispered.

Just as the tears were threatening my eyes, Arthur flopped back in his seat and kicked his boots up onto the table. “Jesus fuck, you guys are depressing. Right, but depressing. It’s doable, though. We just transcribe it into the most common language for each version of ‘language’ in the Galaxy…”

Alistair snorted. “You warlords and your short-sightedness. Clearly, the resolution is to transcribe it into the most common language in the Galaxy with instructions on how to translate it further down.”

“No, you limey-ass bastard,” Arthur growled. “Too much is lost in translation - there is a reason the Qur’an and the Sefer Torah should never be translated to be considered valid.”

Nope. I wasn’t dealing with it. We had covered all the necessary topics, I could message the rest. I twitch my head at both Vati and Hannah, at which point they both rose from their seats. Neither was noticed by the arguing men.

Arthur was mid-sentence when a quick strike from Vati to the top of his spinal cord rendered all his words gibberish. Rather than realizing this, he glanced down at his suddenly-tingling fingertips in confusion. Hannah simply hauled Alistair out of his seat and ignored his squawked objections, her shorter but sturdier frame more than a match for his tall, slender frame and brain that was very much against violence towards women but undecided about how to stop them from chauffeuring you out of a room.

With exactly zero ceremony, both men were deposited in the corridor, to the satisfaction of all three of us. I waggled my fingers in a farewell. “Fuck it out or fight it out, I don’t care. But not in my office. Ta!”

I could not hold back the smile anymore when both started pounding on the door for entry, not realizing I had disabled their permissions right after the first volley had been thrown. It was almost habit, at this point, to disable their permissions to my office when they started bickering, only to restore them when they decided to act like adults.

Clearly that wasn’t the case this time. Oh well, maybe in a couple hours. I would need to ask Xiomara to do a ‘sensor test’ of the gym and med bays to be sure.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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sixx02 · 3 years

Text

Dislike

Nora usually liked people, it was rare for her to not get along with others. She could only really remember a few that caught her ire, however, when her ire was earned it was hard to get rid of.

Turquoise eyes stared across towards emerald ones, ones that had recently caught the attention of her precious sapphires. She didn’t like those yes, she didn’t like them in the slightest! This girl, she suddenly barged into their lives, into something she had no right to barge into and decided that she’d be part of it? She wouldn’t allow this, she wouldn’t let any of that happen.

Despite this though, she knew she was being unfair, Pyrrha wasn’t her no matter how much they looked alike. She knew that this girl hadn’t hurt her Jauney, she knew that she wasn’t that bi… that monster who broke his heart and used him to elevate herself. But still, still she couldn’t let it go. She didn’t want to see her brother hurt, she didn’t want him to go through the pain that he’d been put through once more.

She would play nice for now, fist clenched she’d grit her teeth and bare with it, for now. She wished that the orientation wasn’t as boring as it was, she wished that it would hurry up so this day could be over. She hoped they would attend different classes, that they wouldn’t run into one another.

So, with all her fury and anger, with all her hate she volunteered when they had asked if anyone wanted to show what they were made of. They were giving her a chance, a chance to vent, and when they were asking for volunteers to be her opponent well Nora couldnt’ help but volunteer little miss red.

They were given standard training gear, nothing special, she was able to find a standard metal mallet. At least she’d have something familiar to use when she squashed that annoying girl. She ignored the oos and awes of the crowd around her, for some reason they had given her the dumbest look when she challenged Red. They must have thought she was crazy or something, apparently little Red was special. She didn’t care, that wasn’t going to cut it against her, Nora’s fought special. She’s fought a monster over and over, but this girl in front of her wasn’t Rouge, they may both have been Red’s but one of them wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the other.

She readied herself, little red had gathered a sword and shield. Now she felt that she was just copying Jaune at this point. Speaking of the doof, she felt her anger grow as her brother stared at the red head with awe. Apparently the use of similar weapons really got him excited.

She rolled her eyes, her brother should only be looking this way, not… not at that… that thief!

“FIGHT!”

Nora wasted no time, her body crackled with lightning, she was going to finish this in one blow! Dashing forward lightning surged around her, the sounds of well shock were snuffed out by her adrenaline. Moving forward she slammed her hammer down, however something was off. She missed her mark, Red moved away slightly and avoided the blow entirely.

The ground beneath Nora splintered as sparks radiated front he base of the hammer head.

Instinctively she moved back, the shield nearly butting her across the face. As she did though a blade came swiping downwards to cut off her escape. Nora let go of her hammer for just a moment, her aura flared and sparks jolted from her being.

The red head instantly jumped backwards to avoid the current shock and awe tactic. Once more Nora moved, grabbing the hammer again she did a horizontal swipe, trying to blow her away with a golfswing. However, once more something was off, the hammer didn’t move as she wanted, there was some kind of resistance. So she did what she did best, she muscled it. Sparks ignited on the hammer as she added more force, breaking through whatever it was that was holding her back.

However, it hadn’t been enough, the redhead dodged once more. She was so infuriatingly slippery. She felt a shield crash into her face, but a wicked smile bloomed. Instead of backing away she gave the shield a good ol fashion headbutt. Her sparks flowed through the metallic shield and the redhead backed away wincing in pain as she dropped the shield for now.

Then something happened, instead of continuing with her weapons the redhead dropped her sword too. Opting instead to bring up her fists, so that’s how she wanted to play. Nora felt the same actually, the hammer wasn’t going to cut it, the girl was doing something to it and she wasn’t going to make any headway whatsoever. Nora growled as she tossed the hammer away, she didn’t miss the look of shock in the red… no Pyrrha… Pyrrha’s face.

“Right then, we’ll settle this the old fashioned way! Try not to get pulverized princess!”

To her surprise, the red head smiled, a huge beaming smile. “Yes! I agree! And I’m not just a princess! I’m a warrior Princess!”

Okay… okay so Nora got a chuckle out of that one. Dashing forward sparks flowed freely from her body. Her hands coming down in a makeshift hammer blow, she watched as Pyrrha dove into her electrical field, this surprised her.

For her efforts though, she received a rather impressive upper cut, one that would have thrown most people off balance. But Nora wasn’t most people, despite the heavy blow to her aura, and the constant use of her semblance she did what she did best, she used her head.

Clenching her jaw, trying to keep her brain in place she shifted forward, and with a heavy blow she met Pyrrha’s head with her own. A loud thunk resonated through the room as surprisingly Pyrrha did the same.

Thankfully she was outright stronger, able to push Pyrrha back, however, she was soon grabbed. Her sleeves were pulled on as Pyrrha grabbed her bearings, pulling back and rolling over using her arched back as a pivot she sent Nora sailing through the air. Having used her momentum from the initial attack Nora hit the ground with a loud thud.

“Okay, that hurt…” Getting up she turned around towards the girl, and still she had the biggest smile on her face! What was wrong with her! Though, if she were to look in a mirror herself she’d have her own massive smile.

Off to the side she missed her brothers talking.

“Lie?”

“Yes Jaune?”

“I’m scared… but also really impressed!”

“...Me too.”

As the two boys did their own thing, the girls continued to battle. Everytime Nora thought she’d land a solid hit, Pyrrha would slightly dodge it. It was infuriating but fun, she was amazed that the little warrior Princess was able to dodge her blows so well. She hadn’t expected anyone their age to keep up with her! This was thrilling, a thrill she couldn’t get from anyone else.

Not even when she fought Rouge, with Rouge it wasn’t about winning, it was about trying not to get splattered, but here she was on equal footing with this girl she’d just moments ago hated.

“COME ON! MORE MORE MORE!” Nora was having the time of her life! “BRING IT ON PRINCESS!” Her fist made solid contact with Pyrrha’s gut, or at least it should have, but she felt her move with the blow again, thus dampening it.

“Anytime!” Pyrrha’s blow came from a jab to her jaw, one that would have disabled any normal person. But Nora was anything but normal! She grabbed Pyrrha and attempted to pin her to the ground, but was surprised when she was thrown again.

This time she caught herself in a basic roll, flipping back up, though to her surprise the redhead was already upon her, her eyes glowing in sheer joy!

Nora felt her stomach buckle as Pyrrha’s knee landed against her. Her response was simple, once again use her head. Once more she gave the girl a good solid headbutt, which again Pyrrha returned.

By this point both of them were getting fatigued, sweat dripped from their brows as they jumped away staring one another down. They were able to launch at one another again when the signal was called.

Both girls stopped centimeters away from one another, their fists already clenched.

“That’s enough! Nora Valkyrie Arc’s Aura has dipped into the red!” Both girls eyed the monitor, Pyrrha’s aura was only a percent higher than Nora’s, if the battle had raged even a little longer there was no telling how it could have gone.

Silence filled the room as they stared each other down. Jaune and Lie both gave anxious looks, at least till the two girls turned towards one another. Nora extended her hand first and Pyrrha took it. “THAT WAS AWESOME!”

“Indeed it was!”

Both boys felt relief hit them as the girls suddenly beamed with glee, it looks like Nora found a new friend.

#RWBY #Pyrrha Nikos #Nora Valkyrie #Jaune Arc #Lie Ren #Team JNPR #Lil JNPR

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thessalian · 3 years

Text

Thess vs Commentary

Things at work that are probably supposed to be nice but live in that midway space between aggravating and mildly insulting, and thinking about it, they all relate in some way to my chronic pain:

The other week there was a conversation involving a staffer who started while I was off sick trying to get my fibromyalgia diagnosis sorted out. I don’t remember how it came up, but I made mention of my primary philosophy of life, which is, “If I made someone smile today, the day has not been wasted”. New Girl went, “N’aww! That’s so sweet! You’re a really nice person! I didn’t think you were, but I guess I was wrong!” Now, I hadn’t spoken more than ten words to this individual. Most of what she saw was me trying to get to and from my chair, and attempt to work through pain. Plus I’m not exactly sunshine, lollipops and rainbows in general, especially not at work. I’m polite but serious. I have a job to do, and I’m trying to do it through pain, and that’s going to not involve a lot of smiling and random conversation. Especially when we’re backlogged and I’m trying to help clear that backlog while my body’s screaming at me.

This sweet old lady who’s been there way longer than I have asks how I am every day I give her the chance. I try very hard not to give her the chance, because it manages to come across as “I was shooting for sympathy and ended up with pity and mild condescension”. I mean, honestly I hate the question when it’s asked with that amount of regularity, just in general. I hurt; that’s how I am. It’s not going to change. I don’t feel the need to report to you about whether I’m having a bad pain day or not. If I’m having a bad pain day, I don’t want to talk about it, and I want to think about it even less. If I’m not having a bad pain day, I probably still hurt but I just want to enjoy the relative freedom from it. So don’t, okay? Especially at work, with my manager sitting right there. It’s baked into my fucking bones to downplay things in front of The Bosses Of Me. And then I have to live up to that lie. And that just makes it worse.

So, yeah, I hate it in general, but I particularly hate it when it comes attached to, “Well, at least you look well! Even though you’re not!”

......Yeah; that’s the fucking problem. People are a lot more likely to downplay my need for accommodations (like swiping the priority-for-disabled seats on the bus from under my nose, or expecting me to give way to them on stairways and doorways and corridors - and all of that is with the cane) when I look well. People accuse me of faking when I look well. I don’t need the reminder of why I struggle more than I have to just trying to get from point A to point B.

And then the other day I got the overdose of pity in, “Oh, I am so sorry; that must be awful to have to live like that! I couldn’t stand it!” ...Yeah. Yeah, it’s not great. It is pretty awful. But it’s forever, and I have to live with that. I do have to live like this. I have to be able to stand it. And part of that is trying not to dwell on it. I can’t ignore the limitations I have, but I can keep my life as normal as possible in spite of them, with proper self-management and hopefully a workable medication regime. The last thing I want is to be reminded, at random, when I’m trying to come in and do work on a pretty bad pain day that’s managing to avoid being a crippling flare by inches, how awful my situation is.

Thing is, I haven’t said anything to her. I will, if I can ever put into words, “I know that you’re trying to sympathise and show support; just all this does is remind in a forcible way how bad my situation is, when I’m trying to adopt coping strategies to live with it in a more constructive way than your phrasing allows. Please just treat me like you normally would, beyond offering help if I seem to be actively struggling.” But I haven’t had the spoons for that conversation yet. And, again, having it in front of my fucking manager. Who, at the very least, is doing exactly what I need - treating me like normal and accepting my limitations without comment.

I dunno. Maybe I’m being too sensitive. Just there’s a certain brand of “Elderly English Lady Sympathy” that sets my teeth on edge at the best of times. Her behaviour ... is basically its purest form. I just want to avoid hurting her feelings because she really does mean well. I just need to remind myself that I can and should balance that with my mental health needs.

#Thess has fibromyalgia #Thess has a day job

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thatnamelessbutler · 2 years

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(OoC: Like, in general, insect wings are known to be very fragile- like, it's one thing to tamper with feathered wings, those at least have some chance of healing depending on the injury, but insect wings, like those of a butterfly or a moth? They don't heal, best you can do for an injured moth or butterfly is take care of it and give it a nice home for however long it lives for.

Is the Egg willing to cause lasting, permanent injury like this? Would Billiam even risk it- insect wings are notoriously fragile; would he even touch them? How would Hubert feel about this- he's a bird, and though he's never truly known flight, he'd still know how devastating a loss like that would be.

I also know for a fact that the guests at Billiam's parties have no qualms about laying hands on Butler, even if it's with the intention of hurting them- this is simply a particularly horrific thing a guest did, likely horrifying even the other guests and definitely speeding up the events of the night for certain. Or maybe this happened towards the end of a party, with Bu getting grab by the wing...could this have occurred before Bu and Bi even met, perhaps by someone at the orphanage? I mean, adults are cruel, and kids can be careless...

...how would this effect how Butler is viewed by others like them? That's another layer to this whole thing- Bu's been maimed, that's traumatic enough on its own, but how does this affect him culturally, socially?

...did Bu even get to fly before he lost the ability to do so? ...would the Egg use the promise of being able to fly again on Bu?

Oh my god there are so many different things to think about WHY IS CHOOSING A CANON SO DIFFICULT-?)

((ooc: Sweets I gotta answer this before I get to bed, this is why I love talking with people about these things >:D

Insect wings are notoriously fragile, but I'm not too sure even someone like Billiam would know that. We, with our willingness and availability to learn, take every chance we get, but rich people have all of the resources and none of the want. They don't need to know these things - their servants know for them. Even Billiam, as much of a bookworm as he is, has a low chance of even getting to books like that in his library. Perhaps someone would've told him, once, or maybe never.

Now, as for the orphanage. I feel like you do have a point there, they would mess with Bu's wings too much. But this why he stays away, so he doesn't get hurt. He can go around outside, just generally stay away from everyone who might hurt him. And while it might not always work, it's enough for him to at least heal what may have been hurt as best he can. He can swipe potions to do so, too.

Hubert understands the dangers, and he's extraordinarily careful around this child who can be hurt all too easily. He makes sure Billiam is too, in a very discreet way.

If Butler were to anger the Egg enough, not only would it threaten his wings but it would lay vines along them. Not only can it easily rumple and break them, but it brushes away the dusty scales that help with aerodynamics, so in a way it's that "would stab as a warning" meme. The Egg, however, malicious as it may be, also understands the dangers of doing this, not just for Bu but for its relations with him. So it would try its best to not break them entirely.

With all this in mind, it seems a guest would be the most likely cause, unless Billiam tore their wings in a fit of rage. Simply messing around with them out of uncaring curiosity, grabbing and twisting them as a punishment, or simply abusing him to see his reaction. Either way, it seems just having a chunk pulled off would be the most likely outcome, instead of nearly the entire wing.

Butler is a sort of Avian/Elytrian, meaning their wings are unique and there would be little, if any chance of finding another with bug wings. But if they did, they would get sympathy and pity, seen as a disabled person is in our society - lesser, weaker, either something to poke fun at or someone to coddle. He's unable to fly, after all, and though he knows he couldn't live without his wings(possibly literally) it makes him want to rip them off.

He does, in one timeline I've thought of. The one where Billiam tears a pair of them at the base as a punishment.

Lastly, yes, he had flown before losing that ability. though wobbly and self-taught. And yes, the Egg would use the promise of giving his wings back- if he let it inside his mind.))

#Relyn Records #long post #REALLY long post #abuse tw #abuse ment #ask to tag #if you want me to go more in-detail about that second-to-last bit abt him tearing off his wings i would be glad to but i gtg to sleep now #gn everyone <3 hope i've harmed you greatly

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twiistedgalaxies · 3 years

Text

Cuck for One Uses Tinder

"All for One, infamous boogeyman of the underworld, felt his non-existent eye twitch as one of his minions slid a stack of forums onto his desk. They were divorce papers. In a matter of moments, said minion became a red smear on the office wall. He had broken out of Tartarus for this nonsense? Seriously??"

A/N: I'm sorry, I don't have any excuse for this. I woke up in the middle of the night with the plot idea for this fic and thus this monstrosity was born. Bone Apple Teeth.

All for One, infamous boogeyman of the underworld, felt his non-existent eye twitch as one of his minions slid a stack of forums onto his desk. They were divorce papers. In a matter of moments, said minion became a red smear on the office wall. He had broken out of Tartarus for this nonsense? Seriously?? Made even worse was the fact that, with the aid of search, he found that All Might, kami damn him, and his now ex-wife were constantly spending time together. He had half a mind to head to the apartment complex that he owned and paid for and reclaim what was his.

“Sensei?” A familiar, raspy voice spoke up behind him and he felt the onset of a stress induced headache. The brat was meant to be his successor and potential replacement body. Unfortunately, those damn heroes had broken into the hospital before he could be fully developed, and All for One had to fish the young man out of a decayed crater the size of several city blocks before he could be thrown in Tartarus in a cell next to him. He wanted eventual retirement, and has had his plans foiled at every turn.

“Yes Shigaraki?” he replied, standing up from his chair.

“What happened? I underwent the operation one minute and the next thing I knew-”

“Ah, that. You were awakened several months before you were meant to. That’s why I called this doctor here to-” He glanced at the red stain, realizing that the man in question had been eviscerated in his divorce-papers induced rage, “-No matter, I’ll do it myself, come.”

All for One led Shigaraki down a series of winding hallways and stairs into a room filled with large test tubes and the few Noumu that remained after the raid on Dr. Garaki’s hospital. He stood before one that was open, not yet filled with the preservation fluid that left the Noumu in suspended animation. “Everything should be calibrated properly, if you’ll just step inside, the process will resume.”

Shigaraki scowled, “I’m not doing this for you,” he clarified, scratching the back of his neck, “This dream is my own, this is just the means to an end.”

If All for One had eyes, he would have rolled them with disdain, instead he said, “Sure, just step into the machine Tomura, or would you like to remain in your half-finished state?”

The young man let out a huff and begrudgingly complied. All for One injected him with enough anaesthetic to subdue a horse and closed the convex glass door. He fiddled with the controls for a moment - he hated being, for all intents and purposes, blind - and soon the tube was filling with preservation fluid as Shigaraki’s upgrades resumed. It was only then, in the greenish glow of the underground laboratory, that All for One realized with some dread that he had months of unfilled time on his hands.

-@~*^*~@-

All for One’s first course of action was to break into the bedroom of a young girl on the UA campus. He had, through his various underground contacts, heard of the Overhaul incident. How a man so incompetent had managed to go so far in his plans baffled him. Truly, the state of the hero industry has fallen since his prime. It was not the man’s fanaticism nor his sadism that fascinated him, but rather the child he’d had in his possession that was now under UA’s care. Her quirk, Rewind, was rather interesting with infinite and overpowered applications. He’d be tempted to take it for himself permanently had she not emotionally latched herself to a certain, green haired teen that proved time and time again to be a thorn in his side. It was simple enough to slip through UA’s security in the dead of night, to disable all nearby cameras with a mere flick of his hand. It was a wonder what a technopathy quirk could accomplish.

She was asleep, small face peaceful. He could feel contentment radiating from her. Likely having a good dream, he mused. Gently, All for One placed one of his large hands on her forehead. He borrowed her quirk, and felt his body rewind several years, before his fateful battle with All Might. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept across his face as he opened his eyes for the first time in nearly a decade. Quickly, he returned Rewind to her and used a warp quirk (the same one he used in Kamino) to leave the premises. There was no need to alert the heroes to his restored state. Yet.

At least he’d be able to show up to his divorce hearing in person, though it would take every ounce of willpower he had to not level the courthouse.

-@~*^*~@-

All for One was lounging on his couch in his makeshift home and using his phone in an attempt to understand The Youth (which to him, was anyone who wasn’t in a nursing home). On a whim, he installed Tinder, it had been decades since he really got into the dating world. His lover has been villainy, generally being an asshole, and terrorizing aspiring heroes. Having to wait for his plans to unfold was making him restless. Anyways, he was planning to get into politics now that he had his face back, as a way to enact social change without having to deal with a slew of moronic underlings. It didn’t hurt to build the foundations for his retirement, and having at least some people in his life could make him more relatable to the public and help his long term goals. He was planning to use his ex-wife and estranged son for this, but the divorce threw that plan out the window. People don’t tend to trust those who spring into existence seemingly from nowhere. (To be honest, he was just lonely, not that he’d admit it to anyone, especially not himself.)

Where was he? Ah yes, Tinder. As it stood right now, he was swiping through the incredibly vain and shallow app, no one had truly caught his eye. No one that is, until his gaze (and didn’t that feel good to say?) landed on a disheveled man with long dark hair, stubble, and dark undereye circles that stood out against his pale skin. Aizawa Shota, 31. Eraserhead. He was tempted to swipe left on impulse when he paused. Getting close to heroes could be convenient to his political goals. There was no better or more ironic way to take out the hero commission than from within after all, plus it would give him information his underground contacts lacked. Yes, this would do nicely. (And if he found the man’s sleep deprivation and dry sense of humor charming as they spoke through text that night, well, that was just a side benefit.)

They had decided to meet at a nearby cat café that evening, and All for One showed up in his best suit. It was a dark, wine red and chosen to match his eyes. Belatedly he realized he was overdressed when Aizawa showed up in a simple t-shirt and dark jeans. Whoops.

He extended his hand for the other to shake, “Hisashi Kamiya, a pleasure to meet you.” It was absolutely not a pleasure to meet the erasure hero, but Aizawa didn’t need to know that. He couldn’t help but quirk his lips at his own last name. He had chosen it after the divorce, Shigaraki most certainly wasn’t going to fly, especially since his protégé had gained some degree of infamy.

Aizawa nodded, eyes narrowing, as he shook his head, “Aizawa Shota.”

The cat café was a small, square building lined with blue wooden panels. The windows glowed with a warm orange light, and the smell of java floated through the air. The interior was just as quaint, Hisashi noted as he opened the door for the other, among the table and chairs were various cat towers and potted plants. Despite its humble appearance, the café was rather busy this evening, stuffed to the brim with overworked college students and romantic hopefuls. They ordered their drinks (Aizawa ordered a black coffee and Hisashi ordered an espresso with extra foam) and made their way to a small round table in the back corner.

“I just want you to know that I’m married and don’t want to pursue any sort of relationship,” Aizawa began, petting a small orange tabby that somehow already made its way onto his lap.

Hisashi balked at that, but quickly composed himself, “So why are you on Tinder? I assume you don’t take random strangers on dates for the joy of it.”

“I’m here because my students are villain catnip, and I want to make sure they don’t get maimed while they're out and about. Especially that one,” Aizawa gestured to a table across the room from them, “Problem child seems to attract the League of Villains everywhere he goes.”

Hisashi followed Aizawa’s gaze to the table in question and felt himself pale when he saw a familiar mop of curly green hair, his son. He swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that his estranged kid was sitting only fifty feet away. “I can understand that, but why a cat café?” he asked.

Aizawa shrugged, “They’re on a date, plus I like cats.”

He had to do a double take, Izuku was with a boy that had dual toned hair. A date? Seriously? He hardly approved of his son doing such a thing at his young age. Part of him wanted to walk over and drag the teen from his table and out of the café. Instead of making his internal screams external, he smiled saccharinely, “It’s rather thoughtful of you to take time out of your busy schedule for your students, I’m sure it must be hard to juggle hero work and teaching.” And rather creepy. Who pestered and surveilled teenagers in their free time? Other than Hisashi of course, but he was the exception.

Before Aizawa could give him a response, their drinks were set in front of them. The foam on Hisashi’s espresso had been poured in the shape of a smiling cat. He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to launch it at his date and run. Instead, he took a sip, grimacing slightly. Too much sweetener. They sat in an awkward silence, Aizawa didn’t seem like one to make conversation. Somehow the man had attracted more cats to his side.

“So you said you were married?” Hisashi asked, probing for information.

“Mhm, my husband’s name is Hizashi. He’s kind, if a bit much sometimes.” That was an understatement, Present Mic was one of the most obnoxious heroes in the public eye, right after All Might in Hisashi’s books. More awkward silence, and then:

“So Hisashi, what is it exactly that you do for a living?”

He blinked, “Oh, I’m a quirk analyst,” a lie, though quirk analysis was a pivotal part of his job, it had to be with his quirk, “I’ve just always found them interesting. It’s like how inventors feel about electronics, I just can’t help but want to pull them apart and see how they work.” Hisashi’s grin turned almost predatory at that, and Aizawa tensed. “The first quirk I ever analyzed was a neon quirk, the holder’s sweat glowed in the dark, they were like a walking, talking glow stick.”

Hisashi rambled about quirks for a while (this was the first he’d spoken so much in a long time and the words seemed to gush out of him, like he had to pay some sort of deficit), and Aizawa eventually cut him off, amusement dancing in his dark eyes, “You know, you remind me of one of my students, he’s just as obsessed with quirks as you are.”

He visibly perked up at that, “Really? It’s rare to find someone who shares my interest, most find it creepy.”

The underground hero nodded, then glanced at the clock, “I should probably get going, my students have already left and I’m expected at the police precinct soon.”

Hisashi nodded, reaching to take a sip of his espresso but finding it already drained, “This was fun, even if it didn’t go anywhere,” perhaps this night could be salvaged and still give him some sort of in, “Would you like to catch a drink again some time?”

“No.”

-@~*^*~@-

His next date was considerably more disastrous than the first. He had matched with a young woman named Iwata Setsuko. His date in question had admittedly plain features, was a single mother with three children, and looked chronically stressed. She had taken time off from her crammed schedule to have dinner with him at a small Italian restaurant. The restaurant was small, quiet, and made to resemble a courtyard in an Italian villa. At the moment, she sat across from him in the cramped restaurant, honey eyes nervously peering at him from a veil of straight mousy brown hair. Iwata worked as a nurse practitioner in a nearby hospital, and seemed impressed by his extensive medical knowledge. She presumed him to be a doctor of some sort, and while inaccurate he could become one easily with a few forged documents if this proved fruitful.

Throughout the meal, she hardly spoke, leaving him to fill the silence with spun tales and falsehoods. He was telling her a particularly interesting anecdote about South Korea when she abruptly cut him off, “You’ve been lying to me all night.” Fuck.

Hisashi tried to laugh it off, “Now what reason would I have to lie to you?”

“My quirk allows me to read the vital signs of anyone close to me, I don’t know why you’d lie but I can tell you’re full of it.”

His eyes widened, “That’s a rather interesting quirk you have, it’s certainly perfect for your field-”

“Oh shove it, I know you’re deflecting,” She dismissed, a fire lit in her eyes that was previously absent.

He felt something flutter in his chest, he liked a woman with spark, it’s why he’d married Inko after all, and he couldn’t help but think of all the possibilities and applications her quirk had, and how helpful it could be for his goals. So caught up in his fantasies of world domination, was he, that he ignored whatever was coming out of her mouth. It probably was as helpful as white noise, as most mundane people’s words were, “You’re one of the only ones whose ever seen right through me,” he said with a widening grin.

“What?” She replied, confused.

“You know, with you at my side, we could have everything you can dream of! Think of the possibilities as the world crumbles at our feet-!”

He was cut off by Iwata, who was shoving breadsticks into her purse, “Look, it’s been fun but I have to go, my kids are waiting for me at home.”

“Think about my offer, you have my number!” he shouted to her as she rushed out the door, he glanced down at her plate, “She didn’t even finish her meal either.”

Iwata never got back to him, and All for One, dark lord of the criminal underground, was ghosted.

-@~*^*~@-

After another series of failed dates, Hisashi was slumped over a bar as Kurogiri, the noumu he had broken out of Tartarus for this sole purpose, awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. “Uh there, there?” he said.

Clearly, this online dating thing was not working, “I don’t even know why I try!” All for One proclaimed dejectedly, “Clearly the public cannot handle their awe of me.”

If Kurogiri had a face beyond a pair of glowing yellow eyes, he would have winced, “Right, well, sir, if it’s my place to give you advice I’d like to do so.”

Hisashi gestured vaguely with his hands, indicating that the sentient black mist should continue.

“Why don’t you go back to what you had before, you were married were you not?” Kurogiri suggested, “Surely it can’t be that hard.”

The supervillain lifted his head from the table, looking as if Kurogiri had just handed him the world, “You know what, you’re right, why don’t I re-enter their lives? They’re mine after all.” All for One stood up, a little drunk, “Kurogiri, if you had a mouth, I could kiss you.”

“Please don’t, sir.”

A few hours later, at some ungodly time in the night, Hisashi was standing outside of the Midoriya apartment, boom box perched on his shoulder, blasting romance music like he was in a shitty 90s romcom. He was oblivious to the lights that began to turn on in windows up and down the street. Using a quirk to artificially project his voice, he shouted, “Inko baby, take me back, I’ll be better I promise!”

Soon he saw an uncharacteristically glaring, plump face in the window. Inko popped it open, slipper in hand, “Hisashi, I swear to god, if you don’t leave right now I’m calling the police, do you know what time it is?!”

“Time doesn’t matter in the face of love,” he replied, “Inko I-” Hisashi was cut off as a slipper hit him square in the face.

A/N: I hope this at least got you all to laugh, feel free to leave a comment! Happy holidays everyone, I should have the next chapter of Genesis posted on Monday.

AO3

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howterrifying · 3 years

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+molliarty: all this time apart

I am still struggling with work and life in general but today I made a decisive move to do one thing I loved. I drank a delicious coffee, listened to 'Symptom of Your Touch' on loop and committed myself to finishing a one-shot today. This is that one-shot. I have a thing about Jim & Molly using distance or time apart to realise how perfectly they need one another and well, the song really drove the idea that one touch can literally make you go crazy - especially when you can't have it anymore. P.S. I hope you're all well. x

:: Interim [also on FF.net and AO3] James Moriarty had not struggled like this in a long time. He was a criminal mastermind whose world was very much his oyster. He could dip his finger into every and any asset pool one could think of – weapons, property, technology, money, information – you name it. Having his own uniquely criminal set of morals also meant that there was never any hesitation to exploit any of these resources for his purposes. Today, more specifically, this evening – was proving to be the exception.

A small beep started going off, alerting Jim to turn his attention to one of 15 huge screens he had in his office. Oh. You’re back at your desk, he thought to himself, watching the familiar figure pull out her chair before sinking into it. Molly Hooper, pathologist extraordinaire, rolled her shoulders back, obviously knackered, and then began sifting through the papers on her desk. He had promised not to and yet here he was – watching her every move. With a snap of his fingers, a peon was called into his office. “The 6:30pm usual, please,” he commanded politely. In a flash the peon was gone. Jim looked casually down at his watch. “20 minutes, tops,” he murmured to himself before returning his eyes to the screen. It felt like eternity but 15 out of the 20 minutes eventually passed and just as Jim sat himself straighter and trained his eyes towards the screen, the object of both his affection and surveillance got up abruptly from her desk, checked her watch and began frantically packing her desk. “Fuck,” he whispered. Before he knew it, Molly had thrown her coat on and left the office, out of range and thereby out of his sight. It took all of Jim’s (very limited) restraint not to shoot at his screen when, minutes later, the very same peon strode into her office, delivery uniform in place, with a piping hot takeaway chai latte only to find that the recipient of the gift had left. Surveilling Molly when they were together had brought her a laugh, perhaps even a little spice, into their time together. When they had agreed to part, he had also agreed not to surveil her anymore. Except, this was proving to be a challenge with each passing day. With yet another soft beep from a separate device, this evening which had already posed a challenge now introduced a threat. “Sir, you told us to notify you if–” “Ready the car.” Jim remarked coolly. As the sleek black vehicle sped him through the gradually congesting London traffic, Jim allowed himself a single sigh. There at his fingertips were all the details he needed to know about this new threat – this new ‘face’ whom Molly had elected to dine with this evening. If Molly had not forbidden him to, he would have already known their name, their address, their workplace, immediate family members – everything he needed to destroy them just as Jim feared they were about to destroy him. Feeling vulnerable was most unpleasant. Jim clicked his tongue impatiently and stared coldly out of the window, hoping the light evening rain could distract him from the slow laceration happening inside his chest. When the car finally pulled up to the destination, Jim barely looked at where he was headed and just barged through the fancy, glass entrance to the restaurant. “Ah, Mr Moriarty, sir, good evening,” greeted the Maître’D, recognising Jim as the elite few who required no reservation to dine at the establishment. Jim nodded, distracted, his sharp eyes darting about the room. “Your private dining suite is this way, Sir,” asked the Maître’D, “Or would you prefer your private rooftop area? We can set that up immediately for you…” “I’d like a table,” Jim interrupted, his eyes still scanning the place. “Oh, regrettably, our tables are all fully booked, Sir, but your suite…” “Fuck the suite,” Jim interrupted, agitated, “I want a table out here .” The Maître’D had begun to panic slightly when just then, that one flick of the beautiful brown ponytail Jim was looking for came into view. To his surprise, Molly and her exquisite tresses disappeared into the very suite that Jim knew was his. It was not like Molly to use what was not hers, and even more unlike her to use anything that was his. At least not anymore now that they had separated. “Sir?” the Maître’D asked, nervously, “Is-is everything all right?” “I’ll take the suite,” Jim whispered, finally turning to look the Maître’D in the eye. With an uncharacteristic roll of his tense shoulders and a sharp exhale, Jim made his way to the heavy ebony doors to his private dining suite. Upon seeing him approach, the two restaurant staff who stood by the doors opened them for him. Jim strode in, fists clenched and his jaw tight, ready for battle. When the heavy doors shut behind him, Jim felt that aggravating bag of muscle in his chest almost leap out of his throat. “You made it,” Molly remarked, smiling gently at him. The table was set for two and the nameless, faceless threat he had been trying to pursue was decidedly absent – it had been bait . “Have a seat,” said Molly as she gestured to the space across from her. Gingerly, Jim sat himself down, his eyes never once leaving her. Had it not been for the overwhelming confusion, Jim would not have been able to control the overwhelming urge to kiss her. They stared at each other, allowing the seconds to drip by like a slow, leaky faucet. The silence was deafening but was nothing compared to the drumming that threatened to detonate in both their chests. “I went to the new salon you were telling me about,” Molly began, breaking the ice at last. “I know,” said Jim with a smirk. “So what did you think?” she asked, smiling as she undid her ponytail. “I thought they did your hair justice,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he watched her hair fall delicately around her shoulders. “They told me it was on the house ,” Molly continued, “So I suppose I should thank you?” Jim let out a little chuckle as he moved to pour them both a glass each of their favourite red. “You know I can’t help it,” he murmured, deliberately taking his eyes off her and focusing on the wine. “You shouldn’t spoil me like that,” Molly replied, amused that he was averting his gaze. “Well, you can’t stop me,” he said, looking up sharply. “I know,” she replied, their eyes now boring straight into each other. A slow smirk crept across Jim’s face as he reached for his phone. Taking his eyes off her and looking at his screen, he tapped the buttons he had been itching to tap earlier, unveiling a whole digital dossier of the person Molly had supposedly arranged to meet for dinner. “Wow, he is definitely not your type,” Jim scoffed in amusement, swiping through the profile of a man who had no idea he had just been used as a pawn in this ex-lovers’ game of chess. “I’m surprised you held out this long,” Molly remarked, taking a sip of her wine, “I was expecting to hear about his death or kidnapping on this evening’s news.” “Why did you do this?” Jim said, swiping the screen a final time before tossing the phone angrily onto the table. “Because I know you broke your promise,” Molly answered coolly. “I—” Jim swallowed hard, mortified that he had just become at a loss for words. Molly looked back at him, her gaze strong and unwavering. When she saw his wide eyes and the quiet panic they were trying to conceal, she broke into a knowing smile. Slowly, she got up from her seat and walked over to him. Their unchanging synchronicity revealed itself as Jim matched her and stood up right at the moment she appeared before him. They were but inches apart now, each trying to steady their breathing, keeping their hands perfectly still, parallel to their own frames. Again, it was Molly who moved first. She raised a tentative hand and ran her thumb gently across his handsome mouth, sending shivers down both their spines. She then leaned in deliciously close and whispered to him. “If you’d wanted to see me again, Jim…” Molly paused to kiss him lightly beneath the ear. “You should have just asked me.” Jim shut his eyes at the nearness of her cool breath that skirted across the skin of his jawline. Now, it was his turn to lift a tentative hand, placing his fingers so lightly on her waist one would think he were touching a ghost. When Jim had ascertained that this moment was indeed real he tightened his grip, evening out the pressure across his fingers, frustrated at the fabric he felt at his fingertips. “If I had asked you, would you have come?” he questioned in return, unsure of what appeared to be her change of heart. His question caused Molly to laugh softly. “Oh, Jim,” she exclaimed, placing two hands against the lapels of his jacket as she stared endearingly into his eyes. “Do you think I’d have let you keep those trackers on me all this time if I didn’t feel differently about things? We both know that I could disable them in a heartbeat.” He looked back at her, stunned. It had been a change of heart. Just as his had the moment they had foolishly agreed to part. “I just had to see you…” Jim murmured, his other hand now caressing her cheekbone. Molly sighed into his touch, turning slightly to kiss his palm. “For a while, I was relieved you hadn’t turned the surveillance off,” Molly confessed, her eyes soft with emotion. “You know I would never be able to,” Jim whispered in return, his eyes glistening with rare sentiment. “But then I realised…” Molly said, a small, playful smirk appearing on her lips. “What?” Jim stared back, smirking in return. Molly moved to kiss him and he kissed her back, both fueled by the torturous months apart from the other. “I realised…” she said, pulling back breathlessly, the playful glint now in her eyes. “That I wanted more than your eyes on me…” There was a catch in Jim’s throat as he caught her meaning. Her hand that began undoing his tie confirmed her intent and Jim could not help but grin before pulling her towards him for another kiss. As they both reluctantly parted for air, they smiled – and properly too – for the first time in months. They both glanced at his undone tie and shared a chuckle. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jim whispered before moving to kiss Molly again, this time on the side of her neck. Molly shut her eyes, smiling in satisfaction as she felt the lips of the one she loved against her skin. “Why did we break up, Jim?” she asked, gently pulling away to look into his eyes. Jim smiled tenderly, the type he reserved only for her, as he reached to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “Because for a leading senior pathologist and a criminal mastermind,” he remarked with a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re pretty fucking stupid.” At his words, they both collapsed into each other’s arms, laughing and remembering everything that made being together worthwhile. “Let’s promise never to be stupid again,” Molly said, reaching for his hand and kissing it. “Never again,” Jim agreed, pulling her into his arms, as they kissed each other to forget all the months that they could not.

#molliarty #molliarty shots #one shot by terrified #helloooo again:))

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theplumsoldier · 4 years

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the bystander is as bad as the bully

summary: you are a mutant and who knows for what reason donald broke you out of transigen, risking his job and life for your freedom. despite this one suspiciously nice act, you will make him face his soiled past—bring up his deepest insecurities and [now] most regretful past. if he did not hate himself before, he sure does now. part of a miniseries! pairing: donald pierce x reader word count: 3191 warnings: vulgar language, mentions of blood, angst, violence, unhealthy dealings with emotions.

How you had gotten yourself in this situation was beyond you. You sat in a chair in the apartment of the mutant-hunter who also had broken you out of Transigen approximately half an hour ago. Your eyes cautiously took in your surroundings, observing the life of an apparent minimalist. It was rather large, his apartment, albeit austere and seemingly having no personal touch. It was neat and looked as if he had he had only lived there for a very short amount of time. It made you wonder if Donald Pierce was a psychopath. But, of course, you can’t judge a person by their living arrangements. However, what it is appropriate to judge a person on, is their actions. And now, from where you stand, it appears to be a fact that Donald has kidnapped you.

Jumping in surprise, you were forced from your trance once Donald dropped a small box onto the dinner table, and you gulped, unsure what was next.

Back in captivity - not to say being held here was not the very same bar the scenery - you had been caned for speaking unless spoken to, so as the questions clouded your mind, you merely kept quiet for your own good. Because it is for your own good.

Meekly, you watched as Donald dragged another chair to sit before you and as he slumped down with a heavy breath, he wiped his forehead. His eyes avoided yours at every cost and his jaw clenched and arms flexed as he reached the box.

A ragged breath escaped you from the anticipation, and you were confused to see medical supplies. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, a deep crease between your brows and your blood-stained, quivering lips slightly parted. Was he going to take care of the wound oozing blood out of your thigh?

Donald was not bothered enough to give you a smart comment in retaliation to your glare. He was too exhausted. But he knew the gash in your leg needed help, or else he had rescued you from Transigen only to let you bleed out at his hand.

“Take off those pants.”

Your eyes shot up, whitening.

“What?” croaked you, no longer able to hold back your words.

Your voice was weak, hoarse, and it scraped in your throat as you spoke. The last time a sound had come out of you was a week ago, and it was screams from being tortured.

“Your pants. Take them off,” reiterated he, this time nodding your way.

But you sat completely still. Your head was foggy, it was as if your thoughts were not your own, just about everything in your body was hurting, except for your right leg which had gone numb due to the loss of blood. Above everything, you still could not piece together what you were doing in Donald Pierce’s home.

He sighed, scratching the stubble on his cheek. Then he looked up at you, eyes flashing a flinch of emotion. Something certainly never seen before.

“Do you want to die?” asked he plainly, swiping his tongue across his chapped lips. You shook your head tentatively, your eyes fixated on him with much concern. “So let me close your wound.”

But this was the man that had stood by, stern-faced, unbothered, and at times even spoken the order, as Reavers had beaten you for not obeying. Surely, he had never himself laid a hand on you, but you believed that was merely a question of exertion. Why would he get his fingers dirty when he had a whole crew of men perfectly willing? You had been temporarily disabled more times than you could count as a result of Donald Pierce’s rank.

A bone-tired moan emitted from him and as Donald shot up from his seat, his hands went to the back of his head. Pacing for a second, he turned to look down at your debilitated person.

“Jesus-fucking-christ. Y/N. I am not going to hurt you,” enunciated he, leaning forward. His imposing frame heaved up with every breath and you pushed back in your seat. “Not deliberately, at least. I didn’t break you out of the facility only to let you bleed out here, okay?”

A pregnant pause passed by and the longer you looked into his piercing eyes, the more you felt compelled to nod your head.

“So then we understand each other, yeah? I can’t take you to a hospital, so we’ll have to fix you up here. Will you let me fix you up, Y/N?”

Donald felt like he was talking to a child or someone who did not speak English. His patience was wearing thin, because he could not help but think Transigen soldiers would soon come-a-knocking. Not only had he given up his job for you, but he too had risked his life in the process. He had doubted it was even worth it before he finally had been reckless enough to save your life, but a force of something he had never felt before drove him past sanity. Now he very well might have been a mutant himself, being a traitor would undoubtedly be considered just as bad if not worse.

Your mouth opened to speak but then closed again. You looked down, your tired eyes staring at the makeshift tourniquet. Lifting your hands from the edge of the seat, you trailed down your shaking fingers to release it from its task.

Very good, thought Donald, exhaling and moved to sit before you again.

When you tentatively had dropped the tourniquet, you moved to your jeans. You felt weird exposing yourself like this, but even more odd was that you did not feel as uncomfortable revealing your bare legs under Donald’s sharp gaze. He was concentrated on the gash cutting open your thigh, and to be fair you were growing exceedingly tired, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever, but that was just a result of the bloodloss. You could not give up now. Even if you did give in to the inviting deep sleep that hovered over you, Donald would not let you.

"Here," murmured Donald, bowing down to tuck at the ends of your jeans, pulling them off of you.

Weeks worth of small hairs created a pattern of blood as it trickled downward, captivity evident on your appearance. You had only been allowed showers whenever they had finished experimenting on you. Turns out even an anti-mutant organization such as themselves had certain regulations when it came to hygiene.

You hissed when the coagulated stain of rough material grazed the wound and instinctively pulled at your leg, only making it worse.

"Sorry. Sorry," mumbled Donald, giving you a reassuring gaze as he held back his hands. "I won't hurt you. Okay? I'm not gonna hurt you again."

Again.

Even at times where it had not been him two pull the trigger, to give the order; he had kept quiet and observant. You were not quite sure if he was saying "sorry" for you getting shot, or because he had let the torture go on for so long, or if there was something entirely different burden weighing him down - which, to be fair, you would not be surprised with should it be true - but Donald's left hand shook ever so lightly. You let him continue to clean up the smeared blood for although this man had contributed to your pain, you could see it in his eye he wore the guilt the rest did not dare face. He had all the reason to, of course, for, after all, the bystander is as bad as the bully.

After cleaning the wounded area up, Donald proceeded to search through the toolbox. Inspecting the laceration, his hand touched your thigh ever so cautiously, treating the skin like it was the most delicate porcelain.

"Looks like it was jus' a through-and-through. Lucky, but you'll need stitches."

"Lucky..." enunciated you in a whisper, your eyebrows knotting together and you were certain your heavy eyes were twitching but candidly you could not tell for you felt numb just then. Even the burning sting in your thigh seemed to fade and as you stared vacuously at Donald the word repeated itself in your head with seething spite. Lucky.

At a loss, you watched him work the thread through the needle. Even when he made the gesture to close up the wound, you were not fazed.

"I am lucky?"

The purest of venom.

That had to be a joke. Right?

Through his eyelashes, Donald looked at you, not giving it a second thought as he tried to concentrate.

"Could have been worse," mumbled he, going for the first stitch.

A disgusted laugh escaped you, unable to believe what he was saying.

"I was held captive for—fuck, I don't even know how long! I was tortured by you people, experimented on, drained, barely fed, isolated, and forced to undergo surgery three times just because that fucking doctor wanted to know how much I could withstand! And you tell me, that I was lucky?"

Now he understood you did not care you had been hurt as a consequence of him getting you out. The thing was, he had not saved you. He had merely made himself your captor instead of one of Transigen. But he was a Reaver at Transigen and now you are at his house. Who was to say he would treat you any differently? Through your eyes one captor is the same as the other; it does not matter as long as you are deprived of your freedom.

Your words got through to him, clearly, but he simply cleared his throat and shifted the way he kneeled before you, trying to get the bleeding under control while he tended to the injury.

"I didn't ask to be like this! The same you are you, I am me! I have done nothing wrong! And you try to play God by wiping out a whole new generation so you can—what? "Reclaim" your home?"

"Sit still."

"You can't change nature! Nature is the change and my people were just the first generation to play role in evolution! I don't know what made you this belligerent jingoist, but whatever fucked up childhood you suffered—that is no reason to be scared—"

"I ain't scared of a thing, okay? Now I didn't save you just to let you die, so how 'bout—"

"Save me?"

Pierce denied he merely relocated you from one captive situation to another. If he wanted to save you, he should have brought you somewhere you could get the medical help you needed and be safe. Granted, he was now, on his knees stitching you up, but nevertheless, he had made it abundantly clear you were going nowhere without him.

"You moved me from one shitty situation to another, you dipshit! What makes you any better than your people? All this time you watched me get tortured! You stood by the doctor's side, insensitive while I screamed and cried for them to stop! Doing nothing is not better than the ones doing the harm!"

Donald tried his best to keep his cool. But he had a lot on his mind. Fair enough, he thought, you cannot be grateful for a mutant-hunter to save you from your captor, but it took him a lot of courage to free you from Transigen.

He had tirelessly spent his nights planning your escape, at long last apprehending the iniquity of his actions and coming to terms with not only giving up his job but too becoming a deserter of a powerful and well-connected organization.

"You should have just left me there. That way they wouldn't be after you, anyway."

"I get it! Okay? Just... Sit still 'n let me fix this shit, yeah?"

Your glare remained, intent but you had no fight left in you.

And as much as you did not want to, you were beginning to think he was no longer in denial of holding you captive. But what was he to do? Let you go? You would never make it out of Mexico City without his help—hell, Donald was not even sure you guys would make it out of the city before Transigen tracked you down.

After all, he had never had a reason to hide a thing for Transigen. He had only ever been loyal to his job and crew so now that his moral-compass had grown overnight, he had not had the time to plan anything before he saw Doctor Rice taking it too far. Surely he had planned the escape for some time now, but he decided to commence the mission weeks before it was safe to get you out. Now, shit he was not too sure either of you would be safe for long. That was why he prioritized getting you patched up before attempting fleeing the country.

The next time the needle pierced your skin, you felt every bit of pain.

This time you let him work on you, staring intently at him as he did. When he was finished, he leaned down to your thigh to bite over the thread.

Pierce looked up at you.

"There. You should get some sleep. I'm gonna make the arrangements so we can leave in a couple hours."

You shook your head with great exhaust. No matter how you tried to envisage the two of you on the run, you could not. Was he really counting on the two of you now being partners? Fugitives on the run from an anti-mutant organization. With a mutant-hunter.

Donald stood back up and offered his hand to lighten the pressure on your leg. Tentatively, you held onto him and let him pull you up. This was the first time you had touched his bionic hand. At Transigen you used to believe it would only ever touch you to scar. But this was gentle. A careful gesture of kindness from a man seeming the opposite. You could not possibly believe that this man had ever been described as kind, but here he was, and although you suspected the various reasons behind his actions, he had successfully freed you from the grasp of Transigen.

However ungrateful you may appear, you could not be thankful until you were free, with your own kind. Besides, how can one be ungrateful to their captor?

Then you realized if he would not let you go on your own, perhaps you should try your luck. You could not possibly return to your friends with a mutant-hunter at your tail. For all you knew, this was merely an act of that very same mutant-hunter who contributed to your torment all those weeks, to lure him to your friends and family.

"Aren't you going to sleep?"

Donald cast a glance over his shoulder before he reached down to collect something from under the couch. A briefcase. But when he opened it, a workstation was hidden inside. A satellite computer.

"Not if we're going to survive."

You could not quite make out if he was genuine about the fact that he too was in trouble, or if Pierce was on his way to an Academy Award.

"You can go sleep in the bedroom, I'll be in here sorting things out."

You looked to where he nodded. Swallowing the cry in your throat, you shifted your weight. You were really not comfortable sleeping in his bed. However, if you picked the couch, you would not be able to snoop around, searching for possible weapons or plan much of an escape. Your head was a jumble of ambivalent thought, still not fully assimilated with whether or not Donald was indeed in this with you.

Gulping, you hesitantly moved to the bedroom, vigilantly stepping inside. The bedroom was as clean as the rest of the apartment; no personal photographs, ostensibly no possessions of value, emotional or otherwise. You looked back to Pierce and were sure you caught him looking out the corner of his eyes, but his gaze returned to the computer, typing rapidly.

Closing the door behind you, you exhaled. You had not even noticed that you had been so tense, but only as you leaned back against the white door, you felt your body slump with lassitude. The walls were white, so was the ceiling, the bedside table, too, as well as the bedspread. The curtains were black and drawn. If he was no psychopath, he certainly seemed to be the kind of guy to hide arms under his pillow. You went to check.

Nothing. Shit. Fucking shit!

Your breathing came out unsteady, ragged, and scraping in your throat the same way it did when a panic attack would surprise you. This was no time.

Lying on the bed, trying your best to stay calm, you put your hands over your head, crying out. In out, in, out, in and out.

When you finally had managed to collect yourself, and perhaps even gotten just a tad bit shut-eye - for at some point you remember waking up, although with no recollection of greeting slumber - you felt the need to inspect his room for any other weapons. You could not imagine a professional mutant-hunter not being loaded with artillery. If you had no choice but to let him take you wherever - hopefully, that was, as he vehemently asserted out of this damned country - you figured you, even if only for precaution, a gun might very well come in handy.

While you methodically scoured every inch of the room, you feared you might not have been too hushed as you had believed for suddenly the door was flung open.

Gun in hand, hard bearing, and piercing eyes, Pierce stood in the doorway, ready to shoot if necessary.

You had been so accustomed to surrender at this point, you did not think twice before your hands were raised to head-level.

He had many times seen fragile mutants, begging for their lives, all the same begging for him to end it, but the expression on your face just now hurt him. This was his fault.

Howbeit, he like any man in denial repressed emotion when feeling a hint of arcane feelings. Donald was experiencing those exact feelings and he did not like what he did not understand. Masking the unknown into anger, he propped the gun back into his belt and looked majestically wroth.

“Please don’t do anything to upset me. The mess wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

Slowly, your hands fell parallel to your body, and you leaned against the bookcase for support.

Donald easily justified your expression of anxiety. But he would not have shot you. Even if you did try to escape. The hunter merely comprehended the facts of a fugitive and the two of you were just that; he was ready to take down whoever dared break into his hideout, but if you believing him inclined to shoot you hindered you from absconding; he could live with that. However much it hurt him, he could. At least until your safety was assured.

"I was just—"

"Don't matter. We’re leaving."

#Donald Pierce #donald pierce smut #donald pierce imagine #donald pierce x reader #donald pierce imagines #xmen #X-men #x-men imagine #x-men fanfiction #Boyd Holbrook #boyd holbrook imagine #boyd holbrook imagines #boyd holbrook x reader #theplumsoldier #marvel #marvel smut

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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Not as much as I would like, but it has begun :D

For @soniabigcheese cos it is her fault :D

-o-o-o-

As always, Thunderbird One arrived first on the scene. Virgil listened in as his brother defended their right to attend the emergency. John had looped in all their comms, including the Island so they all knew exactly what was happening.

Scott was polite, but firm.

“Colonel, we have the equipment and there are a thousand lives at stake. Can we at least put aside the political situation and save these people.” Barrett, the brand new commander of World Rescue was apparently the one in charge.

“Tracy, we have the situation in hand. You are barred from interfering.”

“Colonel, Thunderbird Two is inbound. She has the equipment to support the platform. At least let her assist!”

“We don’t need your assistance. Go home to your fancy little island.”

There was silence from Scott as Two approached and shifted to a hover beside her sister. Gordon was muttering under his breath. They were fortunate comms were set to only one way.

Virgil eyed the platform, raking it with Two’s sensors.

A flick of a switch. “Thunderbird One, be advised that the structural support of the runway is failing.” Several red exclamation icons flashed up on Virgil’s display. “It’s not going to last much longer.”

“Acknowledged, Thunderbird Two.” The frustration in his brother’s voice bent airwaves.

Another GDF flyer swooped in from the other side the platform. Virgil’s eyes bugged out as he realised that this flyer, too, was going to attempt to land on the remains of the runway. Hadn’t they learnt from the first one??

He knew how much one of those craft weighed. He knew how fragile the structure was. His hand slammed down on comms. “GDF Flight Zero-Seven-Tango, abort landing! ABORT!”

Wheels touched down.

“NO!”

The runway crumpled. The flyer tipped as the structure failed, its engines in the wrong position for an effective lift.

Virgil didn’t hesitate. He fired Two’s rear thrusters and swooped in over the falling plane. Grapples were fired to the sound of yelling over comms and Two’s VTOL howled as she took the weight of the flyer.

-o-o-o-

“I’m not going to be able to hold her long. Zero-Seven-Tango, right your VTOL and engage lift.”

The pilot didn’t respond, but the flyer’s thrusters rotated into position and fired.

Virgil edged Two out of the huge craft’s new flight path as he disengaged grapple support. The GDF craft hovered up between the platform and Thunderbird Two.

Not a word was said.

It paused as if to stare at the Thunderbird before rising above it and taking up a position out of the immediate danger zone.

It sat there watching.

Virgil frowned at his instruments, but he didn’t have time to worry about whatever the hell they were doing. The collapse of the last portion of the runway had destabilised the platform further. It’s angle was skewed even more towards the ‘fall out of the sky’ ultimatum it was threatening.

Scott was yelling at someone.

Virgil tuned out the argument about their rights to save people and set about saving those people instead.

“Deploying airjacks.”

Two’s belly hatch opened and six of the hover devices flew out. Essentially emergency hoverjets, the airjacks were designed to attach to aircraft, or in this case, air platform and replace failing VTOL or other jets to keep a vehicle in the sky long enough for an evac.

If there was ever a situation in need of them, this was it.

Virgil directed each jack to a structurally safe point to lift. Unfortunately, they were only a temporary solution and there was a time limit, but hopefully it would be enough.

The whole platform groaned as the jacks took the overbalanced weight and held the craft in place. It was still listing, but it wasn’t going to tilt any further for some time.

“Colonel Barrett, quite frankly I don’t care for your opinion. Twice now your actions have endangered lives further. International Rescue has the tools and the experience to save these people. For the love of god, get over yourself.”

Barrett’s response was colourful, but at least it was distracted enough for Thunderbird Two to assist without interference.

Virgil eyed his display. “Thunderbird Five, how goes the escape pod situation?”

“Promising. Eos is rewriting code to work around damaged networks. We will need someone on site to connect crucial systems.”

“FAB. We need to save the pilots of the two crashed planes first. Gordon and I will handle that. Let us know when you need that extra helping hand.” A pause. “And call the GDF and ask them to send in a few of their people carriers, just in case.” Why they weren’t already here was a mystery in itself.

“FAB.”

Scott wasn’t swearing, but his frustration was melting Virgil’s comms.

Time was a major factor here.

“Gordon, you’ve got the crippled flyer. I’ll grab the pilot from the first plane.”

His brother slipped out of his seat as Virgil shifted Two into position above the two disabled craft.

Virgil donned his exosuit. There was no doubt he was going to need it. The first plane was a crumpled mess.

Gordon lowered himself through Two’s front hatch while Virgil exited the same way as the jacks had earlier. Both had folded basket stretchers dangling beside them.

Virgil forced himself to focus despite the vitriol flying across comms. Barrett had apparently been supplanted by Wainwright herself. The woman’s screech of a voice grated on his nerves.

If only the world could hear the crap they were having to put up with just to do the right thing.

He was almost to the wreck when he caught a flicker out of the corner of his eye. He frowned as a holocam zipped into a hover beside him.

What the hell?

And then he realised that of the thousand people they were attempting to save, no doubt there would be a large party of press.

Here to document the launch of ‘World Rescue’.

Now looking for the next best thing - any and all dirt on International Rescue.

Virgil glared at the camera a moment before turning back to doing what he was here to do.

He ignored the annoyance and didn’t even really notice when it was joined by friends.

The plane that had caused this mess had slammed into the runway at an angle. It was one hell of a screwed up landing and Virgil had never seen the like. The cockpit had been almost completely sheared off, its safety capsule wrapping around the safety rail. It was this simple crumpling of metal that had saved the pilot when the plane’s fuel source had exploded, taking out the platform’s hoverjet below.

It was also the reason why the capsule hadn’t fallen with all the extra damage the GDF had managed to do. It was hooked to the railing and hanging there like a mangled pendulum.

Virgil interfaced with Two’s systems and lowered a magnetic grapple to secure the craft before boarding.

“Virg, I’ve got the two pilots from the flyer. One is uninjured, but the other has a bleeder. Securing in the medbay.”

“FAB, Gordon.” Virgil pried open the remains of the safety capsule with the combination of a claw and his laser. Unconscious and bloodied, the pilot was still strapped into her seat. A quick scan revealed a broken arm, head injury and multiple contusions. Remarkably little damage considering the mess made of her plane.

A holocam buzzed into his peripheral vision again. What?

A frustrated claw swiped the camera out of the air. A kick jammed it in a corner, lens to the fuselage.

Virgil busied himself manoeuvring the pilot into a basket stretcher.

“Pilot secured. Returning to Thunderbird Two.”

He emerged from the damaged capsule into a flock of holocams.

What the hell?!

“Thunderbird Five, can we kill the publicity please.”

“FAB.”

The flock suddenly backed off to a more reasonable distance, but they didn’t go away. As Virgil drew himself and his rescuee up into the belly of Two, the swarm followed at a respectable distance.

“John, why are they still following me?”

“The world wants the truth, Virgil. Let’s give it to them.”

“So they can warp it again?”

“We’ll see.”

At that tone, Virgil immediately grew suspicious. “What are you planning, Johnny?”

His brother’s voice was all innocence. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.” And the predictable grump. “And don’t call me Johnny.”

Virgil grunted across comms as he was swallowed by his ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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ironwoman359 · 4 years

Text

Love Song for a Siren

Summary: Life aboard the pirate ship The Sea Serpent is as perfect as Roman, Patton, and Logan could hope for, but a startling discovery turns their lives...and their hearts...upside down.

Ships: Established Moralogince, eventual LAMP, side Dukeceit

Content Warnings: Mentions of whaling, piracy (the swashbuckling kind), sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, general fear/anxiety, being trapped/captured.

Word Count: 5,407

Read on AO3 here

My Fic Masterlist Commission Info Ko-fi

A/N: @vintage-squid, surprise! I’m your secret santa! I’m so glad you enjoyed the story, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to @theinvisiblespoon for beta reading this fic, you’re the absolute best! I have at least two more fics for this AU planned, a prequel that tells the story of Roman and Remus coming to be crew members aboard the Sea Serpent (cuz boy howdy is that a tale), and a sequel that pits our now established LAMP boys against an external threat. Both elements were ideas that I had for this story/universe that just didn’t make it into the final version due to time/length, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in those future stories, or if you’d like to be on my general writing taglist. As always, comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated. Love you guys! -Taylor <3

--- --- ---

“All hands on deck!”

Roman grinned and scampered down from his perch in the crow’s nest, his boots hitting the deck with a satisfying *thud.* The sky above him was clear and bright, and a cool ocean breeze rustled through his hair, granting him a reprieve from the heat of the sun. The gentle sway of the ship, once so strange and foreign to him, was now a familiar, soothing motion, and Roman’s chest swelled with confidence. He pulled his rapier from his belt and swiped it through the air with a flourish, winking at the ship’s navigator who was standing nearby.

“Just once, I’d like to see you answer Patton’s call without all your typical fanfare,” the man said, raising an eyebrow at Roman.

“What? My brother, pass up a chance to be dramatic?” a cheerful squawk called out, and then Remus was beside them, throwing one arm around Roman and jostling him playfully. “That’ll be the day.”

“Indeed, the one that we all long for,” the navigator agreed, and Roman pouted before letting his features slide into a smirk.

“Oh, come on Logan, you know you love me,” Roman crooned, and his smile widened as Logan’s cheeks became dusted with pink.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said as Roman wriggled out from Remus’s grip to peck him on the lips. “However did I let that happen?”

“Okay you two, cut it out!” Patton chided as he walked over. “You’re both too adorable and it’s not fair, ‘cause I very much want to kiss you both, but we don’t have time right now!”

“Later, my love,” Roman promised, blowing the ship’s quartermaster a kiss of his own. Patton pretended to catch it out of the air and held it close to his heart, winking before he turned and addressed the larger crowd of sailors that had gathered on deck.

“We’ve adjusted course to intercept a ship, prepare for boarding!” Patton called. “And standby for the captain’s orders!”

As if on cue, the captain stepped out onto the deck, surveying his crew at work for a moment before turning to Patton.

“What’s the target?”

“It looks like a whaling ship,” Patton said with a grimace, and the captain snarled.

“Right. The captain should be worth a half decent ransom then, plus there should be plenty of valuable cargo on board. We’ll disable the ship when we’re finished then leave the rest of the crew to their own devices, if they aren’t idiots they should be able to survive long enough to make whaling seem like a very unattractive occupation to their buddies back home.”

Patton nodded, then turned back to the crew.

“Ready about!” he called to them, then nodded to Roman. “Ro, take point on the first raiding crew.”

“Oooh, Dee, your mask!” Remus suddenly cried, before dashing into the captain’s quarters without another word. He emerged a moment later, handing over the mask before planting a kiss on the captain’s cheek.

“Oh, so you have time for kisses, but I don’t,” Roman teased, and Remus stuck his tongue out at him.

“Captain’s privileges,” Dee said with a smirk before sliding the mask down over the left side of his face, carved features and painted green scales covering the burn that marred his skin.

“Ro, come on!” Patton called again, and Roman turned his attention to the whaler that was still approaching them, not yet realizing that the innocuous looking Sea Serpent was actually a pirate vessel.

“Heave to!” Patton shouted, and Logan pulled on the ship’s wheel until the Sea Serpent was directly in the path of the approaching whaler.

“Ready canons!” Dee called, and Patton relayed the order to the gunmen below deck. “On my command! Ready?”

Roman gripped his sword hilt, a smile growing on his face despite himself. Right here, standing on the deck of his ship with a sword in his hand and his two loves by his side, was exactly where Roman wanted to be.

“Fire!”

--- --- ---

It didn’t take long for the crew of the whaler, called The Carlotta, to surrender, and before long, Patton was leading a small party through the ship to look for anything worth looting. As soon as he stepped below decks, however, he had to stop. He waved the other crew members on ahead of him and leaned against a nearby support beam, taking in several deep gulps of air through his mouth. Unfortunately, that didn’t do much to alleviate the stench.

The cargo hold was full of dozens upon dozens of barrels, and a foul, fishy scent clung to the air around them like mold. The smell was bad enough, but that combined with the thought of what was actually in the barrels was enough to make Patton gag on the spot. He, like Dee, was not fond of the practice of whaling, but while Dee would still bring the whale blubber onboard the Sea Serpent so they could sell it themselves and turn a profit, Patton would just as soon dump the whole batch back into the ocean so he didn’t have to think about it for too long. He was just grateful that they hadn’t come upon The Carlotta when she’d taken a fresh kill; money or no, message or no, Patton was not about to deal with looting a ship floating beside a dead whale carcass.

“Quartermaster!”

Patton looked up to see one of the younger crew members coming towards him, their eyes as round as saucers.

“What is it, kiddo? And I’ve told you, just Patton is fine.”

“Right, yessir–I mean, Patton. But, um, you need you see this!”

“What is it?” Patton asked again, following the young sailor deeper into the hold.

“I...I don’t know, sir, you’re just...going to have to see for yourself.”

Thoroughly intrigued now, Patton let himself be led into the back corner of the cargo hold where he was met with a peculiar sight. What appeared to be a large iron kettle, which Patton recognized as part of the tryworks that whalers would use to boil the whale blubber down into oil, was sitting in the middle of the open space. The kettle itself wasn’t what struck Patton as odd though, it was its placement below decks. The ship had clearly recently brought in a new whale, and Patton remembered seeing the other kettle in its proper place on top of the furnace up on deck. What on earth was this doing down here?

The other thing that was confusing was the large slat of crisscrossed iron bars that had been laid haphazardly over the top of the kettle. If Patton had to guess, he’d say that the whalers had taken the door off the ship brig and used it as a sort of cap, and for extra measure, a few canon balls had been placed on top to provide additional weight. Three other crew members were standing around the kettle, looking inside with something akin to awe on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Patton asked as he approached, and the crewmen just pointed, stepping back so Patton could peer into the kettle himself.

He didn’t know whether to be amazed or horrified.

“Get the captain,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He needs to see this.”

The sailors nodded and hurried off to find Dee, leaving Patton alone to stare at what they’d found in growing disbelief.

Lying tangled in a net at the bottom of the kettle in about a half-foot of water was...some sort of creature. At first glance, Patton had thought the long, slippery tail belonged to a strange fish or eel, but as his eyes traveled upward, that thought was quickly dismissed from his mind. Halfway up the creature’s body, the scales gave way to smooth purple skin and a surprisingly human shaped torso, despite the fins on the creature’s sides and elbows. A set of gills was visible on the side of its neck, and a shock of dark hair fell around the creature’s ears, or at least, the wide, fan-shaped fins that protruded from where the ears would be on a human. It’s chest was rising in short, quick bursts, and Patton didn’t need to be a medical expert to tell that it was having trouble breathing.

Despite growing up in a port town and being around seamen for most of his life, Patton had never really put much stock into superstition, or the wild tales of sea monsters and magic that sailors brought back from their ventures out onto the open ocean. Sailors in his hometown tended to drink as much as they talked, and while their stories made for good entertainment, he’d never really believed any of them. And yet, staring down at the creature in the kettle, he knew now that some of the tales had to be true.

“What is it?”

Patton turned at the sound of Dee’s voice, and he found that there was only one thing he could say.

“Dee...they have a mermaid.”

As if on cue, the mermaid stirred, twisting in the kettle and letting out a muffled hiss as it strained against the net that had its arms pinned against its sides. Dee and Patton looked down, and Patton bit his tongue to keep himself from whimpering.

The eyes that met their gaze were wide with fear, but they narrowed in an instant as the mermaid hissed again, flaring out its fins in warning. Patton was sure that if it were able, the creature would be baring its teeth at them, but somehow the net had gotten tangled in such a way that it was wrapped around its face and digging into its mouth. If Patton had to guess, the mermaid had tried to bite its way out of the net and only succeeded in trapping itself further.

Patton looked up at Dee, who still hadn’t said anything and was staring into the kettle with a blank expression, which Patton knew meant he didn’t want to give away what he was thinking.

“Dee, we can’t just leave him here,” Patton said quietly.

“What other choices do we have?” Dee asked, raising an eyebrow. “Cut it loose and throw it back into the ocean?”

Patton glanced down at the creature again, his eyes traveling over the places where the net was digging into its skin. One of the sections was wrapped so tightly around its tail that it was cutting into the flesh, and Patton shook his head.

“He’s hurt...if we just threw him back into the ocean as is who knows what could happen to him? He needs time to recover.”

“So what do you propose? We can’t haul the tryworks onto the Sea Serpent while on the open ocean. And even if we could, if healing is the main goal, I don’t think curled up tight in a pot would be the best place to keep it.”

Patton chewed on his bottom lip, thinking.

“They haven’t finished fixing that damaged dinghy belowdecks yet,” he offered. “But she should hold water.”

Dee blinked.

“Are you suggesting that we fill the dinghy up with water like it’s some rich landlubber’s bathtub and...what, just keep a pet mermaid in it?”

“Not pet,” Patton insisted. “More like...patient.”

“You’re deflecting the rest of the question, Quartermaster,” Dee said, raising an eyebrow, and Patton raised one right back.

“And you’re avoiding giving me an order, Captain.”

Dee chuckled, then his eyes flicked back and forth between the kettle and Patton before he sighed.

“Alright, have it your way then. But Patton...if this creature turns out to be dangerous...if he ends up hurting one of the crew? That’ll be your responsibility, you understand?”

Patton nodded firmly.

“I do.” Then he grinned, and threw his arms around Dee in a quick but tight hug. “Thanks Dee!”

He let go and hurried above deck, hearing Dee mutter something about “reputation” as he went, and stopped when he ran into Remus sticking his head to look inside the (thankfully) unlit furnace the whalers kept on deck.

“Remus! I need you to do something for me,” he called, and Remus grinned.

“Anything you say, Mr. Quartermaster sir!”

“Can you get a couple of the crew to fill the dinghy belowdecks with buckets of seawater?”

“How many buckets?” Remus asked cheerfully, and Patton shrugged.

“As many as will fit. Oh, and Remus. I want the water dumped out into the dinghy. I’m not asking for a boat filled with buckets, I want a boat filled with water, okay?”

“Aww, now you’ve spoiled my fun,” Remus said in a mock pout, but then he winked and practically pranced back towards the Sea Serpent, nearly knocking over Roman as he skipped past.

“What’s he so happy about?” Roman asked, frowning as he watched Remus leave the deck of the The Carlotta.

“I gave him a weird order,” Patton said, sliding up next to Roman and sighing happily when Roman snaked an arm around his waist and planted a kiss on top of his head.

“Anything interesting in the cargo hold?” Roman asked, and Patton froze. “What?” Roman asked, pulling back and frowning down at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Patton said quickly, pressing a kiss to Roman’s cheek. “It’s just…” he glanced back towards the cargo hold, chewing on his bottom lip. “You’re going to want to see this.”

--- --- ---

“You found a what?” Logan asked, staring at his boyfriends in growing disbelief.

“A mermaid, Specs,” Roman said, and Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“We’re serious, Lo!” Patton insisted. “Why would we make something like that up?”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I saw Remus looking entirely to happy to be carrying buckets of water back and forth from the cargo hold, and you expect me not to be at least a little bit suspicious.”

“Okay, maybe I should have had someone else supervise setting up the dinghy, but to be fair, I knew that Remus wouldn’t waste a lot of time asking me why I wanted him to do that,” Patton said with a shrug.

“Listen, while ordinarily your suspicion might be slightly warranted–”

“Slightly?” Logan asked, and smirked when Roman spluttered indignantly.

“Really, Logan,” Patton said, his voice quiet and earnest. “We found a mermaid, and he needs our help. Come and see, okay?”

Logan frowned at Patton’s sudden shift in tone before he nodded slowly. Patton flashed him a grateful smile, then turned and led the way into the cargo hold. Logan had to admit, he wasn’t sure quite what he was expecting to see as he followed Patton down the stairs, but the Sea Serpent’s beat up dinghy filled with water hadn’t been high on the list. He opened his mouth, but as they approached the side of the boat, the question died in his throat. His eyes traveled over the purple skin, gills and fins, and wide eyes with slit pupils.

“Oh.”

“You can say that again,” Roman said, raising an eyebrow.

Logan elected not to speak again, noting the way the creature shrunk back at Roman’s loud voice, choosing instead to take a step closer and get down on one knee beside the dinghy so he was eye level with the creature. It thrashed and hissed as he approached, though whether the hiss was a sign of aggression or an expression of pain as the net dug deeper into its flesh, Logan couldn’t be sure. Either way, the first move clearly had to be removing the net.

Logan pulled his knife from his belt and the creature thrashed again at the sight of the blade, and it bumped the side of the dinghy, sloshing some of the water over the side.

“Be still,” Logan said in as soothing a voice as he could manage. “We need to get that net off you, and if you struggle you could become injured.”

Logan had been speaking more with tone in mind than with words, but to his surprise, the creature cocked its head at the words before hissing again, more deliberately this time. Logan froze, staring into the creature’s eyes.

“Can...can you understand me?” he asked, and the creature moved its head up and down.

“Did he just nod?” Patton breathed, and the creature tried to nod again, hissing in pain as the net around its face dug deeper into its jaw.

“Don’t try to move,” Logan said, holding up his empty hand in what he hoped was a placating gesture. “You’ll only hurt yourself further. Could you blink your eyes once for yes, twice for no? If you can really understand us?”

There was a beat of silence as they all held their breaths, and then the creature slowly blinked once.

“Was that a yes?” Logan asked to confirm, and the creature blinked once again. “Wonderful. I’m going to cut this net off of you, is that alright?”

The creature didn’t respond at first, eyeing Logan warily, and Logan frowned.

“Do you wish to remain tangled in the net?”

Two blinks.

“Are you currently in pain?”

One blink.

“If you let me remove the net, we can see about tending to your wounds. But if you continue to thrash about, I may accidentally hurt you...and I do not want that to happen.”

The creature eyed his knife again, and Logan tried to imagine things from its perspective. It had been captured by humans and transported from ship to ship like so much cargo, and now a human was crouching next to it brandishing a knife...all things considered, Logan supposed he would react similarly if he were in such a situation.

“Are you worried that I will hurt you?” he asked.

One blink, and Patton made a quiet, distressed noise behind them. Logan ignored the urge to soothe his boyfriend, knowing that Roman was there to provide comfort if needed. Right now, getting this creature to trust him was the top priority.

“We have had ample opportunity to do so already,” Logan pointed out bluntly.

“Lo…” Roman’s voice was uneasy, hesitant, but Logan pressed onward. He could only hope that this creature was capable of logical reasoning.

“Whether it was on the ship you initially were held captive on, or in transporting you here, my comrades and I have had the opportunity to cause you pain intentionally. Have we taken it?”

Two blinks.

“Would it not make more sense, if hurting you was my intention, to simply move forward in an attack rather than wait for your permission.”

One blink. Logan smiled.

“So logically, we must not want harm to come to you. Quite the opposite. But if you don’t hold yourself still, more harm may occur. Now, may I approach?”

Time stretched out between them, and Logan waited patiently as the creature’s eyes flicked back and forth between Logan, the knife, and Roman and Patton standing behind him. Eventually, he blinked once, and Logan smiled again.

“Alright. Keep very still now…”

The mermaid (or merman, if the top half of his anatomy was comparable to that of a human) squeezed its eyes shut, long webbed fingers curling into fists as Logan began to cut away at the net. He’d scarcely been working a minute before a soft, pleasant sound filled the cargo hold, and the merman’s eyes snapped open.

Roman was humming, a quiet, soothing tune that Logan recognized as one of the lullabies that Roman would sometimes sing to either of his boyfriends if they were having trouble sleeping. The merman’s face changed from one of shock, to curiosity, to something bordering on contentment, and by the time Logan had managed to cut away the last bit of rope, the tension had drained from the merman’s shoulders almost completely.

“There, finished,” Logan said with a small smile, standing up slowly and taking a step back.

The merman took a moment to stretch his limbs out, opening and shutting his jaw (which, Logan noted, had rows of sharp, needle-like teeth) and swishing his tail.

Patton made a cooing sound, and Logan knew that the shorter of his partners was completely enamored by the creature.

“Better?” Logan asked, and the merman looked up at him. For a moment, Logan was expecting another blink, but then the creature opened his mouth.

“Yes. Thank you.”

His voice was low, slightly raspy rumble from the back of his throat, and Logan told himself that the flash of excitement that ran through him was because of the discovery that such a creature could talk and nothing more.

“Are you hurt very badly?”

A quick glance at Patton revealed that Logan was not the only one who had suddenly been struck with a reminder of just how gay he was, but to Patton’s credit, he seemed to recover quickly.

“I…don’t know.” The merman ran his hands over the gash in his tail, wincing, and Logan hummed in sympathy.

“I think it would be best for you to remain here for the time being, at least until you have healed sufficiently.”

“What?” the merman’s head snapped up, his eyes growing wide. “No, you can’t just keep me here, I–”

“It would not be permanent,” Logan assured quickly. “Only until we are sure that you’re well enough to return to the ocean. If you were to return now, in your weakened state, your chances of fully recovering would be slim.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t dream of imprisoning you here like some sort of animal,” Roman chimed in. “Not like those dreadful whalers did.”

“If you really don’t want to stay, kiddo, we won’t force you,” Patton added. “You can make your own choices, after all...we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The merman looked between the three of them warily, before glancing down at the cuts on his body and nodding slowly.

“Alright then.”

“Oh, yay!” Patton squealed happily, causing the merman to jump slightly. “My name’s Patton, and these are my partners Roman and Logan, do you have a name?”

For a moment, Logan thought the merman wasn’t going to speak, but after a long moment of silence, he opened his mouth again.

“Virgil.”

Logan gave him a small smile.

“Well Virgil, welcome aboard the Sea Serpent.”

--- --- ---

Virgil was very confused. When he’d initially been caught by the human whalers, he’d been sure he was going to die. He saw what they were doing to that whale corpse, and when the humans had hauled him onto their ship and thrown him into a cramped metal pot, he was certain that he would be the next to be chopped into pieces. For three days, he’d tried to untangle himself to no avail, and by the time that Patton had found him, he’d all but given up hope on making it out alive.

But instead of hurting, these three, strange humans were helping him. He’d been on this ship for what was close to a month now, and not once had any one of the crew been hostile towards him. The boat, while not the most spacious of homes, gave him enough room to get himself in virtually any position he wanted to, and he found himself now floating on his back and absently sucked on a fish bone, (the last remnant of the food that Patton had brought him that day) reflecting on the three humans he tended to see the most.

Patton had been the first to visit him frequently. Virgil had honestly been so hungry directly after Logan had gotten the net off of him that he would have accepted anything offered to him, but Patton had asked him what he ate, and when he simply said “fish” brought him three different kinds to choose from, even apologizing for not having more choices. Patton was like a sunbeam incarnate, warm and bright and full of the promise of life, and despite how terrified Virgil had been when they’d first locked eyes, he found himself looking forward to all the times Patton would drop by to see him, not just the ones where he was bringing food.

More confusing was Logan, who should be far more intimidating, with his blunt way of speaking and his detached approach to the world. And yet, Virgil found his words calming, an anchoring grip in the middle of a current, and Virgil began to miss Logan’s soothing, steady voice when he wasn’t around. Even the numerous questions about everything from what Virgil ate to how he learned to talk to whether there were other mermaids besides himself and what their societies were like, were somehow endearing instead of unsettling when they came from Logan. Virgil knew Logan didn’t want to hunt his kind down or dissect them, he was just...curious. Brightly, passionately curious, and that curiosity was infectious.

Virgil found himself asking Logan questions about humans, which Logan was all too happy to answer.

And then there was Roman, loud, boisterous, impossible Roman. If Virgil were honest, the first few times he’d dropped by, Virgil had been annoyed. Roman talked too loud, too fast, and Virgil shouldn’t enjoy his company, he really shouldn’t...except Roman sang nearly everywhere he went, and Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn to the sound. His own song was bottled up inside of him, itching to be released into the world, but Virgil didn’t want to know what might happen to the crew of the Sea Serpent if they suddenly heard siren song coming from inside their own ship. But one day, Roman was packing something up at the other end of the cargo hold, singing a soft and familiar tune as he worked, and Virgil couldn’t help himself.

He sang softly so that none of the crew would hear him, closing his eyes and losing himself in the harmony, ducking and weaving around Roman’s voice as it steadily grew louder–

Virgil’s eyes flew open and Roman was only a few feet away, his work forgotten in the corner.

“Roman, snap out of it!” Virgil cried, and Roman blinked at him in confusion.

“Snap out of what, Vee?”

“I...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Virgil said hurriedly. “I didn’t think you would hear me, I didn’t mean to lure you, I promise–”

“Lure me?”

“My song,” Virgil explained. “You heard me singing.”

“Yes I did,” Roman said with a smile. “It was lovely.”

“Yeah, well, if a human hears my song they get sort of...bewitched? You’ll see your heart’s desire, and have no choice but to follow it. So I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Roman asked with a laugh. “Newsflash Virgil, I was only coming over because I wanted to hear you sing more. I didn’t see my heart’s desire or anything, I just saw you in your boat, like always.”

Virgil’s heart just about stopped beating right then and there, but he forced his face to remain blank.

“Oh...alright then, I’m uh. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Roman smiled his big, boisterous smile at him, but it suddenly turned shy, and Virgil frowned.

“Do you think you could...do it again?” Roman asked, and Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Sing with you?”

Roman nodded, and slowly a smile spread across Virgil’s face.

“I’d love to.”

--- --- ---

It had been just over a month, and Virgil’s wounds finally seemed to be completely healed. Logan had looked them over and declared them sufficiently healed, and Virgil swore up and down that the cuts no longer pained him, though there were thin lines of scar tissue up and down his pale purple skin that would forever serve as a reminder to the terrifying ordeal he’d been through. Roman had half a mind to find the crew of The Carlotta again and exact vengeance on behalf of his beloved siren.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Roman’s face turned bright red, and he tried to push it back down into whatever crevice in his heart it had crawled out of, but it was too late. The thought was released into his mind, and now that it was free it was determined to be as loud and noticeable as possible.

Beloved, beloved, beloved.

It was the day Virgil was going to back to the ocean, and Roman didn’t want him to go.

One look at the expressions on his love’s faces as they all gathered on the deck to say goodbye was all he needed to know that they felt the same as him. They had been together long enough to easily tell what the others were feeling, and they all three were painfully aware of how much they would miss Virgil when he was gone. A tiny selfish part of Roman said that he should stay here on the Sea Serpent forever, but unlike his first unbidden thought of the day, this one passed like a wave across the sea before he even had time to process it. For as much as he might want Virgil to stay, he wanted him to be happy much more. And Virgil could never be happy living confined on a ship like this. He deserved his freedom, and Roman’s heart would count itself privileged to have known Virgil while it could.

“Are you ready?”

Logan’s tone was careful and even, but Roman knew his boyfriend well. His voice was too clipped, too measured. He may not be as obvious as Patton trying to hold back tears, but he was just as upset that Virgil was leaving as Roman himself was.

“I think so,” Virgil said. He spoke with so much more confidence now than he had the day they had met, and Roman let himself feel proud that they’d been able to break through Virgil’s rough exterior in the time they’d had to know him.

“Thank you. For everything,” Virgil added, and Roman nodded.

“We’ll miss you, Virgil,” Patton said tearfully, and Virgil smiled softly at him.

“I’ll miss you too, Pat.”

Patton knelt down to hug him, then stepped back so Logan could grasp his hand.

“Thank you for teaching me so much, Virgil. I must admit, I will miss our talks.”

“Me too, Lo,” Virgil said, and then he looked at Roman.

Roman stooped and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s cheek before he could stop himself.

“So long, Dark and Gloomy.”

Virgil looked stunned, but he managed a smile back.

“So long, Princey.”

Virgil looked at the three of them one last time before he turned and pulled himself up over the railing of the ship and disappeared with a splash into the ocean below.

“Oh gee, I’m gonna miss him so much,” Patton sighed, leaning onto Logan’s chest.

“As am I, Patton,” Logan agreed quietly.

Roman did not speak, but he knew he didn’t need to. He turned instead to go help his brother haul the water out of the cargo hold, hoping that the distraction would keep his mind off his feelings.

But before he made it very far, there was a great *splash* behind him, and he turned just in time to see Virgil land back on the deck with a rather comical flopping sound.

“Virgil!” Patton cried, and Virgil took a deep breath.

“Ifitsallthesametoyouguysidliketostayhere,” he rushed out, and Roman’s heart leaped with hope.

“I...I’m sorry, did you say…?” Logan looked confused, but a teensy bit hopeful as well, and Patton was outright beaming.

“Did you say you wanna stay here, kiddo?” he asked, and Virgil nodded, his cheeks flushing a dark purple.

“It...it doesn’t have to be in the dinghy all the time,” he said. “I can swim in the ocean sometimes, catch my own food, that kinda thing. But um...yeah. I’d like to stay with the Sea Serpent. With...with you guys, if that’s okay with–”

“Nothing would make us happier,” Roman said firmly, and Virgil looked up, a shy smile spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“Really,” Roman said, just as Patton squealed and dropped to the deck to wrap Virgil in another hug.

“Get down here, you two,” he ordered, and Roman smiled as he and Logan knelt beside them and allowed themselves to be pulled into the hug.

It was a little bit crowded, and Roman’s shirt was getting wet from where he was pressed against Virgil’s back, but he didn’t care. Right here, sitting on the deck of his ship with the sun overhead and his three loves in his arms, was exactly where Roman wanted to be.

--- --- ---

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #lamp #ts lamp #dukeceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #ts pirate au #love song for a siren #my writing

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