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the5n00k · 1 month

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Hawkeye Pierce: The Good, The Bad, and The Unmilitary

The long awaited first official M*A*S*H character analysis

It's not a secret to anyone aware of this blog that I fucking love Hawkeye. This piece of shit lives rent free in my mind and has lived rent free for the past four months. Which is kind of why I've hesitated so long to make this because he means so much to me (also what's left for me to say about him, he's been around longer than I have, surely he's been analyzed and over analyzed more than I can imagine)

But I relate to him unfortunately so you're going to have to hear about him sorry <3

Her ass is rambling, this is a long post

Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce starts out the series loud and eccentric but relatively level headed most of the time compared to some of the other members of the 4077. Playboy, drinker, anarchist, and pacifist (by technicality only), his really formative episodes for his character going forward to me at least were Dr. Pierce and Mr Hyde and Sometimes You Hear The Bullet. Both his wish to do something, anything to stop the war and his declining mental health because of it are on full display in these episodes. The war took so much from him and keeps taking, especially when Henry dies and Trapper gets shipped home while he's away. He's a desperate animal clawing at the dirt just trying not to fall off the cliff. And he keeps slipping.

One of his biggest weaknesses as a bleeding heart is burning himself out or having zero self preservation. It's admirable how much he does for his patients and camp mates but most of the time it just looks like he has a death wish. But the admiration is exactly what he doesn't want. He's an attention whore sure, but every time he's ever been put on a pedestal he's tried to shake it off; dismissing the news reporters and even yelling at Radar for simply looking up to him. He covers up his self loathing with humor, childish antics, and self inflating bickering with the other surgeons to give him a fake sense of self worth despite thinking of himself so poorly. Just the way he treats himself with ridiculous drinking habits and poor self care in general is rather telling and only gets worse as the series goes on.

That being said, he is also strongly fixated on having a sense of normalcy, demanding more choices of food and taking showers whenever possible just like all the others scrambling to keep some sort of routine. He also frequently sets up dates with the nurses when he can not looking for anything serious. He falls in love/forms attachments really easily so that often gets him in trouble, especially when his coping mechanisms keep him from being real most of the time. And once he loves you, he holds on, still mourning the loss of Trapper throughout the later seasons as if he was dead. Moving on is not an option for him, often retreating back into memories voluntarily or not to cope with being drafted (Hawk's Nightmare, Bless You, Hawkeye, basically any episode where he talks extensively about Maine or his father)

And no matter what happens, no matter how much he hates it, Hawkeye knows he has to keep going or people will get hurt or worse. He knows he has to get up and keep doing his job because he has to. He doesn't like it. He'd rather literally be considered dead than get continuously screwed over by the army (The Late Captain Pierce) but he gets up anyway. Because people depend on him. There have been a few episodes where I believed his mental health may have been improving, after/around season 9, and then Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen happened and I was immediately destroyed.

His arc in GFA, like a lot of the other characters in that finale special, was perfect for his character. He was always claiming things like “sanity is a state of mind” (and talking about chickens a lot for some reason) so to have him finally, horrifically snap and lose it so badly Sidney found it necessary to keep him in a mental hospital felt like the trainwreck I had been anticipating for the entire series. He needed to stop repressing things and actually process the horrors he's seen, all of it stacking up is the reason he broke to begin with. Everyone else has more or less accepted their shitty situation of stitching together victims of the cruelty of warfare but he'd been fighting it for 11 seasons now (something around 4-5 years show time) and eventually the longer the unstoppable force pushes against the immovable object, one of them will break. Then to see him finally confront the fact that him and BJ will probably never see each other again and practically beg for the closure that Trapper never was able to give him and FINALLY get it was so satisfying and a perfect shot to send off the character with. BJ was the only one keeping him focused and on the right track when he'd start going too far, gave him some much needed reality checks, and was the only one to stick with him through everything. He knew every ugly secret and Hawkeye knew his. They both did terrible things in situations they never asked to be in. They were bonded in trauma and whether you read their relationship as romantic or not, they're probably the closest relationship in the series and I couldn't be happier with how they ended off.

Hawkeye is a deeply flawed character (dare I say… problematic) and while his change isn't immediately noticeable in the series, it is striking if you watch an episode from an early episode to a late one, especially regarding his relationship with Margaret. Across many episodes, they mutually earn each other's respect and actually become very good friends, probably second only to BJ and Hawkeye. They've also been through a lot of shit together and are very similar, reacting to the same insecurities and desires in completely different ways. (Affection craving, their disdain for senseless violence, deep seething rage for injustice, refusing to show weakness due to their high positions)

There's some indefensible things this character does I will admit and things that made me say “why would he say that” but in general, I believe he is a very well written example of PTSD and a strong-willed anti-war activist. The term activist is thrown around a lot online but he's pretty much the only one there trying to fix things, even if his efforts are unethical or straight up ineffective. I actually really love that he does some things that I hate. Seeing such a gritty and reactionary protagonist was so striking to me, his unpredictability made watching him react to things fascinating. He's a cornered animal desperately trying to escape being closed in on closer and closer until he lashes out. My job is nowhere near comparable to the mental turmoil of his but I found myself comparing his thought processes a lot to my own. He's self destructive, impulsive, and immature but his energy brings so much to the show and the characters around him. He has such a fondness for everyone in the 4077 that becomes more explicit in the big moments. He'd raise hell for anyone in that compound whether they asked for it or not. Or if they even needed it. He'd just raise hell. It's enrichment for him

#mash #mash 4077 #hawkeye pierce #character analysis #i didnt proof read this #i hope it's good #i was just rambling #because im in love with him #wait who said that #anyway happy autism awareness month everybody #go watch mash pretty please it's good

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ohnopoe · 3 years

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Alone, Together | Din Djarin

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Summary: Sometimes it’s the strongest people who just need someone to be strong for them. Word Count: 2.2k+ Warnings: Spoilers for the season 2 finale!! Angst. Author’s Note: This was meant to be hurt/comfort... I failed miserably... enjoy your angst and heartache! I also have not proof read this in the slightest... I am lazy and sorry

The silence echoed through the command centre, holding a weight upon your chest that felt akin to drowning. It seemed as though time itself was standing still as you stood there, engulfed in what had just happened, in the anguish that was threatening to creep in.

Of course, you had half expected something like this from the very beginning, it was the plan, after all. Grogu was with his kind now, with a jedi who could train and protect him so much better than you and Din ever could. You’d spent so long trying to convince yourself not to get attached, to enjoy the moments you shared with the curious child with a safe protective layer between you, but that was never really going to work, now, was it?

From the moment you had joined the Mandalorian on the Razor Crest, the duo had captured your heart, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to truly feel apart of the odd little crew. With such a stoic being as Din leading the charge, and a fifty year old child enamoured by his every shiny movement, you had thought it would simply be a job, just another in a long line of careers you had dabbled in throughout the galaxy. But it was so much more.

Looking after Grogu had been so much more than a job, it had been a delight, even in when he was determined to throw a tantrum when you all desperately needed sleep. It wasn’t long before the child became something akin to a friend, albeit a small, incoherent, gnawing on anything that shouldn’t go anywhere near a mouth, friend, but a friend nonetheless.

And somewhere along the line, the Mandalorian followed.

It was in the soft utterances that were barely heard, the gentle actions that weren’t necessary, but were always welcomed with a beaming smile. He wasn’t one for words, but he would show how he cared day by day.

A fruit you enjoyed on a random planet just so happened to be amongst the groceries after you exclaimed your joy upon tasting it. A new pillow was sitting on your bed a few days after he noticed you rubbing your stiff neck in the mornings. And when he found you nervous to be left alone on the Crest on a particularly dangerous planet? Well, suddenly there was time to take a day off to make sure you were comfortable with not only the weapons to defend yourself, but the controls of the Crest should you need to get yourself and the child out of there.

Yes, somewhere along the line, you had forged something of a friendship with the very same man who had unintentionally frightened you silent upon your first meeting. And if at some point your feelings for him had started to slip to something less platonic, well, that was neither here nor there.

Especially now, as you stood by his side in that same pained silence that still echoed through the Imperial ship.

Now, he needed a friend.

His helmet had been removed for the child, he had destroyed his creed, and, as tempting as it might have been, you had kept your gaze firmly on the ground the entire time, determined to respect his beliefs right down to the end.

The pain and anguish you felt at the sight of those gigantic sad eyes as Grogu had left was incomparable, but, even in your pain, you knew it was nothing compared to the hurt the Mandalorian at your side must be feeling.

There were too many in the room, battle hardened warriors each one of them, and you knew words of comfort or sympathy would do little at such a time, so you did the only thing you could think of.

With your gaze still firmly fixated on the floor, you pushed the pain aside, something to be addressed later, when you were alone, when you didn’t have to be the rock for the same man who had unknowingly been the same for you time after time in his own resilient manner.

Your hand barely moved, slow and subtle as you reached across the small distance to him. Unhurried, gentle, as if trying not to scare a wild animal, your fingers found his, curling into his hold in a silent show of camaraderie that had the heartbroken man turning his head towards you.

With your gaze still focused on the floor at your feet, you didn’t see the way those deep brown eyes took you in, savouring the sight, awed by the way you remained diligently refusing to glance his way. You didn’t see the years of pain and heartbreak that swam in that tear stung gaze, didn’t see the anguish that flittered there, fighting against an unwavering affection for you that seemed to have made its home there long ago.

But you did feel the way his hand clasped around yours, large and warm, even through the leather of his gloves. It practically engulfed your own hand, and yet, the desperate hold almost made it seem small, uncertain, as if this one action, your hand in his, was the only thing keeping him together as his world fell apart once more.

Time that had moved so slowly seemed to suddenly fly into overdrive. Boba was back to pick up Fennec, Bo was, begrudgingly, focusing on what could be salvaged from the Imperial ship, Cara was setting off with Gideon, and, while you certainly seemed to be taking in whatever was thrown your way, it still felt a world away.

A decision had to be made, and before you knew it you were walking behind Cara and her new prisoner, still hand in hand with the Mandalorian who hadn’t dared let go of your hand since the moment you had offered it.

Somewhere along the way you had made it clear that you would remain with the Mandalorian, no matter what was to come, although you weren’t entirely certain the words had ever actually been spoken aloud. But any alternative was practically laughable. How could you possibly leave him now? How could you ever?

And then you were on the ship, when had that happened? And Gideon had been silenced once more with a hasty gag that was a desperate plea for what little sanity your little trio had left to not run astray (and possibly to keep Cara from killing him before she could make it to the New Republic). And then? Well, then was now wasn’t it? Alone in the cramped personal quarters of the shuttle, truly alone for the first time in weeks.

There was a time when being alone felt rejuvenating, refreshing even. The quiet solitude a haven from the chaos of so many busy planets, of so many people. When had that changed?

With a sad smile, you almost scoffed at the question the moment it flittered into your mind. You knew damn well when.

Silence had never lasted all that long on the Crest, no matter how tired you and Din might have been, the little green eared monster was determined to run amok, causing a clamouring of sounds in his wake. It was so easy to find it irritating when you were woken from only two hours of blissful sleep after days of being forced awake. It was easy to sigh and grapple with the playful child and remind him that this was sleep time, not play time, and if he wasn’t going to get some rest he had to at least let you get some.

But now, in the eerie silence of the Imperial shuttle you had commandeered in an effort to save the frog eating little bugger, you longed for those sounds. The chaos and cacophony of Grogu was a part of what had become your home, and now, yet another part of it was gone forever.

You couldn’t say when the tears had begun, or when they had slipped from silent streams to harsh sobs that wrecked their way through your body. But, curled up on the militantly neat bunk bed you had claimed as your own, you couldn’t have cared less.

Finally, you were alone, after hours of planning and debating, hours of being the solid rock for the man you had come to care so deeply for. Now was your chance to grieve everything you had lost, in the solitude of the clinically white cube someone had deigned appropriate to be a bedroom.

Visions of green ears and large eyes swam through your mind, memories entangled with daydreams as you thought about what had been, and what was to come for the small child you had grown to love.

But he was gone now, along with the Razor Crest that had become your home, although, thankfully, in a much less dramatic fashion.

Would that just be the way for all the things you loved? Would the same soon follow for Din?

A sound, far harsher than a sob, rattled its way from your chest at the thought. Surely he would be the next to leave, returning to his old life or helping rebuild Mandalore… either way, he no longer had a need for you now, did he? What use would he have for a glorified babysitter with no baby?

The sound of your tears would have been harrowing, were it not for the safety of those Imperial walls that surrounded you. Sobs and groans slipped from one to another as your tears soaked the stark white pillow beneath you. Curled up into the smallest ball you could manage, you let go.

That pain you’d pushed away earlier? Well, it was back, tenfold.

This was why you had never meant to get attached, this, right here, the aching hole that wanted to consume you, yet seemed to echo out from your very chest. It was a pain like no other, grief mixed with fear, sorrow mixed with a loneliness you could never put into words. A profound war of emotions that had your body shaken, and your mind so lost in its anguish, that you didn’t even hear the way the doors slid open, or the heartbroken sigh that followed.

Din was used to being alone. Even with you and Grogu aboard the Razor Crest with him, he would often find himself focused on a job while you distracted the little womp rat in the hull. It was just a part of life, until it wasn’t. Until he found himself working down there alongside you, until he found himself seeking out the joyful sounds of you playing with the child who was somehow older than either of you.

But even still, he was used to your absence, no matter how desperately he wished he weren’t.

So, as much as he desperately wanted to follow you when you claimed to need some rest, no matter how much he wanted to cling to your hand, to the intense amount of comfort such a small gesture had given him, he had let you go.

But that was nearly an hour ago now, and he couldn’t bare it any longer, and a small part of him hoped beyond all things that maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t either.

As the door slid open, and the broken sound of your tears perforated the air, a small sliver of what was left of his heart broke.

You had been so strong, had remained diligent and determined, had been the support he could never ask for, but desperately needed in his dark hour, and here you were, breaking apart alone.

It wasn’t until the harsh mattress beneath you shifted that you even realised you were no longer alone. Turning quickly, panicked and wide eyed, you gazed through blurry eyes at the foreign site before you.

Din still had all his armour in place, his helmet having returned to his head long ago, but his very being looked so different. It was in the way he stooped forwards, his elbows balanced on his knees as if the weight of the world was quite literally weighing him down. It was in the way his head hung low, but still faced you determinedly, as though he couldn’t decide what was worse, watching your broken wails, or turning away from them.

A harsh intake of breath. A desperate rub of your sleeve against your eyes in some plea that it might somehow make you look somewhat put together. You couldn’t meet his gaze, even behind the wall of his visor, but you would do what you had to in order to try and appear composed.

But he was shaking his head, slowly, reassuringly. You couldn’t be certain he was even aware of his actions as his hand found your leg, squeezing gently.

“Don’t,” his voice sounded harsher than usual, as if it had been filtered through sandpaper on its way through his helmet, and the rough sound had him pausing once more, as if startled to hear his own voice.

But he persisted nonetheless, pushing past the way his throat felt dry, past the ache each word brought forward.

“It’s ok to cry,” his voice was quieter now, an attempt at softness even through the pain he felt. “You don’t need to hold it in, not for me, not for anyone.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #my fic

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lotornomiko · 3 years

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The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Three (A bit not work safe at times...)

A bit...not safe for work, but nothing too explicit. Gets a bit dub con at the end too...Fic is thus far one big ball of angst about dub con. ^^;;

Hook Belle Pairing...

As had always been the case, his descent into madness of any kind, was never that of a slow thing, and this, the new and the latest of obsessions of his, had him plummeting headfirst into the abyss, To a place where no rhyme and no reason could make any true sense, Hook driven by such desire, such need. His peace, be it short lived, or long lasting, was such a hard fought thing to acquire, Hook having gone too long tortured without its relief. The memories, the grief that had so consumed him, was starting to trickle back in, his sorrow and that of a blood thirsty revenge trying to make their effect known, Hook left raging inconsoloable one moment, then almost driven to tears in the next. He’d fall into the old patterns, drinking, gambling, even womanziing. Picking fights with that of his crew and especially that of some random strangers, the pirate without caring, ready to be pounded into oblvion, maybe even killed, if it meant earning himself a single moment of respite, that of that blessed peace he had in brief so attained.

Nothing however, was working. Nothing had the magic to push back his rage and his pain. Not even when he tried to drink himself sick, the memories not only remained, they seemed to surge even stronger. Milah was made more vivid in his head than he could ever actually remember her being. As was the past, their all too brief life together colored with such sorrow so that even the good moments, the happy ones of which there had been plenty, were now tainted, ruined by her loss. By the brutal death she had suffered, murdered by Rumplestiltskin’s own cowardly hands.

That moment seemed so potent before his eyes, playing out far too often in his head. It left an already desperate man driven to extreme lengths in his quest for relief, that brief peace attained, having left him crazed for it to happen again, for HER to be chanced on once more. She didn’t though, the woman having vanished in the most strangest of ways, leaving Hook to his own vices. He was made one part furious, angry at the stranger for having abandoned him, while trying to convince himself that her effect had been nothing but a mere fluke. A chance that would not repeat, or one that could be found in the arms of another. It left him drinking, and it left sampling a finer selection of women inside the port town. Everything from whores to what nobles he could lay hand on, it didn’t much matter who. He was beyond being picky, taking what he could get and paying for what he couldn’t. It left him feeling more empty than ever, despising himself, and coming away cold with the realization that the woman, that Belle, was indeed something special. Something that was fast becoming as necessary to his mental well being as what the very air was to his lungs.

Within a week’s time, he had tired of trying. Left disgusted by the failures, and rendered utterly despondent, Hook was more than a little irritated by the lengths he had been driven to. It had achieved nothing, had left him feeling dirty and cheap, and all the more certain that that time with Belle hadn’t just been some fluke. She truly was that vital piece that he was needing, regardless of how little sense it, any of it,, actually made. She was so essential an essence, and it was terrible, horrible, the pirate reeling, knowing he had let that vital a piece slip free so carelessly of his own fingers. He should have never let her go, but more than that, the man wished he had done so much differently.

Unable to keep from tormenting himself with those musings, with wondering what would have happened instead if Hook had shown that beautiful woman the care that she actually had deserved. Would she have still run from him then? Or would he have had to carry her off instead, to keep as his own private spoils aboard his ship? Regardless, it was a dark, dark path that he had decided on, for the pirate already knew that if he was so lucky as to be graced with another chance with Belle, Hook wouldn’t be letting her go. He’d KEEP her, regardless of her wishes, even if it meant making that pretty lass a prisoner, that desperate need of Hook’s the strongest made shackles ever devised. With them, what had been bound together by fate, would further tie them together. He may not properly understand it, could hardly dare believe, but something was at work here, their grief the mutual draw. The bait that had lured Belle to him, and Hook to her, and though he couldn’t fathom the HOW of it, the pirate knew what he now needed. What he was going mad without getting, thoughts of Belle that of a different kind of torment, a sweet torture he repeatedly indulged in again and again.

Driven by it, by the need to be with her, NEAR her, Hook would often return to her room at the fancy inn. The desk clerk was only too glad to take his coins, remaining quiet and circumspect about the things that Hook did inside of Belle's lodgings. The first two nights alone, had seen him reveling in the fading scent of her on the soft linen sheets of her bed. The smell of her shampooed hair on the pillows, those scents were something to savor, even as he was left feeling like some pervert. He was more than that, when he took to stroking himself off to unsatisfying climax after climax, that dress of hers crushed against his face, imagining he could pick up the fading scent of the rain, and that of her own skin’s flavor.

He was left wanting, Belle out of reach, but not that of her things. They and this need reduced him to less than a man, so crazed and obsessed, and fixated on the having. Made inconsolable over continuing to be denied, the pirate could no less stop his twisted behavior, than control how he was worsening in her absence. It left him spending more and more nights at the inn, his own ship all but forsaken, Hook lying in wait in the hopes that Belle would one day walk in through the bedroom's front door. He lived for that moment, imagining it. Fantasying about it, and the things that he would do. Not all of them were pleasant, Hook sometimes wanting to punish Belle for running from him. For making him go through the agony of this separation. Those fantasies excited him, even the violent forceful ones, Hook not always in the state of mind to coax a surrender out of her.

By the third day her scent had faded completely, the sheets smelling like Hook now. He kept on returning to the room, taking fitful periods of rest, but more often than not merely waiting, sleep eluding him save for the moments right after he spent himself on fantasies.

A full week would pass like this, Hook having familiarized himself with all of Belle's belongings. Learning the kind of stories that she liked to read, the perfume and oils she preferred to use, even finding a pressed rose preserved between the pages of one book, its color long faded. He wondered about that rose, wondered just what its significance was. And just as quickly knew it had to be a gift from an admirer, from the one who had hurt her in the first place.

The rose didn't survive that jealous realization, Hook crushing it in his fist. A single thorn had remained on the stem, cutting into Hook's palm. He'd freeze and stare at the blood, ready to laugh when a loud and familiar knock sounded on the door.

"Come in, Mr. Smee."

As usual, the man had his red cap on. He'd take it in hand, nervously fidgeting with the knit wool as he looked around the room. Hook knew it was a sight, Belle's things littered about the place, dresses on the floor, books and trinkets on the bed. It looked like a whirlwind had torn through this place, but in actuality it had been just Hook raving wild.

"Well?" Hook demanded, his voice sharp and strained. He so badly wanted Smee to deliver him some good news for a change, to give him the lead that Hook was so desperate for.

Smee nervously glanced at Hook. A mind reader was not needed to tell the older man was troubled by Hook's recent behavior. Hell, Hook was bothered by it too, at least during the few moments of sanity he was afforded. Those moments were ones that seemed to happen less and less, Hook running a hand over his face, and realizing he hadn't shaved in quite a while.

"Did you find her?" Hook asked, his tone even more urgent now.

"It seems we're not the only ones looking." Smee said at last. He looked as though he was bracing for violence, which wasn't all that unexpected given the way Hook had been acting these last few days.

"Who?" A simple enough word but one that was snarled out with all the rage and fury that Hook could muster. Wondering and fearing it was the one who had intially hurt Belle that could now be that who the one who was looking for the young lass. Fearing that fiend's intentions, and knowing Hook would steal her away no matter the danger, he was hardly relieved when Smee spit out just who else was on the hunt.

"The Queen." Smee looked torn, as though he didn't know who he feared worse. Regina or Hook, and such was the Evil Queen's power, that the mere mention of her name might magically summon her before them.

"The Queen?" Hook scowled. "Whatever for?"

"That I do not know." Smee voiced his apologies. "But the queen has offered a substantial reward for any information that might lead to a finding."

Hook grumbled under his breath, hating that the situation had gotten worse. The Evil Queen was relentless, notorious for getting whatever she wanted. Belle was as good as caught, though Hook was determined to make sure she didn't stay that way. At least not with Regina!

Hook began pacing with Smee watching him. A decision was being debated in the older man's eyes, before he finally sighed, almost sounding defeated when he did speak again.

"There's more."

Hook didn't stop, still pacing about the room like a caged animal. "What now?" He demanded, wondering if something could possibly make the situation any worse.

"Someone claims to have seen your girl leave the city on a wagon." Smee was careful not to say Belle's name, not after Hook had once threatened to split his lip for any future utterings of it. It had been completely irrational, but then Hook often felt that way now, irrational, jealous, downright possessive of any and all that had to do with the woman, and that included even Belle's name.

"And did they happen to say where that wagon was headed?" Hook demanded out loud.

"A city to the east." Smee supplied, not quite ready to offer even a glimmer of a smile. "It's a four day journey by wagon....we can be there by ship in less than two if we leave immediately."

"Then gather the men." Hook told him. "We leave within the hour."

"Right captain!" Smee said, putting his red cap back on his head. He hesitated when he noticed Hook didn't move to follow him out the room. "Captain?"

"She'll be wanting her things." Hook decided. "The desk clerk shouldn't have any problems sparing a boy to pack up and deliver them to the ship."

"Right..." Smee acknowledged but Hook barely heard him. He was too busy looking around the room, tracing fingers over a dress of hers. Anticipating how she would look in it, and wanting, needing to see it in shambles on her body, Belle thoroughly ravished and made disheveled by Hook.

Even with such fantasies giving Hook reason to pause and sweat, he managed to get himself and Belle's belongings to the ship in just an hour's time. His crew was already in place, the ship set to sail at Hook's command. He'd give it almost immediately, visibly eager to get their travels underway.

His crew was happy to set out, glad to leave the town behind them. People of the sea, they grew restless if they remained on land for much longer than a few days. Hook was the same way, preferring the sight of the open seas, and the fresh ocean breeze on his face, to being grounded on land. And yet for all his love of the waters, he felt elation when the next town came into view.

Barely able to wait for the ship to be secured, Hook disembarked, practically leaping over the side railing to land on the pier's planks. Smee would follow at a much slower pace, and both men would look around with interest at a town they had never before been to. But they weren't here to sight see, Hook sending Smee off to do his information gathering. Hook himself would swagger into a local tavern and take up residence at a table. Hoping that perhaps Belle had resumed her nightly routine and had found a place at this new tavern's bar.

It soon was apparent that she had not, Hook wondering how many bars this town might actually have. Wondering if he and Smee would be doomed to visit all of them, and fearing they’d still find no word of her, when it happened. Smee having ambled in, and zeroing in on Hook with an uncanny precision. The man's eyes were wide, his face paler than normal. Hook knew then that the news was bad, and he actually braced himself with a drink before Smee reached his table and did the same.

"She has her." Smee announced.

The glass shattered in Hook's hand, ale soaking into the cuts the shards had left there. "When?" He asked hoarsely, barely aware of his pained flesh stinging.

"Just a few nights ago." Smee said. "Captain, I am so sorry..."

"It is not over." Hook said, than snapped louder in insistence. "IT IS NOT!"

"But if the Queen has her...."

"Then we simply take her from the Queen!" Hook told him, and Smee look horrified.

"Are you mad? You will get us all killed for sure!"

"I NEED her." Hook insisted, his voice raw and naked with his desperate feelings.

"But why?" Smee asked. "What could she possibly have? You don't even love her.....do you?"

"No. Of course not. But love and need are not always the same thing." Hook tried to explain. "Nor can we always choose just where or who we will find comfort in...."

Smee continued to wear that horrified, dismayed look, his head shaking no.

"I won't ask you to come along with me." Hook said, but then turned pleading. "I'll let you go just after you do me one last favor, and find out just where she is being kept."

Smee's upset had increased further, the man having pulled off his cap to crush it in his hands. "But Captain...I couldn't leave. Not after you've been so good to me."

Hook snorted at that, and Smee turned insulted. "You have!" He insisted.

"I've treated you like shit on the best days, and you know it."

"And it's still been a sight better than what my situation was before becoming part of your crew!" Smee sounded earnest enough.

"Then I shudder to think how bad off you were if that really is the case." Hook said, with the barest hint of a smile. "All right, stay with me to the bitter end if you like. Just get me her location!"

"Right captain!" Smee said, putting his cap back on with a relieved look on his face.

It wouldn't be an easy obtaining, many more days going by. Until it was nearly three weeks that Hook had now spent apart from Belle, the hunt for her having served well as a distraction from his grief. Especially when the hunt began to bear fruit, Smee finding a possible location. The ship would travel there, another week wasted on the trip. Hook's sanity was practically in tatters, the man alternating between anticipation, and wallowing in those grief induced moments when nothing worked to keep him distracted.

Now finally he was before the queen's prison tower, the ivory white spire extending high into the sky. Belle was rumored to be at the top of that tower, held under lock and key, and guarded by no less than twenty men. Hook didn't feel the weight of those odds pressing against him, the man downright chipper about his chances. Downright lucid, thinking he could take on the entire world just so long as Belle was the prize, even as Hook had to face the facts that he couldn't go it alone. Not in this.

A small number of his crew was selected, his bravest and best fighters. Naturally Smee was left behind with the ship, the older man more apt to stab himself with a sword than any opponent he might face. Smee was more than fine with the role that Hook had assigned to him, the older man acting as captain in Hook's absence. Keeping the ship ready to sail at a moment's notice, and expected to leave without them if a worst case scenario should actually happen.

The worst case scenario could have been anything from death to imprisonment, but for once fortune favored Hook. It was almost ridiculously easy to break into the tower, a bit of powder and explosives blowing the front door right off its hinges. A bit harder yet was the actual fighting, Hook and his crew of half a dozen fighters facing odds that were three to one. There was more guards than had been anticipated, but with his sweet prize so near, Hook was undeterred, Downright feral as he fought, all savage and dealing death to any fool guard who dared to try to cross swords with him.

The fighting took place all along the spiraling stair case of the tower. There were floors with other prisoners, and even a guard's station about half way up the tower. Hook and his crew didn't bother with investigating those, ignoring the excited cries of the other prisoners until one man pointed out the validity of setting them free. Of how the evil queen would find herself busy trying to track down all the escapees, and thus might never realize the target of this prison break was in fact one person in particular.

Hook leaped on the idea of it, eager to keep the queen confused and guessing. He sent his men to get busy opening the many cells, and continued on his way to the very top of the tower. Somewhere from below came an excited cheering, the freed prisoners quick to celebrate their newfound luck. Hook nearly grinned, feeling a similar excitement, and anticipating the celebration he himself would enjoy soon enough.

That almost grin and the head that wore it, were nearly sliced off, one last guard having lain in wait for Hook. He just barely got his sword up in time, sparks flying as the metal of his blade ground against the soldier’s. A twist of his hand, had the sword turning, Hook shoving back with it. The guardsman minced a step back, Hook slashing diagonally towards his chest. The man just barely jumped back in time, Hook nearly stumbling as his sword sliced through air.

Before he could right himself completely, the guardsman's sword slashed a cut across his back. The leather of his coat split open, the skin beneath only protected by the chain mail underneath his shirt. Hook could only silently thank Smee for insisting on it, the chain mail having saved Hook from an attack that might have otherwise proved deadly.

Whirling about, his hook grabbed at the blade, sliding up the length of it as more of a distraction than a defense, the pirate then twirled his sword before stabbing it forward. The guardsman didn't quite deflect it, the hook twisting, gripping the sword effortlessly. Blood appeared, the guardsman wounded but not yet defeated. Kicking out a leg in a desperate attempt to knock Hook back, only to get stabbed in the thigh.

The pained cry of the guardsman was followed by an angry grunt. The man knew he was defeated, and yet still he did not lay down his surrender. Fearing the Queen more than death itself, the guardsman all but threw himself onto Hook's sword, the blade's tip actually piercing through to the back of him.

The guardsman gagged on his own blood, sword hand going limp, its weapon clattering to the floor. Hook held him up just long enough to get the keys off of his belt, then let the body drop to the floor with a thud.

Shaking the gore off of his sword, Hook then slid it into the scabbard at his side. Feeling his heart beat quickening ever more, Hook fumbled with the keys, knowing now was the moment when he would find out for certain if Smee's information had been correct. Anticipation filled him, even as he knew there was a chance that Belle might not be inside the room, Hook finally on the fifth try, found the right key.

The door did not so much as even groan whenhe swung it open, its hinges that well oiled. Inside the woman was not immediately visible, Hook noticing instead that the room was a windowless cell, with little luxury afforded to it. And then he heard a sound to the left of him, a gasp that drew his eyes towards the woman who was now scrambling off of the cot.

Belle!

Her beautiful and oh so expressive eyes were wide, and even with her visible shock, that blue color was dismayed. Clearly suffering both a mix of surprise and a complete lack of wanting to see him, Belle's pretty little mouth was left open. One look at her, and weeks upon weeks of that built upon lust and desire came overriding what little sense and reason he had still had left. And that was before he noticed what she was wearing, the form fitting tunic that barely kept her legs covered. Her bare legs, Belle wearing no tights to go with the navy blue prison garb.

Knowing it was woefully inappropriate, that the timing alone was all wrong, Hook still advanced on Belle. She tried to take a step back, but her legs bumped against the cot behind her. He didn't quite catch her, instead actually tumbling down with her onto the small, uncomfortable cot. Kissing her, his mouth hard and possessive, even demanding. Ignoring the protesting sounds that she made, pressing between her legs so that he could rub his half hard cock against her panties.

Hook felt Belle's body jerk at that intrusive, intimate touch, but she had no where to go. She was trapped between his body and that of the cot, the woman gasping, protesting with dismayed sounds that he was only vaguely aware of. His hook besides her on the cot, was digging into the thin, inadequate mattress, Hook knowing this was insane. He should be doing anything BUT giving in to his urges, especially while still in the evil queen's tower.

But Belle's lips were even sweeter than remembered, even as they refused to part willingly for his tongue. It didn't seem to much matter, there was so many other places that Hook could kiss, so many spots to choose from if he only could have the proper amount of time.

The hand that hadn't been taken by the crocodile placed its trembling palm over her heart. One second to think he felt its beat, and then he was pawing at her, kneading at her breast. Grabbing, kissing all over, hearing her take a sharp breath a moment before Belle screamed.

The sound didn't quite jar him out of his fantasy, Hook still desperate for her. Wanting, needing, demanding, he thought if he only had her for just a moment longer, it might take the edge off of this all consuming hunger. Even as he reccongize that as a starving man that had gone too long without this particular meal, a tiny bite of her simply wasn't going to satisfy, Hook kissing Belle once more. Whispering feverishly, lips leaving a wet caress on the skin of her throat, Hook felt Belle shiver at the combined threat and promise of his words.

"We will finish this later."

One last resounding smack of his lips, Hook lifting his gaze to meet Belle's frightened one. Only to see her eyes flash at the sight of his tentative smile, that the one and only warning he got before Belle hauled off and slapped him with all her might.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued of course....

8/26/2021 Updated….another one whose beginning got a whole lot of rewriting. Everything else was left about the same, except for some minor tweaking!

-----Michelle

#once upon a time #ouat #captain beauty #CaptainBeauty #belle #killian x belle #captain hook #killian jones #fanfiction #fanfic #The Broken Hearted Comfort #season 2 cannon divergence #romance #smut

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dotthings · 4 years

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Just getting some personal frustrations off my chest. It’s been 15 years of endless nonsense and wank. I’m a little salty. I really need to let it all go and keep my mouth shut and just enjoy what’s left of SPN but sometimes you just gotta let it out.

Sometimes I wish I could find an archive of the old TWOP spn message boards just so I could illustrate how ridiculous the petty grudgewanking against Dabb is getting. “Dabb ruined SPN” for doing shit that Kripke did in S1 and spn fandom was already wanking itself to pieces over.

I’m so done. I’m so done hearing how anti-Dabbs are the only ones who get the show, I’m done with being used as the personal punching bag for some people just because I don’t hate Dabb era canon and won’t trash every character who dares breathe while not being my one true fave, I’m so tired of the oh so creative fandom revisionist history and canon revisionist history and revisionist history on how fandom reacted to things starting in Kripke era just so they can scream and yell again how Dabb destroyed SPN’s legacy and ruined the fandom. I’m sick of being gaslighted. I’m sick of being condescended to and patronized by people who make hilaribad hottakes on twitter that HAVE NO RELATIONSHIP TO THE ACTUAL EPISODE CONTENT BECAUSE THEY DON’T PAY ATTENTION TO ANYTHING BUT THEIR OVERFOGGED DISTORTED STAN GOGGLES. I’m tired of accounts who claim that ridiculously biased tincesters who happen to be professional critics who make gross mis-statements about canon and clearly don’t understand one effing thing about SPN’s longest running themes or anything that has happened since Kripke left claim to be unbiased because it’s supposedly ship-free when it’s laden with tincester agenda and this gets hailed as some deep truth about SPN. I’m tired of people putting their obsessive OBSESSIVE anti fixations against Jack and against Dabb over basic common sense in ways that isn’t actual critique it’s just perpetual pointless hatred and grudgewanking. I have been pissed at things about SPN myself, I don’t think I ever have or ever could achieve the levels of anti-obssessing the anti-Dabb crowd has achieved, gold star to them. I’m tired of being accused of stupid and contradictory shit by stans from EVERY GODAMN LANE AT THE SAME TIME because I a) pay attention to the canon b) don’t stan my own faves so hard that I treat everyone else’s like garbage c) don’t turn everything into a conspiracy theory against my faves d) actually take a nuanced and balanced position as possible in my metas where my faves pov isn’t the only pov in existence. Oh no, the horror, what a traitor, I must only think this way because I’m a [Sam][Dean][Cas][Jack] stan.

I’m tired of people who wank on meta writers as delusional even though we get canon right and understand it 500% better than they do then turning around when we’re proven right again and again to go “oh ok but Dabbnatural doesn’t count as canon anyway so there neener” yet it’s considered canon when it’s time to bash the meta writers. I’m sick of Sam v Dean wars while stans of both lanes pretend they don’t do the same shit to the other brother, incessantly, season after season since the very beginning, I’m sick of Cas stans who think they’re the one shining light of sanity in spn fandom who have sunk down to rhetoric and behavior lately that barely distinguishes them from the brosonlies who attacked and bullied them for so long.

You want to reject Dabb era from your personal canon be my guest. You want to engage in reasonable constructive critique I won’t say a word.

But my personal nerves have been stomped on one too many times just this morning alone and I don’t expect standom to care about my feelings or personal backstory or how spn fandom has banged on my personal traumas harder than anything canon could ever do, has upset and even triggered me at times more than canon ever could, but I certainly care. Oh did spn disappoint you? Not nearly as much as much of spn fandom has hurt and disappointed me, let’s swap scar stories. Enjoy your fixated haterage against a tv show you used to love that disappointed you. If people had any common sense they would back off instead of trying to make every spn fandom space a misery for anyone who disagrees with them and punish each other for caring about the characters we relate to because it’s the wrong brother or it’s an angel instead of a Winchester or a Winchester instead of just an angel or whatever stupid wanky reason to be an endless baiting pile of wankbait has crawled up people’s butts this week.

#mildew #warning high saline content!!!

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h3l10tr0p3 · 5 years

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Headcanon: Deku, the Serial Shipper

Contains- Mentions of sexual activities, established relationship - Bakudeku; Crack pairings- TodoIna, JiroMomo, UraTsuyu, UraTenya, DenkiSero, Kirimina, platonic Kiribaku etc.

(Beware- Long post)

Jesus Christ, I just had this HC and now I gotta spill, otherwise I won't be able to sleep tonight. Here's another annoying Long Post for y'all)

Deku, as a Pro Hero and Katsuki's Duo Partner, has a pretty hectic life since the media are crazy bloodhounds, the villains are a pain in the ass, interacting with fans becomes exhausting at times, and the critics are demons wailing for his blood.

Yeah, very hectic. And on top of that, there's very little time to relax. Most of the days he sneaks some solace in the gym, if he can buy more time he likes to read and immerse himself in his notebooks and research. Fighting Katsuki to blow some steam is a last resort to shed off weeks of frustration and only reserved for off-days or desperate times - because something like that inevitably devolves into gratuitous rough sex or worse, day-long fuck-a-thon. Not that Deku doesn't enjoy it, he simply doesn't have the time to indulge and he knows Kacchan doesn't either, so they try to keep their hands off each other unless the occassion begs for much-needed violent release.

But sometimes, you just want instant relief. Sometimes Deku just wants to kick back and relax like a normal person, go on the internet, without everyone hounding him for a piece of his mind.

So he does.

Under Anonymity.

Et viola @allmight9000 comes alive on several media platforms including Tumblr and Twitter. At first, Deku masquerades around as a hardcore All Might fan fighting anyone who dares to diss the retired Symbol of Peace . But since his retirement, his popularity has gone cold, not many heated debates take place around him anymore and as sad as this makes Deku, he decides to discover new venues.

Now, Deku knows there's this dark void of fanfiction lurking on the net and there's no escape from it should he ever set foot into it. He is also aware of the dark things that beckon him from the sewers like Pennywise the Dancing Clown (eg. All Might/Endeavour, Hawks/Endeavour, All Might Bowl, All Might/ Hero Harem, All Might/Midnight, All Might/Aizawa/Present Mic and so on), things he should rightfully keep a safe distance from. But this is fucking Deku we are talking about- ofcourse he dares to dip his foot into the murk of fanfiction.

For science, he thinks, and takes the plunge.

It all goes downhill from there.

One day, Katsuki comes back from his shift to find Deku face-planted into the sofa, he hasn't eaten lunch, hasn't bathed and is claiming trauma, repeatedly insisting that he has sinned and he is going to hell for it, then he shakily holds up a 367k word fic of Villain Might/Endeavour. Katsuki has to slap him back to his senses. Later that night, Deku calls up Toshinori and asks him for forgiveness, when Toshinori asks him worriedly, 'For what?', Deku assures him he DOES NOT wanna know.

After obsessively going through various tropes and completing every Enemies to Lovers / Mutual Pining / Unrequited Love fic there is (and there is a lot, Deku hates himself every day for it), waiting torturous weeks for dead authors to rise from the ashes for a teeny tiny update, Deku finally gives up his small lake of unfulfilling All Might ships (because frankly it's hard to find a fic that suits his tastes and convincingly fleshes out a love story around a man who has pointedly avoided romance for the better part of his LIFE or a find a fic which is COMPLETE) and sets out into the sea of Ships.

Bad Idea.

Very VERY Bad Idea.

(We know it, he knows it. Katsuki is the only one who is blessedly oblivious because he chooses not to wade into Deku's mental shit and compromise his own sanity.)

Strangely, Deku has come to take an odd satisfaction of returning to fan mentality of shipping two people without restraints (rarely more than two)-it's simple, senseless, easy. It gives his head a break from all the overanalyzing it does and gives him a small dose of endorphins when he cant work out, eat out or fuck out the frustration. He was adverse to it first, since these are strangers trying to ship two random people (people he is friends with), and it was unsettling to find so many people shipping them when they've BARELY had any interaction in canon real life! What's the premise of shipping them at all? He just didn't find any allure to it back then. So he kept his reads under fluff and under mature ratings because he feels uncomfortable reading smut about his friends.

But Deku had a 'Oh my God they were ROOMMATES' moment when Jirou and Momo announce that they are dating to the U.A. Alumni, that too after reading a really fluffy Creati/Earphone Jack fic which accurately referenced their public sightings together and spun it into plot-points quite masterfully. ( the author did a real good job on it) And the most horrifying thing about the fic, Deku finds, is the fact that NO ONE, not even the AUTHOR knows how correct they were in their estimates! No one except Deku.

That realization shakes the foundations of Deku's beliefs and morality as he wonders how many fics out there , sfw or smut, requited or unrequited love, enemies to lovers or lovers to strangers, fluff or smut have come so so close to the truth, been so damn close - like an alternate course of their love-story? and WHY IS NO ONE GIVING IT MORE KUDOS?

This is how Deku ends up being the most irredeemable Shipper of the universe- with a mission in hand:

To curate proof of all valid ships and to supply aforesaid proof of it to the world (as subtly as he can of course, so as to not compromise his own identity or the privacy of the Shipped.)

He begins to scour through the net for paparazzi photos, indulges in gossip, pries out information of who is dating whom from his Hero contacts, authenticates it, creates folders and subfolders of photographic 'proof' (they are just teasers really) and whenever anyone writes a fic that comes anywhere close to the real thing he makes sure to tag them in his tumblr/twitter post with photos which basically pour gasoline over their fiery passion to continue dreaming and writing fics around those Ships. Like:

You wrote a fic of Fluffy Iron Fist x Real Steel? Here you go- an obscure pic of them leaving her apartment together

Uravity x Ingenium and Uravity x Froppy? A love triangle that could possibly end in heartbreak?!! Damn, sistah, who knows? (She's confused too, imho) So here you go- Uravity getting tipsy with Froppy and Uravity snuggling to Ingenium under the rain.

One-shot of Chargebolt x Cellophane getting frisky in an alley? Honey, I gotchu. Here's a pic of them arriving at a villain scene together with dishevelled clothes.

All Might x Endeavour Slow Burn? My dear friend- here's a picture of the Symbol of peace roasting marshmallows with Shouto on flaming Endeavour merch. Please don't make me block you.

All Might x Midnight? Here's a pic of my mom, me and my Dad AllMight. Midnight, Who binch?

Celsius (Shouto) x Gale Force Stripper AU? Oh, hey, look I'm totally that one lucky guy who was in the right place at the right time, okay? I dont know these guys personally, OKAY? Not. At. All. But I have some Opinions™ about your fic? and pics to support it. Just wanna show you that maybe...i mean...MAAYYYYYYBEEEE...the stripper is Galeforce, not Celsius? Yeah? Don't worry though, You're doing good. Love the slow build, keep up the good work!

Deku becomes a sensational fic-writer-enabler and often gives inspiration to writers who are looking to write for a new fandom. Deku's got their backs.

He sinks so deep into this Shipping business that one day Katsuki catches wind of it. It was becoming painful to keep ignoring Deku's descent into madness. Katsuki was okay with it as long as the nerd did his job well and fucked him even better (which Katsuki will never admit to enjoying, even at gun point. Pull the trigger, you coward). So, yeah, Katsuki could have accepted all of Deku's weird stalkerish behaviours (even if they weren't fixated on him all the time anymore and the 'Kacchan, sugoi!' comments had plummeted drastically....who needs the shitnerd to validate his worth, right?! Right...it didn't make him pissed AT ALL. because admitting that would mean he enjoyed it, WHICH HE DID NOT, MIND YOU)

What Katsuki couldn't accept was Deku accidentally using his official Hero twitter handle to post a very platonic (but in the eyes of rabid fans- borderline homoerotic) pictures of him and Eijirou and posted it as #Ground_Riot. The fucking flood of Zeku-haters and pro-GroundRioters had the comments section on FIRE. The post goes VIRAL.

Deku, fucking DEKU, the man who is secretly ENGAGED to him, is promoting GroundRiot like NO ONE's business and HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE DID WRONG.

Katsuki finds Deku happily puttering around their shared apartment completely oblivious to the PR hell that has been licking at his heels. He immediately attacks Deku's account and is completely gobsmacked. Lo and fucking behold- every fifth picture in his blog is fucking GROUND RIOT.

Not just that, apparently, THIS MAN, his fucking FIANCE, is not only a renowned peacemaker in inane Ship wars, but is hailed as a Soothsayer of Ships for always correctly prophecizing "Ships that will Sail into the fucking Sunset', he is basically some minor god in the Hero fandom who is extorting excitement out of fic writers and fans alike so that 'the crime of incomplete fics' can be eradicated once and for all. And Deku's fucking commited to it.

(perhaps more commited to Ground Riot than his own betrothal because there isn't A SINGLE POST of ZEKU on his blog)

There's even a post where he answers an ask from anonymous. The question: "Are you also anti-Zeku? I have never seen you post anything related to that ship. Is it because you think it won't Sail?" And Deku answers shortly how he isn't explicitly Anti-Zeku, but doesn't like the idea of reading fanfics of that ship. He clearly witholds his opinion if the ship will sail or not. Katsuki also finds the chat which started all this shit.

Chat-

Hey! @allmight9000. I wanted to write a GroundRiot fic? Could you give me some inspiration?

Aww, sure! It's my favourite Ship tbh. I love GroundRiot. I have a whole gigabyte of inspirations in my laptop. I'll send you some when I get back home, okay?

Yup!!! I am actually a hardcore Zeku fan. But recently my friends got me into Ground Riot and I am addicted!! But Zeku will always have a special place in my heart <3

I see. :)

Do you wanna try it out? I know you mentioned you don't like it. But I know some REALLY good fics.

No thank you ^_^ I make it a point to not read those fics. I just can't visualize it working, you know?

Oh...np. Each to their own. But I really hope one day you try reading some if you can?

I don't think so ...😅...uh...but..Any preferences for your inspiration though? or genre youre interested in?

Fluffff!!

Haha, okay! Look out for the new post on my twitter!

YASSS!! Love ya!

You too!

Katsuki sees red, he's about to flip his shit when he decides to give Deku one LAST fucking chance to explain WHY THE FUCK is he promoting Ground Riot when he should be shipping Zeku and demands of him if he really wants their Fucking Ship To Sail Or Not.

Deku gets defensive and says of course he does. Katsuki asks why he has been trying to push him onto Eijirou all this time if he wasnt serious about it. Deku doesnt want to answer. Then Katsuki gets fruatrated and asks WHY the fuck didnt he post Zeku.

"Because I don't want to support it"

"We are literally fucking engaged, you moron. What the FUCK do you mean you don't support it?!"

"I support Us, Kacchan! I just don't wanna support Zeku-shippers! Those two things are different!"

"WHy dont you wanna support them?! tHere is No Difference!"

"There is! I am not obligated to do anything for you. But if I admit to shipping Zeku out loud to the shippers, then I'm obligated to post pictures of us and I know that if I start posting that then my blog will literally be a flood of just Us all over!!"

"What is WRONG with that?!!"

"WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ENGAGED IN SECRET! NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW! you said it yourself! That you don't like the useless yapping of reporters about your love-life where it isn't their business!"

"YEAH? WELL FUCK THAT!"

And Katsuki whips out his phone, takes a selfie of french kissing the hell out of Deku and immediately posts in on his twitter. Deku has hardly reeled back from that intense kiss when he realizes what Katsuki has done and he practically explodes in shame.

"Kacchan!! Our secret!"

"Your fucking fault, Deku. If I have to deal with the shitty extras at all, it better be for the right Ship, you dumbass. I'll punt you straight to China if I hear Ground Riot from your mouth ever again...capiche?"

"But I like Ground Riot...It's a valid ship, Kacchan. You cant diss on it just like that. It has wonderful scope, and the fluff in this ship is AMAZING. I think I have a soft spot for Uke!GZ and Soft!GZ now... and it is a really mutually productive ship unlike- hrmff!", Katsuki shuts him up with a smack to his mouth and sheds his shirt.

"Shut your mouth and strip, shitnerd. I'll fuck the Ground Riot out of you. Also, let's make this fucking clear that if you mention ANYTHING that goes anywhere near Eijirou's dick,ass, balls or mouth", Katsuki shivers, "then I'll wreck your dick, ass, balls and mouth. Remember that. Now STRIP"

"But what about platonically? That's a solid ship, right? Right, Kacchan? Also It doesn't mention Eijirou's- fuck!!!"

Deku gets wrecked thoroughly.

(Let's observe one moment of silence for his Shipping ass 🙏)

(r.i.p. Deku)

Katsuki later asks him why Deku doesn't read Zeku fics either, cause pretending to not like it to weasel out of obligation is fine, but it doesn't explain why he refuses fo read any either.

"A fic, especially the ones that I like, always are these perfect little stories which always have a happy ending. Can't help it, I'm weak to it, Kacchan- it's why I read fics at all, you know? For the rush of happiness and feels! It's always written with the intention that it will be perfect! And it is. But it doesn't come close to the real thing. There can be fics out there that come really close to what we really have though - but I refuse to accept that any fic could be better than the imperfectly perfect things I have with you, Kacchan. No matter what anyone insists, what I have with you is perfect to me. You are perfect to me. And that's all that matters."

Katsuki calls him an incorrigible sap and turns away to hide a violent flush that turns him red like a stop sign.

Omake:

Katsuki's #Zeku goes Viral too. But at this point no one understands what is going on or WHY. Because GZ appears to be a Zeku shipper when Deku is a GroundRiot shipper. Confusion abounds. Zac Efron memes agonize over Both ships, Captain America Japan Civil War Memes make a comeback. And for some reason, Deku keeps posting Ground Riot afterwards too and everytime he does, the next day he is seen limping.

"Did you have a hardtime with Zero-san at training yesterday?"

Before Deku can answer the one who asks him that, Eijirou comes up, winks and answers in his stead, "Very hard", and runs away to Mina's side before Deku has a shame-filled meltdown.

(The Ground Riot thing stops only when Mina and Eijirou get finally married.)

#bakudeku #katsudeku #katsuki x izuku #ktdk #bkdk #deku the shipper #humour #social media shenanigans #headcanon #fic idea #fanfic idea #too many headcanons #holy crap this was such a shit hc #deku ships kiribaku

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jahaanofmenaphos · 5 years

Photo

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

FANFICTION.NET

TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 03: LET SLEEPING GODS LIE

QUEST SUMMARY:

Jahaan stumbles upon a newly excavated chamber, one that a charismatic young stranger claims to be where Guthix resides under the earth. However, once this knowledge becomes commonplace, many different factions come to a head, either to protect the sleeping god, wake him, or destroy him...

CHAPTER 1: TEMPLE DESECRATED

Like Ozan, Jahaan took a ship to Catherby in order to avoid traversing the dangerous mountains that separated the two kingdoms - Asgarnia, housing Falador, and Kandarin, where Catherby and the Legends’ Guild were located. Catherby was the largest fishing village in Gielinor, home to some of the greatest fishermen in the land. The crisp, clear blue waters of the beach were home to vast amounts of different fish, all plentiful, all delicious to eat or, for those so inclined, profitable to sell. Glorious gold-plated ships were docked in the ports, side by side to the numerous fishing trawlers that strayed further from the shores to catch their supplies of fish. On his way to Burthorpe, Jahaan had spent close to a month on its soft, golden beach, loving the feeling of the slightly damp sand from the retreating tide between his toes. As it was summer when he visited last, the warm evenings allowed him to sleep under a blanket of stars and spend his days among the company of other fisherman, enjoying the past-time together. He made a fair bit of money that summer, selling what he didn’t eat to the local fishmongers. A part of him was tempted to stay there longer, almost indefinitely, to save up enough to rent out a small room in an inn, or maybe even buy a residence of his own. For a while he felt he could quite happily live out his life with lazy days of fishing, but he soon realised he was only kidding himself, and the serenity began to grate on him. With little more than his memories to keep him company, Jahaan became increasingly restless, the remnants of guilt from his first encounter with Lucien eating away at the edges of his sanity. Therefore, decisions were made, and he left Catherby for the Imperial Guard. Being back, however, brought with it some blissful memories, especially when that salty sea air slipped through his nose and hit his lungs. With a sad smile, he traced his fingers lightly over the armour at his wrist. His eyes gazed into the far off horizon, a watercolour of blue and pink, blending the sky together in a picturesque portrait only his eyes could capture.

Taking a seat on the sands, Jahaan removed his chestplate and started to work out the kinks in his back.

I think I’ll catch some fish, build a fire, and settle down here for the night…

It ended up being just under a week when Jahaan finally continued his journey, leaving Catherby behind him as he set out for the Legends’ Guild. The Guild wasn’t too far from Catherby, but it was still a two-day journey. Following the coastline took Jahaan a little longer than going direct would, but it allowed him easy access to fresh food and clean water. A night’s camp by the shore was never a bad thing in his eyes, and the day after, with a brisk pace, he made it to the Legends’ Guild by the afternoon.

The grasslands around it were dotted with pleasant little flowers, and trees of many different varieties lined the way. From oaks, to yews, and even an elder - firewood is never an issue on this path. Or, for the most ambitious, elder logs fetched a high price in the right market.

He saw about a dozen woodcutters making the most of the opportunity.

One thing that did puzzle Jahaan though - there was a large crater dug not too far from the entrance of the Legends’ Guild.

Weird… that wasn’t here last time I came through this way. Are they digging a new quarry or something?

Shrugging, Jahaan let it slide as he squared up his shoulders and strode up to the entrance to the Legends’ Guild.

As soon as he got close, the burly guard at the gate locked suspicious eyes on him; he tugged on the leash that pulled his dog into view, who maddly started barking at Jahaan and launching himself at the gate, as if he was starved and Jahaan was the only meat he’d seen in a week.

Cautiously, Jahaan slowed his approach. “Um, h-hello…”

“What’s your business here, stranger?” the guard demanded.

Wondering what he did to offend the gentlemen, Jahaan hurried to pull the letter from his backpack and held at out at arms length to the guard, slowly edging closer to the gate with his eyes fixated on the angry canine.. “Um, I have a letter from Sir Tiffy?”

It wasn’t a question, but that was the most pacifistic way he could voice the phrase. He’d already been almost eaten alive by one dog in recent memory - he didn’t want to make it two.

Snatching the letter from his hand, the guard examined the seal closely. Gruffly, he told Jahaan to wait there while he left go inside the Guild. The dog remained, teeth baring, eyes deadly.

Managing a weak smile, Jahaan whispered, “W-Who’s a good boy…?”

It did not have the desired effect.

Five terrifying minutes later, the guard returned to his post. Grabbing onto the dogs leash, he pulled him out of the way as he heaved the metal gates open, saying nothing as he let Jahaan pass.

Sending a smug look at the canine over his shoulder, he marched past the beautifully trimmed hedges and into the Guild.

As soon as he entered, an older gentleman with a long white beard and a full set of rune armour met him inside the doorway.

“Welcome,” the man warmly greeted. “My name is Radimus Erkle. I’m the grand vizier to this fine establishment. I apologise on behalf of Steven - he’s new here. I keep telling him to loosen up, but will he listen?”

Radimus laughed, and Jahaan followed by chuckling nervously.

Luckily, Radimus continued the conversation before the silence became awkward. “I read your note from Sir Tiffy. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut. Am I saying that right?”

Confirming he was, Jahaan held out his hand to shake. “An honour to meet you too, Sir Erkle.”

“Oh, I’m no knight - just an old man who loves an adventure. Now, Sir Tiffy sent you here for a reason. Come this way…”

Through a large oak door and two grand hallways, the pair came to a marble staircase, surrounded on all sides by portraits of adventurers of old, famous ones that Jahaan had only ever heard about in campfire tales.

Motioning downwards, Erkle handed Jahaan back the note and said, “Give this to Fionella and she’ll take care of you. It’s only one floor down. Whatever you do, DON’T go down to the second floor.”

“O-Okay,” Jahaan, still quite frankly baffled by it all, carefully made his way down the stairs. The darkness started to increase the further he descended, but fortunately candlesticks were dotted around to guide the way. He made it to the right floor, a quiet hallway with a handful of quaint little doors on either side, and one at the end that was helpfully labelled ‘Fionella’s’.

Jahaan started to edge out of the stairwell, but then hesitated. Looking over his shoulder, then quickly all around him, he slinked back into the stairwell and, as quietly as he could, tiptoed down to the basement floor. A gloved hand made for the door handle...

A roar, so furious and ungodly it chilled Jahaan to the core. The sounds of sword meeting flesh, clashing with armour. A fall, a dive - who knows!

A hand tentatively hovered over the handle of his sword as he toyed with the idea of investigating further, against all sense and reason. That idea was stopped dead in his tracks by a hand on his shoulder, causing Jahaan to swing around in shock.

An unimpressed Radimus motioned to the staircase. “This floor is off limits. It’s only for the most worthy of legends.”

Guiltily, Jahaan hung his head and trudged back up the staircase, feeling like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

Radimus pointed to the far end of the hallway, watching with a hawk-like glare to make sure Jahaan didn’t deviate from his course again.

After knocking on the door twice, a call came from the other side. “Come on in.”

The dismal looking room was nothing too spectacular. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this… no, this looked like your average storage room. A few chairs were lazily placed at the back of the room, while a dusty wooden desk separated Fionella from her guests. Behind the brunette were a large amount of tattered crates and cardboard boxes, victims to time and age. Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes, she asked, “Can I help you?”

Uncrumpling the note, Jahaan handed it to her. “Uh, yeah… I was told by Sir Tiffy to come to you with this.”

Adjusting her glasses, Fionella squinted at the handwriting. Occasionally, she glanced up at Jahaan before returning to the note. Sometimes she looked confused, sometimes impressed, and once she even laughed. Utterly confused, Jahaan resisted the urge to ask her to elaborate any further.

Shrugging, she screwed the note up and tossed it behind her. Jahaan held out a hand, opening his mouth to protest, but Fionella cut him off, saying, “Wait here.”

Leaving his mouth hung agape, he did as he was told. At this point, he was just resigned to whatever came next.

A couple of minutes and a large clattering later, Fionella emerged from behind a load of crates and boxes with a two long, thin crates of her own. Heaving it up on the table, she wiped the sweat from her brow and muttered, “I really need to build up my strength…”

She peered around the obstruction and drearily announced to Jahaan, “These are yours, courtesy of Sir Tiffy and the Legends’ Guild. Enjoy.”

Jahaan looked at the box, then regarded Fionella, hesitantly.

“What are you waiting for, Saradomin’s return?” she chided, ushering him to take the boxes from her. Sliding them into his arms, he thanked the young woman and staggered out into the hallway to unbox these ‘gifts’.

When he pried them open, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

The first crate held two rune swords, unscathed and unparalleled in their craftsmanship, with a double-sheathed belt. They put his second-hand scimitar to shame. Carefully, he put the belt on and tucked them into their sheaths, feeling like the most powerful man in Gielinor. Weaponry really shouldn’t give anyone such a rush, but man, Jahaan felt like he was ten feet tall. In truth, he was never a fan of scimitars - they were an odd shape, and Jahaan awkwardly found himself slicing too far from his target as he misjudged the curvature of the blade. He noted that Sir Tiffy hadn’t provided him a shield, and wondered if that was intentional or not. After all, during the battle, his shield spent half the time on the ground. Kiteshields were so damn cumbersome when fighting human-like enemies. Trolls were one thing, and yes, when he managed to utilise it in time, it helped to protect him against the ice giants. However, Jahaan had always favoured speed and agility - why take the brunt of an attack when you have the ability to dodge out of the way entirely?

In the other crate was a yew shieldbow with about two dozen rune-tipped arrows and a leather quiver. Now, he wasn’t a bad archer, but he was no Ozan. At least now I have a reason to practice, he thought to himself as he repositioned the bow over his shoulders and adjusted the quiver

It was when he made it about twenty feet from the gates, the angry dog and grumpy guard in his wake, that he didn’t know what to do next. On his way out, he’d asked Radimus if Ozan had passed through, to which he replied that he left with Ariane two days ago, the pair making towards East Ardougne. Deciding that was a good a place as any to start, Jahaan thought he’d try and catch them before they moved on again.

“Hey mate, hol’ up!” a voice called out. When Jahaan turned around, he saw a sprightly young man chasing after him. Once he made it close enough, Jahaan noted the man sported a black feathered hat and an unshaven face. His clothing was just as unkempt as his facial hair, and from the bags around his eyes, it was easy to deduce that the man didn’t quite understand the concept of a proper night’s sleep.

“Can I help you?” Jahaan inquired, smiling amusedly at the poor man that was now doubled over, trying to catch his breath. The young man signalled for him to be given a minute’s respite.

“Whoa nelly,” he exhaled, deeply. “I really need to get in shape, yes I do. I can dig and dig and dig, but nope, runnin’ takes it right out of me, yes it does.”

Jahaan motioned over to the large pit the man had emerged from. “Don’t tell me you dug that all by yourself.”

“Why, yes sir, yes I did! Lost me some five good shovels. But it’ll be worth it when the museum sees what I bring ‘em, yes it will!”

“You work for the museum in Varrock?”

The man nodded eagerly. “Jus’ an apprentice for now, but oh boy, when they see what I’ve got! Oh boy! They’s always laughing at me, you see, for chasin’ this ‘dream’, they call it. They say I’m not ‘museum material’, but they just don’t get it! I here think I’ve just stumbled on one o’ the biggest historical discoveries of all time, yes I have!”

This peaked Jahaan’s interest. “What do you reckon you’ve found?”

“Something game-changin’!” The man cheered, clapping his hands together. “I reckon this is got something to do with Guthix himself! I’ve been studyin’ the area for so long, and I got me some help from those druids in Taverley, and they can vouch for this here energy that be coming from that hole. I uncovered a door an’ everything! Come look!”

Unable to resist the curiosity, Jahaan tagged along as the man bounded over to the substantial hole he’d dug for himself. True to his word, an ancient stone door had been uncovered, with leaf-like patterns carved into the frame.

He couldn’t help but be impressed. “Very nice. So, what’s inside?”

This is where the man’s enthusiasm skipped a beat, and a large frown overwhelmed his features. “That’s the thing, I haven’t gone through yet. I’ve been trying to open the door for ages, yes I have, but it ain’t no use. Maybe I just haven’t got the muscles, y’know?”

“So, you want me to help you open the door?”

“That, and more, if you’re up for it. Ya see, I ain’t no adventurer like yourself. You gotta take into account all the usual dangers of openin’ up ancient tunnels… traps, boulders, cave spiders, undead monsters… I thought it might be best if I’d get someone from the Legends’ Guild to lend a hand, y’know? And I see YOU walking out, Mr Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut!”

Jahaan crinkled his brow. “You know me?”

“Why, of course!” the man beamed. “Word travels around these parts, yes sir! You're one of Sir Tiffy's men! He only bothers around with the best, you know.”

Jahaan smiled, feeling his ego get a little cuddle. If this man planned on charming him into helping, he was doing a good job. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh!” the man held out his hand, then quickly withdrew it to wipe some soil off his palm, before offering it again. “Name’s Orlando. Orlando Smith. So, you in?”

Grinning, Jahaan seized the man’s hand. “Sure!”

“FANTASTIC!” Orlando looked like he was going to explode with glee. He practically leapt down into the hole with Jahaan in tow. When he placed his hand on the crevice acting as the door’s handle, Jahaan noted how warm it felt to the touch, almost hot, and it vibrated ever so slightly upon contact. Much to the surprise of Jahaan, and the awe of Orlando, the former managed to heave the stone door open without throwing his back out in the process. Orlando lit a couple of torches, handing one to Jahaan, before they both stepped inside, Jahaan apprehensively, but it seemed if Orlando had abandoned all previous reservations as he skipped into the cave.

“This is it! By golly, this is it! Oh boy, the museum’s gonna be so chuffed with me! We gotta take something back with us. Ooo but we can’t disturb anything… aww shucks… Still, this is incredible, yes it is!”

Inside, the stone walls were covered in carvings, floor to ceiling. Much of it was a strange language Jahaan did not understand, but Orlando said it looked familiar to him. The rest were drawings, figures etched in time into the stone. Many of the figures had been engulfed by the plant growth, but among the visible carvings, Jahaan recognized the snake, Juna, Guardian of the Tears of Guthix, alongside a giant insect. It seemed Guthix held them in high regard.

In the corner of the room was what appeared to be an inactive soul obelisk, yet when leaning in closer, Jahaan noted a faint hum could still be heard coming from it. Scattered on the floor next to it were broken remnants of vials, perhaps from the early days of herblore. The odd scrap of withered herb could be seen in amongst the shattered glass.

“Hey Jahaan, take a look at this,” Orlando urged, ushering Jahaan towards a cracked plinth. Atop it laid the remains of a blade, still emitting sparks. Pieces were undoubtedly missing, rendering it irreparable, even if it was safe to touch.

With a furrowed brow, Orlando muttered, “How strange. What we know of Guthix indicates he was a pacifist; completely against violence, yes he was. The sword looks like it has been recovered, and for it to be placed in such a prominent position... there are so many things we could learn! Still, my mother warned me against touchin’ glowin’ weapons of the gods, yes she did, so let’s leave that one be for a while…”

The two continued to examine the ruin, Orlando marvelling at every little thing he saw. After a while, he called Jahaan over again, remarking, “This here wall don’t match the other walls, no sir. I think there might be somethin’ beyond here.”

Pulling off some of the plant life that had been residing on the obscure looking wall, Jahaan marvelled at the intricate patterns carved into the stone, far more detailed than anything else inside the temple. Somewhat awe-struck, he couldn’t help but trace his finger across them. Alas, he was broken from his relaxing activity when the door creaking open by itself. The next room opened out in front of them, the walls similar to the last, but this time grass covered the floor, somehow alive despite the darkness. Six statues holding torches were dotted across the room, automatically lighting themselves once they sensed the presence of intruders. Orlando didn’t even get to marvel at his surroundings before a loud groan emanated from the far wall, startling him, and a shrill alarm pierced through the air.

Suddenly, three rock-like beasts prised themselves from the walls, each looking like fractured pieces of stone held together by tree bark. In place of an eye, they had the symbol of Guthix, and each was glowing a different colour. One red, one green, and one blue.

Hesitantly, Jahaan drew one of his swords from his belt. “Orlando, stay behind me.”

“WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform detected. Mahjarrat will not be allowed passage. Retreat before further action,” the creatures ordered in unison. Their voices were bellowing and husky, fitting for their imposing stature.

“But we’re not Mahjarrat!” Jahaan cried, desperately, retreating back a few steps as the beasts advanced on him.

This proved futile as the creatures repeated, “WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform detected. Mahjarrat will not be allowed passage. Retreat before further action.”

Jahaan steadied his grip on his sword, glaring at Orlando out of the corner of his eye as the man cowered behind him. “Orlando, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No! We're humans, we are!” Orlando maintained, a whimper in his cracking voice. “Please, we mean you no harm! They must be malfunctioning or somethin’ I tell ya!”

“ESCALATED WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform remains. The threat will be eliminated. Retreat before further action.”

“Orlando, get back into the other room,” Jahaan warned, his eyes narrowing on the automatons that continued to creep up on him.

Desperately, Orlando pleaded, “Please, listen to us! We’re peaceful, I tell ya!”

“WARNING INEFFECTIVE. ACTION: Mahjarrat lifeform remains. Prepare for elimination.”

Jahaan’s eyes grew wide as one of the eyes of the beasts started glowing. “They aren’t peaceful. Get down!”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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#runescape #sliske #fiction #fan fiction #the world wakes

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hybrid-lion · 3 years

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Lion Daydreams Journal

2-3-21 / 2-5-21

Succulent witch jokes and DnD cheatcodes

Musing on perpetual journey and points of processing certain themes..

Four days prior exiting Hedgewitch Hollow (more on that later) from my abusor(s), at @ the hospital and other musings

Curbside outside familiar building, looking something like a cross between between the rite aid/CVS in West Emoryville I saw in 2011 this one time and and outside heron pond plaza from tripjoy advantage in New Hampshire.

Present was a Sedan with big extra Star Wars wrap all over it- specifically Rebel Alliance logo on hood.

Don't fall for the nurse; they're always immensely humane and kind and working; not to be your fixation (I've gathered this for a while too, though as the derivative term goes, "What a Catch.."

Anyway Fallout girl/nursing tech (With the magnificent taste in communication skills and tattooage whom was without a doubt better at putting up with my roundabout chittering than I even am (which states a bountiful amount of patience in her own rights and also that I need to work on alloying others more time to have the proverbial talking stick in dialogues), whom I had chatted with the day prior for a while regarding the matter of the vibrational level on this conscious and graceful hostess; (That's the planet we are graced with being able to provide for in turn), with with the rose and sun moon tatts, was present in this dream sequence, as short lived as the scene was.

Clearly taking a journey. Capable technical reasoner boi was there as well who cannot even understand where that's at at all definetly was also present in this one.

Clearly journey symbolism, as I was approaching the vehicle in question.

2-5-21

"WHY IS THERE BRINE IN THE ORANGE JUICE"

Walking around downtown burning time between returning from securing a temporary order/petition to court and grabbing dinner, I was between looking at the lines in leaves and patterns in the puddles near an underpass when it occured to me regarding my subjectiviteas this far:

Almost anybody would be able to tell you that there's more than one way to skin a cat as well as probably one of the worst things you can do is box with an apex creature, specifically one that most dungeon Masters wod probably have on the back burner as a sort of endgame accomplishment that would either make or break the parties resolve to complete that leg of their long arduous campaign; or correctly enough the kind of boss fight that one would face in an old RPG that then unlocks a potential ally to the party whom would essentially have the capacity to either RUIN EVERYTHING, knock something off a really high shelf at the appropriate time, or just absolutely love you to death in the dirt merely depending on the way you decided to associate prior and subsequently accounted for).

This I would assume so boldly is primarily due to the nature of such back burner endgame beings, as well as with all things considered that it is most likely cognitive of it's own journey as well to some extent and that it has retained all the EXP of both that, along with some of the experiences said party would have had by that point, again considering stuff and things.

I digress from the point- but we're getting there.

So 'boxing'; i.e. showboating or perhaps just putting up and making the most of the situation pertaining to that proverbial beastie the DMs sent around the way--

Noting that at that point to some fair extent isn't quite OP persay, but had maintained a good enough vantage for some time that it had or has more than enough capacity for adapting, recanting it's own skills based in experience as it do/what have you, as well as subsequently recognizing that somewhere along the way said party or perhaps their questgivers or guild leads decided to not entirely tell said prior and then the party at hand- what have you-

they would then be either in the same raid/map/party/team as it already, but still decided it would mostly likely do well to or behoove them to, and said prior backburner beastie to just go proverbially or metaphorically corner it; and subsequently snare or root or web or whatever their skillset would do; then dragged it off to have a dialogue with it about or pertaining to..

..something sort of akin to poking it awake with a slow burning brand,

But only after years of putting it on display without its consent or knowledge.

This is probably one of the worst things you can do for either yourself or anybody else, regardless of the lens of which it exists in, without having prior and then post poking explaining it.

Especially considering the nature of some endgame beasties and the capacity for critical analysis.

If you had a support tank, that didn't know it was a support tank, and you left it out in the rain for like, ever, do you think a little K, Y Jelly and some WD40z to Freedom would constitute a thoroughly squeezed explanation of this scenario to that support tank?

Depends on the tank and some stuff and things probably.

~~~

All things considered…

I take it back the brine is fine but the synaptic firings of my brain giving me a first class ticket to Stockholm's I could do with more of for sure, but I'd rather just hang in the Catskillz and make art about

===

This lens of comprehension on dealing with what to not allow to occur to a raid party would have been monumentally helpful for me subsequently years ago years ago.

This would been subsequently helpful for me in decision-making, free will, yes, and choice-based processes of course as humans go.

And if in when the case arose that I had to tell my younger self, "Hey don't put yourself on display or get worked up, but hang in and also read this book in full before walking out to the tarmac or at least in between flights to and from, don't act the fool for the sake of a fool, unless you need to act to fool forreal forreal. Just leave that shit in the sand, dig a foxhole for it if you have to, or bring it sooner maybe?

Don't let other people harsh thine proverbial mellow and as it would only fuel their trashcan fire of excusable accounts as to why they allotted a random roaming low level beastie to accumulate that much of an exp grind crunching on bones and jellies and some mimics that don't even, without alluding thoroughly so that they wouldn't act a fool at the loss or sacrifice of someone else's journey as well as their own.

At that point, you should have just pulled the support tank aside and been like-

*Mumbles*

listen, "you are our favorite dumb dumb juice supersoaker palindrone cat, just saiyan"...

we just want/wanted to sap and then sac your last floating stackable 💕 for the raid that pulled it along on a chain that long for display and experience just to see how it would go like, IDK it'll work out either way but like we could probably use a dumpster fire and we hear you're full of shit, but also the ship is intact and just needs a happy tree friend sometimes so like, knowing the support tank is going to anyway because of its back story…

~^•=•^

Uhm.

*TAKES DEEP BREATH*

~=^•Î||I•^=~. •°•°{"UNACCEPTABLE CONDITIONS"

*TAKES DEEP BREATH*

~^•=•^~

"we deserve better and also some stuff you left in my backpack over here oh wait what's that accounted for oh okay here a random distracting smoke grenade quick make your escape.*

🍊 🍃

---

In retrospect-- this would have been monumentally helpful years ago, as would have keeping the deck of playing cards I received years ago with me, my towel, journal and probably better time management skills and also understanding the concepts of the journey of oneself as both the lessons of our priors on the road and with us as we continue.

I will continue to explain why this could have to explain this to myself in dreaded prose.

Preferably after I come to terms with the huntresses and chieftainesses and the shield maidens who keep attempting to bait and no scope my ass when they can't even decide if they want to be a volva a shield maiden again or a valkyrie or a witch of the wild blue yonder or all like 20 at the same time; but are getting fond of kiting me around with salt rounds and rubber bullets and genuine uncondition positive regard despite both of our sanity and interests even though it ain't nobody's goddamn business how baby treat me.

Anyway if you see a random roving ** monster on the map assume it has your best interest at heart or if it's in your teahouse just do yew fam, most likely it's just stopping in for coffee or orange juice or the finest proverbial trashcan fires to warm up aside this side of the milky way.

Also try not to forget to set a reminder to wake up at an appropriate time, and don't forget to to carry on and through and keep up with your affirmations and random google searches for sigils you have no understanding of and show love to all your complex houseplants and rock's needs balanced with your own.

Also don't worry about eating carbs late at night before bed. We can burn them off when we're running through each other's minds.

More in all that later though in detail.

*Switches to sleepytime mode, proceeds to cleans whiskers and thanks you for coming to it's shed talk.*

#witchjokes #journal #blog #daydream #captainslog #journalentry #dreamjournal #liondaydreams #DnD #witchaesthetics

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themonstersaidit · 7 years

Text

friends for the end of the world

30 Day OTP Challenge but not really Day 1: Holding Hands Ship: Rin/Len/Miku - yes, all of them, in a ship, at once, Genre: Friendship, hurt/comfort, angst, tragedy, romance?? Rating: T-M because swears and sexual innuendos?? tl;dr they talk about sex

—Saying goodbye for the last time was the hardest thing in existence.

•

She was brushing her teeth in the kitchen and watching the daily horoscopes segment on TV when the program was interrupted for some stupid Breaking News report.

Rin rolled her eyes, leaning forward to spit toothpaste into the sink. It’s probably nothing, she mused, a little frustrated it had to cut in just before her horoscope was going to be announced.

However, as she lifted her eyes back to the television screen and listened in to the voice over, she soon realised she wouldn’t need to know it.

“NASA announced today, after an emergency conference with world leaders, that an asteroid is on course with Earth…”

A scientist was featured on screen, reporting the evidence.

“The asteroid GM2028 is a fragment of one of Jupiter’s moons, Ganymede, after a rogue asteroid from the Kuiper Belt collided with and destroyed it last September.”

Rin stood frozen, eyes fixated on the screen – not even flinching when her phone sounded from somewhere in the house.

“Most of the debris were pulled into Jupiter due to gravity; however, the impact was strong enough to send the remaining debris into the middle of our solar system. Our calculations estimated that the debris would be destroyed, or set off-course, when passing through the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, but it appears that the asteroid belt has aided in sending GM2028 straight towards us.”

She licked her lips, glancing away for a moment to gather her thoughts. So what, she thought, NASA can redirect it, right? They’ve researched this before, anyway.

As if the universe read her mind, the scientist was replaced with a grim-faced news presenter, who relayed, “Though NASA has done thorough research into sending GM2028 off-course, they reported in the conference today that GM2028 would be too large to redirect with our current level of technology.”

“It requires too much energy that we don’t have,” the scientist continued, cutting back on screen. “We can’t destroy it without exacerbating the problem, causing the asteroid shards to hit Earth anyway.”

Rin’s phone chimed again, and this time she peeled her eyes from the television to search for it. She found it lost in the covers of her futon with (6) Missed Calls flashing at her.

She was walking back down the hall when she overheard the news report once more –

“NASA scientists estimate around three months until impact with GM2028. We have yet to hear of any escape plans, if doable… But once GM2028 hits, the devastation will double that of the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction. Scientists claim around 95% of the species will probably go extinct, and Earth will become near-uninhabitable, if not completely uninhabitable.”

Her ringtone sounded again, and this time, she answered the call.

No words came out, though, as if she had a rock in her throat, so it was Miku who spoke first.

“Rin, Rin, you’ve already seen the news, right? We’re going to die.”

“What?”

She heard her friend perfectly fine; however, it just seemed horrifyingly out of place to hear those words come from her mouth, and for them to be true.

“I mean –” she said, pausing. “Yes. I saw the news.”

“It’s not a joke, is it?” Miku asked, seeming anxious. “They wouldn’t joke about this kind of stuff, right? But I want it to be a joke. Please tell me it’s a joke.”

“I don’t think it is, Miku. I really don’t think it is.”

Her friend fell silent, heavy breathing over the phone. “I just…” She trailed off.

“I know,” Rin said softly, as if she knew what she was going to say. “It feels as if I’m in a dream. Like, if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and everything will be okay.”

“I walked into a wall trying to wake myself up. It’s not a dream,” Miku answered, her voice trembling.

It was at the mention of wall that Rin remembered to look up at the clock on the kitchen wall – and nearly dropped her phone in the process. 7:45. Homeroom was going to start at 8:00.

“Oh shit! I’m late! Look, I’ll talk to you about this at school –”

Just as she was hanging up, she heard her friend blurt out, “Wait, Rin, I might not go today –”

Frowning to herself, Rin slid her phone into her cardigan pocket and rubbed her face. It was too early in the morning to process a potential apocalypse. Too, too early.

•

Len met her along the way to school.

“Look, I know there’s some big rock in space and all, but you’re late, and you made me late, because I have to wait for you.”

“You know you don’t have to wait for me,” Rin said. “I can find my way to school just fine.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes, I doubt that.”

It was true that she was notorious for having an abysmal sense of direction, often catching the wrong train and turning up at school at least three hours late, but the last time she did that was last year. She was sure she knew better.

“Miku called, that’s why I was late,” she explained, as they sandwiched onto their train. It was one of the busiest during rush hour, much unfortunately.

“Oh, what about?” Len asked.

Rin looked at the boy, over the shoulder of a middle-aged businessman. “What else about?”

He shrugged. “Boys?”

“Oh my god. Today. The apocalypse, or whatever.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“She was, you know, panicking. I don’t think she’ll come to school today, either.”

“To be honest with you,” Len began, “I wouldn’t come to school, too, but if I stay at home dwelling about how I’ll die in three months time, I feel I’d lose my sanity rather quickly.”

Rin pursed her lips in thought. He had a point. “So, what do we do? I doubt they’ll keep letting us go to school. Give it a week and the whole city will be on fire, probably.”

He gazed out the train window, humming. “I don’t know. I guess most of us will try to make the best of our time left.”

A moment of silence passed, as the train stopped, emptied, and filled up again.

She mumbled, “I’m a little scared. Maybe a whole lot scared.”

Len glanced down at her, before his fingers found hers amongst the tight mess of bodies. He squeezed her hand gently, and even with that simple gesture, she knew he felt that same way too.

•

Miku showed up halfway through the day, looking dishevelled yet still pretty, something only her could miraculously pull off.

“Oh, it’s you,” Len sighed, as the girl plonked down onto the chair between him and Rin.

“It’s the end of the world, and you’re still sassing me,” Miku groused, folding her arms over her chest. “Jeez, I was just thinking about how important it was to spend the remaining time with my two lovely best friends, and yet, here you are, being an asshole –”

“He secretly loves you, don’t worry,” Rin reassured, giving her friend’s arm a pat. The girl pouted in response. “I’m glad you changed your mind in the end, though.”

She flicked one teal pigtail over her shoulder. “I wanted to see your beautiful faces again.”

Len pretended to gag, and held up his hand. “Look, Miku, I know you’re a virgin—and yes, everyone is very much in the same situation as you right now—but please, your compliments are repulsive –”

Miku swatted at his hand. “Eat a bag of dicks. As if I’d ever consider sleeping with you, you soggy sausage! You aren’t cute enough. Rin is the only one who fits that criteria.”

He gasped, before wrapping an arm around Rin’s shoulders and pulling her into his chest. “When did I imply that I’d ever want to sleep with you? I can’t believe you’d think I’d choose you over Rin.”

The blonde girl sat rigid in his embrace, a red hue spreading across her cheeks. “Well, I’m quite happy to die a virgin, much to your disappointment…”

Miku snorted. “Rin, we love you and all, but I feel like if any one of us were to be involved in a romantic relationship with you, it would be a mess. The remaining person would somehow end up in that relationship too…”

“It’s an inevitable threesome,” Len clarified.

“Oh-kay,” Rin said slowly, ducking out from under his arm. “Look, maybe you could just leave me out of the, uh, threesome, and make it a friendly twosome between the both of you?”

Miku ignored her suggestion. “I actually don’t know how threesome sex would work. Like, do you just stack the girls on top of each other, and change girl per thrust? Or is it like a 69 formation, and the third is the penetrator? Len, what have you learnt from six years of watching porn videos?”

“Wait, how do you know I’ve been watching porn for six years?” the boy asked, frowning.

“Well, a little birdie told me…”

Rin stood, cutting their conversation short. “I’m going to go get a drink. For a very long time. See you guys in fourth period.” She then turned and left the classroom in a hurry.

Her friends watched her leave with furrowed eyebrows.

Once Len was sure she was out of earshot, he turned back to Miku. “She’s too pure for us,” he said.

“I don’t think she’s ever touched herself. Poor thing,” Miku mourned.

•

As expected of a pre-apocalyptic world, final exams were cancelled and summer break began early, because it seemed that education no longer mattered when everyone was going to die in a couple of months, anyway.

Rin couldn’t complain. It was every high school student’s wish to have holidays extended and exams cancelled. So, yeah.

She spent a lot of her remaining days witnessing society crumble under the crushing weight of impending doom.

It was only now she realised what it felt like to have a terminal illness. Everything she did, she felt like she had to enjoy it meticulously, to savour the moment, because for all she knew, it could—or would—be her last.

One Friday afternoon, Len appeared on her doorstep, looking a little pale.

Her first thought was, Ah, he’s finally caved, too.

But before she could even get to ‘hello’, her friend mumbled something about his parents.

“What?” she said.

“My parents,” he repeated, eyes down. “I don’t know… but… they kind of haven’t come home in a week or so.”

It took a moment or two for her to register the situation.

Missing people – it was old news by now. So many had disappeared without a trace since the announcement, only to appear days to weeks later floating in rivers and hanging from trees.

As soon as Rin pieced the evidence together, she stepped forward to pull him into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly into his chest.

Len choked back a sob. “I-I don’t know. Why am I crying? We’re all going to die, anyway. Why does it matter? I don’t know why I’m crying about this.”

She was lucky; her parents were trying their best to spend every day with her.

They were trying their best to make things seem normal, even though having them there all the time now was something far from normal for them. Before the announcement, they’d worked full time, and like most others, only just left their jobs to spend more time with family.

In a way, she could comprehend Len’s parents’ decision, but also couldn’t.

Staying alive until the very end, unknowing of the degree of pain and suffering that was to come – it was a thought that tore the human mind apart. When such a reality was mulled over too much, one would be bound to seek out a better way to go.

Suicide was often the alternative.

“I’m sorry,” she reiterated, having no other words to say.

Perhaps, it was the best thing to say at the time.

Her mother soon found them standing in the doorway and ushered them in for lunch, and without much else discussed, Len found himself home with Rin’s family for their remaining time.

•

“You know, I’m jealous,” Miku said, hitting her heels against the smooth, concrete surface of the wall, her rubber-sole shoes acting as rebound.

They were sitting on a wall just outside Miku’s apartment, watching the overgrown grass next door shudder in the warm summer breeze.

Rin glanced up, searching the girl’s portrait. “Jealous? About what? Len?”

Len had gone back to his house to gather the remainder of his most needed belongings, and probably to mope. Her father had gone with him though, so she didn’t have to worry about him following suit with his parents.

“Regrettably,” her friend admitted, turning her head to face her. “I know his parents went and—you know—killed themselves, but now he gets to see you every day… and you live together, too. I mean, have you seen each other naked, yet –”

“Oh God, Miku, no,” Rin interrupted, exasperated. “He… I don’t even think Len’s had that on his mind, lately.”

“And you have?”

“If being terrified of the thought of accidentally walking in on him naked—or otherwise—counts, then yes – but the idea of performing some ritual involving pity sex with my best friend makes me feel genuinely unwell.”

Miku screwed up her face. “It’s just, you’ve spent so much time with him since he has no one else, and I’m trying to balance time between you guys and my parents, and it’s… it’s not fair.”

Rin sighed.

“Well, is anything fair? Is our death even fair? I’ve heard rumours that world leaders, celebrities, and those who can afford it, have made deals with NASA to escape to the Mars colony.

“But what about us? Are the fortunate just going to sit on their sloppy asses and enjoy the show as they watch Earth, and everyone on it, get blown to bits?”

Her friend fell silent, eyes dropping to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she then said, a pang of guilt in her chest. “I’m just frustrated. I want to spend more time with everyone. I want to enjoy my life, not have this real-life nightmare looming constantly in the back of my mind. I want to have a happy ending.

“But I can’t have it when I have less than a month until I get burned or suffocated or drowned alive. I want to spend more time with you, too, Miku. I don’t want you to feel like you’re less important, just because recent events have caused me to be with Len more than you. I love you just as much as him. I’m just so frustrated.”

She clenched her fists so tight her knuckles started turning white, then red.

Miku closed her eyes and placed a hand over one of her fists. “It’s okay. We’re both frustrated. It can’t be helped. I’m sorry for doubting your friendship. I just… I’m sorry.”

She opened her hand, lacing Miku’s fingers with hers. She didn’t want to look at her face, because she knew she was crying.

They were both crying.

•

The closer it drew towards ‘The End’, the more surreal the days felt.

On one of those final days before the impact, Miku came over to spend the day with Rin and Len.

“It’s supposed to hit tomorrow night, or in the early morning,” the teal-haired girl was saying as she slipped off her shoes at the house entrance.

“Yeah,” Len agreed. “It’s supposed to hit the Pacific, right? So we’ll have about thirty minutes to dwell on it before the sky starts falling and we’re inundated with water and lava.”

“I hope I sleep through it,” Rin muttered.

“You probably won’t,” her friends chided.

Miku slapped Len playfully, telling him off for ‘copying her’. He frowned, tugged at a pigtail—which earned a disgruntled ‘ouch!’—and ran off down the hall before she could retort.

“Don’t you worry, Rin,” Miku said as they followed after him. “You’ll have this loser to cuddle when you get scared.”

“Ha-ha,” Rin replied, rolling her eyes. “In his wildest dreams.”

They made themselves comfortable in the living room. The week prior, they spent a day scavenging the empty aisles of grocery stores for popcorn and other snacks – and came back successful, with one unspoiled packet of the former food, at least.

Unfortunately, a movie day was a no go, since electricity was cut off the day before. Same went with water, but they’d already stocked up on the necessary bottles to keep them comfortable until – well, the end.

Len saved the day with a pack of cards, so they wrote out a list of games to play (which came to a grand total of three), and began their official final day together.

Time, although merely a human construct, seemed to sense their intentions and the due asteroid impact; eating up hours of their day like a ravenous beast, as if eager to see the demise of the human race. The sun rose high in the sky, then began its slow descent beyond the horizon, casting their soon-to-be deceased world into darkness.

After Miku glanced at the clock for the fifth time that day, she set down her cards and mentioned in a small voice, “My dad said he was going to pick me up at nine o’clock.”

Rin and Len looked up as well, confirming it was 8:30.

Half an hour left.

A rather dull, heavy ache that Rin had been trying to ignore for most of the day made itself known in her heart at that moment. Thirty minutes left. Thirty minutes left with Miku.

“Oh,” was all she could say in the silence that followed.

She couldn’t look at any of her friends, just at the cards in her hands; ace of hearts, eight of clubs, seven of diamonds.

They had no deeper meaning, no secret message to share for her to save the world or get back time, but she kept staring at them intently, as if willing them to speak to her, to tell her that she needn’t worry about anything.

“Rin?”

It was Miku’s voice – quiet, on the verge of breaking. She’d heard that tone so many times before. That day on the wall, the day they found out about the end, even at times before they were aware of their inevitably horrible end. It was the tone that made her crash back down into reality, shattering her heart under brute force.

Rin opened her mouth to speak, only to sob loudly, her emotions getting the better of her. Then Miku and Len were there beside her, sobbing as well, for saying goodbye forever was too hard to say in words.

Where to start? What to say?

She’d thought about it so much in those last three months, but could only come to the conclusion that there wasn’t a way to say goodbye forever. It just wasn’t doable. There was too much to say, that the goodbye would simply never end.

Three months ago, maybe Maths was the hardest thing in existence, but now, she knew better.

Saying goodbye for the last time was the hardest thing in existence.

•

And all too soon, those thirty minutes were up.

And Miku had her back turned, walking towards the door.

Any last words? Any last thoughts? her mind demanded.

“Mi –” Rin choked out.

Her friend stopped, looking back at her with swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Yes, Rin?”

A beat passed, as car headlights flashed through the cracks of the curtains hanging over the window.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Miku reached out to squeeze her hand, to squeeze Len’s. He was being awfully quiet at that time.

“I love you too,” she responded, the smile on her lips twisting into a grimace as she fought the urge to burst into tears again. “You too, Len.”

The boy nodded, swallowed, and although he refused to speak—knowing he would cry as well—he meant to tell her that he loved her, too.

Then she was gone, and they were left standing at the door in darkness, listening as Miku’s car pulled out of the driveway for the last time in human history, the hum of the engine fading into the distance.

Len squeezed Rin’s hand, and mumbled, “I hope we see her again, wherever we go.”

“Me too.” She squeezed back as hard as she could. “Me too.”

A/N: Sorry, I haven’t written anything ‘proper’ in the last few months, so I feel like my writing has deteriorated aggressively. I’m trying to be conscientious of my grammar too since I’m taking a course on it this semester, but I feel like I still have too many dumb grammar mistakes in there. Woe, woe is me.

This was less romance and more friendship-y, because tbh, I hold hands with my friends too so idk how to make it romantic.

Anyway, I didn’t want to make the theme Super Obvious in this one, but rather like a sneaky theme/trope thingy. I doubt I’ll keep doing this in the other themes, because this took way too long to write and I was intending on writing really short stories/drabbles >:((( Regretti.

The idea for this was loosely based of the movie, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World. I watched it a few years ago, hence the ‘loosely’. It’s quite enjoyable, please watch. It made me laugh, and it made me cry. P.S. It’s on Netflix.

And yeah, I totally did try to cram a super long story into like 3k words, so I apologise if that just hurt to read. I didn’t want to go straight from learning about dying to just before dying, if you get me??? (Probably not, but oh well.) But I didn’t want to commit to like, 10k words or multiple chapters... dis bitch ain’t got no time fo’ dat.

If you see this pop up on fanfiction.net sometime, that is probably me, but first I want to write all my grammar course notes into my profile to confuse everyone there, because I’m a special kind of evil. (And grammar rules are good to know!)

Thanks for reading. I can’t promise the 30-day thing will be done in 30 days because I’m a busy person (why tho), but I’ll try to do it eventually... some day... far into the future...

#fanfiction #vocaloid #vocaloid fanfiction #rinlenmiku #rin kagamine #i cant fit all the tags i want so im just gonna cry instead

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