#there is a correct answer and I’m so scared at what I’ve seen thus far

[seek--rest]

As with many things TikTok has me baffled and bewildered

#seek speaks #laundry #body wash #polls #there is a correct answer and I’m so scared at what I’ve seen thus far #reblog this after you vote I’m trying to see something

[writeyouin]

Hey there! Your fanfics are incredible! Could you please write a Will Turner X Reader one where the reader goes back in time after watching Pirates of the Caribbean and then the reader and Will fall in love? Thanks a lot in advance! :)

Will Turner X Fem-Reader - Life Inside a Movie

A/N – All better from being ill, so here is a fic.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You leaned over one of Port Royal’s railings, humming a tune that only you knew in this time period. From afar Will Turner watched you, listening to the occasional lyric that you whispered under your breath; the song was just as unusual and out of place as you were.

“Dancing in the moonlight, everything is weird and out of sight,” You sang, staring up at the night sky. 

It was something you did every night. Once, shortly after Will had found you and given you a place to stay, he had asked you why you were so obsessed with the sky. You had told him that where you came from you could never see any of the stars because of something called light pollution. He hadn’t understood what that was, even when you tried to explain it, nor did he understand how one place could have less stars than anywhere else, but he did like that the sky brought you peace. He just wished you didn’t insist on going out every night to view them because there were some nights he couldn’t be out to protect you, and even a peaceful place like Port Royal had its fair share of criminals.

“You can join me if you want,” You said, fully aware that Will had been watching you from afar.

When the two of you first met, Will would have found your forward manner and your knowledge that he was there unnerving; now it was starting to rub off on him as one of your many qualities.

“It would me my honour, Miss (L/N).”

“I’ve told you before, where I’m from we always use first names.”

“And I have told you, it is my pleasure to use your beautiful last name and give you the respect you deserve.”

You smiled to yourself, thinking about how different life had been before you had come to this time. How sad it was to think that chivalry eventually died out, and yet how nice it was to be one of the few from your timeline to receive it.

You thought about the film Pirates of the Caribbean which you had watched the night that the mysterious portal opened in your apartment, leading you into the film itself.

When you first arrived, you had fallen right into the forge, spraining your ankle in the process. Fortunately, the Forge’s owner and Will’s master was asleep, so he didn’t notice the portal that had brought you to Port Royal; you had a feeling that if he had seen it, you would have been in the gallows for sorcery.

Shortly thereafter, Will had returned from a delivery and found you. At first when he saw your strange clothes and unusual hairstyle, he had considered reporting you to the royal guard, suspecting you to be a pirate. It was only when you begged him for help that he paused. It soon became clear that you knew nothing about the finer arts of piracy; you couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that would have made for a very poor pirate indeed. All the same, Will still didn’t trust you so he demanded to know your story, otherwise he would have no trouble seeing you imprisoned, for they very rarely hung women unless the offence was as bad as murder.

Knowing Will was an honourable character from the many times you had watched his film, you came up with a story for yourself that sounded fairly reasonable. You told him you were a simple bookkeeper from a foreign land, who had been stolen by pirates along with a great many others. In the tale, you alone escaped on a lifeboat and had made your way to the nearest island. All in all, you didn’t think it was a bad explanation. The bookkeeper was a reasonable job that would explain why you could read and write so well, and if Will asked, you could say you sprained your ankle upon escaping.

With a few more questions, Will soon believed you and he offered to take you to the boarding house where he lived, even paying your rent until you could get a job. You insisted you would pay him back, but Will thought little of it; after all, he was far too concerned trying to figure you out.

To be frank, you scared Will at first. In Port Royal women and even most men didn’t know how to read. Then there was the fact that you were educated in even more fields than the governor himself. You knew maths, geography, world culture, and more science than anybody he had ever met. While you were only of average intellect in your time, you were a fountain of knowledge in this time. Will asked you where you had learned such wondrous things and you had replied that you had learned all you knew in school and college, but what schools even let women in? He thought you must have been fabulously wealthy in your old land to receive such a fine education.

Although you gave Will much cause for concern, your friendly attitude and the fact that you didn’t scorn his lack of schooling made him begin to trust you. Instead of fearing your knowledge, he began to ask questions of you. He started to think of you less as his responsibility and more as a friend. Given time, he even found a job for you as a secretary for the governor himself, though it took a fair amount of convincing that a woman could do the job.

You offered to pay Will back for the money he had lent you thus far but he rejected the offer, claiming it was the place of any gentleman to help a lady in distress. At that, you started paying your own rent, and to repay Will’s kindness you had taken to cooking him meals after his long days at the forge. Although you weren’t the world’s greatest cook at home, it seemed your knowledge of ingredients and flavours made you an excellent cook in Port Royal; Will often said you ought to open a restaurant after you had introduced him to pizza.

You hummed thoughtfully, leaving your reverie far behind to simply enjoy Will’s company on the Port Royal balcony.

“What great aspects of the world are on your mind tonight?” Will asked, loving your ever-intelligent answers.

“What in the world, you ask. That’s cute. One should never have just the world on their mind, Will.”

“Oh? So what do you think of instead, if not the world?”

“I think of the universe and my new place within it.”

You had explained the concept of the universe to Will before but he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. People were still discovering new islands of the sea from one week to the next. How could anyone possibly know if there were other planets if the human race hadn’t even discovered everything on Earth yet?

Despite his personal opinions of the universe, Will liked the sentiment of your words. “And where do you think your place is?” He asked.

You yourself pondered the question. It was a hard one to answer. In Port Royal, with your education, the sky was the limit, but you were a woman. At home, you had the freedom to do what you wanted when you wanted, but everyday life was lonely and filled with a world of people that didn’t care for anyone but themselves. Truthfully, it didn’t matter where you would have liked to be. It all depended on whether fate would ever reopen another portal and throw you back where you came from or whether you would be left in Port Royal forever; perhaps it would be a continuous loop of being thrown back and forth, though you highly doubted that.

You realised that Will was waiting you an answer, so you smiled, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps then, Miss (L/N), if I may be so forward as to say so, you might find that your place is here.”

“In Port Royal?”

“By my side,” Will corrected, swallowing nervously when you turned to face him.

At home, people who said such things to you were always just playing a cruel joke, but you knew Will was being sincere; he always was. For one guilty moment, your thoughts lingered on Elizabeth Swann; if you accepted Will’s proposal, then she would never experience his love, nor he hers.

“I-” Playing things safe for a moment, you dared to ask, “William Turner, are you saying what I think you are?”

“Miss (L/N)- (Y/N),” Will grabbed your hands earnestly. “I was a simple man before I met you, but you have opened my eyes to a whole new world. I may not have much to offer in respects of wealth or position and I have no doubt that you deserve somebody of better station than myself, but I love you and that is something I can offer you now and forever. You have my heart, if you will take it, and even if you do not, it shall still be yours, for I shall never offer it to another.”

“I don’t- I mean- What about Miss Swann? I thought you loved her.”

Will grimaced. He himself had also believed he was in love with Elisabeth Swann, but now after feeling real love towards you, he realised that what he had felt for Miss Swann was merely infatuation after she saved him during their shared childhoods.

“No (Y/N), I can say without a doubt that I love you most ardently. I understand if you do not wish to be with me or if you need some time to think-”

“No,” You interrupted curtly. You shook your head, searching for an explanation at Will’s curious expression, “I- I don’t need time to think. I just- Wow, um- Sorry, I know I’m messing things up here.”

Will managed to chuckle at your ever-strange manner of speaking, putting you somewhat at ease.

“At home, I could never have expected such a wonderful proposal, from anyone. I would say that except for a small few, romance is dead and most marriages are… well, complicated for lack of a better word. It seems that where I’m from, we write a lot of love songs and books just dreaming about the life we want. Nobody would ever even talk to me with the respect that you do; only royalty get spoken to like that.” You realised you were saying a lot of things Will would never understand, but what else could you do when you were sorting through your feelings for a film character. “Will- I- I love you.”

Will released his breath, feeling his heart pound ecstatically. He wanted to draw you into his embrace, but he still kept to his own gentleman’s code.

“(Y/N), with your permission, I would very much like to kiss you now.”

“I- Yes.”

Will raised a hand slowly to your cheek, stroking it gently. His eyes searched your face, memorising every detail of what would be his first kiss. He wondered if this was yours too, considering how different both your homes were. Trailing his hand down to your chin, he tilted your head up.

“You’re shaking,” He said, worried that you had suddenly changed your mind about him.

“I’ve never had anybody look at me the way you do,” You whispered anxiously. “It’s terrifying, in a good way.”

Will gave you a small smile, leaning in slowly to press his lips against yours. He did nothing to deepen the kiss, keeping it simple; it would be improper to do more when the two of you had only started courting that very night. However, as his lips parted from yours, he knew he would take every future opportunity to kiss you, his new love.

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#Will Turner X Reader #William Turner X Reader #Will Turner #William Turner #disney #potc #pirates of the caribbean #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert #theaspiringscreenwritersblog

[my-never-ending-nightmare]

11/22/2021

“Why are you reading Wikipedia in Walmart?”

By far one of the strangest questions I’ve ever been asked lol. And honestly one that scared the shit out of me, too. Because the person asking it was somebody who I haven’t seen in at least 5 years – and they were standing right behind me. I had no idea they were there at all. Idk if I was super engrossed in what I was reading or if her stealth stats are just maxed out but regardless – it startled me. And to put this in some sort of context that makes more sense: I had been looking through the DVD/Blu-ray bargain bin at Walmart and there was this shitty looking documentary series about the most defining moments of the 21st century (thus far, I guess) and the second episode was supposed to be about 9/11, “the first attack on American soil since Pearl Harbor.” Which got me thinking – during WWII didn’t the Germans torpedo American ships in & around the NYC harbor after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor? If so, then I guess this DVDs claim was technically correct – but aren’t a countries waters considered part of that country and thus technically an attack there would be an attack on said country itself? It was these questions that led to me pulling out my phone and looking up U-boat operations in the Atlantic and American East Coast from 1939 to 1945 lol.

I’ve always had an incredibly inquisitive and analytical mind, so much so that when I was growing up adults always used to jokingly tell me that I should be a lawyer. But this kind of a mind meant that Wikipedia was a godsend for me. I’m always pulling my phone out randomly throughout the day to look up random information and facts regarding whatever thought or question has popped into my head. Like, Wikipedia is probably the only reason my head is as full of random names, dates, quotes, & facts as it is. My parents have told me before that it used to drive them nuts when I was a kid because I used to constantly ask questions. Especially during car rides. Stuff like why is the sky blue? Or, why don’t dogs live longer? It got so bad that when I was 5 years old they gave me a portable cassette player (this was 1999) so that I would hopefully distract myself by listening to music. I still remember one of those cassettes really well – it was a tape of Alvin & The Chipmunks songs. In fact, I can even specifically remember listening to it while strapped into the booster seat in the back of my parents van when I asked my mom this exact question: why don’t motorcycles have seatbelts? And I can even vaguely remember her trying to tell me that a seatbelt would just do more harm than good in a motorcycle accident.

As I got older the questions became more & more complex. I wanted to know the Who, What, When, Where, Why and How about everything and anything. So when I discovered Google & Wikipedia sometime around 2003 when I first started getting my taste of unsupervised internet access it must have been such a relief to my parents. I still asked my parents random, pretty difficult questions well into my early teens – but my thoughts & questions were becoming darker & darker until one of the last serious questions I ever remember going to them for an answer to was something along the lines of: If God is real then why do so many horrible things happen? If the world is full of this much pain & suffering then how can God be real if he loves us? And if he is real, isn’t it more likely that he doesn’t want us?

As irresponsible as it was of my parents to give a 9 year old unmonitored internet access, at least it saved them from having to answer such unanswerable questions lol.

It really bothered me growing up when teachers always used to talk shit about Wikipedia & disallowed it to be used as a source in any school work. Like, Wikipedia is an incredibly good source of information regarding nearly anything - and practically every sentence in an article has a source for it. I used to always bypass the Wiki ban in high school & college by just finding the source, checking it myself to make sure it actually contains the information Wiki said it does, then I'd just use that source material as my source. It made life so easy lol. I think boomers just had/have a kneejerk reaction to something new that they don't care to try to understand. But, then again, I’m growing increasingly guilty of the same sort of thing the older I get.

Anyway, I guess my point is this: Of all the awkward situations I've been in (and I've been in quite a few) none were as difficult to talk my way out of as having to explain to an old friend what the Kriegsmarine was & why I'm standing in Walmart reading about their operations against the United States of America during World War II lmao

#blog #journal

[that1girloverthere]

Burning Sunflowers

Chapter 5 

His steel grey eyes stare into mine and I feel breathless.

"Listen up!" He calls, his voice deep and commanding, and only as he moves to step off the ledge he was so precariously standing on does he look away from me.

Air finally renters my lungs and I vaguely here someone beside me speak but I pay them no mind as I push myself further forward in the group of initiates. My skirt gets stepped on once or twice and I only stop to fix it when I am nearly at the front.

"My name is Eric and I'm one of the leaders here at Dauntless. We commend you on your bravery thus far, but the real work has yet to begin. To join us you first have to jump."

A hand grips my elbow slightly and I face my Dauntless-born friend, "I'm starting to think they made this process just for you." I smile, thinking about how he may be correct, fantasizing about the feeling of the wind surrounding me again.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?" An Erudite asks from my left, his hair is a brassy red sporting a few small pieces of rock stuck in it from his landing.

Eric merely shrugs, his toned shoulders raising slightly with the movement. "Jump and find out."

This seems to send a collective chill down everyone's spine, creating a stunned silence throughout the group.

"Well?" The leader questions forcefully, "Who's first?"

Again, he's met with silence and I'm made to question my sanity as I raise my hand, speaking up.

"Me. I'll go."

He raises his eyebrows in both confusion and what seems like a taunt. Whispers break out in the group as they come to find me as I step away from the crowd. My red and yellow clothing making me stand out strangely.

"An Amity?" Eric asks, knowing full well that's what I am. Or at least what I was.

I nod, finally making it to the edge of the building, looking over with my hands pressed to the brick. A black void meets me, making my palms become slick.

"Are you scared, Sunshine?" A candor from the far back of the group calls out causing a few people to laugh. It makes my blood boil and forces my body to climb onto the ledge despite my fear, not wanting them to see me falter.

"Today, initiate." Eric says, and I can't tell what lays beneath his stare but it's anything but the boredom he seems to portray in his tone.

I put my back to the hole and fully face the group before me.

"Hey, Candor?" I speak, watching as the boy takes a few steps towards me in answer, his face becoming clear as he stands at the far front of the group. A smirk drags at my lips.

As we make eye contact I begin searching for something in the fabric of my skirt.

"Can you hold this for me?" I ask, the meek girl they assume I am.

He chuckles but even his laugh seems laced with anger and disgust. "Sure thing, Sunshine."

Eric growls to my left and I can tell he's quickly getting tired of both of us.

"Oh, here it is." I call out, my tone too cheerful for my liking. I lift my hand from the red fabric of my skirt and pull up my hand, my middle finger raised.

I manage to see his initial look of outrage and can't help but laugh as I let myself fall.

Air rushes around me and I again feel at peace, my laugh falling with me, only it's cut short when I land on something, making me bounce back up slightly. A net. I smile and stare up at the small square of light above, showing me just how far I fell. Hands reach out and grab me, lifting me as if I weigh nothing, setting me on my feet gently.

"What, did you get lost?" A tanned, handsome man says to me. I grit my teeth as I answer.

"No."

He lets out a breath, a smirk playing in his lips. "What's your name?"

"Violet."

This time he gives me a true smile, his eyes crinkling a bit at the sides.

"First jumper, Violet!" He screams and the people around me I had yet to see applaud so loud I feel the vibrations in my chest. As I move to step down from the concrete slab I was placed on he leans into me and speaks in a hushed voice, "Welcome to Dauntless."

+ + +

I'm left to watch the rest of my fellow initiates jump off by myself. A small group of Candor had formed on the ground quickly after me, not caring to make conversation, most likely still pissed at my display with their friend. It's only when a streak of blue lands in the net, a yelp coming with them, do I gain company.

She comes racing up to me and for a moment I wonder if she plans to hurt me.

"That was amazing!" She calls out, a broad smile on her face.

"It was a pretty nice fall." I offer up, watching as she struggles to fix her wind blown blonde hair that falls to her collarbone.

"What?" She questions, tilting her head slightly. "Oh!" She laughs a bit and from her perky attitude I start to wonder if she might have been better off in Amity.

"No, not the fall. What you did with Bryce. That was hilarious!"

Bryce must be the poor Candor boy that seems to still be on the roof.

"Yeah," I grin, proud of my actions. "I don't really take well to being called Sunshine."

"I can already tell we're going to be good friends," she laughs, "I'm Clare." She extends a hand out to me in greeting and for a moment I pause, having seen the gesture before but never actually participated in it. Amity normal hugged in greeting.

"Violet." I grip her hand in what I hope isn't too harsh of a grasp and shake it once, then twice, before letting go.

Just then a scream tears through the room as a body falls into the net. Only it didn't seem to be from fear but rather rejoice.

My black clad friend from the trip here climbs from the net on his own and only gives the man next to it a look before his name is called out.

"15th Jumper, Kai!"

He makes his way to me and I can't help but smile at the sheer excitement in his eyes. "There you are my little Amity."

"Ah ah ah, I'm Dauntless now." I say to him, giving him a playful glare.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, "Then what shall I call you, my lady." He bows before me.

Both Clare and I laugh loudly, earning us some stares from the other initiates.

"Violet will do just fine."

He raises from his kneel and smiles up at us.

"And you?" He nods towards the Erudite by my side and I can tell she's flustered by the attention.

"Clare," she responds, pink tinting her cheeks.

"Nice to meet-" Kai is about to finish his sentence when the man who helped me from the net claps his hands loudly, silencing everyone.

"Alright gather around!" We all scramble into place, no one daring to disobey him, leaving Kai to join the Dauntless borns with only a wink as a goodbye.

"My name is Four, I'll be your instructor for the extent of your initiation. When I'm not training, I normally work in the control room."

The group of us stays silent, watching him intently as he paces back and forth before us. Even just the way he walks seems intimidating. His body is lean but in no way weak, prominent muscles define his arms beneath the shirt he wears.

"Transfers will also be trained by Eric, the man who you just met on the roof, so expect to be seeing our faces often. Dauntless born, you're with Lauren." He stops his pacing and pauses.

"Transfers, follow me."

As he leads the way through dark hallways illuminated in faint blue light, I stare at his back. Lines of a tattoo peak over his collar. As if sensing my stare he stops abruptly and turns to face us, now walking backwards slowly. A light meets us as we reach an edge. The room is like nothing I've ever seen before.

A massive cavern, as if carved from rock, is filled with people, their voices loud and their actions free.

"This is the Pit, you'll eat and shop here. Nearly anything you could want can be found in this area."

We keep walking but I hear people within my group whispering.

"This is amazing," Clare mutters.

We're lead through more hallways before we reach a set of thick metal doors.

"This is where you'll be sleeping," Four says and pushes the doors open, the muscles on his back contracting with the effort.

It's an open room, well lit, with small trunks sitting at the foot of each small bed. In the center of the room is a table that seems haphazardly propped up, suggesting that they set it up only today. Atop it lays mountains of black clothing and underneath it a pile of boots.

"Boys or girls?" Someone asks.

"Both." He says with a smirk that says he enjoys our surprise.

"Pick a bed and some clothing for the week and head down to dinner." With that he leaves, banging the doors shut, making a few people jump.

"Shower anyone?" Someone jokes but even the comment seems half hearted.

I manage to grab a bed in a corner of the room furthest from the open bathroom, not wanting to be stuck next to people while they showered or worse. Clare joined me to my right.

"I can't believe they want us to live like this. All out in the open." She stresses, walking with me to grab our new clothing.

I nod my head but can't say I'm as repulsed as she is. "Amity was like this in certain places," I comment, digging through a pile of black long sleeve shirts to find my size. "No one really cared about being seen in vulnerable moments since the body is thought of as natural."

"That sounds..." Clare shivered next to me, coming away with a stack of now folded shirts and pants. We both bent over in unison to grab a pair of the thick combat boots available. "Terrible."

"It wasn't all too bad. Granted it wasn't something I'd like to continue experiencing," I felt a pang of guilt and sadness at the loss of that lifestyle but pushed on. "But it's not as terrible as you think, especially when everyone is raised to think that way."

We walk back to our cots, her taking to carefully placing the excess outfits in the trunk, me tossing the clothes in a heap on the mattress.

I grab a long sleeve shirt and a tight pair of black jeans and before I can consider an alternative I begin undressing. I start with my skirt, the fabric having bothered me since I put it on in the morning.

As I'm slipping my leg into the pants I hear wolf whistles over my shoulder and a few shouts of appreciation.

"At least the Amity's good for something!" A person yells.

I pull up my jeans, trying to pay no mind. My cheeks heat slightly, no matter the fact that I'm comfortable in myself it doesn't feel good to be targeted.

"Why don't you fuck off." A male calls from near me and I turn to look at him, appreciative of his support.

He has kind eyes and still has his grey shirt in hand. Makes sense. It'd only be an Abnegation who would step in, even Amity are too scared of confrontation typically to help in a situation like this.

"Thank you," I nod in his direction before hastily removing my shirt and replacing it with a new black one. My arms already warming from the thick fabric.

"No problem, I swear it's like they're animals."

I laugh and can't help but agree.

"Violet," I say, outstretching my hand.

"Owen," he says, shaking it with a tight grip before letting go.  

"Sorry to interrupt," Clare says from over my shoulder, "But I could use some help." She'd taken the sheet off of her bed and holds it in her hands.

Moving into action, both me and Owen grip the sheet to cover her while she changes. When she finishes she makes it a point to remake her bed perfectly before we can leave. When me and Owen both give her a look she just shrugs.

"Bad habit."

"It's okay, Abnegation was like that too." Owen says, a soft smile on his lips.

Clare smiles back and puts a hand on her stomach. "If we don't eat now I think I might die."

We all laugh and, wearing our new faction's colors, make our way to the Pit.

#divergent #divergent series #divergent fanfiction #dauntless #divergent four #tobias eaton #amity #eric coulter fluff #eric divergent imagine #eric imagine #eric dauntless #eric coulter imagine #jai courtney #abnegation #candor #burning sunflowers

[mopeytropey]

a beer buds series: chapter 8

author’s note: happy, sappy Lexa hath arrived

available on AO3: here or below the cut

Timeline: just after Lexa returns from her holidays in New York, Clarke is bombarded with work at Dockside; Lincoln keeps her company over the weekend as Lexa relays the events of her Friday spent with Clarke (chapter 7 of 'apu')

Beer: Frequency KÖLSCH-INSPIRED GERMAN ALE

Clean and bright. Pleasingly malty with a touch of noble hop. Crisp and sharp with a subtle malt sweetness on the finish

ABV 5.0%

Frequency: Winter Hill Brewing (Somerville, MA)

:::

Lexa cannot stop smiling.

She hasn’t been able to curb the small grins and outright smiles that keep spreading across her lips at random intervals since leaving Clarke’s house on Friday morning.

She doesn’t stop them when her thoughts drift to the sound of Clarke’s voice and the looks they shared in her kitchen over coffee and bagels. And, she can’t keep her lips from curving when remembering their dinner Friday night, the way Clarke’s eyes would gleam and her cheeks would blush when Lexa would say something purposefully flirtatious. She has more-or-less lost all power over the muscles in her face and the control Clarke has on her overall good mood.

She hasn’t allowed herself this much visible happiness in ages. It feels both incredibly unnatural and like enormous relief.

And, because she is smiling into her phone while reading a recent text from Clarke, riddled with profanity about being stuck at work, she doesn’t notice Lincoln approaching.  

“Hey, I’ve missed that smile.”

Lexa’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and her smile remains. She’s missed him too.

“Hey.”

They clumsily exchange a hug while Lexa is sat on a wicker bar stool and Lincoln stands beside her at a bright grey bar counter made from swirled marble. The sun streams through the front windows of an upscale restaurant known for their brunch menu, woodfired pizzas, and signature cocktails.

Lexa had, in fact, intended to ask Clarke to brunch at this very establishment. She has been eager to resume their mutual exploration of the attraction that’s been brimming between them since early June. Friday had been a glimpse, a negligible fraction of what Lexa knows they are bound to discover over time. She thinks of her fingers tangling between Clarke’s or the physical distances between them that are gradually vanishing. Her head buzzes with all their potential in the days and weeks to come.

Lincoln unbundles from his wool peacoat and unwinds a striped scarf from around his neck to reveal his thick cable knit sweater beneath. “I just saw the girls,” he announces.

Lexa swallows, torn abruptly from the places her mind had been wandering. “Did you?”

“Yeah, they’re slammed down there.” Lincoln takes his seat and then angles himself comically in Lexa’s direction as if he plans to interrogate her. “So, Clarke says hi.”

Lexa’s chest balloons and her smile expands beyond her control. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“I assume this means you two are on speaking terms again?”

The burn in Lexa’s cheeks is so severe, she’s forced to look away to the sounds of Lincoln’s delighted laughter. He playfully jabs a finger into her bicep while she fails miserably to keep her cool.

“We started talking before I left for New York.” Lexa clears her throat, hoping it will reduce the heat of her embarrassment. “She dropped me at the train station, actually.”

“Yeah, I know. Octavia told me,” Lincoln admits. Lexa backhands him across his chest and attempts to scowl. “Sorry, I had to mess with you a little bit. I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“That’s your one free one.” Empty threats, and they both know it.

“Yeah, sure. Okay,” Lincoln plays along, nevertheless slinging an arm around the back of Lexa’s stool.

The bartender approaches before Lexa can respond, and Lincoln reaches across the bar to slap her hand in a familiar exchange. “What’s good, Lincoln?”

“Hey, what’s up, Taylor?”

“What are you drinking?” she asks him while sliding a coaster in front of him.

He nods to Lexa’s pint of beer. “What’s this?”

“It’s that kölsch-inspired one from Winter Hill,” Lexa answers. “It’s really smooth.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll do the same. Thanks.”

“You guys eating?”

“Yeah, I’d love to see a menu,” Lexa tells her.

Taylor nods, reaching for two rolls of cutlery from beneath the bar. “You got it. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, so: what happened? What’s happening? Tell me everything. How was your Christmas?”

Lexa can’t help but laugh at Lincoln’s eager requests, rattled off with palpable excitement. She takes a deep breath. “Christmas was definitely interesting.”  

“Oh yeah?”

Taylor returns with Lincoln’s beer and two menus. She mumbles something quick and low in Spanish to Lincoln that makes him laugh.

“She’s got some real pretentious dicks on the other side of the bar,” Lincoln informs her once Taylor has left them to tend to her other customers. Because the bar is circular, Lincoln attempts to scope out the situation on the other side of the bar by peering through the rows of bottles, glassware, and flatscreen TVs that create a barrier between both sides.

“Think we should bounce them out of here?”

Lincoln laughs into his first sip of beer. “Let me have another pint and I’ll let you know.” He finishes another long sip before sliding his glass back onto the bar. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know why Clarke is suddenly in such a supremely good mood despite working her second double in a row, and why you haven’t been able to wipe that idiot grin off your face since I walked in. Wait—also, what did Anya get you for Christmas?”

Lexa rolls her eyes, hoisting up with disdain an article of outerwear from the stool beside her. “Stupid hat.”

Lincoln swallows his mouthful of beer and laughs, nodding approvingly. “Classic An. Okay so, what exactly happened while you were at home?”

Lexa watches her fingers trace the darker patterns that thread the marble bar top. “For one, Costia and I met for coffee after Christmas and finally had that long overdue conversation I’ve been avoiding.”

“Hey, you weren’t the only one avoiding,” Lincoln reminds her.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And so, it’s over?”

Lexa exhales, reaching again for her pint of beer and taking a low sip. “I think it’d been over for a while, but: yes. In an official capacity, we ended it.”

“And, how are you and Costia? Okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. We’d been such good friends anyway—I honestly think that was a huge part of what complicated things for us for so long.”

Lincoln hedges his reaction. “I want to be really happy for you right now because you basically look like you just dropped this huge weight around your neck, but … are you okay with everything?”  

“I am.” She looks up to meet his eye as if to prove herself. “It felt right. And, I’m—” Her traitorous lips, already pulling at their edges in a smile, will give her away every time. “I’m really good actually.”

“Good because I’m so happy for you, buddy.” Lincoln squeezes her shoulder with the hand resting on her stool. “Okay so, I know you and Clarke are talking again—and, believe me, we’re all relieved as hell about that—but, what exactly have you told her?”

“You mean about Costia?”

Lincoln finishes his sip of beer, pinning her with a look he must have learned from Anya because Lexa feels absolutely transparent. “I mean, I think Costia is just the tip of a pretty substantial iceberg, but sure. Let’s start there.”

At his candid retort, Lexa exhales a laugh and grasps her beer. “I’m fairly certain Clarke knows that my feelings for her aren’t entirely platonic, if that’s what you mean.” Her mind flashes briefly to the lighting and warmth of Clarke’s kitchen, the scent of toasted bagels and freshly ground coffee.

Lincoln claps his hands, as he so often does in moments of triumph, and smiles broadly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that we are finally having this conversation.”

“I know. Me too.” In spite of her nerves constantly bubbling to the surface, Lexa is also flooded with the acute relief of authenticity.

“Have you seen her since you’ve been back?”

“We spent some time together on Friday.” Lexa ineffectually bites at her lip to keep from smiling. She thinks of slow hugs, soft hand-holding, and timid admissions amid charged goodbyes. Their interactions thus far have been so buffered by innocence, Lexa cannot believe the way her stomach swoops at her memory of them. “I brought her bagels.”

“Suave.”

“Listen, she—I wasn’t attempting to be romantic.”

Lincoln doesn’t miss a beat. “Liar.”

“Clarke has been living her entire life under the misguided assumption that a small, newly established bagel shop in northern Massachusetts is on par with legitimate New York bagels, Lincoln.” The severity in Lexa’s tone has him visibly amused. “I felt it my sacred duty to correct this misconception.”

“You brought her Bergen’s, didn’t you?”

Lexa looks offended at the ask. “Like I would offer her anything less.”

“And, where are my Christmas bagels?”

She rolls her eyes, reaching for her nearby pint. “Linc—”

“Okay, I see how it is. Too hung up on impressing Clarke to remember one of your oldest friends.” He is nodding, self-righteously.

Like a loveable idiot.

“I’m beginning to second-guess your request to hang out today,” she tells him while averting her eyes to the paper menu in front of her.

Lincoln laughs at her stern tone, knowing it’s a bluff, and returns his arm to rest along the back of her stool.

“How are you actually feeling about this?”

“Sharing an afternoon drink with you? I’m of two minds at the moment.”

“Now who’s being a jackass?” Lincoln grins. “So, you’re scared out of your mind about Clarke then?”

Yes. Absolutely. The nervous uncertainty is all-consuming.

Lexa shrugs, ignoring her inner anxieties and recites aloud the mantra of useless facts she’s been telling herself for days.

“Clarke and I have been close for quite awhile. She knows me, maybe better than most people. Despite any potential uncertainties, we’re operating on the foundation of a very sound friendship.”

Lincoln watches her like she’s come entirely unhinged. “Okay, yeah. Do you have any idea how incredibly shook I was at the prospect of kissing my friend Octavia?”

At the thought of kissing Clarke—images painted vividly by her traitorous mind—a breath lodges in her chest, and Lexa must return to her beer for fear of passing out.

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m just trying to get you to be honest with yourself. And me, for that matter. I mean, I’m just assuming—knowing how much you overthink every goddamn thing to death—that you haven’t slept with her yet.”

“Jesus, Lincoln.” Lexa swallows her embarrassment through multiple sips of beer.

“For that matter, you probably haven’t even kissed her yet.”

“I can’t think about … that yet,” she manages to say without her voice croaking from the strain.

“Kudos to you for being able to think about anything else.”

“I have, obviously, considered the prospect. I just—more than anything I keep thinking about how I want to be around her all the time.”

“No offense, because I mean this genuinely and supportively as your friend, but are you just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up,” Lexa laughs.

:::

The food, as it turns out, is notable.

Lexa orders chicken fried steak and eggs with chorizo gravy and griddled potatoes, immediately lulled into a state of happy sedation as she clears her plate.

Lincoln groans his satisfaction as well, leaning back into his stool when he’s finished. “Damn. That was so good.”

“I might nap on this stool. Your friend would be okay with that, right?”

“Yeah, obviously.” Lincoln stretches his arms over his head and folds his hands behind the base of his neck. “A good bartender is always looking to have her guests fall asleep at the bar.”

“Okay good,” Lexa answers with a sleepy smile and suppresses an actual yawn with the back of her hand.

“What are you up to for the rest of your day?”

“This meal has completely erased any prior motivation to workout. My couch sounds pretty nice right now.”

The sun is setting and the streetlamps have begun to flicker on along the cobblestreet outside the restaurant windows.

“Not gonna go lurking outside Dockside until Clarke gets out of work?” Lincoln prompts with a teasing wink.

“Why do I feel like this was an actual tactic used on Octavia?”

“An effective tactic, you might say.”

“No,” Lexa laughs. “I’m not planning to stalk Clarke at her place of business, you creep.”

“Suit yourself,” Lincoln shrugs. “If you need any tips, I’m just sayin’.”

Lexa’s laughter is more of a cackle, lost in the increasing din of the Sunday evening bar crowd. “I think I’m all set. Thanks.”

“Oh okay, here we go—two beers later, she is confidence personified.”

Taylor returns to collect their empty plates, and Lincoln, practically gleeful, seizes on an opportunity to embarrass Lexa in a public setting.

“Taylor, help me out here—first kisses with relative strangers versus first kisses with a friend-turned-something-more. Generally speaking, which one makes you more nervous?”  

“Why?” Taylor grins, bracing herself across from them with both hands grasping to the edge of the bar top. “Is one of you about to ask me to makeout?”

Lexa smothers a mortified oh-my-god against the palms of her hands where she has covered her face.

“No, no,” Lincoln laughs while shaking his head. “Like I would ever do anything to get Toni on my bad side—your girlfriend might be more intimidating than Octavia.”

“She’s gonna love hearing that,” Taylor smiles.

“The thing is, Lexa here—”

“Would love the check,” Lexa interjects, pinning Lincoln with her most threatening glare while her cheeks still burn warmly. “And, for reasons yet unclear to me, I’ll take Lincoln’s too. You can put us on the same tab.”  

“You got it,” Taylor chuckles, and strides off to the kitchen with their empty dishes.

As Lexa signs the tab, leaving an exorbitant tip to somehow assuage her own embarrassment as well as fulfill an unspoken creed between service industry workers, Lincoln warmly grabs her shoulder.

“Thanks. This was a great way to spend my otherwise very boring Sunday while O is stuck at work.”  

“Lucky for you, my Sunday plans were also foiled.”

“So glad we could be each other’s second fiddle,” Lincoln grins.

Lexa returns his familiar smile. “Anytime.”

They bundle back into their coats and hats and gloves before Lincoln waves and shouts a quick farewell to Taylor from across the bar. As they push through the front entryway back out into the cold and wind and lightly dusted snowy sidewalk, Lincoln wraps an arm around Lexa’s shoulder and hugs her closer.

“Thanks again—you didn’t have to pick up the tab, buddy.”

“Think of it as your belated Christmas present. Besides, you basically always pay whenever we hang out. I owe you.”

For the drinks and food, yes. But, Lexa also feels indebted to Lincoln’s unending kindness and patient listening as everything between she and Clarke has unfolded.

“You don’t owe me anything, but that food does make for a great belated Christmas present.”

“Well, it’s not pumpernickel bagels and pimento cream cheese, but,” Lexa shrugs, looking up to catch Lincoln’s eye just as his expression creases painfully.

“Aw man, did you have to bring up the pimento cream cheese?!”

Lexa laughs and savors the warmth of Lincoln’s broad frame close beside her.

:::

Sometime between the distance of Lincoln’s apartment, where they had parted after a smothering hug, and Lexa’s front entryway, her phone buzzes from within her coat pocket. When she sees Clarke’s name as the incoming call, she removes a glove with her teeth and swipes to answer.

“Hey.” It’s so cold now that the sun has set, her breath is frozen in puffs, but the anticipation of hearing Clarke’s voice builds a warmth deep in her stomach. “How are you?”

“Oh my god, I’m so tired,” Clarke whimpers.

Always so dramatic.

Still, she has sympathy for Clarke’s long and tiresome hours of unexpected work over the weekend. Lexa shuffles across an empty crosswalk, hurrying towards her street as other pedestrians bustle past in bulky winter wear. “Sorry you’ve been stuck there for two days.”

“I was prepared for Saturday. Today has kicked my ass. Where are you? It sounds windy. Oh my god, please tell me you aren’t running in this weather.”

Lexa laughs as she reaches her apartment and searches for her keys while keeping her phone pinned against her shoulder. “I’m walking home from grabbing food and drinks with Lincoln.”  

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, my brain is fried. Drinks and food sound so nice right now,” Clarke practically whines.

Lexa pushes into the warmth of the stairwell and begins to take the stairs to her apartment. “Seeing Lincoln was really nice, although it was you I was hoping to share a meal with today.”

“Were you?”

She can hear Clarke better now as she unlatches the locks of her apartment’s front door and steps inside a quiet, darkened room. She smiles shyly at Clarke’s surprised delight and lightly clears her throat.

“Yes.”

“And what did these plans entail?”

Lexa used to wonder constantly about Clarke’s intentions—whether or not she was consciously aware of the provocative ring to her voice. Presently, Lexa requires no translation: Clarke’s flirtation is unmistakable.

“I wanted to take you out for brunch.”

“I would have loved that.” Clarke sounds beyond charmed, and Lexa’s entire face warms.

“That’s—that’s good to know,” she responds, exhaling shakily at Clarke’s belated acceptance to a date they never got to have.

“I had brunch plans for us today too!”

“Oh yeah?” Lexa’s intrigue instantly distracts from her spike of nerves.

“Yes! They involved homemade waffles and really nice prosecco I absconded with the last time I left my mom’s and, most importantly, not being at work for over nine hours.”

Lexa clicks on a nearby lamp and shuffles out of her coat but does not bother to remove her absurd winter hat. The idea of Clarke making plans for them—specifically plans that involve home-cooked meals and sharing bubbly wine in Clarke’s home—sets Lexa’s stomach fluttering as she collapses onto her sofa.

“Well, for future reference, I’d be up for drinking prosecco with you any time, appropriated or otherwise.”

“This is good information to have.”

Lexa cozies into the couch cushions at the sound of Clarke’s laugh, wishing desperately that they were sat side by side, filling each other in on their day. She might weave her fingers into Clarke’s hair to help her relax or pull Clarke’s legs into her lap to massage her calf muscles after a long shift at the bar.

“How was your afternoon with Lincoln?”

“He was very upset about being excluded from the New York bagel delivery.”

More of Clarke’s laughter broadens the small smile on Lexa’s mouth. “They were indeed very enviable bagels.”

“I’m glad you liked them. We’ll have to get more sometime.”

A pregnant beat in which Clarke doesn’t immediately respond has Lexa’s heart racing. “In New York?”

The insinuation of taking Clarke to Brooklyn is lightyears ahead of asking her to brunch, and Lexa scrambles to backtrack her overzealous suggestion while pulling her stupid hat over her eyes. “I, um—I didn’t mean—”

“Lexa, I’m sorry—ugh,” Clarke grunts in frustration. “I have to go help one of our servers with something.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course. I’ll let you go,” Lexa fumbles to say, grateful that Clarke’s endless string of responsibilities has saved her from more useless stuttering.

“Can I call you when I’m finished here? If it’s not too late?”

Lexa sits up and finally removes her hat. “Call me whenever.”

“Okay.” Lexa can hear the grin in Clarke’s response and indulges in one of her own. “Oh, and if the invitation still stands, I would go with you to New York any time, with or without the promise of bagels.”

Lexa cannot stop smiling. She doesn’t even try.

:::

#a beer bud series #apu #a pleasant undoing #brewkru! #clexa fic

[giant-sketches]

I’m super excited to show you all this one because it’s just so cute!!! I loved drawing this part and I hope you keep enjoying my little narrative. I plan on making the next one a little animated since you all seem to enjoy those ones as well. I feel like you all are now starting to understand the story and my portrayal of these characters thus far, so if you have any questions about where this might be going or about the sides/their world please shoot me an ask! I’d love to answer them!!!

I’m also open for prompts, requests, and commission! ;3

Anyway, let’s get to this!!!

- Patton with Virgil in hand have entered into the fort to find Roman and Logan. Surprisingly, it’s actually Roman who finds them first. As they first stepped inside they caught a glimpse of him zipping down one of the distant corridors, only to pivot back around and begin sprinting towards the two. Roman seemed to be out of breath and frantic for some reason. Patton began to worry something drastic had happened while he was talking with Virgil in the facility. Roman was now in front of him with both hands gripping Patton’s shoulders.

Roman: “Patton! Where have you been?”

Patton: “Roman, I’m sorry I had something to do for a little bit inside the facility. You look really worked up, is everything okay?”

Roman: “What? Oh, yeah everything’s fine I just kind of overdid it with the workout and then Logan asked me to go looking for you since you hadn’t returned. I’ve been running all over! I had no idea you’d still be inside the facility.” 

Patton: “Goodness Roman you had me worried there for a second. I’m sorry I didn’t report in for so long, but everything’s okie dokie…or at least most of it. We do have a bit of a puzzle on our hands. More specifically in MY hands.”

- Roman gave Patton a confused look until he turned his attention down towards the elevated hand that carried a shrunken Virgil inside. Virgil the whole time had been gripping Patton’s thumb as Roman’s shoulder grab had caused him to shift around. Roman quickly released his grip and jumped back in surprise.

Roman: “AH!”

Patton: “Roman! There’s no need to shout.”

- Roman couldn’t help it! How else was he supposed to act when the last time he saw Virgil was a 1000 feet tall giant? It was a huge surprise to now see him so tiny and sitting on Patton’s palm. He gingerly moved back over to get a closer look. 

Roman: “Virgil? Ho-how did this happen?”

- Virgil tilted his head up to meet Roman’s gaze and gave him a weak smile. He still wasn’t sure how to act around Roman after hearing about how he acted during and after the experiment. He knew to trust in Patton’s words that Roman really cared for him, but it was still hard not to think back to those more painful moments. He hesitated before answering.

Virgil: “I-I’m not sure actually. I don’t remember a lot of what happened afterwards.”

Roman: “You don’t remember? Then you have no idea how big you grew?”

Virgil: “I didn’t at first so I asked Patton and he told me. I-It still sounds unbelievable to me but I know deep down it’s true.”

- Roman didn’t know what to say, for once. If Virgil knew about how massive he had become then there was no way he wouldn’t have asked Patton about their reactions. Roman felt like he had failed to keep his word to Virgil, to see him as family and not as a monster. He could feel the guilty lodging itself in his throat. Virgil noticed this and felt a nudge from behind. Patton was rubbing his fingers against Virgil’s back to encourage him to speak up. 

Virgil: “I heard that I might have rattled you back inside the facility. Instead of saying sorry I want to let you know that it’s okay to be scared of me sometimes.”

Roman: “You can’t mean that Virgil!”

Virgil: “I do. After shrinking down like this I’ve come to understand that you can’t help it. Even though you know you’re not in any danger, you have this instinctive feeling of fear when in front of something that big. It subsides quickly though so I know that right now instead of being constantly afraid of me, that the guilt you’re feeling right now is what’s eating you up inside and I don’t like to see you like that Roman. Know that I forgive you and it’s okay to forgive yourself too.”

- Roman’s face filled with relief at those words and he gave a loud sigh.

Roman: “Thank you Virgil. I really needed to hear that. I was going crazy from the guilt of how I felt after that testing session. I thought I was no good, that I was a bad person for being afraid of my friend. You’ve saved me from those dark thoughts.” 

- Virgil smiled gently at Roman and Roman smiled back.

Roman: “Anyway we should start making our way to Logan’s study to have a talk with him about what might have happened.”

Patton: “Yeah, let’s get going.”

- The three of them started moving down the halls towards Logan’s study. Roman first entered and announced their arrival with a single knock. Patton with Virgil followed second and it doesn’t take long for Logan to realize what has happened.

Logan: “Yet another unexpected development I see. This must be why you were gone for so long Patton. Can you explain what happened?”

Patton: “Sorry to say I can’t. I just found him like this on the floor of the facility and both Virgil and I have no explanation as to why.”

Logan: “How curious.”

- Logan stepped in for a closer look. Virgil on the other hand was worried he might want to do another round of testing. He gulped his nerves down the best he could.

Logan: “Are you unable to grow back?”

Virgil: “Yes. I think I’m still too worn out.”

Logan: “I see, then we’ll save any other tests for a future time. I personally have some ideas on what’s going on; However, even I can see that not only was the experience physically straining, but also caused quite a bit of mental exhaustion. It’s late so we should all get some rest, but first-”

- Logan had walked back over to his desk and opened up his right-hand drawer to look for something. Virgil wasn’t sure what was going on, but was relieved to hear he wouldn’t be asked to participate in any further testing for awhile. Logan then came back with a sticker sheet in hand. The sheet was covered in stars of different colors in six orderly, vertical lines. 

Logan: “Patton, you did a wonderful job today in finding Virgil, calming him down, and returning him to base. To show you my appreciation for your hard work I’ll give you a star. What color would you like this time?”

Patton: “Usually I go with blue, but I want a purple one today please. It reminds me of Virgil!”

- Virgil’s face turned to a bright red instantly from Patton’s remark. He pulled his hood up over his head to hide his embarrassment. Logan carefully peeled off one of the purple colored stars from the sheet and placed it on Patton’s cheek. Patton giggled a bit and smiled widely. 

Patton: “Thanks for the kiss Logan.”

- Logan’s face blushed slightly as he covered up his face to hide his crooked smile. Virgil was completely lost as to what was going on.

Virgil: “Patton, what do you mean by kiss? What are the stars for?”

Patton: “Oh I guess you wouldn’t know yet since you haven’t been here for very long. Logan doesn’t enjoy physical forms of affection like Roman and I do so to show his appreciation he gives out these stickers instead. Cute right?”

Logan: “It’s not meant to be cute Patton. I’ve already explained to you before it’s in order to boost morale and keep the status que of our relationships.”

Patton: “Sure, sure. Whatever you say Logan.”

- Virgil had never seen Logan so flustered and couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. Logan glared at him with a look of caution and Virgil quickly ceased. Logan then felt eyes on him and turned his attention towards Roman who was shooting him pup dog eyes in anticipation. He sighed heavily.

Logan: “I can surmise from your expression that you too would also like a star Roman.” 

Roman: “Yes please!”

Logan: “Hmmm, I suppose that even though you ran ahead during the rescue operation and verbally harassed a comrade until they feld, you did show humility by apologizing and have thus made solid amends with them by talking it out.”

- Logan paused in contemplation. Roman left waiting anxiously.

Logan: “All right you can have a star for your efforts to correct your mistakes and grow from them. What color would you like?”

Roman: “Red please!”

- Logan once again gently peeled off another star, this time a bright red one, and placed it on his cheek.

Roman: “Thanks for the kiss love!” 

Logan: “….sure. Now I’d like to give one to Virgil as well for participating in the testing, but since he’s so small I’ll refrain for now. I hope you understand.”

- Virgil was somewhat disappointed he couldn’t receive a kiss from Logan like the others because of his current size, but he did understand.

Virgil: “I understand.”

Patton: “Awe Virgil don’t look so down kiddo! Here, I’ll give you a kiss instead!!!”

Virgil: “Wha-”

- Before Virgil could even utter a word he was lifted up towards Patton’s face and felt a pair of soft lips press up against him. It was such a pleasant feeling that he lost himself in it as he let himself curl up against them. Resting his face against Patton’s thumb and lips made him feel so warm and safe. Roman then suddenly joined in by wrapping his arms around Patton’s shoulders. The motion caught Virgil off guard for a moment, but he fell back into his previous position quickly.

Roman: “No fair! Don’t leave me out!”

- Roman then proceeded to kiss Patton on the head while keeping him in an embrace. The entire scene was full of love for one another and comfort. It was only broken from a slight cough coming from Logan who was the on-looker left out. All three turned their attention towards him.

Logan: “Not to cut this short, but as I stated before it has become rather late and I think it best for all of us to get some rest. It’s been a long day afterall.”

- Indeed it had. First Virgil was lured out by Deceit’s note to meet him in the forest, then the others went out to look for him only for Roman to chase him off even more. Virgil’s secret had been revealed and it took a lot of convincing to get him to come back to base where he would be safe. Afterwards apologies were given, but a sudden test was brought up by Logan when everything had just been resolved. That test later ended with extremely unexpected results, but all of this made the family stronger and more connected in the end. It was finally time to rest and start over fresh in the morning. 

Logan: “I presume you would like to keep watch over Virgil tonight, correct Patton?”

Patton: “Yes I would. He can sleep with me in my bed for the night.”

Virgil: “You want to share a bed?!”

Patton: “Sorry if it’s uncomfortable kiddo, but you need to stick with one of us when you’re stuck at that size.”

- Virgil understood why, but he was still nervous to share a bed. He’d never once slept with someone else before. How was he supposed to act?

Patton: “No need to look so worried. I promise that I won’t roll over on you or anything. Just think of it like a slumber party.”

- Patton hadn’t fully understood Virgil’s woes and gave him a reassuring smile. Virgil wasn’t worried about being squashed by Patton, but he had never had a sleepover before so he was still perplexed. Would he even be able to calm down enough to sleep?

Logan: “Then I leave him to you, goodnight.”

Roman: “Sweet dreams!”

Patton: “Night, night!”

- Logan returned to his desk for a moment to organize a few things and Roman was the first to leave the study. Patton left right after and started towards his room. He took out his room key from a necklace he tucked underneath his clothes and walked inside. The lights turned on automatically and a soft, female voice said ‘Welcome Patton.’

Patton: “Hello room!”

- The interior was covered in warm, pastel colors. Mainly shades of blue, pink, and pale yellows. The walls were decorated with photos of the three hanging out, of cute animals, and a few motivational posters. There were quite a few of Logan’s star stickers too scattered around the room stuck to all sorts of objects. Patton had set Virgil down on the pillow on top of the bed as he went inside his closet to change.

Patton: “Virgil, I’ll change in here and you can change out there. Unless you like to sleep in your hoodie then I guess you can just wait for me.”

- Virgil usually didn’t sleep in his hoodie so he took it off and set it next to himself. Shortly after, Patton came out of the closet and walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in. He then laid down facing Virgil and patted his hand on the pillow to motion for Virgil to lie down as well. Virgil did so and Patton proceeded to hand him a small cloth to use as a blanket. 

Patton: “Here you go kiddo, don’t want you getting cold. Also, hand me your jacket and I’ll put it on the nightstand for you.”

- Virgil did as he was instructed and snuggled himself into the tiny blanket. He smiled at Patton to let him know he was comfortable and Patton smiled back in response.

Patton: “Goodnight Virgil.”

Virgil: “Night Patton.”

Patton: “Goodnight room.”

- With that the female voice responded ‘Goodnight Patton’ and the lights turned off, followed by  a spinning night-light engaging to cast a pattern of stars on the ceiling. That’s so like Patton, Virgil thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep. He began to dream about the feelings he had felt when being held and kissed by Patton and he could feel his fatigue fading away and his body growing. 

To be continued.

@paranoidgurl @suckedinfandoms @pattonvirglsanders @crystalk17 @enby-phoenix @avenirunknown @gentlegiantdreamer @sanders-sides-virgil @bluegreeninbtwn @notkolaidoscop @just-some-gt-trash @lgbtqiaemo

#mass emotions ts #gt sander sides #g/t sander sides #gt fluff #g/t fluff #gt #g/t #giant sketech #sander sides #thomas sanders #sander sides au #au #gay #kisses #kiss #tiny!virgil #giant!roman #giant!patton #patton x virgil x roman #patton x virgil #roman x patton #moxiety #royality #giants #giant and tiny #hand held #cute #tsart #hug #real talk

[incidentreport31]

Episode 2 - Secure TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Recorder clicks on.

SFX of a mug being set down on a counter. Water pouring and then the clink of a spoon against ceramic. Then, an abrupt almost dropping of said mug as Zach begins to speak.

ZACH:

Tea? Really?

ARCHIVIST:

(stammering)Oh, hi, hello, can… can I help you…?

(beat)

ZACH:

You can help yourself by getting some coffee. Tea isn’t gonna do anything for you, you know. It won’t keep you going for the whole day. You’ve gotta get that good ole cup of joe to start your morning.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m… sorry?

ZACH:

You can’t tell me that you actually like that garbage, right? I mean what kind are you even making?

[shuffle as he grabs the box off the counter]

English Breakfast? Really? English? Compensating for being in the US are we?

ARCHIVIST:

(defensive for no reason beknown to the listener but painfully known to them) I happen to like it, actually but- no actually wait a minute, who are you? Do you work here?

ZACH:

(also defensive for previously explained reason) Yeah, I do. Do you?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, indeed I do. I’m actually the head archivist. May I ask what in the hell you might do around here? Other than, of course, critique drink choices?

ZACH:

Oh. (beat) Oh you- (another beat) You’re the archivist?

ARCHIVIST:

(huffing out a breath) Quite right. Once again. What the hell do you do here?

ZACH:

Oh I’m Zach. Zach Baker. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were… my… boss.

ARCHIVIST:

(hurried and with false confidence) Yes, of course. I’m Val West… your boss. Which means that I’m in charge here. Which then means you should… watch yourself in bothering me about these small things. Yes.

ZACH: It’s not my fault you have the worst taste in drinks-

ARCHIVIST:

(coughs to cut him off)

ZACH:

Well, you do. I’m just saying, okay? And- hold on, are you recording this?

ARCHIVIST: Hmm? Oh, yes I suppose I am.

ZACH:

Where’d that thing come from anyway? It looks ancient.

ARCHIVIST:

It is, from what I can tell. But Mr. Banks has instructed me to record all of my (said with distaste because the archivist is a dick to account givers) “little stories” into it. Apparently, silent reading does not do much in the way of furthering the plot of a story told in an audio format.

ZACH: Yeah, I guess he has a point there.

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough… Either way, I'm not the biggest fan of the old girl, but she hasn’t broken down on me so far, so that counts for something I reckon. Not that there aren’t better ways of recording things, but I digress.

(a beat)

But, I guess I’ve just gotten in the habit of turning it on when it seems like I’m about to do something noteworthy that might further the plot, you know?

ZACH: Like… making tea.

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, yes, I believe you’ve already expressed your opinions on tea, but some of us prefer it to that… grimy coffee that you seem so attached to.

ZACH:

(flustered and compensating, sputtering his words out) Well you can defend your tea all you want, but I am still objectively correct and everyone else definitely agrees with me too, even if the coffee pot goes missing once a week-

ARCHIVIST:

The coffee pot what?

ZACH:

(feeling like he shouldn’t have said that as it seems to have hurt his argument, starting slow and getting increasingly heated) I… it goes missing sometimes… and I haven’t figured out who keeps taking it yet, but trust me I will, and anyways in the meantime, it’s a bit inconsiderate of you to continue trash talking my drink choice-

Recorder clicks off.

Recorder clicks on.

ARCHIVIST:

God, I had to cut that conversation off… It was getting quite past the point of relevance to anyone listening. Pointless debate. So… back to what I was hired on to do, I suppose. (clearing their throat) For the consideration of Boston College: Jordyn Mackenzie’s encounter with an odd child in her parents’ neighborhood, and her request to be exempt from her midterms. No date, once again. [mutters] I am starting to question my predecessor’s competency when it came to filing these out. Her story begins:

[ACCOUNT START]

Every Wednesday night, I make the drive over to my parents’ house to have dinner. When I first moved into my dorm, I had stubbornly been forced into these dinners, as if they were ripping away my freedom so shortly after I had received it. As time went on, however, those Wednesday night dinners have become what I look forward to most. After a while, the glamour of college began to wear off, and I got homesick easily, even if my mother and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye. There’s something so comforting about being able to step away from the bustling atmosphere of campus, and go somewhere quiet, and familiar. We’ve lived in that house almost all my life, and even with all of the bad memories attached to it, I can’t help but think of all the good ones. Perhaps that’s because I always try to see the glass as half full.

(beat)

It’s not just the house I enjoy. My parents live in a small gated community, just about twenty minutes away from school. The houses are all fairly new, with that white picket fence quality to them. In spite of that, each house has its own personality and charm to it. My favorite is probably this blue one with rabbit figurines out front. There’s a park in the neighborhood, too. Not a fancy one, just some monkey bars, a couple of slides, and a grassy field, but it’s great for picnics. Though, in all my time living there, I’ve hardly seen any other children there. I just assumed there weren’t many young kids in the neighborhood.

(another beat)

Thus, you can imagine my surprise when I met this particular child. Now, after dinner each night, I go out on a walk around the neighborhood. It’s small enough to walk the whole span of it in less than half an hour. My father used to come with me, but he’s been having troubles with his knee, so now I walk alone. The weather this time of year is near perfect for a walk—cold enough for it to kiss your face and wake you up, but not enough to freeze to death.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Good lord, spare me the bad poetry. Would love to get to the actual point soon. Anyways.

[ACCOUNT]

It was on one of these walks that I first encountered the kid.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Thank you.

[ACCOUNT]

As I previously stated, there aren’t many kids in the neighborhood, so it took me by surprise to see a new face. He looked to be about seven or eight, with unkempt, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes that were almost unnaturally large on his face. He wore a basic white t-shirt and jean shorts, and sure, I liked the weather, but a kid dressed like that must have been freezing, right? He did not shiver, however, hardly even emoted. Just walked right down the center of the road, staring dead ahead, carrying a bright orange toy gun.

(beat)

Of course, I worried for the kid. Where were his parents? Why was he out so late by himself?

I called out to him. He looked up at me with a surprised look, as if he was shocked to see me actually speaking to him. I asked him what his name was, but he didn’t answer. I tried to ask him lots of things—where his house was, why he was out so late, if he needed help or if his parents were nearby. He wouldn’t respond to anything I said. Just stood there and stared intensely into my eyes. I have to admit, it made me a bit squeamish. Eventually, I just walked away, hoping that whoever was responsible for the kid knew where he was, and that he would make it home safely. I tried not to think about it too much after that. The following week, when I went to dinner, I didn’t go on a walk. My parents had decided they wanted to play a board game, and I was more than happy to comply. The event with the kid had left me feeling unsettled, so I was a bit wary of going on a walk regardless. After another week, however, I had finally gotten over it. I figured it was just one weird kid, nothing more. I mean, looking back, I couldn’t blame him for being scared to talk to a complete stranger. I mean I wasn’t even certain looking back that the expression on his face was all that disturbing. It likely had just been fear, right? Surely, his parents knew where he was, and he was simply out for a post-supper stroll like I was. It was a fairly safe neighborhood, after all. So, the next time I went to my parent’s house for dinner, I went on another walk. There was a slight breeze, but my body heats up as fast as an oven with the slightest bit of exercise, so I welcomed the blasts of cold on my skin. The leaves in the trees rustled, and combined with the sound of windchimes, it was like a symphony of nature’s design.

ARCHIVIST: dropping down papers

(frustrated) I thought I said no more poetic imagery, christ- oh good it ends.

[ACCOUNT]

It was lovely, up until it wasn’t. I saw the kid again, still standing in the middle of the road. He was wearing the exact same outfit as before, the shorts even having the exact same grass stains they did before. It was uncanny, sure, but I figured it was just a coincidence. This time, I harbored far less discomfort or worry. It was just a kid. What could he do to me?

(beat)

A lot, turns out. (stumbling through the sentence) A lot meaning… scare me, but you know what I mean.

Before I even opened my mouth, I realized he was staring dead at me. As if his doll-like eyes were drilling holes into my skull. The weight of being watched hit me like a freight train, but I tried my best to shake it off. I apologized to him for being so invasive the last time we met. Again, he didn’t answer, just continued staring. I wasn’t quite sure what to say after that. It would be hypocritical if I began asking him questions again, immediately after I had apologized for doing exactly that.

ARCHIVIST:

Not sure a child understands what hypocrisy is, but, if it lets you keep the moral high ground, Ms. Mackenzie.

[ACCOUNT]

I didn’t like the way he looked at me, though. My desperate need to fill the silence was an instinct of some kind. As I stood there, teetering back and forth on my heels as I tried to think of what to do next, something strange happened. The kid, still staring at me, slowly began to raise his arm. In his hand was the same toy gun as before. He raised the toy gun until it was pointing directly at my head. Well, what the hell was I supposed to do with that? I knew it wouldn’t actually hurt me if he fired it, yet I still found myself frozen in place.

That was when the car, driving far too fast for a neighborhood, came barreling around the corner. The kid didn’t move. Didn’t even look to see the car coming. My feet lept to action before I processed what I was doing. I ran out into the middle of the street and tackled the kid. We stumbled towards the sidewalk on the other side as I dragged him. The momentum knocked us to the ground. Pain surged through my shoulder and my hip, but I hardly processed it until later, when I saw the large bruises that had formed. We had just barely managed to clear the car’s path. The driver didn’t even stop to apologize, or check to see if we were okay. Didn’t even slow down. I didn’t get a good look at the driver’s face, or the license plate. All I remember is that the car was black and might have been a Honda. Wherever they are, I hope karma did a good deal on them for their reckless driving.

Before I could focus on my injuries, I checked to make sure the kid was okay. Other than a scrape on his knee, he appeared to be fine, but it was hard to say. Even after all of that, his expression still hadn’t changed. For some reason, this made me indescribably angry. How could you almost get hit by a car and then still act completely neutral? Regardless,if he was in any pain, there was no way I could tell. I offered to take him back to my place and clean up his knee, but he shook his head. I noticed he was staring intently over my shoulder. When I turned around, I realized his toy gun had been destroyed. Orange and yellow plastic bits covered the street, almost like broken glass. He stood up and walked towards the remains. As he picked up what used to be the trigger, his face was still blank, but if I looked closely enough, I could have sworn I saw something adjacent to sadness. Disappointment, perhaps. For the first time since I had met him, he opened his mouth, and—god, I wish I had stuck around long enough to learn more. I wish I had pressed harder, since I now knew he was actually capable of speech. Hearing what he said next chilled me, though. I can’t quite say why. All I know is that after he spoke, I got up and ran back to my house, never wanting to see that kid again. Do you want to know what he said? The only words I ever heard him speak? It was this, with no further details or elaboration: “He’s not going to be happy about this.”

Paper shuffling.

ARCHIVIST:

And that seems to be where it ends. Jordyn gave us the name of the neighborhood this took place in, as well as the exact street the incident happened. The problem is, as she stated, it’s a gated community, and none of our staff had a code to get in. It says here in an attached slip of paper labeled: Incident Report, (sighs) date not given, that they contacted the head of the community in an attempt to gain access, but the head of the home-owner’s association said to, quote, “shove it in a place the sun doesn't shine, you conspiracy theory creeps.” Luca writes here that there was an issue involving a cup of… tea… thrown at their face… what a waste.(mutters) Rich people.

Because of this, there’s not much we can do. Without a stated name for the kid, or any known relatives, it’s hard to try to track this kid down. Frankly, I don’t think Jordyn’s story is all that concerning, other than the incident with the car, which we also could not find due to her vague description.

(beat)

It’s likely the child she met was simply shy, or possibly processed his emotions in a different way than she was used to. Her university certainly agreed with me, since it seems she was not given her requested time off. Thus, as far as I can tell, this is another instance of someone making something deeper than it needs to be and then trying to get an extra vacation. I can’t blame her, I suppose, since nearly seeing a kid get run over would certainly be upsetting. It does appear that Oliver, our resident psychological consultant, did recommend her a therapist, but she never went.

(beat)

Trust me, Jordyn, I would love to take a break as well, but post-grad school is expensive, and I doubt Mr. Banks would give me paid time off even if something worthwhile were to happen. It’s the world we live in, I suppose. Gotta pay off the student loans one way or another. (sigh)

End recording.

Recorder click off.

CREDITS:

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “Secure,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Kaleb Piper as Zach Baker. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks so much for listening!

#ir31pod transcripts

[nelllraiser]

drunken sailors | connor & nell

TIMING: before nell’s drowning via constance. PARTIES: @nelllraiser and @connorspiracy. SUMMARY: a pair of drinks for a pair of friends leads to an evening of fun. CONTENT: nsfw talk and implications.

Connor wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Surely Nell had just been messing with him about the sex toys. It wasn’t that he was opposed. He’d been propositioned in worse ways before, but he did his best to play it cool. As if he hadn’t showered and manscaped and worn one of his nicer-than-usual outfits. Not fancy or anything, just something that wasn’t an old hoodie. He used a subtle amount of cologne that would soon be covered by the strawberry scent of his vape as he waited outside for Nell to arrive. When he saw her approach, he flashed her a little smile. “So, were you going to mention the fact it looks like a dry cleaners outside or just come here expecting to laugh at me for standing around looking lost?” 

Nell wasn’t the sort of girl who needed to be taken out or anything before having a good time between the sheets. In fact, she was generally quite the opposite. Why not just skip to the good part? Well— she supposed it wasn’t always good. But still- might as well know sooner rather than later, right? And Connor seemed nice enough. Nell was always up for fun when it came to bedroom activities, having little discretion concerning what other party was involved. Approaching the man in question, she gave him a curious once over, a prickle of uncertainty finding her as she realized he’d at least gone through some effort for the evening. It wasn’t that she hadn’t. After all, she’d donned an outfit that showed off the better parts of her assets, figuring that it would be as good an incentive for Connor as any. Something seemed...different between them. Almost as if they’d prepared for two different types of evening, though she wasn’t sure if she was entirely correct. Either way, she returned Connor’s grin, looking up at the dry cleaners in question. “What? No, I just thought we’d stop here first, right? Get our errands done and all that. Honestly, I can’t believe you’d think such a thing of me.” Even if it did sound exactly like something she would do. Nevertheless, she didn’t hesitate as the door opened, entering the bar as a heady rush of air whooshed out.

Connor shook his head with a playful little grin. Honestly, when he’d met Nell, he just wanted to see some demons, but he was starting to genuinely enjoy her company and humor. His life was so often filled with serious things; loss and tragedy and darkness, longing and despair. Nell was a little bit of levity in the sea of what-the-fuck. “Right, yeah, thought you’d make sure we’ve got clean clothes for tomorrow morning and all that,” he teased. “Give it a rest. I am a supernatural investigator you know. I asked around about the place.” He reached for the door, opening it for her. “After you.” Upon opening the door they were greeted with the sound of the jukebox playing, the soft knocking of pool balls against each other, and the casual chattering of the patrons. “Do they serve supernatural drinks here? You’ve been before, yeah? I’m excited for your recommendations.” 

A half-smirk was quick to form on Nell’s lips as Connor mentioned a morning after. Okay, maybe they were still on similar pages. That was good. “So that means you’re still on for trying out those sex toys?” she teased, not yet saying outright that she’d be taking part as well as a means of dangling the bait a bit. A playful eyeroll was quick to follow his statement about his job, though she knew he did it well based on his YouTube channel. “Sorry, should I have brought you a deerstalker hat? Are you going to demand I call you Sherlock or something now? I think Nancy Drew might fit better.” Looking around at the patrons, she felt comfortable knowing that they all were a part of a similar world. The supernatural one. Even if she was still human, she’d always felt that supernaturals were more welcoming of witches than non-powered humans were, and such a thing had been proven in her life thus far. “Of course they serve supernatural drinks. What do you usually like?” she asked with a grin. “Then I can go from there.”

“To be honest,” Connor answered, an almost embarrassed chuckle, “I wasn’t sure if you were serious or just winding me up, so I didn’t want to assume.” He gave her a small smile. “But yeah, I’m game if you are.” He shook his head with an ‘oh, fuck off’ kind of grin at her Sherlock-Nancy Drew comment. “I prefer Ryan Bergara.” If she got that reference, he might just have to snog her there and then. “Well, nothing with blood in it. Nothing that’s going to make me too pissed to stand up straight, sexy as it would be for you to carry me home,” he teased. “Most places I go are so in denial about the supernatural, they don’t even have places like this, so the choice is yours, darling.”

Nell’s amusement only grew as she watched the young man do his best to reply, eyebrow raised as she waited. “Oh, so you’re wanting me to try them out as well?” she teased, unable to pass up the opportunity to do so. Obviously she’d been propositioning him, but it was a little too fun to joke around. “Is that a solo sort of situation or were you hoping for something else?” A small laugh fell from her before she answered, “You wanna be the one that’s basically notorious for being scared half the time?” She hadn’t watched the Buzzfeed Unsolved videos religiously, but every now and then they were amusing enough. A playful tsk of her tongue, and then she was leaning forwards over the bar, trying to catch the attention of the bartender. “Alright, fine...no blood,” she affirmed before placing their order. “So where all have you been?”

“To be honest, I figured you already had.” Connor grinned at her. “An experienced and adventurous young woman like yourself.” There was something very attractive about how forward she could be without being cringy. Most people couldn’t pull that off, but she had a natural confidence and charm that he found appealing. “Not the scared part. I meant more the curiosity and ability to think outside the box. Not that much scares me, love.” It was true he had a higher threshold for getting the spooks than most people, but Nell had seen first hand that scaring him wasn’t impossible. Just throw some hellhounds at him. 

“Where have I been?” he repeated. Once they had called the bartender and Nell ordered their drinks, Connor also ordered some pretzels from the bar so he had something to munch on while they chatted. "Loads of the most haunted places in the UK. Pluckley Village, Blickling Hall, the Ancient Ram Inn, Chillingham Castle." He opened his pretzels, offering one to Nell. "Then I did Europe. Zvíkov Castle, Château de Brissac, Wolfsegg Castle. Obviously when I came to America I had to do The Stanley Hotel and the Winchester House, The Queen Mary. Loads of places. But not all haunted places are famous, too. Sometimes it's just some desperate person trying to get someone to believe them."  

A small snort found its way through Nell, and she didn’t bother to hide the amusement on her face. “You caught me. But that’s probably the nicest way someone’s ever said it,” she chuckled. The witch knew she had a healthy sex life, and she’d never thought that a bad thing. Of course, her fellow high schoolers back in the day often had different ideas- especially when you were already essentially a social pariah. “Are you sure about that?” she instantly teased, most likely taking his bait. “I seem to remember you getting a little...concerned about some very cute hellhounds.” Soon enough their drinks had arrived, and Nell was raising her’s to Connor’s in a miniature toast before taking a sip. “Did you have a favorite?” she asked, interested to hear they’d been to some of the same countries. But she knew all too well what it was like to have someone hanging onto you as if you were their last hope, and nodded along with his words. She’d found enough of those in her travels, as well. “I ended up going to some really remote places because of people like that. Some of those places were my favorites, though.”

"Alright, that's different. You sprung 'em on me, literally," Connor teased, laughing. He took another pretzel as she asked about his favourite place he'd visited. "There's this place called 'The Cage'," he snickered at the tasteless name. "Lovely, eh? It's a house in Essex that used to be a medieval jail for people accused of witchcraft. Bloody ugly as well. Painted bright yellow on the outside, looks like it's never been redecorated, chains hanging off some of the walls. But a hotspot. Really interesting activity." He leaned a bit closer to her with a smile. "You're obviously not afraid to get stuck in with the supernatural. What got you into it? You don’t just spring from the womb summoning hellhounds and corpse-uncles." 

“I warned you,” Nell insisted with a half-smirk and chuckle, having a bit too much fun prodding at Connor. This time she grabbed one of the pretzels as well, glad to be snacking on something while she listened. At the mention of taking witches prisoner, Nell hummed in discontent, her lips pressing together. “Half the time- I feel like they weren’t even real witches. Otherwise they probably would have escaped or something. Either way- what a bunch of dickwads.” Witches weren’t as prosecuted as supernaturals like shifters and fae, but they’d also been some of the most famously hunted. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of pissed off spirits there, though.” It would only make sense. His question about the supernatural caught her slightly off-guard, and she wasn’t entirely sure of an answer until it was coming out of her. “Well- I mean I was obviously raised as a witch by my family in my coven and everything. We’re all witches. I’ve known about the supernatural for as long as I can remember. Or did you mean past that?”

“Well, yeah, people accused of being witches, I should say.” Had Nell ever technically mentioned she was a witch? Connor tried to remember. He didn’t think so, but he’d sort of sussed it out from the summonings and the way she was acting now that he talked about them being locked up. “Half the time it was just people being bloody paranoid about herbal medicine or accusing someone for the sake of it.” And now she confirmed his suspicions about her being a witch. He nodded, understanding. “Whatever you fancy telling me, love,” he said casually, sipping his pint. “You seemed more interested in doing something else than talking, which I’m fine with,” he gave her a small smile. “Just thought I’d try and be something of a gentleman and have a drink with you before asking you to peg me.” 

Now that Nell thought about it, she supposed she hadn’t outrightly said she was a witch. But hopefully her nodding along to Connor’s words of witches and warlocks in her greenhouse had been enough of a confirmation for him. “Literally- just paranoid normie humans being all worried about someone who has a little more power than them.” Well- a lot more power if she was being fair. Still- the stigma around witches was alive and well in the non-supernatural community. Growing up as something of a loner and outcast because of the strange happenings around her had been proof enough of that. Soon enough, the levity of the evening had returned, and Nell was freely laughing at Connor’s phrasing. “I already told you- I’m not a girl that needs to be wined and dined,” she replied with a grin. “As for the pegging- we’ll see what sort of mood I’m in when we get out of here. Which leads me to the next question of ‘do you wanna get out of here’?”

“Wined and dined?” Connor repeated, snickering. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket along with a lighter. “What about beer, pretzels and a ciggie?” He took another sip of his drink. Whatever Nell had got him was strong. He felt a pleasant tingling sensation in his fingertips, and a little more confident than a few minutes earlier. “Well, love, since smoking in bars and pubs is prohibited in Maine, reckon we should head back to yours. But I did enjoy the drink.” He hoped he wasn’t being too presumptuous, but given the direction their conversation had already taken, he wasn’t too worried. “We’ll see where the night - and whatever toys you’ve got - takes us, yeah?” 

A light and playful eyeroll was Nell’s reaction to Connor’s words, though they’d also gotten another laugh from her. “No- a takis and cake kinda girl.” But his confirmation was all Nell needed to finish the last dregs of her drink before standing from the bar, and shooting him a knowing look. After all, she hadn’t been anything close to subtle. That was generally how she preferred it, though. No dancing around the subject or anything half as tedious. If she knew what she wanted, and they knew what they wanted- what was the point? “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Now she was headed for the door, and looking over her shoulder at Connor as she went. “I think I could handle that. I just hope you can,” she said as her last tease, ready to see where the night would lead.

#chatzy #ch:connor #drunken sailors

[ainchase]

Ain’s Master Class Epic Quest Translation

42-1 Overcoming Anxiety 

Harnier’s Memory

Messenger of God

As Long As I Remember Me

Harnier's Memory

Ain opened his eyes in a fragment of Harnier’s memory that flowed in with the power of El.

???: ...Don't... forget... yours...lf... Lady of El: ... High Priest: My Lady, it's time for you go to the church. Lady of El: ... High Priest: My Lady? Lady of El: ...! Ah, I did it again... Lady of El: ...Forgive me. It's become harder for me to stay focused... High Priest: It's okay. The fact that your emotion is growing fainter means you are becoming closer to the El. Lady of El: (Becoming... closer to the el.) Lady of El: (It's natural for my memory and sense of self to grow weaker.) Lady of El: ...Okay. ???: Remember... you're... Lady of El: ...! High Priest: Are you okay? Lady of El: ...It's nothing. I just had a headache... High Priest: You must let us know if you're not feeling well. It'd be terrible for something to happen to you. Lady of El: Yes, I understand. I am a representative of the Goddess. I must fulfill my mission to protect the world of Elrios... Lady of El: (...Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something important?) Lady of El: Um... Where are the ones who used to be by my side? High Priest: By your side? You mean the priestesses? They're already at the church. Lady of El: (The priestesses? Did I feel this much fondness for them?) High Priest: We must hurry. The service will begin soon, so please finish your preparations. You must fulfill your duty as the Lady of El, remember? Lady of El: (Duty as the Lady of El. Taking care of the unstable El after it went rampant, a noble task of protecting this world...) Lady of El: (This is only natural. From the day I was chosen as the Lady of El, my life no longer became mine.) Lady of El: (A fate to slowly lose everything and disappear as they become one with the El.) Lady of El: But even so, I made a decision. High Priest: My Lady? What are you... Lady of El: In the end, I decided to stay with them. Because the mission wasn't fulfilled properly, because I believed the world still needed them... Lady of El: And because I myself had wished to stay by their side. ???: ... Lady of El: You and I are alike. We were both given a mission, and we were both meant to disappear to fulfill that mission. Lady of El: But the El’s explosion had nothing to do with our will. Things that never should have come to pass happened on top of another, and we became who we are today. If that is the case... Lady of El: What are we, now that we've been led astray by coincidences from the path we were meant to take? Harnier: ...Ain. Ain: I think I need some explanation, Lady of El-- No, Miss Harnier. Ain: What happened to me? Harnier: When you've arrived at Elysion, most of the power of El that was sustaining you was gone. Ain: (When the portal activated, I felt my strength leaving me. Did it draw away my power because the crystal wasn't enough?) Harnier: The power of El that gives you your form is not from a specific element, but a pure power of the Goddess itself. Harnier: It appears while I was transferring the power of El that I can control to you, some of my memories ended up mixing in. Ain: So you were the one who told me I shouldn't forget myself. Well then, how do we get out of this place? Harnier: Now that you've found yourself, the next natural step is for you to wake up, but... Perhaps the reason you can't lies within you. Ain: Within me? Harnier: The power to reflect the will of El... I'm wondering if the reason you can't escape this place is that you are refusing to wake up. Ain: That can't be true. Even at this very moment, I want to wake up immediately. I have to check to see if others are safe... Ain: !!! Harnier: Ain!

Messenger of God

Messengers of God blocks Ain and Harnier’s path. They declared an eternal exile to Ain who was suffering in confusion.

Harnier: What is going on...? Messenger of God: Ainchase Ishmael. Ain: ...! Messenger of God: The one who abandoned his mission. Messenger of God: A heretic who refused his fate. Messenger of God: An existence of a different nature from the rest of "us." Harnier: Another agent... of the Goddess like Ain? Messenger of God: He is to be discarded. Sink forever to the bottom of order itself. Ain: What...? Harnier: Ain, you must get a hold of yourself. Even this is nothing but a manifestation of your own anxiety, they're not real! Ain: (These things... are my anxiety?) Ain: (I've... feared other emissaries of the Goddess? No, no... that can't be it.) Messenger of God: You've abandoned the mission the Goddess has given you. Ain: I didn't abandon the mission. I did what I had to do in order to deal with the problems that occurred. Messenger of God: You were given something that was not permitted to you. You strayed from your original mission because of that. Ain: ...My original mission was to add my existence to the Giant El to stabilize it. Ain: It's different from what I was supposed to do, but I've always been looking for a way to stabilize the El. The true nature of my mission hasn't changed. Ain: The reason why the Goddess never answered me was definitely because something must've happened... In order to fix that, the El must be restored completely. Ain: It's possible to do that even without Elsword's sacrifice. In fact, the El Search Party must endure, in case the El is in danger again-- Messenger of God: You said yourself that you must save Elsword, even if it meant going against your mission. Ain: That's... Messenger of God: You've been corrupted a long time ago. Although you said the true nature hasn't changed, but you should know yourself... Messenger of God: Do you dare say that you are the same as us, when you've went against the Goddess's will, came in contact with chaos, and even called a creature from the demon realm your friend. Ain: ... Messenger of God: Your faith has been corrupted. You prioritized your judgment over the Goddess's mission, telling yourself that it was for the El's sake. In doing so, you have challenged the Goddess's authority. Messenger of God: You've abandoned your God, and you are no longer the same as us. You don't have the right to use the name the Goddess has given you. Ain: (I've made up my mind to decide and carry out the things I must do, not as a representative for a lofty mission, but as Ainchase Ishmael.) Ain: (But that decision is going against the very definition of my existence? If the things I've done to define myself ended up denying my own origin...) Ain: (The change I've brought about... no longer makes me... me... What's waiting for me at the end of all this change?) Ain: (No, no. I'm not wrong. The fact that I still exist here without disappearing means that God himself acknowledges my actions.) Ain: ...I don't regret my decision to save Elsword and protect the El Search Party. That was never a wrong decision to make. Ain: Yes, I've changed. But that wasn't to challenge God's authority or to abandon the Goddess. I just... Ain: I just did what I thought was right. This is the right path. Elria has accepted my will, and that's why I-- Messenger of God: You truly believe that? Ain: What are you trying to s... Messenger of God: When the authority over you changed to Elria... Did he give you a mission? Ain: ...That's... Messenger of God: No other agent of God had taken your footsteps. However, you had the audacity to believe, without question, that God had accepted your objectives. Messenger of God: The insolence to interpret God's will how ever you see fit is also a quality none of us share. Ain: ... Messenger of God: Hear me, heretic. You've been corrupted, and thus you are no longer one of us. Ain: (This is... an illusion? How can anyone say none of this exists, when each word is shaking me to my core?) Messenger of God: You are a nothing if you're not us. Ain: (I thought all I had to do was to control the repulsion I felt. I thought I held up quite well so far. But... if my decision was correct...) Ain: (Why... was I so nervous?) Messenger of God: You have no conviction over your decision. The absence of faith equals the void. Ain: (...The very foundation of my existence is wavering. This is the reason I was afraid of becoming something other than a Celestial...) Messenger of God: A human's faith is brief, Ain: (What form will I be in to stay by their side, if I'm no longer a Celestial? Even after I change...) Messenger of God: and so it is completely void of meaning. Ain: (Would they continue to see me... as Ain...?) Harnier: Ain. Harnier: I'm sure you've seen it earlier, but I've lived a part of my life as the Lady of El. Ain: ... Harnier: Back when I stayed at the Tower of El, I... ate a lot of food. Whenever I had free time, I ate something. Did you know? I'm not a picky eater. Harnier: The priestesses tried to stop me, saying I might get a stomachache, but I filled my tummy with whatever I can find. Ain: ...What are you trying to say? Harnier: Looking back, I might've been trying to fill the void in me that grew the more I became one with the El... I think. Harnier: As times went by, I could not feel even that emptiness in the end. Ain: ... Harnier: I grew scared, the more I couldn't remember anything. I must be doing the right thing for Elrios, so I couldn't understand why I was feeling that way. Harnier: I thought it was because I lacked faith, because I wasn't ready to sacrifice myself. I felt agonized, conflicted... and tormented. Harnier: And when I finally made my decision... Who do you think made that decision for me? Ain: ... Harnier: I chose to do what I can do. In the end, I was the one who accepted my fate as the Lady of El. Ain: You did that... knowing you won't be human anymore when you become one with the El? Harnier: Even if every part of me is erased and forgotten, the very last bit of me at the very last moment, will still be me. Harnier: Don't be afraid to be afraid. It's okay to be nervous of change. Harnier: It's natural to feel anxious if you have chosen to forge your own path instead of following what fate has chosen for you. All living beings feel that anxiety. Ain: (This anxiety... is natural?) Harnier: The fact that I am Harnier and that you are Ain will never change. Even if we become something we are not, even if no one can remember us... Harnier: We both know that we had once existed at that time, in that place, along with everyone. Ain: (A life fated to be forgotten when intervention is over.) Ain: (But he remembered. My existence, the time he had spent with me, my... name.) Ain: (Though the Goddess has bestowed that name upon me, regardless of her, that name... still means "me.") Ain: (Even if I change into something else, not a Celestial or anything at all, would you guys still...) Ain: The space... Harnier: Are you okay? Ain: ...I'm not sure. Ain: Is it okay to say that this is okay? To think that it's normal to feel like I'm endlessly sinking beneath my feet... I'm not sure. Harnier: I think the reason you feel anxious is that you're now able to understand other people's perspectives. Ain: Understand... others? Harnier: You're now looking at the world through your own eyes, not just to blindly carry out an absolute order because you're told to. You don't take things at face value, you're trying to understand why before accepting it as your reality. Ain: ...All the things I used to consider meaningless. Ain: Thank you. I don't think the detail of you not being a picky eater was necessary, but you were helpful nonetheless. ???: Ain... chase... Harnier: Ain...? That's...! Ain: ...As a thank you, I'll also show you something that you don't need to know. ???: Ishmael... Ain: It's a manifestation of my anxiety. Manifestation of Anxiety: Ainchase Ishmael... Ain: ... Manifestation of Anxiety: It's not too late. You can still turn around. Manifestation of Anxiety: Discard all impurities from coming in contact with Henir and come to me. Manifestation of Anxiety: Aren't there still things you need to carry out in my name as my agent? Harnier: Ain...! Ain: ...O Goddess Ishmael, Ain: Forgive me for making you appear in this form because of my worry. Manifestation of Anxiety: You had defied me once... and later said you'll return my power to Elrios. Manifestation of Anxiety: Inconsistency is a human construct. You are a Celestial. Manifestation of Anxiety: The more you accept what is theirs, you will grow further away from a Celestial. But you will never be a human either. Manifestation of Anxiety: Do you wish to be... "chaos" that lingers between a Celestial and a human? Ain: I used to think it's probably better to return to a time when I was just blindly chasing after my mission whenever I grew fearful of change. Ain: Looking back, running away to the past is an idea I never even would have thought of. Ain: If it's because I learned it from a human... If this is the consequence of my decision... Ain: I will gladly accept it. Ain: Goddess Ishmael -- No, "Manifestation of My Anxiety." I will never be a part of the chaos. Ain: I am too aware of my existence to be a part of that. Ain: Not only am I an agent of the Goddess with her mission to fulfill, but I am also the one who set my own goal to save the Goddess under Elria's authority. Ain: The one who will constantly change and protect them by existing in their time. Ain: I'm Ainchase Ishmael.

As Long As I Remember Me

After finding inner peace thanks to Harnier’s guidance, Ain faces the manifestation of his anxiety. His voice rang clear as he declared who he is to the voice urging him to return to the right path. 

Harnier: Are you okay? Ain: Lady of El... Ain: No, I should call you Miss Harnier. Ain: Thank you for helping. I wouldn't have been able to get out if I was by myself. Harnier: No, you would've woken up even without me. I just hastened the process. Ain: How can you be so sure? You were... Ain: Well, I did show you too many things. Ain: ...Miss Harnier. I understand that my anxieties are a bit exaggerated fear of the reality and that the end has not been decided yet. Ain: And you told me it's natural to feel this way. Ain: In retrospect, I think I was anxious the moment I faced the chaos. I looked at humans, couldn't understand them, and always felt anxious somewhere in my heart... Ain: Although my anxiety originated from Henir, but now... it's solely become a part of my emotions. Ain: I thought I'd be fine as long as I had my conviction, but in the end... I wavered, enough to collapse and fall. Ain: If I have to face this natural feeling over and over again, one day it might just end up consuming me. And if that happens... Ain: What lies beyond that? Harnier: You're always changing, Ain. You're different now than you were when I last saw you. Harnier: In the past, your form would have disappeared if you were in the same predicament, but you managed to keep your physical form even as you fell unconscious. That is the proof. Ain: ...! Harnier: Even now, I sometimes think it would be better for everyone for me to just become one with the El to stabilize it. Harnier: But there were those who told me it's okay for me to live as me. Harnier: Perrihart said so... Ventus, Denif, and the current priestesses... Everyone. They said they didn't want me to sacrifice alone. Harnier: Thanks to them, I am able to live my life as "Harnier." Harnier: And I'm striving to do the things I can, both as "Lady of El" and "Harnier." Harnier: Ain, I was the one who accepted the path of becoming a Lady of El. I tried to accept the sacrifice that was asked of me. Harnier: But now, I've decided to live as Harnier. This is turning over my previous decision... It too is a change. Harnier: And I didn't bring about this change on my own. Many told me it's okay, so I was able to change. Harnier: And some changes happen even before you're aware. Harnier: Are you still afraid of change? Ain: ... Ain: I'd be lying if I said I'm not, but... Ain: Perhaps it's okay if I think this change is their influence. Ain: Surely, I'll be anxious again, but... yes. If I can recall this story, I should be okay again.

#elsword translation #i actually translated this time? #42-1 #ain master class

[peachymess]

On Eren

If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Snk, you keep me up at night. It’s 7am and I can’t sleep. It just hurts too much. All the fears hitting me at once. I need the next chapter, just to further the in-verse present time. Yet at the same time, I can barely read another word or I might perish.

Listen, Eren might have had a very black-and white sort of tunnel vision all his life. He may always have been rash and headstrong and quick to decide what he deems as right and wrong. And he might come down on what he deems “injustice” very hard. But that’s not all there’s been to him. He’s also always cared about strangers in need, his friends, the freedom we’re all born with and deserve to have. He cries for people’s fates, he smiles at others’ joy.

He felt hate, yes, but he also felt love. I’m just gonna go ahead and pick a side. I refuse to accept that we’re meant to land on the far-evil side of his spectrum. If his plan is exactly what he says it is, I actually accept it as IC, because given Eren’s circumstances, we can understand what lead him to become this consumed with hate and misguided action. However, even so, I don’t think that’s where he’ll be by the end of this story. He’s swinging, and he’s gonna land somewhere closer to the middle. I’m not talking redeemed, I’m just talking understood and hopefully reawakened from his hate-consumed state - unless we’re just gonna have a straight up “this had to be done for best ending” twisteroo.

The thing is. If his plan is what he says it is, it’s nuts. But it’s *so* nuts that it’s... almost cartoony. Because not only do we get the plan like he says, it also means that the bleak as hell narrative Mikasa gave this chapter, is meant to be correct. Paraphrasing to a dangerous degree, we can sum it up like this: “Eren is a monster and I’m starting to realize he didn’t become one; he’s always been one”. This, canonized, would erase the weight of any smile, care and love Eren’s shown to give from earlier years. It would mean that beneath care for his friends and laughter at the dinner table, his thoughts and goals were so ugly and selfish that it even at that point outweighed the “shallow” good he projected into the world. Not only does that set the bar extremely low for what people we are meant to consider “evil”, but it also flips the script of the entire story to be one of hatred and fake beauty from start to finish. If we’re told Eren’s meant to be evil masked as good from the get-go, 1. If we accept it, every happy interaction looks empty and pointless as hell and strips the story of its stakes to some degree, or 2. We realize it honestly doesn’t fit because his “good” feelings being genuine is why entire plot points work and the story developed in the way it did.

What I’m trying to say is this: Mikasa’s temporary conclusion that Eren might have been a monster* all along, isn’t correct (and it’s meant to be seen as a wrong read imo). But if his plan is what he says it is, he IS one, thus her conclusion would be correct. Which it isn’t.

Side note: while I believe Eren’s plan and Mikasa’s conclusion need to coincide (plan true = M conclusion true VS plan fake = M conclusion fake), there is an argument to be had that Mikasa could be wrong about Eren always having been a monster while Eren still truly having become one by this point in time. But I don’t believe so. For instance: if Eren wasn’t a monster before but has become one now, Mikasa’s closing conclusion (him being one NOW) is still correct - but the reasoning/buildup used to arrive at that conclusion, is wrong. It would be like solving a mathematical problem incorrectly but arriving at the right answer by luck. She’s asking herself if, looking back, she can actually see the seeds of his true form, where she previously saw him through rose tainted goggles. But if he truly was a good boy before, it would be unfair (and a waste of time) to put on the table, a plot point that’s synthetically explained/constructed, when there is a true calculation/formula to the conclusion since (if) it’s correct. And the other way around, if her conclusion is right, but the plan is fake, the “monstrosity” she’s caused to reflect on, is fake to begin with, so how can she still be right he’s a monster?

So, back on track, I don’t feel like Eren is meant to end on this 100% villain note. His plan of genocide, his on-the-nose villain final titan face, PLUS Mikasa’s “sike, he’s ALWAYS been a monster”... it’s just too much evil. Especially for a story like SNK. It feels to me, like this is the “the night is darkest before the dawn” part of the story, where we go from “he’s a pure boy”** to “my god... no... he’s actually a demon boy, god help us”. Mikasa’s narrative says this, and Armin is having that exact themed melt-down when his desire to see Eren as good, physically stops being compatible with what he sees around him. They’re both so scared of acknowledging Eren’s flawed, that having to accept it, initially feels like a much bigger deal, a much longer fall from grace. So we swing with them, from one outer point to the other. Panic mode... but it won’t end there. It’s too cartoony, too black/white still. Looking back, the good times they shared, they were real. And the pain he’s later caused, is also real. But he’s not setting out to do damage for the sake of damage. He’s not evil to the core. I refuse to believe that’s what we’re meant to be left with at the end; redeemable or not, his goal isn’t pain. A lie is best wrapped in truths, and Isayama is fueling our own fear of Eren’s monstrous side by making us do callbacks to things in the past that could be seen as seeds of evil. And to a degree he’s right. Eren is violent. To be honest, it never say well with me how he killed those men at age nine. I understood the “the end justifies the means” aspect of it, and I think that’s why I was able to let it slide despite the discomfort. Yet it never quite... fell to rest. A nine year old being able to stab other humans to death with no remorse and such violent words... should a nine year old child be able to do that, even if it’s for the greater good? I’m sure I’m not alone. And Isayama intended it this way, to be able to do this callback. It spreads uncertainty. You start to buy into it... Becayse it’s true to some degree: it’s messed up. Your regular kid couldn’t do something like that... But it’s not proof that Eren is evil through and through. It’s just presented in such a way that it makes for a compelling argument. And in the heat of the moment, it provides the “holy shit fuck” the story needs to make the stakes as severe as possible. Taking a step back, I refuse to believe it’s a true revelation, but an intensional gaslighting of his person, presented so we’ll swallow the bait. Eren having always been a monster incubating, is too cartoony to be the final note.

So the question becomes: is the plan true or false? Depending on the answer, we’ll have three different proceedings. In neither scenario, he’s means to be the evil monster he’s seen as right now, though. If the plan is true, he’s become this way through being misguided and lost in perpetual hate and pain caused by all the knowledge and visions. With this backdrop, EMA/SC will have to either take him out despite realizing/finding out the pain that corrupted him - so not hating him but having to end him all the same. Or, they manage to win through to him by countering the hate with love (he could still die though, we might be past the point of no return, ngl).

On the other hand, if Eren’s been playing the long game and about to throw them for a loop, the cast members will all learn this in time and come to accept the bittersweet outcome that after all will be the best ending they can ask for in a world with so much hate. Eren can still die, I’m not delusional (but here’s hoping he won’t).

*when I use the term “monster” - and “evil”/“villain” - I’m pinning that to a personality that intends harm with the end goal of harm. Just because he’s not a monster (if this turns out to be the case), that doesn’t mean he isn’t still in the wrong, antagonistic, irredeemable for actions done in the name of good, etc. This ramble meta is about Eren being a conscious agent of pain versus a bringer of pain yet an agent of “good” (not considering his performance as an agent of such).

**He was already tainted from the attack in Liberio, so while I say “pure boy”, I mean in terms of us/the characters still seeing him as originally good (possibly - but “I refuse to believe it” - bad).

Edit: while I say at the start that if the plan is true, he’s a monster, and later say it could be true and he’s still not a monster for it, what I mean is this: if the plan is true in the sense that he knows how evil and selective it is, and will fight for it till the end, then yes, he turned out to be the monster that Mikasa correctly realized him to be. If, on the other hand, erens goal isn’t the pain but the greater good, he’s a misguided “good boy” who caused more bad than good out of mistake. If this is the case, I also believe he will realize it before the end, to swing that morality pendulum back towards the middle. Hope that clears it up. It’s about intent.

Thus concludes my late night/early morning rambles. I’ve said it before, I’m fine with anyone calling me a naive idiot for still holding out hope, but I’m just not accepting that Eren going full Satan and us accepting that “surprise, he always was Satan” is what Isayama wants to leave us with.

Isayama say sike right now.

#snk #snk 123 #eren yeager #snk meta #snk 123 meta #’you never go full retard’ to quote a good movie lol #save me jesus

[celticvampriss]

Established Rhythm

A/N: could not get this fic out of my head after watching the latest episode. Once I saw that he could take the helmet off, it set off this idea of well, would it count as being off if he’s in complete darkness? Wanted to take advantage of that idea where he could still kiss without necessarily sacrificing his religion.  Thus spawned this fic. I paired him with an OC I’ve been sort of building since starting the show and no ship in canon so far has me that excited so I decided to stick with my ofc.  (please excuse inaccuracies, I’m not the most versed on Star Wars lately and I’m not even sure if the Way thing is religious or whatever, but that’s what I’m going with.)  Hope you enjoy! **This fic stops shy of mature themes, but if anyone wants mature themes, I may decide to write either an altered ending to this that’s *wink* nsfw or write a sequel, whichever comes to me, but only if people want that, cause I kinda like leaving it soft and more PG/PG-13**

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

Against odds, better judgement, and a few near catastrophes the ship had settled into a mutually agreed rhythm. It was crowded, holding two extra passengers--guests, not bounties which were more easily stored vertically and comatose--that required their own space, meals, beds, personal items, and demands upon the notably solitary Mandalorian’s attention. 

The Kid had a small cove of treasures accumulating in a drawer that used to hold spare ammo--now moved to a more secure and kid-proof locker--and if ever there was a thing to find, then it was in that drawer.  Anything that could be unscrewed or rattled loose or bitten off: handles, switches, the plastic face plates to various buttons or indicator lights in the cockpit.  The Kid spent most of his time in the cockpit and it was clear to everyone else that this had everything to do with where Dyn spent most of his time.  

There wasn’t the space for proper quarters and the Kid had rejected the crib--carefully assembled and tested over several torturous hours--in favor of a high shelf that no one had ever actually seen the Kid reach, but knew he was there because he’d constructed, for lack of a better word, a nest.

Adjusting to the Kid had been simple and painless, the third addition to his ship, less so.  Kira Skye had marched onto his ship with a lofty raise of her chin and squared shoulders for her rather unassuming size.  If she hadn’t been unreservedly kind to the point of selflessness he would have written her off as spoiled and snobbish.  When she arrived, it changed the entire atmosphere of the ship, reshaping the established landscape like worlds in the wake of natural disasters. 

Most notably, sound.  Talking was part of her job--or so he figured based on the little he knew or cared to know--so it made sense that she required constant practice.  Silence would last only a few hours, because she talked even in her sleep.  Or sang.  If she wasn’t talking to him about this interesting fact or that new discovery or random detail or minor realization then she was humming, whistling, or singing in various languages.  And it was a small ship.  Sound carried.

Not that he ever complained--to her face, there was the odd moment of fed-up where he’d tell the Kid he might just pay her for a full 24 hours of silence--but more often than not, he found he’d lose himself for a few moments, even enjoy it.  Her voice was pleasant, high, but sweet, and resonated.  He’d go hours without actually noticing, where her voice became just another part of the ship.  There were a few times when he’d perched on the ledge of the cockpit, one leg dangling, eyes drifting closed beneath his helmet.  She’d almost caught him once, heading his direction and getting too close before he realized with just enough time to pretend he’d been climbing down anyway.

After months of running around the galaxy, dodging trouble here or there--cause if it wasn’t that damn bounty on the Kid, it was whoever was trying to kill Kira, who was only on his ship because the Mandalorian’s had asked him to keep her safe--their rhythm had been established.  Kira’s voice drifted or echoed from wherever she currently worked.  The Kid was either toddering around the cockpit or disappearing and reappearing with more unearthed treasures for his collection.  Dyn was in the cockpit, trying to keep them one step ahead of their pursuers.  At night the Kid could be heard snoring from his shelf, a green ear poking over the edge.  Dyn and Kira would sit around the table while she ate and talked, the passion and soothing cadence in her voice almost making him care about the life cycle of a Bursa.  His food was specifically warmed and plated once she finished--a gesture he hadn’t failed to note as incredibly considerate--he’d thanked her the first time and attempted to assure her it wasn’t necessary, yet without fail she would get up from her meal, prepare his, then place it down and leave.  

He could still hear her, obviously, even when she was gone.  Lately she’d started reading aloud from her sleeping area--a cot drilled into the wall in the middle of the main gallery, as there was only one small cabin and she’d refused to use it--and he’d set his helmet down, hearing her voice unfiltered as he ate.  He’d finish and put his helmet back on before asking if she needed anything--the answer was always no, but thank you--and he’d head off to get some rest.  

And again the next day.

And the next.

Their rhythm might have continued indefinitely--provided they were all still alive and uncaught--except for one minor detail that threatened to disrupt their balance.  An undercurrent trickled unbidden throughout each day, contaminating with growing abandon simple moments and gestures.

Her fingers might linger too long when she handed him something.  She’d tell a joke and laugh at her own cleverness and the sound would lance into his chest like a spear.  He still never laughed, but somehow Kira could see him smile.  Not physically see, that was impossible, but she knew.  

A shared look and suddenly there was a full array of conversation happening without a word--a testament for her, a problem for him.  She was starting to read the gestures and silences, the tilt of his head, the tone of whatever few words he used, to astute accuracy.

Tension, building and building and building.  Any spark might set it off.  But there was not really any future there, not long term.  This whole thing was a temporary situation.  With the Kid, well, he’d grow up some day and take care of himself.  And, once the threat was eliminated, Kira Skye would have to move on, go back to her life.  She wasn’t built for...for the whatever came after he was done taking care of the two of them.  The ship wasn’t built for it.  She was sleeping on a cot with no privacy and nothing of her own except a single bag with some clothes and a data pad filled with books.  None of that was even taking into account that he was a Mandalorian.  

Being with her, or anyone really, meant trading one for the other.  This was all he knew.  The Way was all he knew.  It had saved him when he had nothing.  Turning his back on that was not something he could do just because of some butterflies in his stomach.

At least, that is what he told himself before.

They had just out maneuvered a rather persistent tail through an asteroid belt, bunking down in one of the craters while the danger passed.  Dyn had turned off all unnecessary systems while they waited out their pursuers.  The oxygen was at the lowest tolerable, the engines off, and even the lights had been dimmed to almost blackness.  He’d left on a few track lights for Kira and the Kid, but he still heard her stifle a curse as she’d slammed a knee into something solid.

“Where’s the Kid? Is it bright enough?”  He asked, because with his helmet correcting the visibility for him, it was hard to gauge and the Kid might be scared.

Kira let out a huff from her seat, still rubbing her knee.  “He’s sleeping.  Doubt he’d wake up if we were blown to pieces.”  She looked up, those dark eyes dancing in that way she had, as if she were sharing a private joke.  “Thanks, by the way.  You were pretty great.”

He nodded.  

“So, how long do we have to sit?”

“Not sure.  I’ll check in an hour and see if there’s any movement.”

Kira shuffled her feet, high boots gripping her ankles and calves.  When she first arrived, she’d worn frilly dresses and skirts and had her dark hair in all sorts of arrangements.  Now she opted for pants and shirts--that hugged and gripped every angle and curve of her--with a bolero jacket for warmth.  His gaze returned to her face, meeting a knowing stare.  Caught.  Even in the low light, she zeroed in on his failure, somehow knowing that he was staring and staring straight back, her posture growing more rigid.  

It was a very dangerous game to play, those moments--and there were so many on a small ship in the middle of space--where they found themselves alone and unoccupied.  Where, hell, anything might seem like a good idea to ease the boredom.  

He looked away.  “I’m going to check if they’re gone.”

In order to get to the cockpit, he had to move past her.  Even if she wanted to give him space, there wasn’t any to give.  He stopped just shy of brushing past her shoulder and looked down.  A. Fatal. Mistake.

“I know why you’re running,” She said, her eyes bold and direct.  She was so small a person, but so big in personality.  It wasn’t possible for Kira to do anything slight or half-way, and that would include...whatever this was.

“I’m not running,” He countered, though she was mostly correctly, “I’m trying to stop something that shouldn’t start.”

Her laugh was a powerful weapon against his resolve.  “Start?  We are way past that point.  What else do you suggest?”

“I don’t know.”

They stood side by side, him facing one way and her another.  All he had to do was twist and continue on his way.  

“I have a crazy idea,” She offered, face growing amused and snarky, “We spend most of our time fighting one battle or another, why not forfeit this one?”

He said nothing.  He knew what she was suggesting.  Her body radiated all kinds of suggestion.  He knew her heart rate was increasing and it was hard to ignore her tongue darting out to sweep over her bottom lip.

But this wasn’t something he could offer.  Not the way she wanted.  Because it would violate his entire religion.  He couldn’t remove his helmet.  

But she knew that.  Kira Skye was considerate to a fault.  And so it really shouldn’t have surprised him that she would be, even now.

Her eyes were dancing over his face--though he knew she couldn’t see through the visor, he felt like she could, he felt it everywhere--she turned her body and, without thinking, he followed her lead.

“What if I can’t see you?”

He blinked.  “What do you mean?”

Her smile turned wicked, devastating to whatever argument he had for shutting her down.  Any longer like this, and he’d be ready to jump out of the airlock if that would make her smile.  Instead of coming closer she turned away, shocking him a bit, a much needed shock.  She reached a set of controls along the wall.  

“I mean, I can barely see as is, so,” She shrugged and flicked a switch.  All light was doused from the room.  

Except, he could still see.  He watched her hand stretch out as she shuffled toward him.  Her hand was nearly in reach and he nearly took it, then quickly pulled away.  This entire situation was spiraling out of his control, into murky waters, pushed limits, and the edge of reason.  He may as well dive in.

He worked off one glove and then the other, then caught her hand.

Her intake of breath echoed off the walls.  She stopped moving, fingers slowly twisting in his.  Skin to skin.  He couldn’t recall the last time he felt warmth like this.  Gently, slowly, he guided her closer.  Her eyes were flickering, searching in the pitch darkness until her boots brushed his.  

They stood for several moments.  He didn’t know why she was quiet or why she seemed to decide to let him take the lead, but he needed a minute.  He needed to convince his brain that even though he could see, she couldn’t and that if he removed his helmet, she still wouldn’t be able to see.  Which, maybe, technically, still followed the Way.

He reluctantly let go of her hand.  Still lingering, stalling, torn between how much he wanted to take his helmet off and steal this moment with her and how much he needed to keep it on.

“Take all the time you need,” her voice was a whisper, full of understanding and tenderness.  

He eased his hands under the edge of his helmet, closed his eyes, and then lifted it free of his head in one motion. Better to do it quick.  When he opened his eyes and he couldn’t see, the room was too dark.

But he could feel.  Kira’s arm moved, extending, lifting, until he could feel the faintest pressure of her fingertips on his cheek.

He groaned.

“I’m sorry,” she pulled back quickly, “I’m sorry, too fast?”

He shook his head, but she couldn’t see, so he just guided her hand back.  Her fingers moved like feathers against his skin, drawing a path like fire--some sort of sweet, good fire that burned with a soft intensity and that he never wanted to stop--she traced his cheek, down his jaw, an ear, before raising her other hand and digging into his hair.

Granted, it was difficult to cut and manage with his helmet on and he couldn’t exactly see a barber.  So he usually maintained the length on his own, with a knife, which left longer, thick chucks that stuck out whenever he took off the helmet.  What she was doing now with her fingers, grabbing, puling, scratching, was glorious.  

He attempted to stay cool, to not be too obvious just how touch-starved he apparently was, but the odd groan or rasp of breath escaped him anyway.  Once her fingers had ravaged his head, she brought them around to his face again, this time lingering on his mouth.

He felt her body shift, his hands had gripped along her waist at some point, and her breath puffed against his lips.  

Kira’s kiss was light, soft.  Easing.  She didn’t press beyond the barest touch, once again waiting for him to give the okay.  

He threaded his bare hand through her hair--a secret desire he’d been repressing for weeks--and drew her just that much closer, angling his head to embrace whatever madness they’d caught.  If he was going to get one chance to kiss this woman, he’d damn well make it count.

His actions unlocked the real Kira and there was no more hesitation or sweetness about her kiss now.  She moaned into his mouth, exploring with her tongue, passion taking over.  She pressed into him, forcing him back, grabbing at his armor which--damn it to fuck he was still wearing--and rubbing her body against him, squirming until he nearly lost his mind.

He did his best to keep up, but she was clearly the expert here.  Kira devoured him.  His mind began to shut down, riding pure instinct and acting on impulse, which was so against his nature.  Even now a voice screamed in his head to be aware, that weren’t they here because they weren’t currently, at this present moment, being hunted?  

That voice was tiny, insignificant, and easily ignored.  He let his hands wander everywhere, learning her shape, committing it to memory.  He brushed the curve of her ass and she hissed against his mouth.

She liked it.  Her fingers curled into a fist in his hair and yanked, just slightly, just enough to send a jolt shooting down, straight to where this new embracing of desire was pooling.

The next thing he knew she was climbing him, forcing him to catch her, hands squeezing her thighs.  His back had been slammed into a wall ages ago and now impulse wanted him to lay her down somewhere and never let go.

But everything ends.  Kira eased back, catching her breath.  He still cursed the fact he’d neglected the rest of his armor.  All the soft parts of her were flush with plates of steel meant to deflect sensations, good or bad.

He felt her smile against his mouth as she kissed him playfully, sliding back down until she was standing on her own.  Then her forehead nuzzled against his chin, an intimate gesture that, out of everything, was the one that nearly broke him.  He hugged her close, his mind returning and bursting with fears and questions and rationalizations.  

Finally, she pulled away and took every ounce of warmth with her.  

“I’m going to close my eyes,” She said, “Just tell me when I can open them.”

She stumbled away, then the running lights came on and he had cover his eyes with his hand.  Kira’s eyes were closed, as promised, and as his vision adjusted, he stole another unfiltered look at her.  Her hair was a mess, her shirt untucked, her smile dazed. She was beautiful.  

He put his helmet on, for the first time, with reluctance.  

“Can I open?”

“Yes.”

She met his eyes--though she couldn’t know that, he still felt she did--and smiled.  She sauntered over, breaching his personal space like they made-out every day.  It didn’t feel wrong, but he hadn’t expected it either.  She hooked her arm around his, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll have to try that again soon,” She looked up at him and winked, “You can protest if you want, but I for one am not about to be satisfied with a taste when I could have the whole cake.”

Disagreeing with her right then seemed dangerous, so he didn’t.  And, to be honest, he didn’t want to.  He still felt, still knew, that this was not a long term arrangement.  Whatever they had, whatever he might feel, something would ruin it, something could end it.  Only difference was now he wasn’t sure he had the strength to deny her until then.  He surely didn’t want to, not when he knew how good she could feel, how good contact could feel.  He’d forgotten somehow, but it would be like a drug, he’d want more and more.  And there was a chance the detox would kill him.

Because he was fairly certain he was in love with her.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #oc #mandalorianxoc #mandalorian fic #my fic #myfic

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Maiden of the Sea 2/5

Ao3 Link

“Who were your other three?”

Gendry looks up from the paper he is writing on, inktip hovering just a breath away from it. 

“Arya...are you really asking me about other women I’ve been with while we’re planning our wedding?”

Arya scoots her chair closer to him. They’re sitting at the table in his solar, trying to pin down a guest list that’s small enough for their sensibilities but large enough not to offend anyone.

Arya frowns at his words. The only reason she’d even asked before was because she had wanted to know if he was more like Robert than she’d thought. Wondered if she would end up just another in a long line of girls whose names he couldn’t even remember. 

“It’s just- well, I assumed none of them were before we met-”

“You would be correct-”

“And you never really talk about what happened to you after we got seperated,” Arya admits with honesty. 

Gendry sighs deeply, and rubs his temple. Arya suddenly wonders if she should have said anything, she doesn’t want to upset him. 

“After Davos set me free,” he begins slowly, “I, of course, got lost and came up on shore in the Crownlands a week’s ride from King’s Landing. I didn’t have any money so I went to the nearest village and started offering to do any kind of work they had for shelter. 

Well, the village had a brothel, and turns out, they had a lot of things that need fixing. Well, for like a year after what happened, I couldn’t stand even the thought of another woman touching me. I imagine I was probably a little rude to some of the girls who worked there because of it.”

Gendry purses his lips before the next line.

“One night, when I’d finished up replacing hinges on a door, one of the whores sat next to me. Her name was Renna, she was older, thirtyish maybe. She took one look at me and went ‘someone’s hurt you’. I was kind of appalled that she’d said anything at all, so I just kind of looked at her dumbly, and she clapped me on the shoulder and said ‘for two coppers I’ll make you forget everything about them’”.

The chair he’s sitting in is elaborated carved and finished wood. Arya carefully places herself on the arm, resting her arms on one of his shoulders. 

“Did she?”

Gendry sighs. 

“No, but it did make it easier. I just about threw up when she stripped and climbed on top of me, but she made me look at her and kept talking to me so that I wouldn’t forget who I was in bed with.”

“Oh,” Arya says suddenly, “Is that why you always want to sit up when I’m riding you?”

“...is that a better answer than because it’s the only position where I can suck a tit and squeeze your arse at the same time?”

Arya laughs, and playfully swats him on the shoulder. 

“That’s one.”

He smiles. 

“There was a girl who worked at a tavern in King’s Landing. I’d go there after work sometimes, we’d have an ale and complain about all the awful patrons we had to deal with that day. One thing led to another. I was never in love with her- and we both knew it - but it was nice, comfortable.”

Arya frowns. 

“What happened?”

“Her mother was killed when the Sept of Baelor exploded, and her and her younger sister were scrimping and saving to go and find the inn where their father worked in the Riverlands. I hugged her the day they finally got to leave King’s Landing. I was glad someone got to.”

“What was her name?”

“Jeyne,” there’s a long pause, “I wish I knew what happened to her.”

“You could write Bran, he might be able to tell you. And now that he’s acting like a person again, he might be able to tell you without humiliating or traumatizing you.”

That had been an adjustment. Realizing that her brother was not only her brother again, but that her brother was king of all of Westeros. And then had come the question of whether they should invite him to the wedding. Of all Arya’s siblings he was geographically the closest, but was that the sort of thing you really invited a king to?

“That’s two,” Arya says, returning to the topic. 

Gendry takes a deep breath. 

“A few weeks before Davos came and found me again, a merchant came in wanting a sword repaired. His daughter, Ysilla, came with him, she was a bit older than me- and she had...I’m not sure what you call it up north-”

He runs a finger up in the middle of his upper lip and draws a line.

“Oh,” Arya says, “A cleaved lip.”

“...I’ve always heard it called a rabbit’s lip, that way’s less mean. Well, hers had been sewn up, but not well, and it gave her a really bad scar. Well, she kept giving me these looks, and when her father left, she ran back and asked if she could come back and see me later.”

“...you didn’t even realize what she meant did you?”

Gendry shakes his head ruefully, and Arya squeezes his shoulder.

“Once a stupid bull…”

“She brought food though. I don’t think I really caught on until she kissed me. I think she thought if she stood too still I would make her leave.”

“She was scared to give you an opening to reject her,” Arya doesn’t tell him that she was sort of hoping for a similar shock tactic to work for her back before the Long Night. 

“I think she thought if she just kept going everything would work out. It worked until I was unlacing her dress and she started crying.”

Arya is confused. 

“If she was the one who…”

“I think she thought she was ugly and thought no one would ever want her so she threw herself at me. I just stepped back and told her to lace herself up and leave.”

Arya is even more confused now. 

“Why are you telling me about a girl you didn’t lay with?”

Gendry looks up at her through his lashes, and Arya catches a hint of shame. 

“That was already three…”

She catches on.

“Gendry…” her voice catches in her throat, “Nothing the red woman did was your fault. She tricked you-”

“She still-”

Arya cuts him off with a finger pressed to his lip.

“She hurt you. You said so yourself, it took you a year to let yourself be touched again. She shouldn’t get to be called your first, any more than Ramsey should get to be called Sansa’s. They can both burn.”

Gendry wraps an arm around her, and she presses her face into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve-”

He gestures around the room, with its rich decorations, and at the woman in his arms.

“All of this.”

Arya pinches the side of his cheek. 

“A combination of hard work, a good soul and excellent luck. And a worse man would have managed to already run this place into the ground.”

That had been a point of pride for Arya, coming back. Discovering that Gendry had spent his three years trying to become a good lord. When they had first come, he had taken Davos’s advice and taken a two moon trip around the region, to introduce himself to the other Stormlands houses, and figure out what each of them needed from him. 

And while he had hated nearly every minute of it, Gendry told her it had been eye opening. 

“Most of the houses have been taxed to their limits by Cersei. Most of them had only remained loyal due to her former marriage, and were on the brink of rebellion because of the rumors of her infidelity. And that’s not even factoring the damage the winter storms had done that needed repairs. I still wish you’d been able to come with me though. About half of those lords need their teeth kicked in.“

Arya laughed. This was on yet another day where they were both doing their best to skip out on wedding preparations. 

“Then our plan is a good one. We send announcements instead of invitations, and if anyone complains, we’ll tell them it’s because of your assessment that you didn’t want the other houses stressed by having to help out in the festivities.”

Festivities, which they now had an excuse to limit to the household of Storm’s End, the nearby village and a tiny handful of guests. 

Bran, as expected, could not attend. He did, however, send a lengthy letter which makes Arya’s heart sing, and Brienne in his stead. 

“He said he thought I should be given the opportunity to visit my father as well,” Brienne confides in her, “Though I should warn you, he also gave me permission to tease you as much as I like.”

Arya’s so pleased she can’t be made to care. It probably helps that she knows Brienne’s not exactly the teasing type.

Arya hadn’t been sure if Sansa would receive the announcement before the wedding, all the way up in Winterfell. It made her sad to think of her sister missing her wedding, but there was nothing to be done. 

Then, a delivery came, with a note. Reading it, Arya suspects Bran was involved somehow. 

“Should have expected you wouldn’t go about this the usual way. Sad I’ll miss it, but I hope this gift makes you happy as seeing me would.”

The way she phrased that makes Arya a bit apprehensive when she opens the package. The expanse of light gray silk makes a bit of sense though.

It’s not quite a gown, it barely comes to the top of her boots, and has two slits up the sides, it even came with a pair of close fitting black woolen breeches. The light gray is embroidered with shades of blue from nearly white to midnight. There’s another note inside. 

“I know Baratheon colors are black and yellow, but this suits you better. Besides, I know you’ll never really stop being a Stark. Maybe in the future, they’ll call you a Storm Queen. That would suit you.”

Arya still can’t muster up much excitement for fancy clothes, but Sansa’s words make her happy. 

It’s two weeks before the wedding when the worst storm Arya’s seen thus far begins. The first crack of thunder had woken them both early, and rather than go back to sleep, they’d decided just to pass the time by making love.

(Arya likes it most ways, but she thinks in the early morning is her favorite, with him pressed up behind her or her rolled onto her stomach and squished into the pillows. It somehow makes the rest of the world melt away)

It’s in one these quiet moments when Gendry asks her, 

“There’s never been anyone else for you?”

Arya rolls over to face him. She runs a finger over the stubble he shaves closer now. 

“You wait this long to get revenge on me for asking?”

Gendry’s eyes are still half-closed, and he’s playing with her hair. 

“Like you said to me, you never really talk about what happened after we separated, faceless assassin shit aside. Besides, I want to know how you were so...fearless the first time. I was a complete mess.”

Arya flops onto her back and looks up at his earnest face. 

“I wasn’t scared because it was you. I don’t think I could ever be scared of you. When I met you, I was disgusted by the thought of romance, it was never something I thought I would ever want. But despite this, I’ve been half in love with you since I was twelve.”

Gendry makes a face, and Arya can’t figure out if her admission surprises him or not. She thinks back to what he’d admitted to her in the Godswood that first week she’d returned.

“I felt it...like this, even back then. I didn’t know what it was, or what to do about it, but I felt it.”

She remembers watching him in the forge at Harrenhal, remembers being confused by the warm fluttering feelings it evoked. Remembers doing her best to ignore them until one night it had gotten to be too much and she’d shoved her hand down the front of her breeches like she’s seen other boys do by the side of the road, until she finally made it subside.

“Even if I could name it then, it’s not like I could have gotten you to do anything about it.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t have.”

Arya scoffs at the righteousness in his voice. 

“So I guess it’s a good thing I figured out how to touch myself early on.”

She feels her ears go pink at the admission, and giggles to herself when she sees Gendry’s do the same. She’s still not sure if this is something other women ever talk about, or even do.

“Pretty much anytime I could get a few minutes alone, I would slide my hand down my smallclothes and try and figure out how things worked. Found that little nub that makes things seem to explode, figured out I could get two fingers in pretty easily, that I actually like it slow better, that it makes me come harder- and that I rarely had enough time to myself to do it properly like that.”

Arya bites her lip before continuing. 

“I don’t think it was a bad way to learn. And a lot of it was trial and error. I even stuck a finger up my arse once trying to figure out what all the fuss was about that.”

Gendry’s now turned red as a beet and can’t seem to get words out. 

“I can’t say I get it. It was really hard to get in until I wet it with my cunt, and once I got it inside it didn’t feel like much. It was like sticking a finger in your ear or your nose.”

Gendry’s embarrassment has now turned to deep chuckles, that he’s rolled over and is trying to muffle them in the pillow. Good, Arya likes it better this way. 

“I learned some things in the brothels in Braavos too, but I’m glad I don’t have to spend days in and out of them anymore. Between learning the truly bizarre shit some people are apparently into- I’ve seen a man pay to have a woman get him off using only her feet, and another who paid a woman to piss on his face-”

Gendry’s expression mirrors her own opinions. 

“But I also saw what a damn mummer’s show most of that profession is. Nearly everything they say to you is an act.”

Gendry nods, and Arya pulls one of his arms over her. 

“I agree on that point. I don’t think I can imagine being with a whore again- spent too long at that one in the Crownlands, seen too many of the girls off duty- watched the masks come off as it were. I’d feel like I was paying to be lied to. I’ve seen the foot thing too-”

“Why is that so common?” Arya muses. She’s quiet for a minute before continuing. 

“It was in Braavos that men started looking at me. And not just creepy men staring at little girls, but normal ones. And I would look back, and think ‘oh that one has pretty eyes’ or ‘that one has nice arms’...but the thought of actually doing anything with them myself...was foreign. It was the same with some of the things in the brothels- fun to watch, but I couldn’t imagine doing any of it. “

Arya pauses, suddenly thoughtful. 

“I’m not sure if I’ve always been like that, or if it was because of...having to learn to be No One. But either way, I thought I’d end up like my uncle the Blackfish.”

Gendry’s face is earnest. He’s still flat on the bed, only his face turned to her, so he reaches out and tugs her beside him .

“Doesn’t sound so bad. At least you’re not likely to be drawn astray by a random burst of lust that convinces you to do something stupid.”

Arya lets him pull her back towards him. At least he’s looking on the bright side, even if he’s doing it by being self deprecating. 

“Then I came back to Winterfell, and found you again, and it was like...like I roared back to life inside. All those things I thought I would never want to do with anyone, I suddenly wanted to do with you, really badly.”

Arya takes one of his hands and runs a trail of kisses up his wrist. 

“Best I can figure, I’m not the kind of person who would want to lay with someone unless I already like them, and trust them. And outside of my family, I can count the number of people I genuinely trust on the fingers of one hand. Maybe even on Davos’s hand.”

Gendry pulls back on his arm, and drags her along with it. He kisses her once, sweetly. 

“I love you. And even after what happened between us at Winterfell, and you leaving, I trust you too.”

Arya can’t keep her smile down. 

“I love you too.”

Arya deepens the kiss with a smile, and they’re well on to round two of the morning when suddenly they begin to hear the sounds of servants coming up and down the hallways and the light from the windows lightens a bit, despite the pouring rain. 

“Damn, is it really morning already?” Arya complains.

Gendry groans. 

“Time for another day of dealing with other people’s problems and planning for a ceremony we’d really rather skip out on.”

“This is the life we lead,” Arya agrees.

As the day before the wedding loom, Arya begins to feel sick to her stomach. It upsets her. She’s not nervous, really she’s not. She is entirely content with her decisions, but still the nausea remains.

The day before the wedding, the sky clears a bit, so Arya tells the steward that she’s going to cut her work on the ledgers short and head to the Godswood for a swim. The man is taken aback. 

“My lady, it’s the middle of winter!”

Arya looked at him like he’d grown a second head. 

“You do remember that I am from the north right?”

Under the overcast sky, Arya quietly stripped off her breeches and tunic and climbed into the water. She vaguely noticed that the ties on her stays seemed looser than usual. The only real reason she even worse something like that was to keep her breasts in place while sparring, and the laces weren’t tied tightly so they shouldn’t have stretched, even though she tied them in front. Once in the water, she lifts a hand to examine each of her tits. They really had been a bit sensitive lately…

Oh. 

Well, it’s not like it was the worst of timing. But it was still something to add to the pile of stuff to consider. 

That evening, at supper, Arya looks around and smiles, seeing all these people she actually likes under her roof. 

Daron and Tim are sitting with the other men from the armory. Arya notes they’re even holding hands under the table. Jas has come in from the village, and he’s sitting at the same table, no doubt backing up the utterly ridiculous stories the other two have come up with. 

Brienne sits at one of the guest tables, with an older man Arya guesses must be her father. She looks, if not happy, then peaceful.

Ser Davos is sitting at their own table, his wife by his side. It feels like they’ve known him for years and yet this is the first time they’ve met Marya and that feels so so wrong somehow, and now they can begin to remedy it. 

It’s not Winterfell, Arya thinks, but it’s on its way to becoming home. 

The next morning, the ceremony is a blur. It’s not raining, but it’s about to rain again, so they can use the Godswood and not rush back inside. All Arya can see is the blue of Gendry’s eyes, and she can barely get her words out. 

But then the words are said, and they kiss and people cheer, and Arya realizes she’s actually married.

The feast is small, and Arya sings the praises of the fish stew Merope has cooked up - made with actual cream now that it won’t go rancid in a day or less on the rocking sea - and it begins raining again quickly, but Arya thinks it’s wonderful. 

Once the lutes and the pipes come out, Arya nudges Gendry and asks, 

“Can we slip away for a bit?”

 “Don’t worry, I warned everyone there would be no bedding, if there were even men in the village brave enough to try ripping your clothes off-”

Arya grins. 

“Not that, I just wanted to talk to you for a little while.”

His eyes flicker, and he tilts his head in the general direction of one of the corridors off to the side of the Round Hall.

“I’ve been wanting to show you this for a few days anyway, just haven’t had a chance,” Gendry tells her, keeping his voice down. She’s not sure why, if anyone catches them, they’re just going to assume they’re sneaking off to fuck. Which they are, but maybe not first. 

He leads her down to one of the cellars, and points out a door she didn’t see right away. He’s taken a torch.

“I’m not sure if this is an actual secret passageway like those ones that everyone said were below the Red Keep-”

“Those were real,” Arya assures him, “That’s how I escaped before.”

“But I got a lock to put on the door just in case. No one will be able to come down here but us.”

The passageway is a narrow series of steps that turns entirely to stone. There’s a light at the end of the passage, but Arya’s glad for the torch stil. 

When the light comes close, she gasps. The passage opens into a small cave, that must be on the side of the sheer cliff that sits below Storm’s End. There’s a blanket on the ground, and Arya scrambles to sit on it and get a look over the edge into the sea. 

She picks at the blanket. 

“Did you bring this out here earlier?”

Gendry nods, sitting beside her. 

“Thought it would be a good idea for us both to have places in case we need a break from everything. ‘

Arya sticks out her feet and slides off her slippers so she can feel the air on her bare feet. The rain is coming down in buckets and the cool mist feels lovely. 

She turns her head and glances over her shoulder in a way that she hopes comes off as coy. 

“Aren’t you going to ravish your new wife?”

Gendry’s face is joyful. 

“I think I can manage.”

When they’re done, Arya’s sitting on his lap on the blanket, looking out the cave. Gendry’s bottom lip is swollen from her enthusiastic biting and she’s pretty sure her arse and tits are both dotted with pinch bruises, and they’ve both got serious cases of bedhead, but dammit, they’re married. And happy. 

Gendry plants a kiss on her neck before asking, 

“What was it you wanted to tell me?”

She’d actually nearly forgotten. 

“Oh, I think I’m pregnant.”

He freezes. 

“What?”

“Not sure yet of course,” she says, snuggling into his lap, “But I’ve been sick the last few weeks and my tits are bigger than they used to be.”

Gendry’s still. 

“That might explain-”

She leans her head up to look at him. 

“The last couple times I licked your cunt, it tasted different. Not bad,” he assures her quickly, “But different. I wasn’t sure if that was something that happened normally, so I didn’t say anything.”

Arya frowns. 

“I’m actually not sure if that’s normal. I’ll have to ask the maester when I get him to check things.”

She looks down at her midsection. Despite frequent examination she can’t see more than a slight curve there. 

“A child…” she murmurs, voice trailing off. 

“Please tell me you find this as terrifying as I do.”

Arya nods. Good, she’s not alone. 

“I can give you one thing to look forward to,” she tells him. 

She turns around and pins his hips with her knees. She leans up to whisper in his ear. 

“I’ve always heard that pregnant women are utterly insatiable in bed.”

Gendry barks with laughter, wrapping her in his arms as she sinks down on his cock. 

“You’re already insatiable.”

Good, Arya thinks, as she pays a half mind to the storm still coming down outside the cave. If she is the storm, she must never cease seeking harbour. 

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #fic

[justkending]

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 17.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 4100+

Warning: SLOW BURN. Soooo slow, but sooooo worth it...

Chapter 17:

“Miss. Ember!” Tony shouted as he spotted you across the room. Thus, making everyone he was talking to, and also within a 30 foot radius of you two, turn their heads to see who he was talking to.

“Mr. Stark,” you breathed out through a tight smile, not happy with the attention.

You heard Bucky chuckle on your arm knowing exactly how uncomfortable you were.

“Oh, Mr. Lieber! You have to meet Rosalyn here!” Tony said patting an older mans back. “This right here Stan, is the nation's youngest woman scientist in her field of microbiology and epidemiology. That’s not even counting the multiple other fields that she is ranked extremely high in as well.”

“Is that so? Well, it’s nice to meet you Miss.-” the man with lightly tinted sunglasses, and a nice suit with no tie started, but you realized he hadn’t heard your name.

“Ember. Rosalyn Ember,” you said pulling your arm out extending your hand that was wrapped in Bucky’s. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Lieber. Stan Lieber correct?” you asked smiling at the man who just had a warm presence around him.

“That would be correct my dear. My friend call me Stan Lee though,” he smiled widely. “Now, Mr. Stark correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t most scientist not usually models as well?” he said scanning your outfit and self.

You chuckled at the compliment from the man that could easily have been your age, but not in this body.

“You would think,” Tony laughed patting his back. “Stan here is quite the charmer, isn’t he? Stan why don’t you tell the young lady here what you do?” he said looking down at him.

You crossed your hands in front of you and looked down at him. He was about a foot shorter even standing tall.

“I am an illustrator and publisher for children's books and such. Nothing special like you dear,” he said in a humble manner.

“I highly doubt that you’re any less special than me,” you said waving him off. “What books have you published? I’m sure I’ve seen some.”

“You read children's books in your free time?” Bucky asked.

“I volunteer down at the library twice a month to read to the kids, and at the orphanage three times a month,” you smiled at him as if it were nothing before turning back to Stan. He shot you a surprised look, but a grin formed realizing you were even more surprising than he thought before. A good surprising though. A type that he wished more people in the world were like.

It was true though. You had gone to the orphanage when you could because even if you didn’t actually grow up in one, like your history said, you were an orphan and you did miss your parents dearly. It was always eye opening to see all the children running around and living life as best they could when so much was taken from them. The least you could do was read a few books and spend time with them where you could.

Stan went on to share a few of his well known books, and you remembered seeing a lot of them in the top sellers and top reads sections when looking for new ones.

“Well, I have to say Mr. Lee, I think you are changing the world out there just as much as me. If not more,” you winked making him blush and smile at you.

“I like this one Tony. You should bring her around more often,” he nudged Tony getting a smirk out of him.

“That’s the plan,” Tony said turning to you. “Hey, Stan. I think I see your wife over there waiting for you at the bar. Looks likes she’s up to no good.”

Stan looked around finally spotting the women Tony was talking about. “Sounds about right. I should probably go,” he laughed. He turned back to you grabbing your hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you my dear. Hopefully I’ll see you around sometime. Maybe at a book signing?” he winked kissing your hand.

“I’ll keep a look out for you. I would love to chat again,” you said kindly back.

He nodded and started walking slowly through the crowd to his wife. You watched until he was out of sight with a smile plastered on your face. He was the cutest human ever.

“Got a new crush there?” Tony said breaking you out of your stare. “Should I warn Cap that he has competition?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but couldn’t get rid of the smile.

“He was sweet was all. He has a presence about him that makes you feel safe and welcomed.”

“You’re not wrong. Stan is one of the most down to earth men I’ve met,” Tony said looking at him in the distance. “Anyway!” he turned back to you. “Would you look at that dress?” he said throwing his hands out ever so dramatically, and motioning up and down. “It fits the person in it so well. Did Pepper get you that?”

“No, I actually made it,” Both boys sent you a shocked look. “Well, my mom made it way back when. I just fixed it up a bit to fit the theme more,” you shrugged as the boys jaws dropped some.

“You made that?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” you laughed at their reactions.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” he breathed out.

“Where’s the fun in telling you that answer Mr. Barnes?” you said with a teasing smirk making his jaw drop more and his eyebrows raise. “If you two are done catching flies in your mouth, mind helping me get a drink?”

“Right! Right!” Tony said standing straighter and looking around. He waved down a waiter who quickly came to you with a tray of champagne. “Here you are my lady,” he said handing you one, and then Bucky taking one for himself.

“Thank you. Not that it will do much of anything, but the thought is nice,” you sighed taking a sip.

“Can you not get drunk? Or even tipsy?” Tony asked before Bucky could ask himself.

“Nope. Side-effect of the experiment. Heal too fast,” you shrugged finishing the drink and setting it on a nearby waiters tray.

“I get that,” Bucky mumbled before taking a nice swig of his own and finishing it off quickly.

“Well, Thor is here tonight, if you want to see if he has any of his ‘special drinks’,” Tony said nodding over to a tall broad man with long blonde locks of hair. He was in a dress shirt and no tie or jacket. Less formal, but he didn’t look like one to wear a full suit. Still handsome though.

“I think I may just do that,” Bucky said looking over at him. “Before we get hammered though. What do you say we find Steve and ask if he wants to join us?” Bucky said offering his arm once again.

“Sure. I would absolutely love to ask Steve if he would like to get plastered with us while he is with dozens of children,” you laughed sending him a raised eyebrow saying, ‘Really? Think this through?’ to Buck.

“Right. Probably better to wait for the after party,” he laughed. “We’ll see you later Stark,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Take care of her Bucky!” Tony yelled before turning to more guest.

“So,” Bucky said once you weren’t in such a crowded place. “I’m assuming you know, I know.”

“I wouldn’t have said the things I did earlier if I didn’t.”

“True.”

“Steve said you suspected it, so I told him he might as well tell you my story. I hope that I can trust you keep it a secret still, correct?” you said sending him that terrifying look that make his heart jump in his throat.

“Yes ma’am. Of course. I would never-”

“You don’t have to be scared of me Bucky,” you laughed at his now stiffened muscles. “I just need to make sure you understand how dire this is. It’s not something to share. At all.”

“No, for sure. I understand completely,” he nodded. “And I’m not scared of you,” he scoffed definitely not selling it.

“Sure you aren’t,” you laughed.

You two eventually approached what looked like a photoshoot area with a nice gold backdrop with the name of the foster center written all over it. Looking through the crowd you saw Steve pop up from a cluster of kids and he had a huge grin on his face. Sam was a couple of yards away talking with another group of kids who were just as excited.

“You know, he didn’t use to be this good with kids back in the day. He thought he would break them if he held them, and it carried on for a while,”  Bucky whispered in your ear as he watched you focus on Steve intently.

“Is that so?” you said never looking away.

“Yeah, but then Tony started have these events, and other things that required us to visit kids in hospitals, homes, and all over to bring them a little hope. After just a few times, he became a natural. Kids swarm to him like a moth to a light.”

“A light indeed,” you said to yourself with a soft smile as you watched Steve pick up a younger girl about 4-5 and prop her on his hip.

“Wanna go meet them? I’m sure they would love to meet a princess,” he said motioning to your dress.

“Oh, I’m far from a princess Bucky.” you giggled snapping out of your thoughts. “There are far more people here tonight that look more like a princess than me. But thank you kindly.”

“You even talk like one,” he laughed as he started bringing you closer to the bunch. “But in all honesty? I haven’t seen anyone as stunning as you tonight. I think you beat out the competition.”

You turned giving him a soft smile. “Thank you Bucky. You know how to make a girl feel special.”

He nodded and turned seeing you had approached the herd of kids that were climbing all over Steve and listening closely to a story he was telling about a mission. Nothing too gory of course.

Next thing you knew, the little girl in Steve’s arm who had a small little tiara on her head and a cute little Cinderella dress on, gasped looking over at you.

“Look! A princess!” she shouted making all the kids look at you, and Steve turn and smile widely at you once he made eye contact with you.

“A princess indeed, Katie,” Steve said not breaking his eye contact.

You blushed uncontrollably at the kid and Steve’s look. Bucky nudged you slightly making you look up to see a smirk playing on his lips.

“Told ya,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes playfully before gently hitting his arm and turning back to the group. You walked over to Steve and the little girl and smiled at them both. All the other kids watching you closely.

“The only princess I see here is you sweetheart,” you said booping her nose causing her to giggle and bury into Steve’s shoulder in happy embarrassment.

Steve watched as you interacted and his heart grew in size then started to overheat.

“Now that I can see everyone,” you said turning to the group of boys and girls. “I see quite a few Prince Charmings and Princesses. Look how handsome and beautiful the group is!” you said covering your mouth in shock.

“I’m not a prince!” a little boy shouted from the side. “I’m Captain America!”

You noticed, that unlike the rest of the kids who were in nicer and more theme based clothes, he was wearing a full Captain America outfit. Shield and all.

“Well, would you look at that?” you said bending down to his level. “You have everything Captain America, don’t you?” He nodded proudly. “Down to the handsome face too.”  

Steve heard you, and if he wasn’t blushing before… he sure as hell was now.

You smiled at the little boy making him laugh and run into your arms. You were shocked by it, but recovered easily before he could knock you backward. You let out an ‘oop’ as you found your balance, and felt a hand on your shoulders steading you. With the little boy still tucked into your arms, you looked up to see Steve with the little girl, Katie, still balanced on his hip, and his other hand holding you in place. You looked up mouthing thank you, and he sent you a nod with a subtly grin.

The little boy finally pulled back and you held onto his waist as he looked up to your face.

“Are you a princess like Katie said?” he asked tilting his head in the most adorable way.

You laughed at the remark. “No, I’m not. I’m a scientist actually,” you answered.

“She looks like a princess though, doesn’t she kids?” Steve asked looking at the group, and still having a hand on you.

They all shouted loudly and started jumping up and down.

“Yes!”

“I want a picture with the princess!”

“No, me first! I saw her first!” Katie shouted in Steve’s arms reaching down to hold you.

Steve, Bucky, and you started laughing at the uproar.

“Slow down there kids!” Steve said making them calm down a little. “How about we all take a picture together? Princess Rose included. Pepper, does that sound ok?”

You looked up realizing that Sam, Pepper, and the photographers were already snapping pictures the whole time, and the two giving you both mischievous smiles.

“That sounds perfect,” Pepper answered. “Ok everyone! Go ahead and get together. Sam you too.”

Sam nodded and did as instructed. You rose to your feet with the help of Bucky’s hand, and all of you clustered together for the picture. You stood close to Steve who just put Katie down because she wanted to stand by her friend. The little boy who was dress at Captain America was standing right in front of you.

Before the flashes started going off, you felt Steve’s hand snake around your waist to pull you closer to him gently. You looked up seeing him trying to rally all the kids together that were near him, and realized he had pulled you closer without thinking. God, this man was truly going to be the death of you. Why hadn’t you spilled your guts out to him sooner?

“Ok everyone! Say cheese!” Pepper shouted making everyone look toward the camera.

“CHEESE!” everyone shouted.

After a few dozen pictures, one of the foster care workers started telling the kids that they were going to go eat before the speech later. So they started lining up and grouping together again. They waved bye and gave Sam, Steve, you, and Bucky, who was completely surprised by the gesture, hugs before they left.

They were heading out when little Mr. Captain America broke from the group and came running back to you.

“Abraham!” the leader shouted, but he didn’t pay any mind to her.

“Miss. Princess?” he said out of breath once he reached you.

“Hey little guy,” you said bending to his level again.

“Will you dance with me later? Mrs. Stark said that there will be dancing.”

You laughed as you grabbed both of his hands.

“I would love that Abraham. I’ll find you later, ok?” he nodded. “Now, hurry back to your group.”

“Thank you!” he smiled giving you a quick hug before running back to the group. “I get to dance with a princess!” he shouted.

You giggled at the little boy that shared your father’s spirit and name. You were watching him intently as you disappeared with the group. The only thing bringing you back from your thoughts was the warm touch of Steve’s large hand grasping your shoulder.

“Looks like I have some competition,” he whispered in your ear making you shiver at the closeness.

You turned facing him only inches apart since he didn’t move.

“You might have a better shot if you put on that stealth suit of yours. Little Abraham was giving you a run for your money,” you winked patting his shoulder before gingerly walking away leaving him in awe of you as you walked over to Pepper to catch up.

“Dude, that dame is something else,” Bucky said smacking Steve’s back once you were a good distance away.

“I think I’m out of my league,” Steve mumbled still watching you as you gracefully laughed about something that Pepper and you were talking about.

“Oh, there’s no question about that. That’s old news,” Bucky chuckled loudly, and smacking his friend again getting a glare from him. “Come on old man. Let’s go get your princess and get a some food. I need something to get my mind off of all these gorgeous women around me.”

Steve nodded rolling his eyes as they started over to you.

“Truly though Pepper, you didn’t have to, but we greatly appreciate it,” you said laying a hand on Peppers arm.

“Again, no need for the thanks. Tony was an idiot and gave you two 2 days to prepare. It was the least that I can do,” she said grabbing your hand and patting it. “Also, was this the dress that you already had on hand?” she asked pulling back and examining it with her mouth open.

“Ha ha, yes. This is it,” you laughed as you slightly turned to show it off a little more. What? Your mom and you made it. Might as well show it off to give the world a little taste of the genius that was you mother.

“This is stunning!” she said clapping her hands together.

“Careful there. There’s a few men around watching you very closely. They may just snatch you from me,” Steve said bringing a hand around your waist and gently pulling you to him again. You giggled as you leaned into him more. “That or you’re going to make them faint. I would prefer the latter.”

“Oh hush. No more about me!” you said not wanting the attention off you once again. “What exactly should I be expecting tonight Pepper? What really happens at a Tony Stark party?”

“What doesn’t happen?” she mumbled rolling her eyes in a playful manner.

“Pepper, is always having to keep an eye on Tony at these things. He tends to be a little more all over the place than a normal host is,” Bucky said on the other side of you.

“Might as well be babysitting,” Pepper huffed looking around. “Speaking of which, I lost the child. I’m going to go find him and make sure he is behaving himself.” She smiled waving to you all to before walking away. She stopped and turned around. “Oh, Steve and Bucky?”

“Yes ma’am?” they said in unison.

“Speech and donation reveal is at 9, so about 30 minutes. Some of the kids have bedtimes, so we are trying to get it done early. Make sure you are at the stage a couple of minutes beforehand.” she instructed.

“Copy that,” Steve nodded.

“I’ll be watching the time,” Bucky added.

“Thank you boys! Take care of Rose too. This can be a lot,” she winked sending you a smile before turning.

“Well, you heard the lady. Let’s get Rose here a drink for the evening,” Bucky smiled at you and Steve, putting his hands in his pockets.

“What kind of drinks are we talking?” you asked.

“We can save the good stuff for later tonight. I’m thinking some champagne should hold us down for now?”

“As long as we have the good stuff at some point,” you said turning and wrapping your arm in Steve’s.

“Am I missing something here?” he asked turning with you.

You looked up at him.

“You have a new member of can’t get drunk remember?” you smirked. “Word is there is a God of Thunder who has some drinks that will change that.”

“Thor?” he looked up at Bucky. “Do you think she can handle that stuff? I mean it was meant for Asgardians.” 

“You would be surprised what I can handle Mr. Rogers,” you sassed before Bucky could get a word in. Both boys looking down to you. “I bet you I can hold more than you two can.”

“I don’t know about that Y/N,” Bucky said quietly and with a cocky smile. “This stuff is pretty potent.”

“I thought you two learned your lesson about challenging me,” you said unhooking from Steve and turning to where you were in front of them with your arms crossed.

Steve immediately missing the feeling of you by him.

“It’s not that-”

“10 bucks says I can out drink you tonight,” you said looking between the two.

“Both of us or-”

“Either of you. Pick your player,” you shrugged.

Bucky turned to Steve who was looking at you proud, and turned to his friend showing that maybe he should back down from you.

“What do you think Stevie? Should I take her?”

“I think I’m going to want to watch and remember her destroying you, so I’m only drinking a little tonight. This is all you,” Steve shrugged.

“Ok. Fine. I’ll take that bet doll,” Bucky said with a cocky smirk as he extended his hand.

“Deal,” you shook sending him a look that once again made him shiver at how intimidating you can be. “Now, I should probably find my friend that I bought with me tonight.” You turned on your heel looking around. “I haven’t seen her since we came in.”

“Let’s head into the main room. I’m sure we can find her,” Steve said coming back around and extending his arm for you, which you gladly took, and you all walked into the room keeping an eye out for Claire and Josh.

__

After about 10 minutes of looking around, and light chit chat with the two men, you gave up and went to the bar that had finger foods and every drink you could think of.

“Scotch on the rocks please,” you smiled at the bartender who was about to ask you if you were sure, but Steve cut him off.

“I wouldn't fight her on it,” Steve said quickly shutting the bartenders mouth. He nodded and did as instructed.

“Thank you,” you smiled politely before taking a sip and looking out into the crowd. “Shouldn’t you two be heading to the stage? It’s almost time for the speech.”

Steve looked down at his watch and nodded.

“You’re right. Bucky you ready?”

Bucky had finished off the same drink you had got and let out a content sigh after the burn.

“Yep.”

“Do you want to come with us or-” Steve started looking at you.

“No, no I couldn’t. This isn't about me. You two go,” you waved them on.

“I don't want to leave you stranded,” Steve smiled showing he actually felt bad at having to leave you once again.

“Steve, I’m fine. I can handle a few minutes by myself,” you said placing a reassuring hand on his bicep.

“Are you sure?” he said not wanting to give up.

“This whole evening is about the kids. I’ll watch you wow the crowd from back here. Plus, I still need to find Claire,” you smiled looking around again. “You two need to go, or else you’ll be late, and Pepper will be hunting me down next.”

The men laughed, and Bucky grabbed Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on man. I think she’s capable of taking care of herself for 30 minutes tops. She’s done it this long,” he winked at you making you grin back at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Ok I give up,” Steve laughed. “Just make sure I can find you later. I hoping you have room on your list for a dance with me if there isn’t already a line of course.” Steve grinned dipping his chin down to you.

“I think I can fit you in,” you played back.

“Good,” he smiled before Bucky pulled on him and he turned back from him to you. “I’ll find you soon.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you shouted as he started blending into the crowd.

The last thing you saw was his blue eyes watching you, and the whites of his teeth from grinning widly before he disappeared fully.

“You are going to be the end of me Steven Rogers. And I can’t wait,” you whispered to yourself before taking a small sip of your drink.

Chapter 18

Used to be Overlooked Tag:

@xa-dia  @losersunitetonight  @fashionlive15 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan@steverogersxreader@laneygthememequeen @lauravic@shreddedparchment@iheartsebastianstan@almostelegantfire@manymaria111 @carol-damn-vers@angelkurenai@squirrelgirl67@stevieboyharrington @deaniebeanieandsammywammy @demon-doggo @badassbeckettswan @blueenemy24

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If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know.

#marvel #mcu #mcu series #marvel series #steve rogers series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america series #captain america x reader series #captain america fanfiction #captain america #justkending #series

[nomimits7]

Mission Bangtan | 6

Title: MISSION BANGTAN pt6

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Ratings: M

Warnings: language. Future violence. Talk of abuse.

Summary: As a professional eliminator you are ordered to get rid of Bangtan. A group of trained fighters hiding behind the mask of BTS. Your mission is successful until you get to know them. Will Y/N be able to complete the mission, or will she end up protecting her target from the real danger?

Notes... @feed-my-geek-soul Thank you so much for helping me with this chapter... and giving it new life !!!! This ones for you <3

bold & Italics = flashbacks 

Z   

Maybe saying that you were royally fucked were the wrong words. You thought you were royally fucked. The footsteps came, stopped, turned and left in a hurry. You released a sigh of relief. Using your quick wits, you hastily constructed a way to fight your way out.

You left your safe spot and looked around the room. Curtains… no, too long and impractical. Bed… yess, you could use that. You stripped the bed and started ripping the sheets to shreds. Tying them together you successfully made strong ropes, seven to be exact. Taking the pillowcases, you started placing everything in clever places. Easily accessible. Even though your resources were limited you knew it would work. Turning to the bed frame, a smile spread across your face. No longer were you planning on killing them, oh no, you just needed to escape this place and figure out where the hell you are. You broke the bed frame and using some of the sheet left you tied some pieces together. Not the best-looking weapon, but Homemade nun-chucks could work.

Now, you need them to come to you. But how-… as you thought this the door flung open revealing the seven men you were just thinking about.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi spat out as he saw the room. His eyes finally landed on you, standing in the middle of the mess, smiling.

“Welcome boys…” with that you sprang forward, grabbed Yoongi and flung him against the cupboard. With one swift movement you grabbed one of your ropes and started to tie his hands, twisting around you successfully tied his hands around his neck, choking him in the process. Tae sprang into action. He grabbed you from behind and flung you to the opposite wall. Crashing into the wall you let out a groan as the pain shot through you. Jimin pounced on you and punched you straight in the stomach. As you went down you grabbed another rope, just as Jimin went to kick you, you caught his leg and quickly tied his feet together causing him to fall face first to the floor. Within seconds you were on him, grabbing his hands you tied his up. Jungkook was the next to tackle you, literally. The both of you hitting the ground as a third body joined the pile. Looking up you saw Tae, his eyes were wild and excitement filled you. Yes, you felt excited to see this side of him. Before any of them could react, you pulled a pillowcase over Tae’s eyes, blinding him. He fell back and you and Jungkook began wrestling on the floor.

Being temporarily distracted you failed to notice Yoongi, Jimin and Tae gaining their mobility again thanks to the older males. Hoseok was the one that pulled you out of the tangle of limbs, you managed to get a few punches in, but it wasn’t enough to stop the youngest from pinning you, not for long though. Your jiu-jitsu came in handy and before long you both were immobile. Jin grabbed one of your many ropes and tied you up. Namjoon crouched before you and smiled.

“You truly are different, aren’t you? Well done, you created all this chaos in the span of… holy shit” Namjoon’s eyes went wide when he looked at his watch. You couldn’t understand what was wrong until he looked at you. Tilting your head, you waited for him to elaborate on his statement. “1 minute and 35 seconds. That’s… amazing. I’ve never seen anyone able to go toe-to-toe with us, and best us in this manner in under 5 minutes.” A smile made its way to your lips. You realized that you were faster than them, meaning you still in someway held the upper hand. This was good, very good.

“Y/N, would you like to talk? I know you don’t trust us at all, but we have some things to discuss. I promise we won’t do anything to you. Please?” Seokjin said as he made his way to you.

“No drugs? Just talking?” you asked. He nodded, and you followed suit.

It was weird sitting in what looked like a living room of sorts, with no ropes, next to the people who knew their potential killer is seated alongside them. It was awkward in the least. No one said a single word as a silent staring contest were taking place between you and Yoongi. You see, it was his room you casually destroyed within a span of a minute and a half. To say he was pissed was, well a definite understatement. The three youngest members found this fairly amusing.

“So, I guess you figured out who we are. Correct?” Namjoon broke the silence.

“Well, all I know till thus far is that you are seven rogue eliminators from the same academy as me. Although I never saw you there. I also know some of your strengths. Namjoon’s the leader, 24, clumsy but clever. Specializes in tactics and planning. Seokjin’s the eldest at 26, excellent cook and master of poisons and knives. Hoseok is the loud one, 24 and acts as the shadow of the group. Yoongi specializes in the element of surprise, 25 and he is good at observing. Jimin’s the most flexible of all the members, 23 and has a soft mask. Taehyung or V as requested, 23 and he’s the most unpredictable of all the members. And lastly Jungkook, 21 muscle mania but most inexperienced of the group. He’s also a computer wizz. And that about as far as my knowledge goes”

Seven dumbfounded faces stared back as you finished speaking. They weren’t expecting you to know that much already. But hey, you were smarter than they anticipated so…

“Well yeah that’s the short version of the whole story, but there’s more… do you know why we went rogue?” Seokjin asked.

You just shook your head. You have wondered why, but nothing gave it away except that they hated your commander almost as much as you did.

“Why did you go rogue? How did you go rogue?” you asked

“So, you understand what you seven have to do? You have to kill everyone in that home and bring me that computer chip.” The commander asked with a half-hearted smile.

“Sir, if I may… Why do we have to kill everyone if we can go in silently and retrieve the chip. We both know we can go in undetected. There’s no need to kill innocent woman and children.” Namjoon said. He knew the commander was a narrow-minded fool but killing people that have done nothing wrong? This man was a total maniac. Not one of them felt comfortable with the idea of killing all those people, we’re talking about more that 267 women and children that fled their abusive husbands in hopes of a brighter, better future.

“Joon, are you questioning my orders? They’re all just in the way. Get rid of them or I will do it myself with brute force!”

Namjoon nodded as they left. No, they weren’t going to kill people for a fucking computer chip… No, the were going to save them. Get them all out to safety, still retrieve the chip but not for that bastard.

That’s when they started running. The commander ended up bombing the building. No one got hurt thanks to the seven eliminators who chose to save instead of kill. They had to escape the plans of that mad man. From that day they started monitoring him from a distance, unfortunately he along with the academy soon disappeared and ever since that day 5 years ago, he tried to have them killed, on numerous occasions them.

They can still remember the grateful smiles of the scared women as they left their safe haven with just a few words of warning from these strangers. They didn’t know if they could trust them or not. But after they saw their home going up in flames… those same women started helping those seven men to hide in plain sight.

As you listened you couldn’t stop the tears of realization from escaping their cage. All those years you believed that what you were doing, training for was for the greater good. Now, you were like a small girl lost in a dark forest, surrounded by noises. The only question was… are these seven wolfs or humble people? Will they tear you to shreds or are they safe or will they be your salvation?

As this realization dawned on you, a set of new question formed in your mind… Why were you Isolated? Why did ‘he’ take your innocence? Where did your parents fit into all this? Why did ‘he’ send you only now to kill these seven? And above all … Who can you trust?

It was clear that you were fighting on the wrong side… but you needed space… you needed to find answers to your question. Just as you were about to ask what they knew about you, your phone started buzzing… Commander.

As you answer you decide to put your phone on speaker, not because you wanted them to hear… but you wanted to show them that you listened and want to trust them.

“Sir?”

“Y/N, I hope you have an update for me? Or are you still fooling around?”

“Sir, I have been tricked. I do believe I might have underestimated them”

“You Idiot! You are the smartest agent I have, and you UNDERESTIMATED THEM? What the fuck is wrong with you? Where are you know? You need to finish this game of yours and kill those bastards. Don’t you want to cleanse this world? I’m disappointed Y/N.”

“Sir, I assure you I am not fooling around. I-“

“Finish the mission Y/N… take their worthless lives and get your ass back to base. Oh, and you will be punished for taking your time.”

“Sir, you said I had no time limit. You lied?”

“I had to. Just get the job don-“

“You haven’t changed, have you Patrick?” Namjoon raised his voice.

“Nam-fucking-joon.”

“Sorry to break it to you Patrick, but we told her the real reason you want us dead so badly. It’s up to her to decide what’s right and what’s wrong. Luckily, I know why she’s so special to you. She has an IQ higher than mine. She could shut you done like yesterdays porridge. That’s why you sent her, isn’t it? You’re desperate, you’re scared because we came a little too close the previous time.” Hoseok added calmly.

“Y/N, Do you really think these seven won’t take advantage of you like I did that night of your sixteenth birthday. Oh, how you begged. You’re a lucky little bitch I didn’t take you again. I would have ruined you. I still can ruin you. You chose the wrong side you worthless piece of shi-“

“That’s enough! You keep your fucking mouth shut. This girl has bigger balls than you’ll ever have, so I suggest you keep your degrading words for when you look in the mirror.” Yoongi interrupted.

“You’ll regret this.”

With that the line went silent as you sat there. Motionless, tears streaming down your face. How could he spill your past like its nothing? How could he be so… cold.

A few minutes pass in awkward silence. Jimin is the first to speak up, startling you out of your little daydream

“Y/N, I know you don’t trust us, and you would much rather kick our arses, but please say something… anything… do you see why we had to leave? Y/N?” Jimin looked at you with worry.

“I’m going to fucking kill him… I’m going to enjoy seeing the light leave his eyes… that bastard!” you were shaking with rage. You felt a pair of strong arms around your shoulders, just when you wanted to shove the owner back you felt his hands stroke your back. You froze as another and another pair joined in. They were hugging you. They were actually trying to comfort you, not judge or belittle you. No, they felt your pain and they were just as mad as you were. Jungkook was the first to hug you, the brave soul. Eventually you broke down, crying your heart out. You were crying for being so stupid, crying for the 13 years you lost.

“Come on, dry your tears and let’s get some food in you. We’ll talk afterwards,” Jin replied as he extended his hand out to you. You looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes, the warmth. He really did care about you. But that was ridiculous, you were sent to kill them, why should he care about how you felt? Why should any of them care? You took his hand and he led you into the kitchen, only letting go of your hand in order to get started. As he prepared the meal, he kept trying to lighten the mood with silly dad jokes and random facts about the vegetables he was chopping. The others joined you and kept shooting worried looks your way, which you pretended not to notice. After the third straight food pun, Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh and told Jin to stick to what he did best, which was cooking and poisons. You all ate together, their easy banter covering up how silent you were being at the moment. You had too much running through your mind right now, you needed time to sort it all out. You felt much calmer after the nice, home cooked meal, all credit going to chef Seokjin. You were finally ready to come clean with them

“Thank you, guys, for not killing me, but I have something I need to clear with you all. I’m very confused over what’s right and what’s wrong and I don’t even know if I can trust you guys, although I do trust you more now. I don’t know how I’m going to figure this mess out, but I need to clear my head and I have a lot to investigate. I hope you guys understand.”

“Wait, you want to do all that on your own? I mean I know we did, but we had each other… Don’t you want to let us help you?” Tae unexpectedly said.

“Y/N, I understand why you can’t trust us, yet, but please accept our offer to help you. We know someone that can help you find yourself. She’s a miracle worker and actually one of the ladies we saved from Patrick's sick game” Jungkook said.

You sat in deep thought. Should you trust them? Even though you didn’t know if you could, your gut told you to trust them with all your heart.

“Fine, But I do need a favor from you as well.”

Part 7

Tag list: @anomiatartle @tvehyungs-gf @lovegloryhopelove @leftflowerprunedonut @amandaspeelman @xxgothickxx @sparky-isnt-a-vampire @xxqueenwxtchxx @sacri-lege @goldenkookss @lils2-0 @unicornsandpinguins @leesound @simplysanha @kkaleidoscoppe @aqilahahmadx @yuriah04 @larakida @vynia @confusedmonkeyslut @unreasonable-logic

Authors notes: If you want to be tagged in the next part. Like or comment on this part. I only tag those who liked my previous part. Thank you for sharing my AU with me! Hope you enjoy…

#mission bangtan #ot7 x reader #bts #bts x reader #part 6 #AAAHHHHH !!!!

[boathazard]

Kazuhira Miller ;)

hey remember when someone sent me this ask months ago and i never answered it bc i was on mobile and it got too long so i was like ‘i’ll finish this when i’m on desktop’ and then i forgot about it? me either but i found this in my drafts today.

1: sexuality headcanon: hella bisexual, like kinsey 3. as far as he’s concerned, women are great, men are also great. that said, i tend to treat mgs in a vaguely historical fiction sort of way because it tries so hard to entrench itself in real-world cold war events. so i tend to write characters from the earlier end of the timeline as having to deal with a lot of homophobia. like, bb would have been active-duty military during the lavender scare (and thus evidently gave a satisfactory answer to the question “do you like girls” even though his answer was probably a confused “uhhh... sure...???” lmao). portable ops took place within a year of stonewall, and the anarchist gay liberation front was going strong in the uk around the time of pw, hilariously. so it makes sense imo for kaz to be fully aware he’s bisexual, but be operating in pretending-to-be-straight mode because guys are hot but one-night stands with them are generally not worth getting arrested and/or assaulted.

while i’ve seen people write kaz as not knowing he was into guys until it happened, i personally find that kind of hard to believe? he strikes me as the sort of person to be very comfortable with and aware of his own sexual desires, both because he has that kind of natural confidence and because he’s already not following what society deems an appropriate sex life. what is being into guys going to do, make him a pervert? too late, he sleeps around and definitely has some kinks. social outcast? already happened. not that he would be open about being bisexual, he has a functional sense of self-preservation, but it’s relatively easy for him to accept that about himself.

also, if you math it out he would have been in college in the mid-60s. do not tell me he did not have hippie friends, try drugs, and probably make out with a couple dudes for the sake of “free love”-- even if he was 100% straight, he’d probably have done it to try it.

but anyway, he obviously is very interested in and pursues women canonically, (and as a bi person myself i really don’t appreciate that being written off as ‘just closeted’), but if put in appropriate historical context it makes sense that he’d go stealth unless he had a compelling reason to put himself in a dangerous situation. also, there’s something thematically appropriate about him having another split identity where neither side wants him.

2: otp: i would die for bbkaz. that said, i multiship kaz more than bb because bb is so generally disinterested in people and it’s hard for me to rationalize people getting his attention in the first place, while it’s easy to get kaz’s attention but hard to keep it.

i love 9 year time gap ocelot and kaz using each other in ways that include sexual favors, obviously, and alternating between using the fact that the other has feelings for bb as a weapon and having a weird kind of kinship over it. iiii don’t ever seee them being soft or loving, though. or even stopping hating each other, mutual tolerance and occasional weird kinship over being into the same dude is the furthest they’re going to get. they’re just fundamentally incompatible human beings in the best possible way. the way ocelot picks up a pencil probably sets kaz’s teeth on edge.

i really, really wish kaz and eva had met because that would have been incredible. what a ship. they flirt nonstop until eva does something to throw kaz off his game enough that he stumbles on his next line of their ~witty banter~ and she just winks and leaves. they have a lot of sex but no one is sure if there are supposed to be feelings here or it’s just a really elaborate game.

i also enjoy kazcecile, although it’s really more correct to say i enjoy him trying really, really hard to sleep with her while she rejects him and calls him out for being the shameless womanizer he is. that dynamic is one of my fave things in the pw tapes ngl, mostly bc imo he comes off as actually having a bit of a crush on her or else really just wanting to impress her and being kinda put out when she doesn’t think he’s cool or suave.

aaaand of course there’s the canon trainwreck that is kaz and nadine’s failed marriage, too, but that’s not a ship so much as a tragedy. esp if it was a failed attempt to have a normal life

3: brotp: …probably also bb, honestly? bb is his best friend and “the only one he really trusts” (thanks paz). if kaz was better at making emotionally deep friendships he might have come out of this whole mess with significantly better mental health.

i was in a jamjar rp game once where him and hitman from dc comics instantly became great friends, does that count.

4: notp: uh, hmm, don’t really have an immediate notp, but i’m generally not down for him and david. my usual squick of ‘age gap way too big’. i can do up to around ten years and then i’m out. daddy kink aint my thing.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head: he cooked and did a lot of meal planning for early msf both bc he enjoys it and because food can be a highly variable expense depending what you make (and so he can adjust when they have more expensive things without telling anyone else budget details and risking morale loss). being kaz, he also planned for optimal daily and weekly nutrition, or really just tried to find the cheapest and most efficent way to get the correct vitamins into their people without completely destroying morale.

within the first month he got burned several times by his assumption that everyone would just eat everything that was put in front of them. because kaz himself was raised in a food shortage and as a result will pretty much never refuse food, people just throwing completely edible food in the garbage because they don’t like the taste was... taxing to his patience. grow the fuck up and eat the spinach, mongoose, it is the only vitamin e you will be getting this week.

6: one way in which I relate to this character: having a childhood full of vicious social rejection sucks ass.

7: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: when he thinks he’s been clever or smooth but he’s really, really not.

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? kaz is a really interesting case and a prime example of why this dichotomy doesn’t work, because in the end he does “good” things for pretty evil reasons. but he is definitely not a cinnamon roll at any point in his life, because even at his best he kills people for money, so problematic fave, i guess?

#mgs / #kazuhira miller /

[watersparks357]

Hi Ninjago Fandom..

This is just my two cents on the discorse that's been circulating. My rant is below the cut. (I apologize in advanced, it's long)

I’m gonna start with the fact that this is one of the nicest fandoms I’ve joined. Even though we’re small and people think we’re goofy for liking a kids show, there’s a lot of camaraderie. I’ve seen that with the interactiveness from our top fan artists and writers, and the sheer kindness and encouragement extended to younger members. It’s.. refreshing.

But, it seems we all forget, myself included, that we did not make Ninjago. The Hagemans and their team did, and despite all their plot holes, screw ups, goofs, and ignorance, we stayed. We may not have liked it, but we stayed. And, at least in my own opinion, that says a lot. And while shows like these are gauged towards teaching moral lessons to kids who don’t even understand basic writing, they’ve slowly been nodding at the fandom these past few years. The writing has gotten better because they saw fans giving CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Not just ‘ugh, that season and this character and this ship sucks’ but the long rants I’ve seen dissecting seasons and characters and ships and WHY they went wrong. And as much as I immediately want to hop on the defensive for this, stopping myself and thinking, I see people’s points. And how they can go a little off the rails.

If I was writing something, and someone wrote me something like that, sure, I’d be a little hurt at first; but then you realize it’s one of the best compliments you can get, left-handed or otherwise. This person cares, so much, in fact, that they saw beyond what you envisioned. You inspired them, even out of anger or spite, to write something back. To try and build on what you did, help cover up holes you didn’t even know were there or mattered. It’s the equivalent of killing a character at the end of a novel and having a reader come up to you, crying and upset, and say “How could you!? That was my FAVORITE character!”. It stings, but then it hits you that your story, your fictional mishmash of words and thoughts, made them feel genuine attachment and emotion.

I feel like, yes, the raging war we’ve fought with the writers has certainly exhausted them. We demand a lot. Facts that were never really thought of. What’s Lloyd’s age now? What was it before? What’s his mental age? What are their last names? What do their faces humanly look like? Where do the show and movie differ and change? Why is Wu so cryptic? Are they teens or adults? How much time has passed? And what age does that make the nindroids? Our list goes on and on and on..

Thus, because of these questions, we have our shipping issues. Where does Lloyd fall? Is he of legal age or a minor? Does his mental age factor into this? AND we don’t even know anything about age-restrictions in the Ninjago universe! Kai and Nya ran a blacksmith shop, which is very dangerous and very hard as what? Young teens? Definitely not legal in this world. And the nindroids, does they’re physical age count? Or do they have, like, a designated age when they’re built? Do they get ‘aging’ upgrades? 

These are all things I’ve tried to rationalize, trying to find the morally correct ground in these debates. I mean, pedophilia, VERY BAD, but how can I say a ship is or isn’t without solid proof? And the Hagemans aren’t helping by giving us conflicting information online and in the show. But that’s when I realized that, maybe, their entire intention was to leave it vague. Open-ended, so each viewer has their own twist. Maybe you adore the canon couples, or maybe you think everyone is just straight single. Maybe you saw greenflame, or bruise, or glacier, or techno, or popsicle, or samurai. Maybe Lloyd is a tiny kiddo to you or he’s become a big, grown adult. But it was how you saw the show and how it affected you.

Granted, again, really need Ninjago to define their moral standards so as not to send bad messages to the kids BUT, the point is we all saw it different. And I think we forget that. While it is important to uphold the moral code, keep definite pedophilia out of the fandom, tag and store our NSFW works (not shove them at the creators), respect others boundaries and what they’re comfortable around, we step on one another. Now I’m not saying tiptoeing around is the answer, just... a little more respect. A gentle decline before you jump down their throat, a well-worded criticism, an encouraging note rather than something entirely negative.

But, like I said before, things have gotten better. The stories are getting more complex. They’re pandering to their older audience more, seeing as we’re the ones who make up half their views. And buy half the merchandise. They see us and hear us, and they are trying their best to improve so we finally give them the approval they deserve.

Yes, all the pairings are heterosexual. Yes, most of them are not well written and vaguely abusive (subjectively). Yes, there are major arcs and redemptions and development that they couldn’t do justice. Yes, there are so many holes it’s not even funny anymore, BUT, they are still going. And a lot of shows quit when the fanbase starts yelling. They get scared of the backlash. And so far, we’ve been very good about it. But I’d hate to see us shoot ourselves in the foot.

Mostly, I’m saying think before you type. It’s okay to be defensive, but you gotta remember this is supposed to be fun. And not all of us agree, but we get along! We make it work! We get through it. Even when they’re trying to kill off characters or traumatize Lloyd again. It’d be a shame to let this fandom go down the gutter like so many others have.

Well, at least, that’s my take on it, as scrambled and nonsensical as it may be. I’m just a fan, I do some writing, I do some art. I like it here. 

#ninjago #ninjago fandom #discourse #ninjago discourse #lego ninjago #pls dont hurt me