#hm. yes but under specific circumstances

[lilacargent]

Soooo first post ever and it is because i have gone down the #humansarespaceorcs rabbit hole, and my train of thought was:

Yes humans are weird and do strange things to survive. But more specifically we do weird things to our surroundings to survive, many different things.

What if, it has been a decade or two since the humans joined what ever coalition or council of aliens that work together and as a species they are mostly well known for their ability to grow crops under the worst circumstances (soil, climate anything) ofcourse the other deathworld apex predator human traits make the rounds but over time they seem to assume we cannot surprise them anymore.

Everyone knows that if a planet is ‘owned’ by a certain species they have to pay tax to the coalition, so planets that aren’t particularly useful are undesirable.

This particular planet p-jx-5£2 has been moved around endlessly, given with trade deals to get rid of it. P-jx-5£2 is 97% water, with a very high salt level so inhabitable for all developed aliens. Even though the atmosphere is a nice oxygen base and the gravitational pull allright most for the coalition members the fast spinning moon and the planets quick pace around its sun make the water move and tides switch every 2.5 hours keeping no land dry outside of low tide.

~~~~~~~~

The tall Avian alian il’trexz was elated this day was going to be great, a trade deal with the hardy humans and getting rid of a useless money drain, they didn’t have a clue what they were signing up for!

Turning towards the much smaller bipedal species standing in front of the window looking down on the blue planet that just came into their possession the strange creature mumbled something to them selves, frowning Il’trezx asks ‘im sorry what did you say, you spoke but the translator didn’t pick it up?’ The human (Steve) turned to him away from the window ‘my apologies, i was talking to myself, i said that we had to send the dutch.’ Il’trezx looked befuddled ‘the dutch? Is that some kind of animal?’

Steve threw his head back and made a series of sounds that ruffled the Avians feathers and had he not known it was a laugh it would have made him run for the hills ‘HA I’m going to tell Andreas you said that, no the Dutch is what call people from a country on earth that specialise in these kinds of climates, they’ve been begging for a challenge since they stopped the flooding on the umavi home world.’ With feathers puffed up Il’trezx wonders ‘and they are going to do what? This is an impossible planet’ immediately clasping his beak he looks a the human to see if he seemed angry at being swindled, but to his surprise Steve just looks at him ‘hm so you believe we can’t use this planet. Allright let’s make a bet.’ Interested Il’trezx leans in closer ‘what kind of bet?’ A predatory grin spreads on the bipedal aliens face ‘if we make less of this planet than the amount of tax we have to pay over it we will cover all trade costs for this quarter, insurance, travel all of it.’ Eagerly Il’trezx starts nodding ‘but’ Steve keeps going ‘if we do make more of this planet you will do the same.’

The bet is put onto paper and the higher ups of both parties also agree. In 5 years the Avians would be back and they would balance the costs to the benefits. When they departed Il’trezx says too Steve ‘you must have a lot of faith in these “dutch” ‘ the man grins teeth bared ‘ofcourse, after all they conquered water before’

The five years pass and stories have been going around of a new energy supplier from the humans, producing enough energy to run 78% of their ships and several facilities. Nobody seems to know where it is coming from but no new pollution is measured in any of these facilities. None of this bothers the Avians, after all humans come up with new things all the time.

The five years are up and Il’trezx is invited to the planet with a group of advisors and other officials, the planet which apparently they have renamed to ‘posy’ which is supposed to be short for some kind of sea god from their olden days.

On arrival the amount of coming and going baffles them massive groups of ships docking or docked and all somehow attached to wires that run into machines.

The planets change alone was awe inspiring, two cities on opposite sides of the planet and what seems like millions of weird blades attached to high poles every where. Strange wheels and long walls between towers rising from the rapidly moving waters.

This… this was their new energy source. They somehow made a battery of this uninhabitable planet and then built a home.

On the meeting place Steve is waiting with a man slightly taller than him. Spreading his arms the smaller human says ‘welcome to Poseidon, this is Andreas our main mechanic here. He has been here with planning since orbit 1.’

After the introductions were done Andreas led the group through what they called the Northern city and showed on his device the steps it took to get a foothold and how they proceeded from there, mentioning that many of these steps his home country had used thousands of year ago to gain land from sea, and energy from the movement of water and air. They specialised in this form of terra forming and it showed.

The Avians were astounded, not having realised that there was more than one kind of way the Humans had battled their environment even beating back the waters of their world.

Without a doubt the humans had won the bet and had another legend added to their name. More and more humans showed that with the right motivation they could settle right about anywhere.

********

So yea… my stupid little idea. Hopefully someone will enjoy it. I just liked the idea of specific cultures and stuff. specialising in certain things.

Edit: im amazed people seem to like it! If people have ideas or other cultures they think would baffle aliens, im certainly willing to try and write something

#humans are space orcs #humans in space #humans are space oddities

[asterias-record-shop]

𓆩[in our next life || II]𓆪

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.1K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - baby bombs (not literally like Gale) || talks of getting pregnant || thoughts of having a baby || reader is like extremely sex positive || Katniss is a bitch at first || Haymitch is lowkey in love with you, but like nicely but like romantically if that makes sense (he thinks you're super hot) || you lowkey hit on Katniss and Peeta || of course cursing and such || smut warnings, being walked in on, Finnick feels guilty during sex, breeding kink, dom! Finnick, sub! reader, degradation and praise, name calling (whore, good girl, bad girl, cum slut, etc.) (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in the masterlist)

When Mags’ name was drawn, you stepped forward immediately, your voice announcing, “I volunteer as tribute.”

The cheers get louder as they hold up yours and Finnick's hands, but when they let go, he pulls you into his chest, kissing you passionately. You can hear the cheers grow louder, and your eyes water as you pull him lower. You sniffle as he pulls away, stroking his cheek as you look over at Mags and nod. “I love you,” you whisper, but you’re both taken by hand into the back room. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew you both a kiss as you wave. Finnicks hand stays in the small of your back as you see Cinna, hugging him tightly as he sighed.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

You giggle, shrugging. “Just make me look good when I’m about to go out, Cinna darling.”

He winks. “That’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

Finnick sighs as he kisses your temple, all of you slowly going to the shuttle where Cinna leads you to the table, softly patting your shoulder. “I have a gift for you both.”

You raise a brow as Finnick pulls you into his lap - he was always more protective around Cinna, even since the beginning of your games where Finnick was your Mentor and Cinna designed your outfits.

Cinna slowly takes out two boxes, opening them to reveal matching gold bracelets. “A gift from Effie Trinket.”

Your nose scrunches as you look over at Finnick who looks up at Cinna. “Effie Trinket, the mentor for District 12?”

He nods. “Yes, the tributes are-”

You giggle. “Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. The fakest couple in all of Panem,” you look back at Finnick, smiling. “They wish they could be us, darling.”

Cinna just laughs as he slowly takes them out of the boxes and puts them on each of your wrists, smiling. “Now Y/N, you know they’re only doing what they can to survive.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Well then she should be a better actress. It’s sad because he seems so in love with her. I hope he finds someone to love him like he does her.”

Finnick laughs with you, kissing your neck. “Why are we getting gifts from their mentor, hm Cinna? What does she want?”

“For you to make an alliance,” he explains as he slowly sits down. “Is there anything specific we want styled this time around? I’m thinking for the parade we go with something… netty.”

You purse your lips, thinking before looking at Cinna dead in the eye. “I want to get married before the games.”

His jaw drops as Finnick smiles against your skin, your eyes catching the blurring scenery outside of the train. “Married? I get to design the Prince and Princess’ of Panems wedding outfits?!”

You giggle, nodding. “If you would do us the favor, Cinna.”

He inhaled, dramatically waving at his face. “This is going to be amazing. Amazing, I say.”

“I want white,” Finnick says, Cinna nodding as he grabs a sketchpad from… somewhere, Finnick staring down at you with a smile. “It’s going to be the best day in the world when I marry the love of my life.”

His words make you giggle as you press a soft kiss to his lips, Cinna sighing. “I wish it was under better circumstances,” he says, smiling at you both before gasping. “Rings! I need to design rings!”

You giggle as he runs off, looking back at Finnick before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I… I don’t want to meet them.”

He paused, raising a brow. “The District 12 tributes?”

You nodded, but then shook your head. “Any of them. Johanna especially. They all survived their games and were promised that they would never have to suffer through it again, and now,” you inhale shakily as he kisses your temple, shushing you softly. “Now we’re all going back. My nightmares have barely gone away, Finnick, I can’t-”

He shook his head. “No, no darling, calm down. I’ll be there, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You inhaled, nodding into his neck before the blaring voice announced your quick arrival to the Capitol. He stood, carrying you in his arms as you both walked out, immediately being taken to the area where you would be prepared for the games, being cleaned, shaven, everything.

This could’ve been the one thing you missed, gentle hands caring for your body and cleansing you of whatever- it almost made you feel relaxed and calm.

But when you stood in front of the dark horses of the District 12 horses, you felt anything but.

You stroked their face, cooing softly at them as you watched them eat a sugar cube from your palm. You paused when you heard soft footsteps, smiling before looking up at Katniss who stood next to their side.

“Katniss Everdeen, as I live and breathe,” you say, giggling as the horse nudged into your shoulder. She was dressed extremely differently from you, your outfit going along with Finnick’s with a netted bralette covering your chest and a bikini-like bottom covered with a golden threaded net acting as a see-through skirt. You felt exposed, but you had definitely been more exposed to the Capitol’s eyes before. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled, even though it was obviously fake. She was not a good actor, you could tell that. “Y/N, Panem’s Princess. I never thought I’d meet you.”

You giggle in response, taking another sugar cube from your other hand and giving it to the other horse. “Oh? You’ve wanted to meet me, hm?”

Her face flashed between annoyed and the mask she wore, smiling wider at you. “Oh, always. My mother adored your reality show.”

You hum as you look over your shoulder, another pair of steps heading your way before you see Finnick. “You should work on your acting skills, Everdeen,” you say, turning back and smiling at her. “And your lying skills. They may have fooled Panem, but they will never fool me.”

Finnick comes behind you just as Peeta goes behind her, Cinna already walking toward you both. “I’m sorry you both had to cancel your wedding,” you say, Finnick’s arm immediately going around your waist as he pressed a firm kiss to your jaw. “But I do thank you for it. It gave us, people who are truly in love, space to get married. I hope to see you both there.”

“Now, Y/N, play nice,” Finnick mumbles against your skin, hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing slightly as his teeth graze your cheeks. “We want alliances, darling, not enemies.”

You just giggle, leaning into Finnick’s grip, even though you could feel Katniss glaring a hole into you. You finally look at her, her jaw clenching. “How do people pay for the pleasure of your company?”

You couldn’t stop giggling around Katniss, not when she acted so serious. You put out your hand, watching as she tensed under your touch. “Finnick takes secrets as his form of payment,” you say as he finally lets go of you, leaning close to her ear. “I take bodies. And not in the way you’re thinking.” You squeeze her arm, smiling at her before turning to Peeta. “I hope to speak to you later, Peeta. You definitely seem more fun to talk to.”

You take Finnick’s hand as he leads you away, Cinna quickly coming to fix your outfits before you mount onto your carriage. “Snow wants a show,” he whispers to you both, sighing. “I have a little surprise for our Princess,” he hands you a remote, pointing at the button. “You click this here and everything will happen, alright?”

You nod, smiling as the music begins to play. “Thank you, Cinna.”

He winks at you before jumping off, Finnick quickly taking your hand as the first carriage runs out. You tap his cheek, smiling as he compliantly looks down at you, pulling him down for a firm kiss. He smiled, his hand slipping to your hip before your carriage started to move. You pull away, tongue pushing into his mouth before your carriage emerges and you pull away. You turn back just enough to stare at Peeta and Katniss, winking at them as Finnick grabs your hand.

You wait until you’re in front of Snow to press the button, loud chants of your own and Finnick’s name filling the arena until loud gasps form instead. You look down, the golden net on your body slowly extending, a flowing blue skirt blowing into the wind almost like a waterfall. It extends off the edge of the carriage, long as the cheering gets louder. Your names turned into chants until District 12 came out, but Caesar’s voice was still praising you until the parade ended.

You both walk down the hall when it ends, that was until Haymitch caught you both and introduced you to Katniss and Peeta all over again. “It’s so nice to meet you both,” Finnick says with a grin, pulling you as close as possible to himself. “I wanted to speak to you guys earlier, but my pretty fiancée did all the talking.”

You pout as his hand goes around your throat again, but lean your head back as he softly squeezed. “Forgive me if I came across rude,” you say, smiling at Katniss. “I hope we can be allies in the games.”

Katniss scoffs. “What's the point when you’ll try to kill us?”

You paused, giggling as Finnick kissed your temple. “Nicely, darling.”

“If I wanted to kill you, Katniss, you’d be dead already,” you look at Haymitch, smiling. “I would love to be allies with your tributes if you can get her under control,” turning to Peeta, you wink as Finnick’s lips kiss against your cheek. “I like the boy. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Haymitch nods as you offer your hand, giggling as he takes it and pressed a firm kiss to the back. “I can’t wait to see you in white at your wedding.”

“Oh, you make me swoon, Haymitch,” you say, hand grazing his cheek as Finnick winks. “Guests are required to wear black. Finnick and I will be the only ones in white, even Snow is going to wear black,” you turn to Katniss. “The Princess of Panem has many things under her control.”

“I can see that.”

You giggle as Finnick slowly lets go of your throat, your hand moving away from Haymitch to softly caress her face. She inhaled sharply as you do so, and you purse your lips. “You really need to let loose, Katniss. No one likes a stick in the mud. Finnick, let’s go make love,” you giggle as her eyes widen. “Over and over again.”

Finnick smiles as you take his hand, softly kissing Peeta’s cheek. “See you at the interviews, pretty boy.”

When you’re far enough away, Haymitch sighs. “What I would do to get a kiss from her.”

Katniss scoffs. “What’s her deal? She’s just, like-”

“A princess,” Peeta fills. “A princess of lust.”

“Oh don’t take that to heart,” Haymitch dismissed them both before turning to Katniss. “But you, you better behave. They’re your most valuable allies, Katniss. If they she wants Finnick to fuck her in front of you, let them fuck. If she wants Peeta to fuck her, let him. She’s the Princess of Panem, for fucks sake!” His voice got louder, but he inhaled deeply to calm himself down. “Her sex epitome is an act in some cases. Her and Finnick have gone through things that you are lucky you didn’t.”

Katniss scoffs. “Like what?”

Haymitch pauses, but glares at her. “You will have to speak about it with them. Now, come on, you have some other people to meet.”

You and Finnick, on the other hand, did go to fuck. Your greatest source of shared trauma became your coping skill, and even with how toxic and horrible and down right bad it was, there was nothing you both enjoyed more.

You very well could’ve been obsessed with Finnick, and him with you, but neither of you cared how unhealthy it was- you needed each other like a person needed oxygen, and without the other, you would surely go insane.

You laid on top of Finnick, kissing at his neck as his hand drew patterns along your back. “Do you think I was-”

“They’ll see the true you when the time comes,” he whispers, smiling at you. “And when they do, they’ll love you even more. I swear it.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips before someone knocked. You pull away, snuggling into his chest as he yells ‘come in’, Cinna walking in with a smile. “They’re ready and they’re perfect. Interviews are in two hours, are you both ready to get dressed?”

You hum, throwing your hair back as Finnick’s hips buck uncontrollably. “One more round, Cinna.”

He laughs. “Okay. I’m coming back in ten minutes!”

You giggled, squealing as Finnick pushed you over, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Make it fifteen!”

When the door closes, Finnick wastes no time thrusting deeper inside of you, your eyes rolling back as you claw against the sheets. “Fuck, fuck Finnick!”

“You’re a fucking whore, asking for another round,” he basically growled as your mouth lets out loud moans, his form leaning forward to ram his cock into you at a new angle. “You knew I wouldn’t say no, didn’t you? You knew that I was going to fuck you, over and over and over.”

You nodded mindlessly, groaning into his mouth. “Yes! Yes, Finnick, I want you to fuck me. I don’t want you to stop fucking me, fuck, fuck!”

“You’re a fucking, whore,” he grunts, fingers pushing down to press into your cunt with his fingers. Your eyes roll back as his fingers push into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit as his fingers curl inside of you, his cock still pounding into you like a jackhammer. You were so full of pleasure, the moans you previously held back now coming out in full force, cumming on accident with a scream as his thumb pressed on your puffy clit. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You screamed out as he pulled out of you, pulling your ankles from his shoulders as he flipped you around, forcing your face into the pillows as he pushed into you again. “You’re going to cum without my permission? Without telling me? No, not on my watch. I’m going to fuck you until Cinna comes in and you’re not going to cum until that final second ticks.”

“Yes! Yes Fin, fuck!” You wailed as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning loudly as his cock pushed into you before being pulled out and fucked right back into you.

“You’re such a good whore, darling. A perfect cum rag for me to fuck and fill, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes Fin, I’m just here to hold your cum.” You say, groaning as his hips move faster, body bouncing on the bed and your clit rubbing against the silk sheets. How were you going to be able to not cum when he was fucking you so good?

You don’t even notice you were clenching until Finnick says something, his other hand pushing between your clit and the blanket. “You’re clenching around my cock, darling. If you cum, I’m going to fuck you on live TV. Gonna fill you up in front of Caesar’s stupid fucking face. You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

His hand forced you to nod, tugging at the roots of your hair as drool ran down the side of your mouth. “Speak.”

“Yes! Yes, Fin, I’d love it, just as long as you fuck me! I promise Fin, I’ll be good!”

“Being good is not cumming until those fifteen minutes are up,” he snarls into your ear, slapping your pussy with a firm hand as he forces you on your knees. “You’re not going to listen to me, darling? That’s a bad girl, not a good girl.”

You shake your head, eager to please. “No Fin, I’ll be a good girl, I swear! I want your cum, I want to be your perfect little cum slut, please!”

He paused, his hand moving slowly as he kissed your shoulder. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t do rough right now. Can you please just-”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Fin,” you say, turning your head enough to kiss his cheek. “Why don’t I make you cum and we get dressed, sounds good?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t need to finish, darling-”

“Do you want to finish?”

He paused, but nodded. His hips move slowly as you intertwine your hands together, kissing his neck softly as you groan into his skin. “Fuck, Fin, you feel so good.”

“You too, darling, holy shit.”

It doesn’t take him long to cum, his seed painting your insides white as he collapses on top of you, kissing your spine. “I can’t wait to marry you, Princess.”

You giggle, looking back. For a minute, you forgot you could die in the next week. “I can’t wait to marry you, my prince.”

When you both stood at the interviews, you were nervous. Finnick went first, and you watched as he spoke with Caesar effortlessly like he didn’t tell you he would fuck you on live TV earlier. The thought made you smile.

“So, after interviewing some of the other potential tributes from District 4, we got about the same answer for what you and our princess did the night the Third Quarter Quell was announced,” he starts to laugh, leaning forward to pretend to whisper. “Did you and Y/N have some… fun?”

Finnick laughs. “Yeah, Y/N and I did have some fun,” he looks over at you, winking. “But then again, when do we not?”

As much as you hated these fake personas, you couldn’t help but love it on Finnick. You loved the way he absolutely radiated confidence, especially when he spoke about you.

Caesar laughs. “My, Finnick, how forward you are! You and Y/N have always been-”

“Very open about our relationship?” Finnick filled in, smiling. “Yes, our relationship is not only our pride but-”

The crowd chants. “The Pride of Panem!”

“Oh, you are! You both are,” Caesar gets closer. “But should we be careful about letting our children watch the games, Finnick?”

You wanted to scream. Children shouldn’t even be watching the games anyways, but still, Finnick plays along. He grins, flexing his finger at Caesar to bring him closer, the mic as well. “We’ll have a safe word, Caesar. I’ll say it so that the children can leave.”

“Oh, my my! Behave yourself, Finnick, there’s children watching!” He continues to laugh before placing a hand on Finnick’s wrist. “Now, I was told you and Y/N have a bit of a… surprise for us.”

He smiled. “Oh, yes, we do. Y/N and I, we’re…” he looks over at you, exhaling. “We have two surprises.”

Two? What were your two surprises? You knew one was your wedding, but the other?

“Oh? Who doesn’t love surprises?! Now, everyone wants to know, Finnick,” the camera zooms in, Caesar’s perfect teeth smiling almost scarily. “What’s your surprise?”

“Y/N and I are getting married,” he says, cheers erupting from the crowd. “Tomorrow evening. We invite all that are able to come to celebrate with us, our only request is that you wear black,” he smiles. “The only people wearing white will be myself and my bride, as this is the happiest day of our lives.”

Caesar laughs. “Oh, how exciting! I am so excited for you, Finnick, where are the rings?!”

Finnick shook his head. “The rings are still being designed, you will see them tomorrow evening. My second surprise, though,” he looks back at you, smiling. “Is from Y/N.”

Your face scrunched. What was he doing?

“Oh? And what does the Princess of Panem have to say?” He pushed the mic closer.

“She’s with child,” Finnick starts to grin. “My child.”

You gasped, covering your mouth as the crowd went silent. Finnick’s eyes snap to yours, the smile on his face calming all your nerves until the crowd starts to boo. Your heart rate spikes, your breathing getting faster until you hear the words they say. “Stop the games! Our Princess and Prince need to see their baby!”

You exhaled shakily as Caesar laughed awkwardly. “Well, Finnick, I hope you have a great wedding tomorrow and I hope to see you there.”

“Well I’ll certainly be there, Caesar, and I hope you attend.”

He announced Finnick’s name and district before he left the stage, a large bubble filling your chest. Your head began to pound with every beat of your heart, fingernails digging so deep into your palms that you drew blood. You tried to focus on your breathing like Finnick had taught you, but nothing worked.

“Y/N, Y/N darling,” Finnick spoke, holding your cheeks. “Look at me, hey. Only a few more hours, darling, just a few more. I promise you, love.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply with him as he stroked your hair. Your eyes begin to water, but he quickly pats your cheek. “Hey, we don’t want to ruin Cinna’s makeup, do we?” As much as his tone was light and playful, it was much more serious and you both knew it.

“I'm scared, Finnick,” you whisper, inhaling shakily. “I don’t want to go out there.”

“Y/N, where are you, my princess?!” Caesar’s voice was loud, slightly worried before Finnick pressed a kiss to your painted lips. His thumb smudged the lipstick slightly, just enough to take some pigment off but still make you look perfect. “Go, darling, I’ll be right here.”

It takes him shoving you softly for you to go out, a smooth smile immediately gracing your features as Caesar ran to you. You hide your shaking hands in your dress, but Caesar kneels in front of you and offers his hand. You giggled, outstretching your arm for him to take your hand. You quickly fix your face as he kisses the back, holding back a grimace as he looks up at you. “My princess.”

You curtsy, cheers erupting from the crowd as he led you to the main platform. Your dress cascaded behind you, long pale blue that was almost white, a nod to your wedding dress that you were going to wear the next night. He held your hands high as you sat down, announcing the words, “Y/N, the Princess of Panem!”

You close your eyes as the cheers get louder than you’ve ever heard, letting your hand slowly fall to your lap as Caesar lets go. When you open them, you tilt your head back, blinking back tears with a slight sniffle.

“Y/N, darling,” Caesar switched to the mic on his collar, reaching for your hand again with a sigh. “We truly feel for you.”

No he didn’t, none of them did. Even if you were pregnant, none of them understood, none of them felt what you felt. “I’m sure you could try,” you say, sobbing erupting from the dramatics of the crowd.

Maybe there were some true feelings behind Caesar’s eyes, but you didn’t see it. “When you volunteered for Mags, did you know?”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t. Finnick and I have been attempting to have a family since we ended our show,” you inhaled shakily. It wasn’t a lie, it really wasn’t, but even then, it was horrible. You very well could’ve been truly pregnant from the mornings you were waking up sick, but you fooled yourself into thinking it was just the nervousness of getting out back into the games. “It has to stick when we’re going to die, right?”

Caesar shook his head, his eyes watering as he squeezed your hand. “You… you should not say that,” he whispers, sighing. “You do not think you can win?”

You laughed. “Caesar, the Princess of Panem never loses,” your fake joy comes back as the crowd cheered, but then it turned into boos. “But I would love to think of names for my future child without the fear of dying.”

“One final question, Y/N,” Caesar says as the crowd quiets down. “If you would have known… would you have still volunteered for Mags?”

You smiled. “Caesar, no matter how much I want this child, if they’re not born yet, I want Finnick more. Forever and always. If Finnick goes somewhere, I'm with him,” you look back, inhaling deeply when you see his piercing cerulean toned eyes staring at you. “Until death do we part,” you raise your left hand to him, his own doing the same. “And when we meet in our next life.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪   𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪   𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪   𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪   𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪

next part will be uploaded this Sunday! (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.14.23)

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#asterias-record-shop #requests open #finnick odair x reader smut #the hunger games #the hunger games finnick #the hunger games finnick odair #finnick odair #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you #finnick deserved better #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x fem! reader #finnick odair x fem! reader smut #thg #thg fanfiction #thg x reader #thg fic #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #caesar flickerman #effie trinket

[nanamimizz]

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝚶𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝚬: 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐔𝐋𝐔 𝐏𝐓 𝚶𝐍𝚬 + 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

tags: wc: 1.3k, sfw, gn reader, reader is a part of the astral express crew, jing yuan is flirtatious as fuck LMAO, no warnings, reader is a foodie, reader is referred to as sweetheart.

synopsis: you know all about different types of food and when caught looking for a certain treat, a certain general can't help but take the chance to you what you want and more.

You came to the Xianzhou Luofu with the rest of the Astral Express - you were hesitant to leave Dan Heng, Pom-Pom, and Himeko alone but at the behest of March 7th you had joined their quest. As the events transpired you often felt a tug at your eyes and nose. Each time March 7th would be talking your ear off about new spots she wanted to visit for photos your eyes would wander on a specific sugar-glazed treat you have always wanted to try, 

Not many would know this but you were passionate about cooking, it was often you and Pom-Pom who made the meals for the rest of the crew save for Himeko’s coffee that is. You were always looking for new inspiration, new recipes from different planets to enjoy and make. It just so happens that the Xianzhou is home to the snack you’ve most wanted to try - tanghulu.

Any fruit can be used to make Tanghulu, the most trending fruit would be strawberries but grapes and mangos are popular too. But the one you want to try most is the traditional variant - red hawthorn berries. Information of the candy pours out of your mouth subconsciously, you are muttering to yourself so much so that March 7th just giggles behind her hand as a gold eye watches you from behind - lazy in its amusement and keen in its desire.

“I never would have assumed that the Nameless had such culinary knowledge of the cuisine of the Xianzhou Luofu.”

You freeze, and something like dread pools in your stomach.

Turning your head you see the smiling general - the most legendary of warriors this ship has to offer in its long legacy and the most important man on the ship. General Jing Yuan stands before you in the flesh. While you had seen his visage in the form of a blue hologram now you can see the flush in his complex and the shine of his hair - General Jing Yan is incredibly handsome it is known and you can’t find any escape from the truth. He smiles at your surprised expression, laughing quietly to himself as he turns his attention to March 7th, who was still laughing at your deer-in-headlights look.

“Do you mind if I cut in? I can never stop myself from treating a guest to delicacies we of The Luofu offer when given the chance.” March 7th is quick to grin and even quicker to play matchmaker and responds with all sorts of giddiness in her voice.

“Oh be my guest General, just don’t keep them out too long! We still have work to do!” She calls as she whips out her phone, you whine as you feel a strong hand come to rest at your waist. March 7th would hesitate to tell Stelle and the others about you being whisked away by the General of all people on what she would call a date.

“I heard you muttering about tanghulu, is that what you were looking to try?” He asks you, tone light and cordial as you stutter over your words.

“Y-yes I follow a lot of content about gastronomy and I’ve seen a lot of people talk about it. It’s been a food I’ve always wanted to try.” You confess, keeping your eyes in front of you as you follow his steps, fingers fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. 

“Hm, how curious considering it’s a sweet for children, but then again it’s not the most common of foods that catch the public’s eyes is it?” He asks and you laugh, thinking about other trending foods of different planets that all come from all sorts of circumstances.

“Yes you are right in that aspect - anything can be whipped up by the fame that people attribute to food, even something as a seasonal children’s sweet.” You agree, eyes flickering to him as you laugh under your breath. The white hair general returns your smile and only tears his eyes off of you to speak to a stallman that sells tanghulu. Once again your eyes are captured by the shine of the vibrant colors of fruit and the starlight shine of sugar - the Xianzhou natives can only chuckle at your starry-eyed expression.

“Here, let me treat you to it since you have come all this way - it wouldn’t do for you to go without it.” Jing Yuan says with a smile despite the way you wave your arms, telling him he won’t have to do such a thing.

“What's the most popular fruit right now for the tanghulu?” Jing Yuan asks, blissfully ignoring your stammer as the stallman laughs at your interaction, resting an elbow on the counter and looking over his wares.

“Most young people have been asking for strawberries these days.” Jing Yuan nods and takes the appropriate amount of credits out to pay for the treat, however before the stallman takes it you enter back into the conversation.

“Um, is it okay if I ask for hawthorn instead? That’s the more traditional option right?” You ask, looking back and forth between the two men. The stallman laughs boisterously, finding more amusement in this situation than you ever will.

“General - keep your money, this one clearly knows how to eat real food,” The stallman winks at you, “I’ll throw in another one just cuz I like the way you think sweetheart.” From next to you Jing Yuan chuckles, tucking away the money, and looks at you from his taller position.

“You certainly struck a deal, didn’t you? Getting two free tanghulu is quite the steal.” He comments, crossing his arms across his chest. You look at him - you find him somehow more handsome with each passing moment, your eyes caught on the length of his lashes and the charm of his mole.

“I didn’t think that would happen, I just wanted to taste the real thing before trying anything newer.” You confess, going back to fiddling with the button of your levee and Jing Yuan hums at your answer.

“Are you the type of person that is fond of antiquities?” He asked suddenly and by the shining flush on your face, he grins broadly at your unspoken admittance. Acutely, he turns to collect the two tanghulu and hands one to you while thanking the stallman.

“How did you guess?” You mutter embarrassed and Jing Yuan chuckles at your fluster.

“Call it the intuition of an old man.” He speaks lightly but you get the feeling that he is smug in his victorious assessment. A gold eye looks at you warmly and he urges you to try the tanghulu that you stare at wantingly. You flush under the weight of his stare and go in for the first bite. He watches in utter fascination at how your face brightens, smiling at the crisp sugar and sweet sourness of the hawthorn berry. Jing Yuan was sure that if you had a tail it would wag behind you merrily.

“I take you like it?” He asks, chuckling at how you finish the first berry and are about to move on to the second before he hands you the second skewer along with a note - “Where did he find the time to write on the note?” you wonder.

“Here, give this one to your friend as an apology for taking you away from her,” he says smiling as he knows she didn’t mind, “The note contains my personal phone number. Feel free when there is any sort of Xianzhou cuisine you want to try out - traditional or popular.”

There’s a flirtatious edge to his smile as he repeats himself.

“And I really do mean anything. I have to take my leave now, I hope to see you soon.” He says confidently and makes his way in the direction of the building you and March had exited from, where the Helm Master Yukong was awaiting him. You stand there, two tanghulu in hand, the general’s number on a note, and just as you are trying to process what just happened your own phone dings. 

A message from March, pestering smug as it reads - “Soooo how did your date go?” followed by a smirking sticker.

Then it hits you, you just went on a date with the general of the Luofu, and from behind you, the stallman laughs again.

#lamb.writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #jing yuan imagines

[bungeepuppet]

Prompt: Hisoka is reminded of his mother. Rating: 15+ Words: 600 Note:  A drabble I should have posted on Mother's Day!

**Warnings for mentions of child neglect and allusions of human trafficking 💀

--

Hisoka's eyes are staring at something. It is a sliced baguette resting in a basket, cradled in white cloth. His stare is intense.

In his memories, he can see a woman’s hand gripping onto a loaf of bread desperately. He remembers being hungry, but knowing that not a bit of that bread would be for him.

Hisoka is sitting at a table with Illumi in a very expensive restaurant. The restaurant is at the top level of a skyscraper, and has a sweeping city view.

Illumi is talking about nothing in particular, and hasn’t noticed Hisoka’s lack of engagement. Hisoka realizes that he zoned out, lost in a very old memory. It is such a disgusting feeling to him.

“Illumi.”

Illumi pops another bite of his dinner into his mouth.

“Hm?”

“...♠”

Hisoka glances at the bread again before looking back to his date.

“How much are you worth to your parents, do you think?”

Illumi tilts his head at the odd question, but gives it some genuine thought. He rests a knuckle to his chin while he chews. After a moment of contemplating, he finally answers.

“I can’t give any exact amount, but by quick estimate, my services to the family can range from anywhere to the hundreds of billions to tens of trillions of jenny annually.” 

Despite his curtled mood, Hisoka’s nose still crinkles to crush a smile off his lips. Illumi was always so literate.

“That’s not exactly what I meant. ♠” “I mean…” “When you were born, what was your value to your parents? ♣” “How much would someone have had to offer in exchange for you?”

Illumi is confused by the string of questions, but is intrigued nonetheless.

“What reason would they have to sell their child?”

Hisoka can feel his chest chill, as if icy tar is dripping inside him.

“What if your mother was hungry? If she had no money?” “You don’t think under dire circumstances, that she would trade you for a fortune?”

“Hmm…” “My mother?”

Illumi thinks specifically about her.

“No. I don’t believe that she would need to in order to afford food or anything else.”

“Why’s that? ♠”

“Well…” “She is an assassin too, of course.” “If in a situation where she had no assets or resources, and I was an infant, she would easily be able to work a job in order to afford what she needed.”

“Ah, I see.”

Hisoka takes a sip from his drink. He can see her dirty nails clutching the small stack of jenny tight with joy. There is a feeling on his arm; the tight grip of someone’s hand, much larger than his. Tugging him. Tugging him away from her. 

There was so much distress, trying to free himself and return to her. Did she even look up at him again after they gave her the money?

“So, your mother would rather murder someone else than lose her child?”

“Of course.”

Illumi answers like it is so trivial. Hisoka should have expected that of someone with an assassin’s mindset, but still…

“...”

He takes another drink, then picks up a slice of the baguette to butter. He casually takes a bite and drops the memory back into the well it came from.

“You have a good mother. ♠”

Illumi smiles slightly at the comment.

“Yes.”

Illumi continues to talk, this time about random insights regarding his family.

(“My mother worked as an assassin even before she met my father. She is just as skilled as he is, but prefers to watch over my younger brothers now…”)

#hisoillu #hisoka #illumi #mine #this FELL out of my hands a few weeks ago and then i promptly forgot about it whwhwh #HISOKA DOESNT HAVE A HAPPY LIFE ILL TELL YA #this is kikyo propaganda btw /j #the zoldyck family #fanfic

[blonde-and-cat-suc]

choose violence ask game: 3, 12 and 22?

p.s. love your blog, please keep spreading the truth!

And I love blogging <3!!! I do it for the girls and the gays.

>>>><<<<

Answers under the cut . . . This is gonna be a long one.

3) Screenshot or description of the worse take you've seen on tumblr?

Okay, so, the only problem with this one is that I've literally seen too many to count. But the one that I'd often seen and had the most visceral reaction to were definitely the longer, well articulated analysis posts from stans that did SO MUCH bending and twisting to claim Adora being equally toxic/(and or abusive) to Catra. Which, obviously, I also spent time analyzing. Trying my best to understand what was going on. And you know what? I get it. I don't agree. But I get it. Adora and Catra grew up under the same circumstances, so yeah, they wouldn't be entirely innocent of picking up bad habits from their childhood. Realistically. Fine.

But implying that Adora is worse? Worse than Catra?

...

Anyway, I've suffered from my own self-inflicted torture in the past. I wish I hadn't spent so much time reading stan analysis the way I did, but... Here we are.

And that's just on Tumblr. I don't believe that other social media/forum sites are better or worse about c//a and SPOP, but I have seen worse in The Wilds. (At least on Tumblr there's the filtering options. Everywhere else, good luck).

12) The unpopular character that you actually like, and why more people should like them?

Guys. I LOVE SWIFT WIND. I FUCKING LOVE SWIFT WIND I DON'T CARE THAT HE'S ANNOYING THEY'RE ALL FUCKING ANNOYING!!!

First of all, yes, yes, yes, Swift Wind is horrendous wasted potential (surprise, surprise), and yes, of course, I'm still pissed over it. Those scenes where he's so loyal and kind to Adora, and she, having no other point of reference for a friend, much less a resourceful friend... Like, awwhh. Plus, he makes it very clear that he has his own will and isn't just mindlessly following Adora around like a god-honest horse would. He has his own agenda. He doesn't have to go into battle with Adora, and doesn't gain too much from risking his life to help her and her friends in the short term, but Swift Wind does it anyway. He's interested and invested in Adora, personally, anyway. He wants to be there for her and support her growth as a person.

And Adora deserves all of those amazing, raw, sappy, fairytale friendships!

I DON'T CARE THAT HE'S LITERALLY A HORSE HE IS STILL FUNCTIONALLY A HUMAN BEING. THEY ARE BESTIES. THEY LITERALLY HAVE A MY LITTLE PONY FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC LINK GOING ON. THEY SHOULD HAVE CONSIDERED SWIFTIE TO BE APART OF THE BEST FRIENDS SQUAD, I ACTUALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY HE ISN'T.

MORE LOVE FOR SWIFT WIND!!!

22) Favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores?

In my experience, this is the type of fandom that cultivates, um, extreme niches, for lack of a better term. As in, literally what my blog is compared to a "stan's" blog. They're like. Different SPOP fans everywhere, so I don't truly believe that there's a portion of this show that is genuinely ignored... There's someone out there that liked even the tiniest, unimportant fraction of this show. Just got to go find them. (Hell, I know people that love, like, Tall Star specifically, out of all the other characters. Nothing has gone totally unnoticed, which is something I really love about the fanbase as a whole, despite everything).

Anyway, to keep it short, my favorite "underappreciated" parts are hm... Maybe the parts where Adora gets to explore the world around her? And not in a super plot related way. I know that the BFS goofing off so much isn't totally ignored. But I like to see that Adora especially was still learning new things everyday in canon, just like, randomly. Nothing to do with the Horde or the Rebellion. Just. She should be excited for the new world around her, dude. Those are pretty rare moments in the show, actually. Wish there were more.

#asks / anons #salt ask games #MORE LOVE FOR SWIFT WIND I DON'T GIVE A FUCKKKK #cw: mariposa being more vulgar than usual #thanks 4 indulging me anon ure the best xoxo

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Shinkai Tenun no Shou Stellaworth Booklet “Her Long Day” Part 5

there's only one part left after this... and I still haven't decided what I should do next.

Hakuoki Shinkai Tenun no Shou Stellaworth Booklet “Her Long Day” Part 5

Translation by KumoriYami

Haishi · Harada moment 《21~23 o'clock》

By nine o'clock in the eveening, only the soldiers who had to patrol and do chores were the only ones at headquarters who hadn't gone to sleep…

Additionally, most people were getting ready for bed.

And I had gone to the newly built bathroom [or bathing room? don't feel like looking up a better term] at headquarters that had been built on Dr. Matsumoto's recommendation.

"…I'm sorry, Harada-san. You're still exhausted yet you specifically came here…."

"Don't worry about it, I had nothing to do anyway."

That's right, as a woman wearing men's clothes, I could only take a bath at this time.

If I was left by myself, it wouldn't be difficult for me to be found out, which is why I asked the executives who knew about my circumstances to help.

So today, I had asked Harada-san to stand at the door while I took a bath.

"....Fu...."

"Don't worry, soak for as long as you want. You need to take your time and soak yourself."

"Mm… it's nice to take a bath every now and then. After all, I can usually only wipe my body with a wet towel…"

I sighed deeply while responding to the voice coming through the [folding? tl uses "(standing) screen] screen.

“…It's so comfortable, I feel like I'm going to fall asleep."

"Haha, it's fine to sleep for a bit, I won't peak."

"I'm not worried about that..."

I cupped a handful of hot water in the palms of my hands.

"I ultimately don't look like a woman, so even if someone peeked…"

If I had some sort of feminine charm, I wouldn't have been able to wear men's clothing all the time…

After I uttered self-deprecating words with a forced smile, Harada-san's whispers echoed in my ears.

"....I don't think that's the case."

"Eh?"

"I've thought this before, but i wonder if you've vastly underestimated your own charms?"

"Re-Really...?"

Was it just because of how Harada-san praising people that he was saying that…?

As I thought that, I submerged my shoulders under the water while Harada-san's voice accompanied a bitter laugh.

"Well, it's no wonder since that you don't have anyone else to compare to while living in this place like this. And it's even less noticeable while you wear men's clothing."

"Nn..."

"But I still need to say that that in my eyes, you are absolutely very attractive."

“……”

"…Hey, what's wrong? Did you really fall asleep?"

"N-No, I'm awake!… I'm just going to soak for a while longer and then I'll get out!"

I slowly immersed my nose into the water and blankly reflected.

——Soak for a while longer, at least when I get out, I can use the heat as an excuse for why there's blush on my cheeks…

Zishi · Hijikata moment 《23~1 o'clock》

It was very late at night, and most of the troop had already fallen asleep, and headquarters was completely silent.

I headed to the kitchen to get some water before going to sleep when I suddenly stopped in the corridor.

"....Huh?"

Inside headquarters, which had almost all of its lights out, there was a single room where a faint lamp was shining. That should be…

"HIjikata-san's room...?"

"——I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour."

"…Hm? It's Yukimura. Why are you still awake at this hour?"

"Yes, I just finished taking a bath…"

Hijikata-san looked up from the pile of books on his desks, and I raised my head to see the dark circles below his eyes, as if he could collapse at any moment.

"Um… ou seem to be very tired, so why don't you rest for a bit…?"

"Sorry, I can't go to sleep right now. I still have some written materials that I need to write."

Upon closer inspection, there were various papers that Hijikata-san had handled so far that had been stacked on to the table. As I shifted my attention from the latest document…. I sighed softly and paused.

"Um... Hijikata-san."

"What happened. I'm really busy right now, so we can talk later——"

"——The content of this document appears to be wrong…."

"What are you saying"

"Where the position is, the Chief of the Shinsengumi is written as Okita-san… Furthermore, over here.. the number of the division doesn't appear to be correct…"

“……”

Although there places where the errors were small, the entire thing would need to be rewritten.

Hijikata-san's brows furrowed as he looked at the paper, and I spoke quietly to him.

"I really think that you should take a nap, a nap would be good."

".....Ahah, I get it."

Although there places where the errors were small, the entire thing would need to be rewritten.

"If I write this again, I'll only repeat the same mistakes, which will make everything pointless."

"That's right…! Rest for a bit/Take a break!"

"Nn......Thank you, Yukimura. This type of exhaustion is usually something that you can't notice yourself. Thank you for pointing that out."

When he lied down on the floor with his back to me, he seemed to be smilling. Was I mistaking this? Hijikata-san only took about two or three breaths before he began to store, and I gently draped the coat in the room over his shoulders.

"——I hope you can sleep well."

His now tranquil sleeping face made it seem that his usual solemn frowning expression was a lie. For the sake of not disturbing him, I hurried to quietly leave the room.

---to be concluded---

i'm glad it feels a lot like fall now. I do quite poorly whenever the temperature goes above 25°Cish... one of the reasons why I know I'd never be able to live in Italy (aside from the fact that people smoke way too much for me since I have a bad reaction to smoke 😅)

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki other translation #harada sanosuke #hijikata toshizo #yukimura chizuru

[quinloki]

Would you ever give Teach a forehead kiss?

Hm...

Hmmmmmmm....

Under very specific circumstances, yes.

Circumstances like if I was getting ready to toss him in the ocean or something. ^^;

Anonymously ask me some "would you ever"s

#quin answers #anon asks #ask game #anon ask game

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 4: Until Time Stops

Fandom: In Time

Pairing: Raymond Leon x OC

Summary: With Salas continually slipping through their fingers, things continue to get worse for Raymond and Rose.

Word Count: 3,266

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence and references to prostitution and past sexual assault.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 4: Countdown

Their cars screeched to a halt in front of the…well, it used to be a bank. Glass was strewn everywhere, a massive truck having been driven straight through the front window. Emptied time capsules littered the street, and a crowd was still gathered around, many with capsules from the bank’s vault still clutched in their hands.

“No one’s watching their clocks, huh?” Raymond asked, stepping from the car and pulling his gun from the holster in his thigh. He surveyed the crowd coldly and authoritatively, almost like a parent scolding their child after they’d caught them doing something bad. “Get outta here. Or I’ll confiscate every second.”

They approached the bank slowly, the four of them looking at the truck rammed through the window. Had it been under other circumstances, Rose would have almost been impressed.

“Must’ve thought it was a drive through,” Jaeger said.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Leaning against a desk with her arms crossed over her chest, Rose fought to swallow the lump of dread in her throat as she watched the stolen time from the bank robbery rapidly disperse across Dayton. 

You idiot, Salas. You fucking idiot.

Raymond was pacing back and forth as he spoke on the phone. “Yes, sir, I do know that, sir,” he spun on his heel to look up at the map. “There are years that shouldn’t be there,” he resumed pacing. “I will stop him, sir.”

She was probably the only one who knew him well enough to recognize the strain of anxiousness in his voice. Reaching out, she patted him lightly on the shoulder as he hung up the phone and handed it to Jaeger.

“Doesn’t he understand he’s hurting the very people he’s trying to help?” he growled out to no one in particular, stomping away. Rose followed him back to their desks. He collapsed into his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. Sinking into her seat next to him, Rose eyed him worriedly. “They’re going to increase the taxes in the ghetto.”

“That’s to be expected,” she sighed wearily. That was what always happened, after all, when one Zone had more time that they should. The taxes went up enough to compensate. It wasn’t fair.

A lot of people in Dayton were about to either starve to death or time out. Salas wanted to help, that much was clear, but he never would be able to. Not like this. The government would strangle Dayton to death through taxes and hiked prices before they allowed the equality that Salas was hoping to achieve.

“I got that map drawn up that you asked for,” she said, hoping that would somehow raise Raymond’s spirits, if only a tiny bit. She pulled it up on her computer, zooming out so that they could see the entirety of Dayton, little marks pinpointed to each of the banks that Salas and Sylvia had hit recently.

“Where was the latest robbery?” he asked.

“Um, here,” she pointed.

“Hm,” he rested his chin on his fist, eyes narrowed at the screen.

“What?”

When he looked at her, she felt her stomach drop. There was a haunted look in his eyes that only ever crossed his face when he was recalling a very specific type of traumatic memory.

“I think that I know where they are.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Sir? They’re still there,” Kors spoke with a level of wonderment in his voice.

“How did you know, sir?” Jaeger asked. Rose glanced at Raymond’s face, fighting back the desire to tell them both to fuck off and leave them alone.

“This is where the hours in the days are,” Raymond spoke in a dead, detached voice that almost frightened her. She wondered if he was actually really there with them, or if he was lost in his own mind; reliving one of the horrid traumas he’d been forced to experience. “He’s paid them all off,” he checked his gun, weighing it in his hand. “And this is where I would hide.”

“Go get ready,” she ordered their companions, waiting until they’d retreated out of earshot before she took Raymond by the shoulders. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Ro.”

“No, you’re not,” she glanced warily at the dingy hotel across the street. He’d told her pretty much everything that there was to know about his past over the years. She could not even imagine the level of turmoil he must have been in, to be forced back here. He heaved out a sigh, resting his forehead against hers. “We’ll do this fast, in and out. I’ll be with you the whole time,” she knew better than to suggest that he just wait out there while she, Kors, and Jaeger went in to get Salas.

“I know,” he cleared his throat.

“I’ve got you.”

He nodded, once. She wanted to kiss him, but the last thing she wanted to do was trigger anymore terrible memories associated with this place. Instead, she just squeezed his shoulders firmly once.

“Let’s go.”

They split into groups, each of them searching the different levels. She and Raymond went one way while Kors and Jaeger went another. 

“Hey! Stop!”

Their heads snapped around at the shout from the other hallway, racing towards it. There was a boom of what sounded like a door being broken open, a shriek, and the crash of breaking glass. 

By the time they made it into the hotel room, it was to find Jaeger and Kors gathered at the broken window, staring after Salas and Sylvia. The pair had raced across the street, glancing back at them just before they rounded the corner, hesitating.

Without hesitation, Raymond hoisted himself up and through the window, jumping down to land on the car below. Rose sighed, and hurled herself after him, grunting as her feet hit the metal of the car’s roof.

The things that I do for you, Raymond…

She took off after him, only a few paces behind. They followed Salas and Sylvia down roads, twisting and turning, then into a narrow alleyway. Salas was fast, but he was clearly slowed down by Sylvia, who probably couldn’t run nearly as fast anyway, and certainly couldn’t keep up with those ridiculous heels on.

They climbed a ladder, and Raymond stopped for a brief moment, raising his gun.

“Stop! Stop!” he shouted, firing three shots at them as they scrambled across the ledge above. Climbing the ladder, they continued the pursuit across the rooftops. Raymond fired off another shot, and Rose tugged her gun from her holster, firing a little blindly as she continued to run. This time, Salas returned fire, and they both ducked, weaving to avoid his shots. It slowed them enough for Salas and Sylvia to make it to the edge of the roof.

They exchanged fire again, but this time, when Salas fired back, they had to duck for cover, Raymond’s hand flying out in an attempt to push her behind him.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “You?”

He nodded, turning to fire at Salas again, then ducking back behind their cover at another shower of gunfire. 

When they both popped out again with their guns raised, Salas and Sylvia had vanished from the roof. Rushing to the edge, they stared down at the drainpipe that the pair had clearly climbed down.

“Really?” she groaned. Holstering his gun, Raymond slid down it easily, waiting for her at the bottom. She climbed down about half way. “Oh, fuck it,” jumping, she huffed as he caught her with ease, her feet barely having been set down onto the ground before they were off again, racing down the road after Salas and Sylvia. She internally screamed when she caught sight of the bus that they were headed towards. 

No, no, no, don’t you even think about it–

Salas and Sylvia jumped onto the bus, and a moment or two later, the doors swung closed and it pulled away from the bus stop, driving down the road.

They skidded to a stop, watching it disappear silently.

“Fuck,” Rose groaned, stuffing her gun back into its holster, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. Raymond huffed, turning away from the bus and running a hand through his hair.

“You okay? Sure you didn’t get hit?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she sighed dejectedly. “I thought we had him.”

“Me too. Come here,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, letting her rest against him as her breathing evened out. “We should get back.”

Glancing up and around, she frowned. “I’m not climbing that drain pipe again.”

He snorted, taking her hand. “Come on.”

“We haven’t had to run like that in a long time.”

“It was kind of fun.”

“You’re bent.”

He laughed. “At least we now know that he likes hotels.”

Rose cocked her head. “You really think he would be stupid enough to still go to one after this?”

Raymond shrugged. “You never know.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Raymond tilted his head as he stared down at the bodies strewn out in front of them on the sidewalk. Four Minutemen, including their leader. Three of them shot, one of them timed out. 

“All the time he’s taken…” Raymond mumbled.

“Don’t you mean the time that he’s given away, sir?” 

Rose felt herself start at the defiance in Jaeger’s voice, pulling her eyes from the bodies to stare at him over her shoulder. Jaeger didn’t look at her, instead staring at Raymond’s back.

“Even to you,” he muttered. Raymond turned on his heel, striding forward until he was right in Jaeger’s face.

“I have given fifty years of my life to this job. I am not about to see those years go to waste,” he jerked his head. “Go on.” 

Jaeger shot him a look of deep seated contempt, turning away with Kors right behind him. Raymond went back to staring down at the bodies strewn out on the sidewalk. A crowd had gathered around them, staring. Sweeping his cold eyes over each individual, Raymond approached some of them. 

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but by tomorrow, you won’t have time to stand around.”

Giving one last look to the bodies of the Minutemen, Rose sighed. Price hikes were set to go into effect tomorrow. The cost of living raised to compensate for the sudden wealth that had recently been flooding Dayton. Boots thudding dully against the asphalt, she shoved her hands in her pockets as she headed towards the car.

“Jaeger,” she called to him before he could get into the driver’s seat of the car parked beside her and Raymond’s. He huffed, looking at her in annoyance. “What the hell was that about?”

Jaeger shrugged. “Salas is helping these people.”

“No. He’s just causing them to raise the price of living until the city either returns to being in poverty, or dies out.”

“At least he’s trying something. The way that things are run now…it’s not fair.”

Jesus. “Few things are Jaeger,” she tried to add a touch of sympathy to her voice. “But fairness isn’t our concern. You’ll drive yourself insane before you manage to fix this system,” an image, almost long forgotten, of her older brother’s face, flashed behind her eyes. She mentally recoiled from the memory as if it had burned her. “Trust me. I’ve seen it.”

“Nah. You just follow him. Blindly. Without ever even thinking for yourself.”

She had half a mind to bark at him for that. Or report him for insubordination. “Oh, believe me, Jaeger, my eyes are very much open. Go back to the base. Now,” she didn’t wait around for him to say anything else to her, opening the door to her car and sliding into the leather seat. Raymond joined her a minute later.

“At least we don’t need to worry about the Minutemen any longer,” she said, after they’d been driving for a while. Raymond grunted in response. “They got what they deserved,” she glanced over at him, but still he said nothing. “Don’t listen to Jaeger. He’s a child, he’s still got traces of that…idealistic, bright-eyed view of the world. It’ll get stamped out of him eventually.”

“The last thing we need right now is dissent in our own ranks.” 

“I know. We’ll just keep an eye on him from now on,” glancing back at him in time to watch him rub at his eyes, she raised her brow. “What’s going on, Ray?”

“You know…I do wish that what Salas was doing actually would help those people.”

“I know, babe.”

“I’m not some…some heartless monster who just wants people to suffer or, or starve, or time out…”

“Raymond,” she said firmly to pull him out of his spiral. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain or justify yourself to me.”

He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “The others don’t understand.”

“Most of them weren’t even alive when we crushed the first rebellion. They didn’t see what happened, what the rebels…became over time,” her eyes squeezed shut. Just for a moment. “They don’t realize how bad things can get with this shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What Salas and Sylvia are doing…it isn’t sustainable. They can’t just continue to go around, robbing banks and playing Robin Hood forever.” 

“No. They can’t,” his eyes glazed over as he stared at the road.

Frowning, she cupped the side of his head, kissing his cheek and nuzzling him with her nose. “You’re not a monster.”

He let out a quiet scoff. “Thanks, babe.”

She didn’t really think that he believed her.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The sound of the alarm beginning to blare sent his heart plummeting into his stomach. Rushing down the stairs into the main room of the base, he broke into a light jog, barely aware of Rose behind him.

“What was that?” he raised his voice. “What was that? Hey, what just happened?” the numbers on the boards displayed on the wall were changing too fast to be able to count.

“It must be a mistake. A million years just went off the clock in New Greenwich.”

“It’s not a mistake,” he said.

“It’s gotta be a mistake, sir,” Kors tried to reason.

“It’s not a mistake. Rose!?” he spun around, searching for her. He’d promised he wouldn’t go running off into danger without her again…

“I’m here. Let’s go,” she said, after he almost crashed into her when he turned. She’d been standing right behind him the entire time. “Kors, I want you all setting up roadblocks at all the exits of New Greenwich,” she ordered. Seizing her hand, Raymond broke into a run, hurtling out the exit doors and to their car. None of the other Timekeepers were with him. It was just her now. 

Jumping into the car, he brought the engine to life, roaring out of the parking lot. Rose clicked her seatbelt into place, fingers twisting anxiously with her braid.

They cruised around New Greenwich for hours, watching the sunrise steadily, higher and higher into the sky.

“Dispatch, wire me my per diem,” Rose said, sliding her hand into the silver ring.

“Time transfer,” an automated voice said. She watched the numbers count up, then removed her arm. 

“You should collect yours too.” 

“I will, in a second,” he promised. “Dispatch, what can you see?”

“There’s a lot of traffic in the vicinity,” a voice on the other end responded. 

“Alright, look for the slowest car,” he ordered. Then, more to himself, “you have a million years, you are definitely not in a hurry,” his eyes scanned over the roads. Again and again. Nothing. Pulling back the sleeve of his coat, he eyed the ticking numbers on his arm. “And wire me my per diem,” he said, again to dispatch. But before he could slide his arm into the silver mechanism, his eyes caught on something. “Wait! Never mind. I have them,” he spun the car into a U-turn, siren whooping to life as he floored the gas. “Give the order: shoot on sight,” it was time for the gloves to come off. No more games. 

“In New Greenwich? That’s against policy, sir.”

“So is having a million years leave the Zone,” he felt his jaw tense harshly, focused on nothing else than Salas’s car, barely even hearing as Rose called it into base on the radio. “Set that to the open channel, will you?”

“Sure,” there was a sudden shriek of static as she clicked a few buttons. They were approaching a roadblock on the way headed into Dayton. 

“That time cannot leave the Zone, shoot on sight!”

The Timekeepers open fired, but it did little more than create dents in the car’s paint. It blew right past them, smashing through the time check booth, and kept on going. Twisting the wheel expertly, he whipped past the other Timekeeper cars, following Salas into Dayton. They whizzed around a bend, and then at the last moment he made a right where Salas went straight.

“What are you doing?” Rose asked.

“Short cut,” his eyes narrowed at the road ahead, foot pressing more firmly to the accelerator. “Hold on,” the second that Salas’s car began to appear at the crossing, he floored it, sending the car hurtling forward, slamming into the side of Salas’s car with a scream of metal and a flash of sparks. Smoke billowed up from the two cars. Beside him, Rose was coughing and groaning.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hand falling to the back of her neck as she doubled over. She nodded weakly. Probably lying. From the way she was holding onto her side, he wondered if she’d cracked a rib or gotten the wind knocked out of her. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Ray, wait–!”

Shoving open the car door with his gun out, he tried not to stagger, holding it level to Salas and Sylvia. They both held up their hands in surrender. The street was busy, full of people beginning to make their way to the Timeline at the end of the street.

“You lost a lot of time, Mr. Leon,” Salas smiled at him smugly.

“Looks like you’re about out yourself,” Raymond growled.

“Time!” someone behind him hollered. Something was happening at the Timeline, but he couldn’t see with the crowd of people around them. And suddenly they were surging forward in a rush of bodies. 

“Move!” he tried to shove them out of the way, and in the moment that the people were between Salas, Sylvia, and him, the two criminals took off running. He tore after them, shoving people out of the way, trying to find a clean shot to take out at least one of them. But he couldn’t risk it. If he did, he might hit an bystander. 

I’m not a monster. 

“Move!” he shouted. All around him, there were people racing towards the Timeline at a furious pace. He was half worried that they were about to have a stampede on their hands. They had blocked his line of sight of Salas and Sylvia. He could only hope that he was still heading in the same direction as them. Towards the edge of the city. 

There was a Timekeeper car parked at the end of a block, the door open as the man inside looked about questioningly. “Get out!” Raymond roared, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and all but hauling him from the car, tossing him to the ground. “Get out!” he leapt into the driver’s seat, barely even managing to close the door before he was starting the engine and barreling down the road. 

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#raymond leon #raymond leon x oc #in time #rose mason #rose mason x raymond leon #my ocs #my fanfiction #fanfiction #until time stops

[annawayne]

2, 3, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 15, 16, 18, 20, 21, 23, 26, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34

Sry its a lot, I really love ur fics❤️

Oh my, it's okay, don't apologize! I'm just speechless that you want so many insights and so, so grateful for your interest, but I'm ready to give it all! Thank you so, so much!

2. How do you come up with your plot ideas?

It won't be a lie if I say they…just appear. The same works with my drawings - I never plan anything, I may just take a walk - and BOOM, the idea is born! The same works with the fics - ideas just keep swirling in my mind, until I get tired of them, catch them, and transform them into a fic :D For example, for MYLYSW the whole plot was born like, "Hm, okay, I see this scene, this scene, this, also this topic and this…let's write an outline not to forget anything!". It took me around 30 minutes to write down all the events I want to explore. It was basically a one-shot. Now, it's 7 chapters, and maybe 8 (because I may divide one into two). So, honestly… I feel like I could disappoint with this answer (because I don't have any cool method or insights to give advice on how to generate ideas), but all the ideas just popped up out of nowhere…

3. Are there any specific themes you enjoy exploring in your fics?

Yes, definitely. I guess, one of the most appearing themes in my stories is not to lose yourself in this life, or rather how to find yourself under all these circumstances, traumas etc. It's always a battle against your inner demons and how to handle them, or, maybe, how to lose against them. In any fic I wrote, it's always about a human in this drastic stream of life - in BMSS, it's a Lost Generation, the people who went through the horrors of WW1, in Neverland of (our) desires - it's about just two people who seek temporary salvation amongst the Apocalypse, even in Golden hour of our forevor, that is definitely one of the BRIGHTEST and CALMEST fic in my list- it's about how not to lose your love, yourself amongst the tight schedule and work. Oh, in MYLYSW…it's a very, very, very emotional thing, but it's how not to lose yourself after the tragedy, how not keep your love when some things that will be revealed later is between you, how…how to find the faith in the world and in yourself as well. It may be one of the most difficult stories I would ever write, even BMSS seems to me not so complex as this one, to be honest.

6. Do you prefer writing shorter, standalone fics or longer, multi-chapter stories?

I think, multi-chapters. They give me more places of exploration, and I don't know how to stop myself sometimes, so for me, it works better in long stories. Sometimes, of course, a one-shot is a perfect option, but some ideas don't really demand exploring them, it's enough for one, solid one-shot.

8. Do you have any rituals or habits that help you get into the zone?

Music. I usually have a playlist on loop or some song on repeat to give me the right mood. Well...and sometimes, I need a glass of wine to get into the mood :D Oh, well...it's not the ritual, but when I write I usually do some gestures with my hands as if...if I don't know, try to feel the words, the sentences? I just wave them smoothly like a conductor, when I formulate a sentence or reread it :D

9. Have you ever collaborated with someone else on a fic?

No, but I'm willing to do it!

10. What's your favorite part about the fic writing process?

O-o-o-h, I ADORE all this psychological mess that is across my text. Jumping words, formatting, sounds, I have so much fun to do it, and, to be honest, I love how chaotic looks my text!

11. Are there any tropes that you particularly enjoy writing?

I answered the similar question here :)

13. What's the most challenging aspect of writing fanfiction for you?

Hahaha-ha-ha-h... English. Well, partially? I'm not a native speaker and everything you see it's just my self-taught result, so sometimes I couldn't find the right word because in my native language, Ukrainian, it exists, and in English - no! So I try to break my mind sometimes...

15. Do you plan your fics or prefer to let the story unfold as you write?

Always planning. Since I love to play with themes, parallels, even titles (just peek at BMSS, and you already have some pattern that is important for the story :), it's essential to me to know the direction. I feel lost without proper map :D

16. How important is it to you to stay true to the original creator's vision while writing fanfiction?

It's VERY important to me. I love these characters not just because, but for what they are in canon. Explore them in Post-canon, in AU - is another interesting challenge to me, how to continue or adapt their traits into my story.

18. Are there any fics or authors that have been particularly influential or inspiring to you?

Oh, yes, yes. @distortedclouds, @moonspirit, @mimiwrites2000, honeyriot, Decoii, @dude-why-3, @annieleonhardt, niwakaame - I won't lie if I say I started writing because of their works in general (or was inspired for some particular stories in the process). As for the authors that also have an enormous influecen on me, all of them are my fav writers - Thomas Mann, Ivan Bahrianyi, Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky, Hanya Yanagihara, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Emily Brontë, Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, John Steinbeck, Marcel Proust.

20. How do you approach action sequences or intense moments?

30. How do you handle writing multiple storylines or subplots?

31. Do you prefer writing from a single character's perspective or switching between different viewpoints?

These ones you can find here :)

21. Have you ever used fanfiction as a way to explore your own emotions or personal experiences?

I guess, it's the only reason why I write in the first place :DDDDD

Everything you read - it's me and my attempts to live through some difficult emotions, times, feelings. In every word, it's me who hides behind them. Some metaphors are the result of my personal experience, some topics - what is eating me up. Every fic of mine is like a confession.

23. How do you write endings for your fics? Do you prefer open-ended or conclusive conclusions?

It depends on the story, but what I definitely like - it's when the ending is hitting you right in the heart. In a good way, in a bad - doesn't matter. It hits you, and you couldn't breathe for some minutes. I love this type of endings, open or conclusive - it's a matter of the story in general.

26. How do you approach plot twists or surprises in your fics?

Hm...to be honest... I don't know. For me, as an author, everything seems obvious, so I don't even really know how to answer this. But, well, if we talk about MYLYSW - the twists with memory-nightmare-memory was a non-linear narration and to make the reader think a few times "Oh SO IT IS LIKE THIS", only then to break this belief with another plot-twist. I hope, other twists would be also pleasant :3

33. How do you incorporate world-building elements into your fics?

29. Are there any characters, relationships, or general character dynamics you've never written about but would like to try?

I didn't really write (YET) the interactions between children, but I could tell you that in BMSS in future chapters there's this type of relationship, and oh man, I'm afraid :D But we would see what is going to be.

The same as I work with emotions - meticulous details. Starting from smells and clothes, and ending the authentic street names at that time or the popular food. And I wouldn't be humble here, but BMSS is literally a museum of 1920's Western Ukraine. Every single detail in this is researched, some of the place - even visited, a lot of photo-references, all my history books of this time - everything in work.

34. Are there any fic writing tips or tricks you've learned along the way that you'd like to share?

I would really, really love to share something, but the thing is I don't have any. But, maybe, what I truly think is a good advice - is to outline some things and to keep it in front of the eyes.

#answered ask #ask #ask game #aruani fanfic #aruani #bury me in the shadows of spring #my yellow light in your soft whispers #writing #my writing

[nitros-oxide]

Diaries from the Ship’s Depths

(( Alright, if you will indulge me for a little. Oxide being a parent is something that matters to me a lot, and I will perish on the hill that he takes it very seriously. So I wanted to write this one thing, focusing on various inner dialogues of him. Fun fact I wrote the first few paragraphs out and then accidentally went back a page and lost it, so I had to rewrite it. But I’m inspired, so I did this in one night. Enjoy. ))

Nitros Oxide's vessel. For years, he spent with it acting as his living space, as he gradually progressed with his life's path. Even when he made trips to Gasmoxia, he still found comfort in huddling all his family into one ship to drive across the cosmos. Truly, the royal vessel had to have many stories hidden on it, right? A bold leap to make, but it was Nitros Oxide - he was the type to mutter to himself about minor annoyances, his perfectionism was like no other, he definitely recorded every little thought.

Sure, this ship was likely to be used in his command for centuries onwards from this very point, but was it a possibility someone would just go looking for the many diary entries left by the monarch? Yes. It had to be ripe with dynasty secrets, his deep history and issues he needed to have checked out, but most of all... details to embarrass him with.

That's what a figure with a sharp, segmented hand thought as they reached towards the dashboard of the whole ship. They would save informing him of possibly removing all his diary logs for later, it was a miracle that for each bit of fine-tuning of his ship, he hadn't realized that. Only he would not consider that, they mused. Still, they came here for a certain subject matter that only the ship happened to document, that they could realistically obtain.

With the click of many buttons, they came across a specific date they were looking for. Conveniently, it was video and audio, giving the full experience. In the display, Oxide, while not looking any younger, appeared extremely fatigued. He was surrounded in cups of coffee, all throughout the cockpit, the eyes under his bags rather heavy. Besides for the addition of energy drinks, there was another object resting on top some buttons; a dark green egg.

"Diary entry number... oh good Smog who knows what number it is now. I should probably give these their own designation, I'll probably remember it better. Spawn Log 1. Hm. I don't really like the sound of it, but it works for now, not like anyone will know I've been living off of caffeine and adrenaline.

I had just returned from my home world, commencing what really some might think is foolish, but what else could I do? I'm not going to announce my return to Gasmoxia to an unwelcome public, not now... But I had to do this. My racing career will be taking a long pause, while I work on what I could do to be the best again... however, I put this off way too long. The future of Gasmoxia needed to happen, even if with my circumstances, I had to sneak on Gasmoxia to do that.

At least that shows initiative! Spoiled emperor Velo doesn't have to worry about all of this, but now I can say I had my heir before him, he won't step up to parenthood, let alone sneaking into the most guarded place on the planet to lay an egg. Heheheh... At least my spite towards him still makes me happy. Now I have to figure out what I'm going to do. End recording."

The figure smirked, entertained by it all. Maybe that was the wrong word, it was charming how calm he seemed, however that was mostly because he was tired. But they've seen him far more tired and anxious than that.

They clicked on a button, they needed to see more, their curiosity wasn't satiated yet. The next video featured the cockpit a lot more clean, but Oxide's caffeine addiction was still evident as he was curled up in his chair, holding the egg from the earlier video. It appeared larger, this time around.

"Spawn Log 2. What was I thinking, doing this? I'm living as a runaway on Earth, what kind of effect would that have on my offspring, in all regards! Well. In terms of environment, it hadn't seemed to effect them, which would be more of a concern if the climate were colder. But I'm surrounded in individuals I don't like or trust, on a planet I don't like! It would be far worse if I were somewhere more crowded, it's best I'm on these empty landmasses, but I'm not happy with it.

I can't be anywhere else in the galaxy, either I'm known by the inhabitants, or I'm in a hazard. While Mars is unoccupied, I rather not spend time there after what happened. No one else also has Earth sweets. Sigh. All these things I have to do, simply because I'm not setting foot on Gasmoxia. They don't need to experience my kind of upbringing... even if that means learning about Earth.

I've been just referring to my offspring as just their default pronouns, but they will need a name. Granted, right now they are just bits and pieces all coming together, but they need to hatch with a name. Not like the same incident with My Queen will happen and she names her children Oxide, Dioxide and Oxoide, but the minimal bit of preparation has to be done! ... Something will come to me. End recording."

More. Click. The video featured the main subject of these logs, except his head was turned behind him, staring at the door.

"Spawn Log 3. This will be a much more miniature entry... probably. I haven't really talked to any of the other inhabitants, but somehow, someone knows. It's the oval pink one, N. Trance. Making a joke about the egg being able to detect an egg is beneath me. I clearly forgot I was racing something I couldn't understand that was from a whole other dimension.

I probably wouldn't have known that he knew, but he's been sending me thoughts my way. I noticed it a few days ago, I hear this faint voice saying, "Name them Nitros Sylazide" over and over. I questioned it and I got a reply of "It's a good name!" so I knew it was him! He was still reading my thoughts because when I searched up why he would choose that, I told myself that was ingenious as well as a terrible pun, and he just said "Told ya so". This is what I have to deal with on these islands!

This is why I'm saying this out loud, because if I put it in this recording and not think about it, then he won't know I'm going with it. That's their name, Nitros Sylazide I. ... Curses, I didn't anticipate this feeling. Uh, end recording!"

So, that's how they got their name, the snoopy little nymph thought to themselves. Yeah, surprise, it was Sylazide learning all about this. They were aware of the whole pun with their name, but it wasn't their parent that came up with that. It was all still fascinating though, someone with his hard exterior embrace what he was doing, but only just realize the emotions it came with.

Before they could continue their snooping, they jumped upon hearing a ba-dum-tsh from their phone, giving them the notice of, well, a notification. "HEY PAR'S ALMOST BACK." A message from Iridium read. "thx lil dude" They responded with. Dang, they only likely had room for one more bit of diary entries. Better end it with the obvious last choice, their birthday.

The video displayed the usual sight of Oxide sitting at his cheer, but he was more backed up. He appeared stress, wearing the look of someone who was clearly holding back freaking out, and not hiding that fact well. He held his hands close to him as a small, brown insectoid clung to his leg, resulting in him frequently glancing at them.

"Spawn Log 10. Nitros Sylazide hatched. I... I should be happier. It's not as if I... regret it, it's more... guilt on my end. Let's just go down the list. They hatched missing a hind leg, they must have fused somehow and met inbetween where both hind legs would be. I don't know how that happened, I don't know what to do, is it my fault? Seeing them struggle with walking when they should have been able to just fine immediately... On top of that, they won't let me help them, they bite upon being touched.

At least their teeth and defensive instincts are fine, as well as they have these magnificent wings. But I can't assist them with flying. Perhaps... perhaps I made a mistake, bringing them alive in this environment, when I'm much older, living on my ship. Instead of wiping out stupid Mars, I should have focused on my royal duties."

"Oxy, don't blame yourself! Anything can happen with a child!"

"AH! My Queen, where did you come from?!"

"I've been here this whole time. Must've clicked on the button for answerin' calls on top of your little journals to yourself."

"So... you heard everything?"

"Mmhm! Oxy. It's normal to have anxiety. Parenthood is scary. Especially scary for us because it's practically all on us, genetics, raising, everythin'. It's easy to put that blame on yourself. But focusing on how you prove yourself to everyone, your special interest, your racing doesn't make you any lesser as a parent."

"But what about---"

"The leg? Yeah that happens, it ain't new to our dynasty! And don't blame it on traveling through space, or having to rush out of sneaking out of Gasmoxia. Or your age, you're in your late 600s, that's not bad, plus things work differently for us than they might with others.

"I suppose I can't argue with that."

"If you got any arguments, I'd love to hear it, and talk you out of doubting yourself! Be happy, you're a parent now, and your kid is doin' great otherwise! Look it's even climbing up your body."

"What----"

Oxide quickly turned his focus once more on his new nymph, hatchling Sylazide fluttering their wings before clinging onto his trunk. The present day heir laughed at this, only having heard about this habit of theirs from when they were very young.

"Aw, look at that! See, nothin' to blame yourself for, you are loved by them, no matter what. 'Sides, you only got one to deal with, I had to deal with three, and you and Dioxide were biters."

"My Queen, not now."

"This is just so cute though, I'm getting my phone, I'm making sure my computer records this as well, I need to cherish this memory! You probably should stay still though, you don't wanna scare them."

"Hmph. End recording."

Pleased with all that they saw, Sylazide pressed the right buttons to make sure everything was as they left it. Wait. They got a better idea. With a couple of clicks, a new diary entry began.

"Hey Par, you should try to extract these from the ship. Gotta preserve those memories, you know, in case they get destroyed. End recording."

#Muno Writes

[sixstepsaway]

I think another thing that gets lost is that the fight was over?? Izzy yells, Ed slams him against a wall. That's a genre-proportional reaction. If he'd cut off a toe during that scene it would have been an overreaction but could also be a heat of the moment thing. But to hours later decide to go to his room while he sleeps to cut off his toe and feed it to him is like?? Ed had time to think about and calm down he's not in fight mode.

God, yes. I don't think, for the genre and the situation (two grown and instinctively violent men, who partake in violence on a regular and lasting basis, whose core function is violence because of the lives they live) that Ed throatslamming Izzy into the wall was an overreaction. I also don't think that Izzy would come away from that with any level of trauma or concern that Edward might now be a threat to him. That didn't cross his mind. It was just a moment in time, much like Edward punching him in 1x09. A deserved and measured reaction to Izzy being a li'l bitch.

It's probably happened before. Izzy was probably very confused something like that didn't happen in 1x04 when he did his tizzy, and was probably disappointed too, because if they fight they can let out their feelings like Men, rather than emotionally like Stede Bonnet, and then they can process and move forward!

And if Edward had fought Izzy, it likely would have continued into a real fight, and then it would have concluded after that fight had ended, and the two of them could think about what they said and did.

But instead, they both cooled down, as you said, calm down, approach from a distance, pull their shit together...

Izzy goes to bed, curls up, closes his eyes. He's fast asleep, peaceful, safe. It's over.

Edward cuts off his toe.

That is a premeditated, horrifying and callous and thought through and an absolute overblown reaction. I even feel like he brooded on it and that made it worse rather than him thinking about it. Most people think about things and go, "Hm, maybe that person has a point, but they were a bit shitty about it ha!"

Edward went, "Fuck this guy!" with his whole chest, to the point he committed further, premeditated violence against him hours and hours later.

Holy shit.

I can only imagine that Izzy accidentally smacked a trigger in his rant, one even he didn't expect, and that's what's going on and why Ed is still in this headspace hours later, but that does not excuse or justify what Ed did, even if Izzy did hit a specific trigger.

Izzy could have mouthed off about Ed's father and how Ed had deserved what his father did to him because of him being a ponce right now, and Izzy still would not have deserved being permanently maimed, and you can fight me out back about that if you want but I'm right, there is no mitigating or justifying circumstances for what Ed did here, and for everyone who argues about sexual assault being something with no justifying reason, and no purpose, and being a moral event horizon and no one ever deserves it, this is under that same umbrella of pointless violence that is solely and wholly a way of wielding power over someone else, punishing, and torturing.

#izzy hands #izzy hands meta #edward teach #edward teach meta #ofmd #ofmd meta #our flag means death #ask #anonymous

[dollythesheepp]

Endless Forms Most Beautiful, Chapter 7.

You can read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39467289/chapters/105647448

Janis doesn't think much of it at first. Not until the road starts looking familiar. Her panic begins to grow like wildfire as Heather dodges a pothole, then drives past a large sideroad tree followed by a 'No Trespassing' sign; the same places Janis drove days prior, with a dead person inside the car.

The closer they get to the scene, the more desperate Janis becomes because she knows what to expect, and she has no clue as to how she will explain to Heather and the police why there's a woman identical to her buried on the ground. The thought of jumping out of the car crosses her mind more than once, but she shoves the idea and the evergrowing dread deep down inside of her. Heather parks the vehicle next to two police cars. That night, the place was empty, except for Janis and Edith Becker's dead body; this time, however, there are people everywhere.

"Something wrong?" Chandlers pick up on her distress.

"No, I'm fine," Janis answers back, the words coming out choked as she tries to swallow down the lump in her throat. She tries to keep her expression nonchalant even though inside of her, her guts are roilling. Janis follows Heather's lead and walks out of the car, her steps heavy as if she has a bucket of cement stuck on each foot. She gives the scene a once over in search of a camera hidden in a light pole or a tree, but to her relief, she doesn't find anything. In the dark, and with worry clouding her senses, Janis had failed to notice the large pit just meters away from her, but in daylight, it was hard to miss it. The rustling of the mining machinery mixes up with the rustling of the cops as they run around like worker ants, taking pictures and dodging the yellow tapes that barricade the scene.

Both women stop at the edge of the pit, next to a tall, lanky man with a camera in his hand. "Good, you're here. And look who's back!" he ht, them, last part regarding Janis specifically. Clipped to the pocket of his dark brown blazer is an ID card with the name Andrew McCord and Coroner Investigator written under his very unflattering picture.

"Thanks," she says. She follows Heather's and McCord's gaze to the dumpsters on the bottom of the pit, there are three of them total, and in each of them people are digging through the mountain of dirt and gravel; Janis doesn't understand what they're looking for exactly until one of them fishes out a severed arm.

"The body is chewed up pretty badly," McCord says matter of factly. "And we also found tire prints over there," he points his dainty finger to a spot on the road, where Janis had taken off with Veronica's car.

"Reconstructing the face is gonna be a bitch," Heather says. Janis feels a pang of relief when she realizes that there's a chance Edith's face will be unrecognizable, but that goes away quickly. Even in those circumstances,  they have enough of her body to get her DNA and find a connection between her and Janis; that is if what Denise and Lizzie told her is true, Janis is still having a hard time coming to terms with human clones.

Janis excuses herself from the conversation to make a phone call. Denise doesn't pick up so she Janis her luck with Cady Heron instead, who picks almost immediately.

"Hi, Janis," she says.

"Hi, can I ask you a question?"

"Hm, sure."

"If the whole clone theory is true, does that mean that our fingerprints match?" Very aware of the other people near her, Janis tries to speak as softly as she can while still being able to be heard by the other girl.

"They wouldn't be identical but could be close enough to flag a match, yeah. Why?"

"Because the police found Edith Becker," Janis tells her. "Part of her, at least."

"Part of her?" Cady repeats confused.

"I messed up when I buried her and now they have fingerprints," Janis explains, sparing Cady of the gorier details and the ones that make Janis look like an idiot.

"Wait, are you being Veronica right now?"

"Yes, I'm at the goddamn crime scene pretending to be a goddamn cop, so I need to know if the goddamn fingerprints will flag a goddamn match!"

"Whoa! Ok! Don't freak out," Cady tries to calm her, but from the tone of her voice, it's clear she is just as worried. "Edith was german so they're gonna need Interpol for this. Now if one of you has a criminal record, then that would make things a lot easier for them," there's a pregnant pause on Janis' part and Cady is quick to notice it. "Wait, do you have a criminal record?"

"Just petty fraud, assault, whatever..." Janis grimaces, thinking back about her wasted youth and how it has come to bite her in the ass once again. Because if the body matches, the police will see a picture of somebody named Janis Sarkisian who looks like Veronica Sawyer, but Janis Sarkisian is already supposed to be dead.

"Shit," Cady says.

"That is not helpful!" Janis tugs at her hair as she fails to contain her desperation. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know... but they can't run prints instantaneously so you still have some time."

"How much time?" Janis asks. Cady takes a second to answer.

"Bring me the briefcase and we'll talk."

***

When Janis arrives at the bar that night, Cady is already there. She's seated at one of the stools, with a drink in front of her, gazing at the other customers without much interest. Janis greets her with a quick smile and sits on the stool next to her, the briefcase is on her lap and Cady's eyes go straight to the object. "I said I'd bring it, but I want answers first."

"That's fair," Cady nods her head. "If I found out I was a clone I would have millions of questions."

There's that word again. The word Janis can't stop thinking about since it was first mentioned the night before. Not twins, not relatives that coincidentally look alike, not doppelgangers who found each other thanks to a glitch in the matrix. Human clones.

"You're all set on this theory aren't you?" Janis mumbles. "I don't even know if I believe that."

"How many more women do you have to meet?" Cady questions her with one raised eyebrow. Janis winces, remembering how unpleasant all of those meetings were.

"God, seven is enough."

Cady chuckles. "I'm really glad you called, Janis," she says. Under the dim light of the bar, her dark blue eyes appear to be almost violet, and for some reason, Janis can't stop staring at them.

"It was either you or Denise," she shrugs. She had thought about calling Lizzie instead but then remembered she had said she would be in Long Island, so Cady was the next best thing. "I figured you would be less likely to yell at me."

Cady gives her an apologetic smile. "Don't let Denise bother you, she is not usually this bitchy. There's just a lot going on."

"Like Veronica's suicide and the fact that someone is killing us?" Janis asks. The mood surrounding them is suddenly heavier as they are reminded of the reason for their meet-up. A sorrowful expression takes over Cady's face and she nods yes with her head, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"Do you know who?" Janis leans in closer to her, begging with her eyes for whatever Cady can give her. She hates feeling this lost, as if she was thrown into the dark, bumping and stumbling around blindly for answers to questions she never pictured she would have until a week ago. "Or why?"

"No, I don't," Cady adjusts herself on the stool, she ditches her laid-back position, with her elbows on the bar counter and her head leaned on one of her hands to face Janis completely. Their eyes meet again but this time Cady wears a much more serious expression on her face. "Everything started around 10 months ago when Edith Becker contacted Veronica with this crazy story about her genetic identicals being hunted down in Europe."

"Hunted?" Janis echoes, shivers running down her spine when the word comes out of her mouth.

"All murdered within weeks from each other. Edith thought there would be more of them in other continents and feared they were in danger too," Cady continues. "So Veronica used this facial recognition software to find driver's licenses across the US, and she got two matches."

"Lizzie and Denise."

"Yep. So she reached out to them and told them what she knew at the time."

"And how exactly do you fall into the mix?" Janis asks with furrowed brows. Then quickly adds: "No offense."

"I'm just a friend. I met Lizzie in college, we were both microbiology majors," Cady explains, she doesn't appear to be upset by the question. "But then she quit starting a band with her friend Genie."

"So you're the scientist Edith told me about?"

"Yes. Well, Ph.D. student. Immunology," Cady says enthusiastically. Janis gets the feeling that if given the chance she would rant about that for a long while. "I don't know if you know this but Edith was very sick."

"Yeah, I got that when she started coughing up blood in front of me."

"She was having respiratory problems, and she said Maya Wagner, one of the clones she knew, was showing the same symptoms before she was killed, so Edith was worried the disease could be genetic," Cady continues. "That's when Lizzie asked for my help because they didn't trust anyone else to give their genetic material to. But it was hard to give them answers when I didn't know what to look for, so eventually, they told me everything."

"But they have no clue as to who is behind the murders?" Janis asks. "Or who created us?"

"No," Cady replies. "Not Lizzie or Denise, at least."

Janis narrows her eyes at that. "Do you think Veronica knew?"

Cady averts eye contact, choosing to look at her sneakers instead like she said something she shouldn't have. "I don't know, I'm just speculating. But Veronica didn't tell the girls everything. I only met her in person a few times but she kind of took the role of their protector, you know? I don't think she wanted that to happen but it did," she says. "She was smart, resourceful...they trusted her a lot. They had this sort of childish, naive way of thinking that she could handle everything."

"But that wasn't true at all..." Janis says, more so to herself than to Cady. The woman Janis met at the train station looked far from someone who had everything handled. Janis will never be able to forget how broken she looked.

"No, it wasn't. As the months went on she got really unstable, she would disappear for days, wouldn't answer their calls, and she only got worse after the shooting in September," Cady says. "But still she was the closest thing they had to real answers. She was a cop, she had tools. But now we lost her so however, you managed to get into her shoes, we really need you to stay there."

"Keep being a cop to help your friends?" Janis asks with a raised brow.

"To help all of you."

"How? I'm not a cop! Veronica's partner is going to figure that out," Janis says exasperatedly. "Being her is what got me into this mess in the first place."

"I understand that," Cady says. "But you have to understand that you can't run away from her. From any of them. You have a connection to them whether you want to or not. You're the one who's in trouble here because your DNA will match whatever piece of DNA they find from Edith."

"So you're saying I need to tamper with the case somehow?" Janis says, starting to think along the same lines as her.

"I think that's your only option."

They stay in silence after that, Janis still has dozens of questions rushing inside her brain but she doesn't think she can handle hearing the answers just yet. So instead, she focuses on finishing her drink as she takes in the ambiance.  She enjoys the atmosphere of the bar, the smell of greasy food, and the murmurs of the people talking around them, mixed with the '90s songs playing in the background. If not for the reason that brought them there, the night would have been very pleasant. Janis gulps down the last drops of her beer. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure, anything!"

"If those other girls and I are genetically identical," she starts, her fingers running up and down the wet, and now empty, beer cup. "Do you think they also get this little patch of dry skin between their eyebrows like I do?"

Cady takes a few seconds to realize she's joking. When she does, her pink lips spread into a smile, the corners of her blue eyes wrinkling. "That's funny," she chuckles. "Try to keep up your sense of humor, Janis. Veronica couldn't."

***

The coffee at the police station is terrible. On her very first hour on the job, Janis felt the need for some caffeine as the sleepless nights and the boring paperwork —because apparently being a detective isn't just exhuming dead bodies in the woods eight hours a day and Hollywood lied to her— started to take a toll on her. So she gets up from her chair and walks over to the coffee station to get a cup for herself, she offers one to Heather as well but she declines it, and Janis understands why when she takes the first sip of the stale, flavorless drink. Wincing from the taste lingering on the sides of her tongue, she reaches out for the packets of sugar in an attempt to make it at least drinkable, and that is when someone collides with her, making her spill all of the drink on the boring pale blue blouse and the even more boring shoes she is wearing.

"Oh, man!" the guy says when he realizes what he's done. He ended up spilling some of it on himself too, and now his shirt is speckled with little brown spots. That makes Janis feel a little less angry. "I'm sorry!"

"It's ok..." Janis mumbles as she tries to mitigate the damage with a napkin.

"First week on the job and I'm already making a bad impression..." he chuckles, scratching his neck in embarrassment. "I'm such an idiot."

"It was an accident, don't worry," she says, starting to feel bad for the guy who looks mortified. When she gets back to Veronica's desk, she tells Heather about the incident when the latter questions the big stain on her shirt.

"That's Kurt Kelly, the new IT guy," Chandler says with an eye roll. "A fucking moron. And they said he was the smartest one on his last job."

"Yeah but that's probably like being the tallest dwarf," Janis says, earning a snort on Chandler's behalf.

"I booked us for an hour at the range for tomorrow, 4 p.m" Heather changes the subject.

"The range?" Janis blinks.

"Shooting range," Chandler clarifies as if it's obvious. "You're probably rusty as shit after all this time. What do you say?"

"Sure, that would be tits," Janis only realizes what she says after the words have already gotten out of her mouth. She kicks herself mentally as Chandler looks at her with a muddled expression on her face. "I, hm...I mean great. Obviously. Sorry..."

"God, can you get any weirder, Sawyer?" Heather says with an eye roll, but there's a small hint of a smile there.  "By the way, McCord gave me something about our Jane Doe. There's an entry and exit wound on her skull."

"A shooting, then?" Janis feigns innocence. "What about the fingerprints?"

"I don't know, check with the crime lab."

It takes her a while but eventually, Janis finds the crime lab, thanks to a guy named Rodney who works with IT and helps fake Veronica settle in on the job, resetting her password and remembering where some things are; Janis uses the excuse that thanks to the fact that she's been gone for so long plus the PTSD from the shooting are making her brain all fuzzy and she's been having trouble remembering details; the poor guy falls for it hook, line and sinker. The woman who works at the crime lab tells Janis she hasn't checked the fingerprints yet and when she isn't looking Janis manages to get into her inbox and delete it, then does the same thing to her file. It's not a permanent solution, not by a long shot but it might give her some time until she can figure out something else.

That same afternoon Lizzie Pagnetti calls her from Long Island to see how things are going. "Cady told me about the body. Did you scrape the results of the fingerprints?" she asks.

"Yes, for a while anyway," Janis tells her. "But I still need help. I'm lost in here, Heather is going to see right through me. She wants me at a shooting range tomorrow and I've never fired a gun before."

"I think I know someone who can help you with that."

***

And that is how, thanks to Lizzie's crazy idea, Janis spends her morning shooting targets with Denise.

Janis aims the gun at the empty soda can one more time and shoots, the weight of the object becoming less strange to her with each try. Denise tells her that although most city cops carried Glocks, a Walther P99 was easier because it had an optional size handgrip. Good for women, according to Veronica.

"Especially women living their lives like rats in a lab," Denise adds offhandedly.

"Is that what you think?" Janis says gathering the fallen soda cans to throw them out.

"What else would it be?" Denise asks but doesn't wait for an answer. "My guess is that someone is covering up their illegal experiments by wiping us out."

"Is that why you asked Veronica to teach how to use these?" Janis questions as she stares at the gun in her hand. Now that the shootings are over, a pleasing silence takes over the ambiance, nothing but the leaves shaking on the trees as background noise for their conversation.

"I have to protect my family somehow," Denise says as she takes off her safety ear muffs and shooting glasses and adjusts her hair with her hands. "I'm grateful to Veronica for giving me that."

Janis takes Cady's words into consideration during the two hours she spends with Denise. And just like her, Denise had to deal with her entire life being turned upside down while trying to leave her family unscathed by it all and the one person she thought could help her deal with it is dead. She is not the easiest person to deal with, which became clearer during their interaction but at the end of the day, she is just as scared and upset about all of this as Janis.

"I'm sorry you lost her," Janis says with a sad smile. "But anything you can tell me about her will help."

"I fail to see how someone like you could fill her shoes," she says, instantly making Janis regret the nice things she thought about her. Janis pretends she doesn't hear the comment.

"Cady said you admired her a lot," is what she says instead. She tries to tame down the hair strands that keep wiping her in the face thanks to the wind.

"I did. She was discreet, didn't pry, and she didn't bring her foster brother into my house," Denise says with one eyebrow raised and a very characteristic expression of a mom reprimanding a child —Janis is very familiar with those.

"I didn't know the rules of clone club did I?" Janis mocks her, she's beginning to find a lot of enjoyment in riling her up like this.

"Could you not say that, please?" Denise grimaces. "We need to find a better word for that."

When they're done, Denise drives her home in her minivan and Janis spends the entire ride gazing at her from the rearview mirror. She should be used to it by now. But staring at her own face on someone else, all those different versions of her still give her an eerie feeling.  

"So we decided to trust you, Janis," Denise breaks the uncomfortable silence. "I hope we are making the right decision."

"You are," Janis assures her. She hopes that too.

"Good, because if you're taking over her duties for now there is something you should know," Denise begins. "Veronica had a... substantial sum, let's put it at that. Sort of a fund she used to buy information we couldn't get officially. She and Lizzie had their roles in this endeavor, and the fund was how I could contribute."

As she speaks the cogs inside Janis' brain start turning. "How much money are we talking about?"

"Seventy-five thousand," Denise confirms her supposition. Seventy-five thousand that are most likely hidden inside Heather's bedroom or any other place a demon queen like her sleeps. Janis decides not to mention that to Denise. "You could rob me blind," her clone continues. Janis can't help but wince at the irony. "But we are hoping you realize you can't run away from this."

***

"Damn," Heather stares at the paper target with amusement, the silhouette of a man with eight bullet holes in his body now, including two to the head. Proudly, Janis lowers the weapon. Not bad for someone who learned how to do this in a day. "Must be your little girl gun."

"Just admit it, I'm awesome," Janis says in a cunning tone.

"In your dreams, pillowcase," Heather scoffs.

"McCord told me they found two sets of tires at the crime scene, motorcycle and car," Janis says.

"Yeah, and shattered glass on the ground, so the victim was probably the one in the car and the bullet broke the windshield.  But if that's the case, then there had to be at least three people there," Heather muses over. Janis swallows dryly but doesn't utter a word. "The killer is on the motorcycle but then what? Does he have an accomplice who drives the victim to the quarry? Or the victim has a driver who doesn't go to the police, panics, and half-ass buries the body?"

"The body dump doesn't match the professional hit," Janis plays along.

"Exactly."

Their conversation is interrupted by Chandler's phone ringing. Janis picks up the words stolen and Lawndale.

"They spotted a stolen Suzuki," Heather says after she hangs up the phone. "It's a long shot but we might as well see if the tires match."

They find the motorcycle parked beside an apartment building. The owner of the building, an old woman who lives on the first floor tells them that her only tenant, who lives on the second floor, hasn't been home since the night before, so Heather and Janis go investigate. They knock on the door a few times but no one responds, and the lights are out. Janis puts her hand on the doorknob and realizes the door is unlocked; she lets herself in despite Heather's protests, who eventually follows her, both women with their guns in hands.

Janis waves her lantern around the living room until she finds a light switch. The house looks straight out of a horror movie, so much that Janis can't help but glance behind her every two seconds, scared that someone will jump on her with a butcher knife. They roam around the small place, still dark and eerie even with the lights on, and take notice of everything in it; there is a heap of clothes thrown at the sofa, a trash can in the kitchen overflowing with garbage, and creepy bibelots and porcelain dolls decorating every inch of the house. But what catches Janis' attention is the quote written in cursive letters on the hallway wallpaper.

"Woah."

"Did you find something?" Heather asks, joining her in the hallway.

"For you created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made," Janis reads it aloud. She has never been a very religious person but that smells like a bible verse to her. She exchanges a puzzled glance with Heather, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

"Sounds like we're dealing with someone with deep spiritual problems," Heather says.

Then, it happens. Everything unravels so fast, Janis barely has time to process it. All it takes is one last look at the window, and that's when she sees the gun pointed at them. The next thing she knows, Heather and her are on the floor. She opens her eyes and scans her body for any injuries but she's fine, no pain. Which means the blood on the floor isn't hers.

"Heather!" Janis crawls towards the other woman, who's cursing and clutching her hands to the back of her head, right behind her ears, blood running down her fingers and her arms. "Shit, shit, shit! Are you ok?"

"I'm fine!" she says through her teeth ad relief washes over Janis. The bullet had only grazed her, but still, it probably hurt like a bitch. "Go after him! Go!"

Still in shock, Janis obeys. She sprints out of the apartment, ignoring the wobbling on her legs, and out on the street. She spots the person a few meters away, climbing on the stolen Suzuki and disappearing, the dark hoodie he wears now just a blur to Janis, who runs after him despite knowing well enough she will never catch him by foot. Her lungs start to burn, and her legs beg for her to stop but she doesn't. The person turns into a corner, Janis sprinting as fast as she can to follow him but when she gets there, he's already gone.

Panting and with spots blurring her vision she looks at the rowhouses surrounding her as she tries to spot him again, to see if maybe he is hiding in one of the abandoned-looking houses. Suddenly, there's a loud thud followed by a burning, sharp pain on the back of Janis's head that sends her to the floor, her face collides with the hard concrete. She rolls over to see the figure staring, standing in front of her, a steel bar in his hand.

Fear takes over Janis's entire being and she finds herself unable to move, her heart beating fastly on her chest and her ears ringing. The figure kneels beside her. His hoodie and a black mask covers the majority of his face, so all Janis can see are angry brown eyes and brows knit together, but they are enough to terrify her.

"P-please..." Janis tries to say.

The person takes out a knife from their oversized coat and runs the cold blade up and down Janis' wet cheek with amusement, and the other hand starts to caress her hair.

"It's time to pay for what you did," the person says. Janis' panic and the throbbing pain in her head doesn't allow her to take notice of the female voice or her heavy accent. All she can focus on is them raising the knife and aiming for her chest. "Good riddance, Veronica Sawyer."

"I'm not Veronica!" Janis yells in an attempt to spare her life. Instantly, the person lowers the knife, eyes wide open. Then, the mask and the hoodie are gone and Janis is left staring at herself for what feels like the thousandth time. This one, with wild curly brown hair, cranes her head at Janis like a confused child. She runs her fingers up and down Janis's face, her nose, lips, her chin...

"What did you say?" she asks in a thick accent. "Who are you?"

While the woman stares flabbergasted at her, Janis stretches her hand out for the steel bar the woman was previously holding and without allowing herself to think twice, sticks it on her stomach. The woman widens her eyes and moans in pain. The looks down at her coat, blood turning the green fabric a dark red color, then back at Janis.

"Not now, not-Veronica..." the woman says. She stumbles a few times but manages to reach her motorcycle, then rides off.

Janis sits up, still trembling and sobbing. Her head is bleeding and a million thoughts run around her head. She catches sight of the knife her attacker —her clone— had almost killed her with, she dropped it after Janis impaled her. Janis crawls towards the object and grabs it. The shiny blade is attached to a wooden handle, almost as big as Janis' hand; on said handle,e there is carved a figure of a winged fish. She had never seen anything like that before. She stores the object on the jacket and gets up.

She needs to check if Heather is ok.

***

"I didn't see his face, he hit me from behind," Janis explains her version of the incident to the lieutenant. She presses the ice pack against her sore lip, which she accidentally bit into when she fell face first on the floor. Lieutenant Gowan takes a drag of his cigarette and runs a hand through his graying hair, still pissed at what Janis and Chandler did. He turns to face Heather.

"You two are trying to turn my ulcer into a heart attack," he says. "How the hell were you two on this without backup?"

"Please, it was just a flimsy lead on a stolen bike," Heather says. She was seen by a paramedic who confirmed the bullet had only grazed at the back of her neck, and now part of her red hair was covered by a white bandage. Janis still thinks that Heather is a bitch but she's glad she didn't die.

"And it sure hit," Gowan answers back. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Yes," Heather dismisses him. "I'm fine. I just need a shower and an early start so we can catch this guy."

They leave the police station in silence, the fact that there had been a big change of both of them dying mere hours earlier —if Heather had been a few inches closer to the barrel of the gun, or if the killer hadn't believed Janis when she said she wasn't Veronica —hangs heavily above the two women.

"I never should have told you to go after him," Heather whispers.

"Of course, I was gonna go after him. This isn't your fault."

"This shit happens fast. Don't worry," Janis says as they reach their respective cars parked on the sidewalk.

Chandler wavers, like she's debating whether she should say something else or not. She opens the trunk of her car and takes out of it a brown paper bag that Janis recognizes instantly. "It's all here. Sorry, I held it over you. Guess I owe you one."

"No, we're even now," Janis says, clutching the money like she's afraid it will disappear again. "Thanks, Heather."

"See you in the morning."

Janis waves Heather goodbye and gets inside the car. She looks down at the bag of money on her lap. Seventy-five thousand dollars. She had made so many plans with the cash, but now that she knows the truth behind it, none of them feel right. This is supposed to be like a win to her, she should be feeling ecstasy; but all she feels right now is guilt gwaning inside her stomach. Because of them. She can't steal the money and abandon her clones like this.

Denise is right, they really need to find another word for that.

#heathers #heathers the musical #Heather Chandler #heather duke #heather mcnamara #mean girls #Mean Girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #Veronica Sawyer #jason dean #janis ian #janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janisxcady #cadnis #Regina George #gretchen wieners #karen smith #damian hubbard

[deedpolluk]

Deed Poll: Your Gateway to Legal Recognition in the UK

In the dynamic landscape of legal documents, few hold as much power and significance as a deed poll. Especially in the United Kingdom, where its acceptance by the government is crucial for individuals seeking to change their name or gender identity. Understanding the ins and outs of this legal instrument is paramount for anyone considering such a change. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the intricacies of deed poll and its acceptance by the UK government, addressing common questions and concerns along the way.

What is a Deed Poll?

A deed poll is a legal document used primarily for the purpose of officially changing a person's name. It is a solemn declaration made by the individual, affirming their intention to abandon their former name and adopt a new one. In the UK, a deed poll is recognized as evidence of a name change and is widely accepted by various institutions, including government bodies, banks, and educational establishments.

Is Deed Poll Accepted by the UK Government?

Yes, deed polls are accepted by the UK government as evidence of a change of name. This acceptance extends to official documents such as passports, driving licenses, and bank accounts. However, it's essential to ensure that the deed poll is executed correctly and meets the requirements set forth by government agencies.

How to Create a Valid Deed Poll?

To create a valid deed poll, certain criteria must be met. Firstly, it should state clearly that the individual intends to renounce their former name and be known by the new name specified in the document. Additionally, it must be signed and witnessed in accordance with legal requirements. While there are templates available online, it's advisable to seek professional guidance to ensure compliance with all legal standards.

Who Can Apply for a Deed Poll?

Any individual who is 16 years of age or older and is a citizen or resident of the UK can apply for a deed poll to change their name. Minors under the age of 16 may also change their name through deed poll, but the consent of all those with parental responsibility is required.

Are There Any Restrictions on Name Changes?

While the process of changing one's name via deed poll is relatively straightforward, there are certain restrictions in place. For example, names that are deemed offensive or misleading may be rejected. Additionally, changing one's name for fraudulent purposes is illegal and can result in legal consequences.

How Long Does It Take for a Deed Poll to Be Accepted?

Once a deed poll is executed correctly, it is typically accepted immediately by most organizations and government agencies. However, processing times may vary depending on the specific institution. For instance, updating a passport or driving license may take several weeks, whereas changing a name with a bank can often be done within a few days.

Do I Need to Notify Government Departments of My Name Change?

While there is no legal requirement to notify government departments of a name change, it is advisable to do so for official documentation purposes. This includes updating records with HM Passport Office, DVLA, and HM Revenue & Customs, among others.

Can I Use a Deed Poll to Change My Gender Identity?

In addition to changing one's name, deed polls can also be used to officially change gender identity in the UK. This process involves a similar legal framework and is recognized by government agencies. However, individuals seeking to change their gender identity may also need to provide additional documentation, such as a Gender Recognition Certificate, depending on the circumstances.

In conclusion, a deed poll is a powerful legal instrument that facilitates name changes and, in some cases, gender identity changes in the UK. Its acceptance by the government underscores its importance in official documentation and identity recognition. By understanding the process of creating a valid deed poll and navigating its acceptance by various institutions, individuals can successfully embark on their journey towards a new identity with confidence and legal validity.

#Deed Poll Accepted by the UK Government

[backjustforberena]

oh yeah!! yeah i’m on board with what you said in both posts! the rib plates are something i didn’t consider but make a lotta sense

yes okay you made several good points

bernie being found by people who aren’t looking for her and wouldn’t recognise her makes much more sense, for some reason the only way i’d conceived her being found is by the british army making some type of advancement/counter attack toward some group of people and discovering a prisoner/captive/unwilling intern, taking her in with them to give her medical aid, and then having someone (in medical probably) who recognises her/ thinks she looks remarkably similar to a major they knew/heard had passed away.. decides to ask around, hears there was no body, and goes hm. interesting. and then, well we know what happens after that

and a good week or two of barely-consciousness would do wonders for her body to start healing without her impatience getting her to overstrain herself trying to do something before she’s ready, but also prevent the worst of the pain getting to her. comas aren’t particularly restful states to be in, but even one of those might help. maybe. depending on depth of her injuries, and the length of the coma itself i suppose; not being conscious during the first month and thus avoiding arguably the worst and most finicky of the healing would be great for her pain, but then she runs the risk/fall out of further muscle atrophy, from lack of use now, as a posed to over use and malnutrition. which is Not good for her energy and mental state/need for independence. also i think, while unpleasant as fuck, it’d be good for herself so see how bad she was while no longer in the situation that made her bad. to see her own growth, and body healing from the worst of it would help her actualise just how work she’s gonna have to do to get her body back to being healthy. i think if she skips the worst of it, taking things slow and steady is going to be even harder for her. that’s not to say it would in any circumstance be easy, just possibly easier. because then she’ll have both ends of the spectrum in knowing her health and abilities.

damn my inability to be anything over than long winded strikes again. so yeah good posts, thanks for sharing YOUR thoughts, i love your tags on things they’re really cool to read

I'm not going to lie to you, anon, the rib-plating for me is poetic. I chose that not just because it would be a probably injury/surgical intervention that Bernie would have to go under, but because that was the very same sort of surgery that Bernie performs with Serena in the episode "Missing You Already", in which Serena says: you're in your element. And it ends up with Serena going to Hanssen for a trauma bay. I liked the idea of a procedure that Bernie knows intimately being a way to save her, and it all ties up with Serena.

I hope you don't think I'm discounting any thoughts or headcanons you've had so far. I love hearing about everyone's different ideas to canon, and there's totally nothing to say that she couldn't have been found by someone who would ultimately recognise her. I do think it's important to remember though, that for Bernie, a body was found. It was the wrong one, obviously, but Cameron gets ashes and therefore she is properly thought of as dead.

Moving on, I don't know much at all about medically induced comas, I'm just remembering the sort of thing I've seen on TV. Specifically, Fletch, when he came around. And yes, being bedbound would help. She'd be very weak and not only from her injuries that she sustained but the surgery she'd have undergone (which she had no part in planning as she was too far gone and it was an emergency - a far cry from the total control she had over her time on Darwin). I think the priority would be on Bernie getting to a state where she was strong enough and then to a point where she wasn't overtaxing her body.

There must be a moment though, where she really, truly understands what her body has gone through. After all, she'd have new scars to add to the mix. If we're going with my headcanons from my post, that's multiple ones along her side. Bruising. It'd hurt to move her jaw/cheek because of a fracture there (again, another reason it might be best to keep her under so she doesn't have to stress it with talking or eating). Whatever other wounds she has from captivity, some recent, some not. The gunshot wound.

I love your thoughts on all of this. I think whatever the case, however long she was out of it due to her surgery and due to her injuries, she'd have a hell of a long recovery. It's as far from her recovery in Holby as possible. She's fighting a war on multiple fronts. She's exhausted, she has to be on a regimented diet to help with the malnutrition, she has to build up muscle strength, and she has to let her body heal. It's a long, long road. It's not a case of waking up and then walking out of there. It's a year's abuse on her body that she has to recover from, as well as very invasive surgery. And that's before you get into PTSD.

Luckily, I think, as a patient, Bernie is top-notch. She's not just a doctor and so knows the deal regarding all the medical mumbo jumbo, but she's a soldier. Give her orders. She likes rules and structure, and she’s fiercely intelligent, she’s not going to go against medical advice, especially when she knows it forward and backwards herself. Bernie would be pragmatic. Stoic. Probably not the easiest. But she would be patient, and forthright.

And knowing how weak she is, there's little else she can do. Plus, Serena would make her. Best she put her head down and do the work. No use kicking up a fuss.

#bad meta

[astarab1aze]

🩵 for any of ours you feel!

muse relationship headcanon game

who curses more?

oh this one's easy because vita doesn't like cursing herself - obviously, it's geralt, and i don't think he really curses that frequently himself? at least, i haven't seen you write him cursing...although i'm sure there is definitely a 'yet' in there. i will say that vita hasn't sworn it off entirely. get her mad enough and 'fuck' comes as naturally as breathing.

who is more patient?

hmmm... i would say vita, but that seems wrong. she is very patient, but occasionally prone to bouts of anxiety and paranoia, so there's a sort of rush on certain things at certain times. geralt'll have to take the cake on this one, what with everything we've talked about and how unwaveringly solid he is under the circumstances. i do imagine him to not be patient at specific times, but with her? with each other? mmm. patience is key. short answer? geralt. long answer? geralt and sometimes vita, but still mostly geralt i feel.

who does the driving?

they each have roach and tali, so both. though it is nice to imagine them riding together on roach, in which case geralt is 'driving' and vita has her arms around him, and that's good enough for me, ahh

who is louder? who is quieter?

vita is the louder one, guaranteed. she is a harpy, after all, and harpies are known for their songs, dances, and unique proclivities toward combat, really just generally being a bit noisy. well, i should say she's probably just a bit more chatty, where geralt is generally...quieter but even, in volume. hm. i need them to talk more, for science-- compare, contrast, u kno unu

who is more physically affectionate?

i'm going to say...between the two, most likely vita, though that isn't to say geralt is less than? necessarily. he strikes me as affectionate when he feels he can be and is comfortable enough to do so, at which point he becomes a sort of puppy about it, in a sense. rather, he just does it somewhat differently to vita, who would, of course, be all over him if given the opportunity. i do imagine they tightly embrace each other more often than not, when they get to that point. that she reaches out to him, rests her head on his chest or shoulder, fixes his hair, dusts off his armor or clothes, ever and always tender with him.

who is more likely to tease the other?

oh i think they tease each other, an easy 50/50, just maybe more conversationally than any way else and possibly not terribly often but often enough. friendly sarcasm and snark to share between the two of them. besides, vita's playful when she's comfortable.

who is better with time management?

this is another one of those things where it's both of them. they're both goal-oriented in their own ways, and sure sometimes they might get thrown off the path due to one obstacle or another, but i think it's fair to say they're about even here. vita's experience in court may affect this in terms of propriety, but i don't think it makes that big of a difference.

who wins the arm wrestling matches?

geralt. that is a solid man with actual weight to his bones where vita is a bit delicate and potentially easy to break if just the right amount of pressure was applied. i don't see her backing down though, potentially attempting to pull one over on him and, yes, she realizes that's cheating but he can forgive her once or twice, right?

who controls the music in the car ride?

well, considering there are no cars in sunjatta and vita doesn't bother with vehicles at all even in modern verse, i'm going to say neither of them. she might sing on occasion but never loud enough to draw attention to them, or herself, unless at home. that's different and also not the question--

who covers dinner when they order in?

y'know, hm, i'm not sure. i think they both do the hunting, together and separately, and also that they probably help each other when preparing certain meals. but that's at home- going out? different story. i think it's hard to really tell though. geralt doesn't strike me as necessarily proper, but he's not ignorant or non-gentlemanly either, in some ways. ???? but vita is so insistant that she takes care of everything and that it's not a problem at all, shush and eat-- so i can't confidently say.

who is more outgoing? who is more shy?

geralt isn't shy but i wouldn't say he's outgoing either, and vita's effectively the same if only slightly more outwardly sociable. she's friendly and polite, but she's not going to go out of her way to make friends or build relationships with other people. i think they have a similar, maybe not thought process, but something here. 'i would like some peace and quiet away from other people.' 'what a coincidence, me too.' kind of a deal (i mean honestly their entire journey together is about getting as far away from people as they can ksjdhfsd)

who has the more outlandish fashion sense?

vita, entirely. i don't think i even need to explain, though 'outlandish' isn't really the best word to use for it, since everything she wears is relatively common in some places of the world. and everything is custom, too. much as she loves her road leathers, there is just nothing like her feathery, not-so-modest bedlah.

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?

hm, tickling would not end the way anyone would think. but i don't think tickling is a thing for them either, though that isn't to say they wouldn't playfully touch each other. just...maybe not tickling specifically.

who has the darker/more "edgy" sense of humor?

p-probably geralt, i think. i could be wrong, but that seems...close to accurate. to me. maybe.

who is more competitive when it comes to games?

vita. :I not because she hates losing or anything but because the game itself is fun for her, and she knows she'll probably lose anyway if it's not like...chess, or something. but she gets into it, will try to win by any means necessary. her red flag is she cheats at cornhole kjsdhfkjsdf

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?

geralt has the bigger appetite, i believe this entirely and i don't think my mind can be changed on the matter. and it's totally okay that he does because vita is a firm believer in the whole 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach!' thing, so naturally she feeds him and his happy to do so. she just thinks he's charming, like a bedraggled stray finally getting to eat after a few days of starving. which...okay maybe not the best words to use, but you get me. this is not at all to say vita doesn't go bananas over a roast because she does. she's every bit a raptor as she is a woman and she can and will pick some bones clean. likes sweets, but probably to a much lesser degree than geralt, who is just happy to have some actual food--

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?

mmmmm geralt. although actually, i'll say it depends. she very much does not like it when anyone insults him. herself? whatever. him? 'sir i will end your life if you call him a freak again.' she hates it, and i'm willing to bet she has from the very beginning, just moreso over time. and she's naturally defensive/protective of the people she cares for anyway. she just absolutely will not tolerate things like that directed at him. but i imagine he's sort of the same, if able to deal with it 'better'. otherwise, i think context really matters here. like are we talking fistfights, swordfights, a good slap?

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?

vita organizes the parties and geralt begrdugingly humors her sksk but i think that's different when all the kids come to visit. it depends on who is coming over. otherwise, when it's just them, i think they're probably a fair bit more...spontaneous? if given the opportunity to just be. i don't think organization really has that big a role to play here, honestly.

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?

yes and yes, next question. oh, but i think vita does a lot of the cooking herself and doesn't mind it. they help each other though, i'm pretty sure of that. i don't think it's necessarily a matter of who does it best, but who just. does it.

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?

i'm pretty sure they're both inclined to do very dangerous things. often. and, well, they have killed and will probably kill again, each. 50/50. but maybe vita has done more specifically illegal things in her service to askarra.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?

i don't think anything gets too far past geralt, and vita's hyperaware, so i think they'd catch on to something fairly quickly each. i imagine geralt would notice when vita's headaches start acting up, when her eye's bothering her, but not necessarily how she fares emotionally, and i think...to a degree, vita's much the same, if a little more sensitive to the emotional aspect of things. there are things geralt can understand but not necessarily readily see since she has a tendency to bury a lot of it, and vice verse, honestly. 50/50 here too

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?

i think it depends on who they're talking to, but they're both very independent and don't need one or the other to do all the talking for them.

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?

i think this depends too, on the context. i imagine them both to be there if/when needed. simple as that, regardless of whether they're good at it or not. yeah, that sounds right to me hmmm

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?

oh, vita. it's gotta be vita. small, silly things, of course, nothing crazy. she and asu join forces to mess with him a little, but it's all in good fun and with love. in a way, that goes to show he's part of their little family...that they treat him like he is.

#☿ || Asks. #✘ // Oh Be Still My Heart - I am His Forever; Geralt. #gyofukuki #/ i debated so hard with myself over whether to do this for them or not #/ but the brainworms are feasting and i just couldn't help myself #/ so here we are ToT

[thefanficmonster]

All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

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