#meanwhile we humans for example can actually only speak while breathing in or out - try even just humming without exhaling/inhaling!

[hx4x4enthusiast]

Two sparks and a drumming heart

Part 1 (3233 words)

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/jorico/721903257373605888/chapter-2-1560-words-warmth-covered-my-sore-body?source=share

Ship: Optimus x gender-neutral reader x Ratchet 

Fic category: hurt/comfort 

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm, Depression, mention of past suicide attempt,

“Speech”

-Commlink conversation-

kursiv=thought

It was a calm Friday at the base, the kids finally got the permission from their parents, Fowler and Optimus to have a sleepover all weekend long. Difference all the kids sleep with their guardians, and I will sleep n the main area.

 You see everyone has a guardian, a protector of sorts, they pick you up from school protect you from the Decepticons spent time with you while you teach them about earth and humans. For example, Arcee is Jacks Guardian, Bulkhead protects Miko meanwhile Raf has Bumblebee as his Guardian and I well, I can take care of myself, always has always will and that is fine. Believe me I can understand Optimus is the leader of the Autobots he already knows all about Earth and humans a top of that he has the burden of an entire planet and war on his shoulder, meanwhile Ratchet constantly works from trying to help with scientific advancements to give constant medical services.

 Ratchet is a medic to be more precise the medical officer of the Autobots, and probably the person that loathes me the most. And I tried to befriend him, or at least be on civil speaking terms (like June), with him but every time I try, it seems the opposite happens. Some people just don’t get along with others. And I would stay out his way believe me I can take a hint. My other half guardian would be Optimus he is the leader. He is civil with everyone, and kind of the only bot Ratchet is willing to listen to. He is nice we, on the rare occasion he has time, talk about books. But well Optimus is the Autobot leader and a Prime he doesn’t have time for a small human like me, which is absolutely understandable, I mean he carries the weight of the fate of our planet and the future of his planet on his shoulder. While simultaneously being a strong leader for his team and fighting in a war. Problem they are my guardians, well half guardians, they sometimes just drive me home or well bridges me there. But seeing the other kids with their guardians does make me miss something I wish I had, but that’s just me being silly. And I have my ways to deal with these thoughts and feelings.

 Shaking myself out of those thoughts I look at the time and realize the kids are not going to be back soon. Jack and Arcee were on Patrol, Raf and Bumblebee were out as well probably racing and finally, Miko and Bulkhead are out dune bashing. Realizing I have the bathroom to myself I grab my bag and move into the direction of the shower.

 We all had bags in the base with back up clothes, sleeping bags and basic hygiene products after one-to-many incidence that ended in us needing a change of clothes or having a spontaneously sleepover. And I was in desperate need of a shower.

 Infront of the bathroom we put an old locker where we could put our stuff, the locks were Jacks idea to make the locker Miko-proof. After I took my clothes and shower out of my locker, I checked the floor to check for anyone in the hallway. Knowing it was empty I rummaged through my bag to get to a small cardboard box buried under my clothes. Having the little box in my hands I pull out one of the wrapped articles an put the box back into its hiding spot. Having the utensil concealed underneath my clothes I give one last look into the hallway before stepping into the the room with the showers and putting my clothes into the designated spot. I start to strip out of my clothes, and leave them on the floor, they are a problem for future me. Taking my shampoo, bodywash, towel and the still wrapped object I proceed into the actual shower. The warm water on my skin feels like heaven and I release a shaky breath.

 There are several reasons in my opinion why showers are great. But the biggest is probably that a shower washes everything away like stress, exhaustion, tears, and blood. Though I suppose for most people they are just a way to get clean. In the background of my brain my thoughts are continuing their philosophy about humans and shower time. While I watch fascinated, with the occasional sharp sting on my lower arm, as red mixes with the clear water and goes down the drain. I glance to my arm and see my dominate hand holding the now unwrapped blade while continuously slitting red lines into my skin. The little red drops don’t even have time to form as they are immediately washed away. It has been some time since I last did this. When did I last cut myself, it was probably a few weeks before I met the Autobots. Right, I wanted to kill myself on the day I met the Autobots but couldn’t go through with it because The Decepticons attacked me before I could begin. And since then, I didn’t find the time. Oh, right I should go back before someone tries to find me. No one should see me this way.

 Quickly washing my hair and body, while being careful around my wound, I turned off the shower and dried myself up, carefully dipping around the wound, it was a good decision to buy black towels.  After throwing on a hoodie and a pair of short sweatpants I clean up after me and leave the shower, stuffing the wrapping paper and blade into my hoodie, to dispose of them later. After gripping my bag and putting it back into my locker, I slowly start to trot back to the others.

 The main room came into view, mentally preparing myself for the social flood I take a deep breath and step into the room. Only to find nothing, or more like no one, the room is empty. The human area is missing Jack, Miko as well as Raph and even Arcee, Bumblebee along with Bulkhead are missing. Only Ratchet and Optimus are on the computers no doubt calculating and strategizing the future of the Autobots. Having just taken a few steps into the room both of them suddenly freeze which is concerning. After they scan the room for whatever it is that unsettles both their optics land nearly contemporaneous on me.

 “Uhm are you okay should, should I leave, I can go no Problem I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Do you know where the menaces are I wou-.”

“You are injured.”

“What?”

“You are injured.”

  I blinked my mind trying to process onto what is happening. While Ratchets observation is not wrong, how did he know? Does Optimus know? He looks just as shocked as Ratchet. Wait do they know? Know what I did? No, they can’t that’s not possible. But they are aliens, with high tech and Ratchet is essential a doctor. My body erupts into goosebumps, and I have a full body shiver. Which tears me out of my thoughts. Just in time to see Ratchets green arm scanner disappearing and him looking at the apparent scan results. Looking up it’s like some turned a switch around and he is in doctor mode.

 “You have multiple incisions on your underarm. The next steps are to clean the wound and wrap it up to keep the wounds from getting infected and help with the healing process. Now follow me to the med bay so that I can ensure the appropriate treatment of the wounds and check if there are incisions that need stitching.”

 I look shell shocked between Optimus and Rachet. Unable to react.

 “Well, what are you waiting for the faster you receive medical treatment the lesser the chance of infection.”

 One thought crosses my thought. -If Ratchet takes me to the med bay he will see the wound, if he sees the wounds, he wants to know how they came to be. Then I must explain, then they will now that I am a useless wreck, and they should abandon me. - Scared of the reaction that will follow the reveal of the reasons behind my scars I do the only thing, sensible to me at that moment. I turn tail and bolt out of the room into maze which are the corridors of the old missile silo. Followed by an angry shout.

 “You better come back here right this nanocycle, or so help you, Primus!”

 The floor feels like it is vibrating and the muffled sound of something solid hitting the ground repeatedly, changes to fast approaching vehicles. A Blur of red and white speeds past me, I collied with solid metal. A Ambulance is parked right in front of me. The ambulance belongs to a medic, a medic which patient just went AWOL and not only tried to escape treatment but also him. Doing a 180 is met with yet another collision, this time though the metal adorns a red-blue colour scheme and the vehicle changes from an ambulance to a semi-truck. Both ways blocked by vehicles and surrounded by thick concrete walls that are enclosing rapidly.

 “What is wrong with you? What happened back there?”

 “Little Archivist?”

 A high-pitched tone goes through my ears and my hands instinctively cover them, only for my chest to feel like someone laid multiple rocks on my lungs. Rapidly trying to take deep breath to get oxygen in my lungs doesn’t seem to work and my vision starts to blur. The feeling of a calm deep baritone voice starts to slowly blend the high-pitched noise out. while the feeling of warmth and something smooth encircles me. Drawing small patterns onto the metallic looking appendage start to pacify the wind whirl in my thoughts.

 “You are safe our little archivist, everything’s going to be alright, we are here.”

“Can I come closer? Is it okay if I touch you?”

 Looking up I am met with the concerned optics of Ratchet. I nod and slowly the feeling of something warm and smooth encircles me. And I find myself sitting in a metal servo with a cybertronian equivalent of a thumb gently draped over my legs Drawing small patterns onto the metal appendage furthers the process to pacify the wind whirl in my thoughts. And I feel a light draft from being slowly lifted, as Ratchet starts to slowly right himself to his full hight. Optimus slowly makes his way over to us with careful steps, like one would do when faced with a scared animal.

 “Little Archivist, are you back with us?”

 Looking up to Optimus I nod, his faceplate shows the same feelings as Ratchet. Confusion, Concern and behind the two one could see fear.

 “We won’t discuss or ask about what transpired if you don’t feel ready for that conversation.”

“But I do need to take of your wounds. I won’t ask any question related to how you got them, in exchange you will go with us to the med bay and let me take care of the injury.”

“And after the medbay you will stay within both see and hearing distance of either me or Ratchet, which includes recharge which we will do once Ratchet has checked you, over. Do you agree to our condition?”

 I nod unsure and confused on what else I could do. Ratchet carefully curls his servo around me and we move into the direction of the medbay. No one saying a thing.

  As Ratchet walks through the doors of the medbay Optimus directly behind us closes the doors and moves to the side of the berth Ratchet carefully put me on. A series of clicks later two mass-displaced cybertronians are sitting next to me. As Ratchet makes a move to inspect my arm, I get startled out of my vegetive state and recoil back. Right into Optimus. Gently he lifts me up like I weigh nothing and deposit me into his lap. One servo circles around my midsection and remains there light enough to not make me feel trapped but still secure enough to give comfort and be grounding. All the while laying his other servo on my head and tenderly guiding my head to his chest plate right above his spark.  The sound of his spark giving me something to focus on, as I lean against him.

 “Your safe little archivist, we are here, we want to help you.”

The deep rumble of Optimus voice and the warmth of his chassis made me snuggle closer to him.  

 “He is right little spark, would it be ok if I touch you? I want to take a closer look at your wounds.”

 Looking up at Ratchet I saw the gentle look upon his faceplate, being reassured by his words and voice.  I slowly uncurled my arm and hold it out for Ratchet, my scars on full display for both cybertronians to see. Both silent as Ratchet inspects the scars and starts getting the supplies, he needs to clean the incisions, from his human med bag that I only notice now.

 “I am going to disinfect the wound now, little spark. This may sting a little.”

 Hissing as the alcohol-soaked cotton ball hit my wounds was the only thing I could really do, with the firm grip Optimus and Ratchet had. I couldn’t escape or really move my limbs, though I weirdly didn’t feel trapped, it felt comfortable, it felt safe. After cleaning up the wounds, Ratchet put some ointment onto aid in the healing process and started wrapping up the arm, while continuing to hold my arm in the strong hold. Ratchet took a deep vent, a human custom he adopted. And raised his helm util his optics met my eyes.

 “These incisions are very clean, like they were created with a sharp object under the intension to cause harm.”

“A sharp object like a knife or a razor blade.”

 That sentenced from Optimus made me look up, only to see his gaze on a small metal object in his left servo that had previously held my head. I paled and try to escape only to realize Optimus had tighten his grip around my mid-section and Ratchet held my arm the same way Optimus held my mid-riff. Atop my legs were trapped between Ratchets thigh guards. It was clear that they both did this before and had no intension of letting me run away again.

 “No no, let me go. Please I won’t do it again I swear. Just please.”

 In hindsight I also could have tried to move a brick wall and would have been more successful. But in that moment my flight reflex complex was in full motion. Ratchet took that moment to ask the dreaded question.

 “Little Spark did you do it? We are not mad or disappointed, we won’t scream or judge you.”

“But we need to know if you hurt yourself, little archivist. We want to help but we can only do so if you let us.”

“You are important to us, we don’t…can’t lose you. Please talk to us.”

 Hearing their concern, I hesitantly looked up to see their optics on me. Fear and sadness edged onto both of their faceplates. Seeing the always confident leader of the Autobots and the consistently guarded medic be this vulnerable for me. They cared for me, the one always over, the third wheel made, the back-up friend, made me break. For the first time in a long time, I opened up to someone, let someone see my heart, see me. Not the carefully crafted persona made to please everyone. No, I showed them the real me the shattered person that fixed themselves with all-purpose glues and duct-tape. I always was pretty ugly when I cried.

 ­

As my crying ebbed down into silent little sobs and I realize my surroundings. I find myself in a hug, surrounded by warmth and seeing parts of an orange-white shoulder pad. Slowly the shoulder pad moved back to reveal a chassis with a helm and a face plate with a look of love, care and relief.

 “Now little spark, I say you need a good recharge, doctors’ orders.”

 I heard Optimus chuckle, at Ratchets attempt to hide his as he calls it “soft side”, as he lifts me up and into his arms. Causing me to yelp and latch onto Optimus due to the sudden movement. Causing another chuckle from Optimus and a small smirk from Ratchet.

 “I agree with him you need rest, little archivist. Besides I don’t think it is wise to go against a medic’s orders. Especially Ratchets”

“Can I get that in writing.”

 I couldn’t help myself and smiled, it was small and a little shaky, but it was real, the first one in a long time, that wasn’t forced. Turning back to his original size ratchet took Optimus with me in his arms into his servo and moved out of the medbay.

 “Where are we headed?”

“To our hab suite little spark. Because besides you there is another bot that hasn’t recharged in a few decacycles and desperately needs to shut down.

 Said bot kept quiet and didn’t acknowledge the hint Ratchet gave. Continuing the journey to the bot’s quarters while surrounded by Optimus warmth and with the gentle movement of Ratchet, my eyes felt heavy, and I couldn’t contain my yawning. The Adrenalin is probably leaving my body. Fighting against the exhaustion seemed useless as I grew more tired from minute to minute. Until sleep claimed me and I fell asleep in the arms of Optimus.

Feeling a sudden weigh on his shoulder the Prime carefully moved his helm to see their little human deep in recharge on in his arms. Feeling a small smile make his way onto his faceplate as he carefully readjusted his grip on the small human.

 -Ratchet it seems our little sparkmate, didn’t make it to our berth to fall into recharge. -

Ratchets gaze fell upon his Counjux to see the little human, in his arms, indeed had felt into recharge.

 -Well, are you surprised, after everything that happened today. I am just disappointed we didn’t notice it earlier. Then they wouldn’t have to suffer today. Who knows how long they already had to deal with this on their own. –

 Feeling the blame Ratchet put on himself through their spark bond. Optimus looked up to his Conjux.

 -Not you or I are to blame for not this. Though the situation my be dire it is good we have found out now before worse could happen. Now we are able to help, able to stand beside them to fight of their inner demons. –

-Always the poet, Optimus. But enough of the sentimental their will be more than enough time for that in the future. For now it’s time for recharge, both of you desperately need it. –

 Seeing they arrived at their shared hab suite. They end their commlink conversation, as Ratchet carefully deposits them on the berth. Optimus carefully lays the sleeping human in his arms down, before changing back to his original size and laying himself next to his conjux. Taking their little human between them. They share a little kiss before powering down to the sound of two sparks and a drumming heart.

#transformers #transformers prime #macaddam #ratchet x reader #optimus x reader #optimus x ratchet #optimus prime #transformers angst #transformers comfort #ratchet #gender neutral reader

[the-sprog]

I've been obsessed with "How to train your dragon" recently and everything that I hear about the differences between the shows/films and the books makes me think about "Dragon Hunters".

"Dragon Hunters" (or "chasseurs de dragons") is a 2006 French cartoon. The similarities are there only in the shallowest sense possible.

We have the run of the letter guy who is very good at building things that has a pet dragon in a society where people hunt dragons. He can speak to Dragons (although I am not entirely sure if this is something exclusive to him) as well.

But there are also a lot of really fun differences. The main one is that the dragons in the show aren't, in fact, dragons. Already in the first episode and with Hector (the pet dragon) we can see that the creatures that they call dragons don't necessarily have wings. They are also furry and not scaly. Which is really weird and I don't even think they breathe fire. Why are they called Dragons??? 😭

Another difference is that the protagonist -whose name I keep forgetting- is a dragon hunter. But in a weird way where he doesn't seem to be actually good at or care about hunting dragons. He's just there for the money.

One really cool difference is that in "Dragon Hunters" the islands that they live in are floating islands and they exclusively travel through blimps which is really funny because the dragons don't fly... so.

In the first episode that I watched it seems to be that dragons are akin to animals (although Hector can write??? and Dragons have a language??? so they are sapient so I don't really know) in the way that their morality is thought about. Dragons cause a lot of damage and they attack a lot of people (hence why dragon hunters get contracted), but they seem to be regarded less as inherently evil and dangerous and more like they have the potential to be dangerous -because they have sharp teeth.. and are ginormous the majority of times- but they can choose whose side they are on.

For example the first episode has Hector running away from home to go back to the wilderness because one of the human characters call him uncivilized or savage. He takes offense to that because he is the one cleaning their shit and sharpening their weapons (I told you they are sapient and intelligent but they are also pets so I am not entirely sure where they fall). While he's out there he meets another dragon that seems to be the same species as them but is significantly bigger and stronger. He makes an alliance with this dragon where Hector distracts people and the other dragon creates a commotion so that they can steal food from the humans. Meanwhile our human protagonists are looking for him because he is LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE THAT DOES THINGS AROUND HERE. He's also the one that operates the blimp????? I guess he doesn't have wings so he had to do something to move from Island to Island.

At first they think that the giant dragon is Hector who has just eaten a lot. But then they discover that Hector has made the alliance and they tell him that they've been contracted to slay the Dragon that has been causing the destruction in the village. They basically give him an ultimatum. They say that if he is indeed even partially responsible for the destruction in the village they're going to have to kill him. But they tell them that he doesn't have to listen to other dragons and that he can choose whose he's side is on. He can choose to be good and be given food by humans freely. (In exchange to be in their pet and doing all their chores, which in light of the sentience that this creature has leaves a weird taste in my mouth).

Hector, of course, chooses his family.

What I'm trying to get at here, is that I think they have enough similarities where "Dragon Hunters" is very likely to have been inspired by "How to train Your Dragon", but in a way that only takes the surface level general concept and does it understand why that concept works.

And hey if you like "Dragon Hunters" I am not shitting on it. It's a childhood cartoon for me and it will always be in my heart. I'm not saying it's bad and I'm not saying that it's plagiarism, but I think some inspiration probably was there.

#Dragon hunters #chasseurs de dragons #how to train your dragon #httyd #me me post

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 2065

Part 2

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl

Despite your super soldier enhancements, it takes a few days before you’re cleared from the medical bay. The bullets you had been shot with were identified as hollow point sniper rounds—basically the biggest, baddest of the bunch. If you had been a normal human, your insides would’ve been shredded to pieces and you would’ve died before you even hit the ground.

You’re retired to light duty while you recover, which is painfully boring and dull. You attend physical therapy to strengthen your body, but sometimes you push yourself too hard and stumble back to your and Natasha’s room with blood staining through your bandages. She always chastises you for hurting yourself, but secretly admires your dedication and will never pass up the opportunity to help take care of you.

One week after the condominium collapse, you join Steve, Clint, and Natasha for a private meeting with members of the Miami Police Department and the FBI. As Steve had suspected, the collapse wasn’t an accident. Someone had deliberately taken out the concrete supports in the parking garage with explosives.

“We couldn’t have just phoned that in?” you whine from the backseat. Clint is in the driver’s seat, Steve next to him. You and Natasha sit in the back. “I mean, they drag us all the way across the city, just to tell us something they could’ve sent over text—” 

“Information like that, the less people to intercept the message, the better,” Steve mutters, staring out the window as the car zooms down the highway.

“I don’t know about that,” you dismiss, and Natasha side-eyes you. She knows you’re just cranky because Steve interrupted your morning cuddle with her. There isn’t much you can do intimately when you can barely twist your torso, so you have to make due with what you can.

“You know, Y/N, you are the one this guy’s after,” Clint points out. “So, if anything, you’re the only one that needed to show up.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a psychopath coming after you—” 

THUD.

Everyone’s head turns to the roof of the car. You swear you see the imprint of a hand dented in the metal.

“What the—”

Natasha suddenly leaps out of her seat and into your lap. She wraps her arms around your neck, yanking your head down.

“Hey!” you shout in protest, but then you hear a bullet whiz behind your head and feel the foam of the headrest cushion spray the back of your neck. Still in your lap, Natasha kicks Steve’s shoulder, causing him to hit his head against the window before a bullet zings through his headrest. Following her example, you kick Clint’s seat and he jolts forward, the bullet missing his head by inches.

“Stop the car!” Steve yells, crunching the gear shift into park.

The tires burn rubber and the car slides back and forth before coming to a grinding halt. Cars behind you honk and swerve around you. A figure goes flying off the roof of the car and lands in the road, rolling to their feet. They wear a black vest, revealing their left arm to be completely made out of metal overlapping plates. Their hair is chin-length and a mask covers the lower half of their face.

Suddenly, an 18-wheeler semi-truck, unable to stop in time, slams into the back of the car. The trunk crumples like an accordion, and you instinctively tighten your grip around Natasha to shield her in case the semi-truck tears the car in half. But it doesn’t, instead pushing your car towards the masked figure, who doesn’t even bother to step out of your path.

They jump onto the hood and punch their metal arm through the windshield, grabbing the steering wheel and tearing it right out of the car. When the masked figure disappears onto the roof, Natasha takes out her gun and starts shooting, but her efforts are fruitless.

There’s no way for Clint to control the direction of the car anymore and it’s too dangerous to stay inside with the masked figure close by.

“Hang on!” Steve says, reaching across the front to grab Clint. In the same motion, he slams his shoulder into his door, knocking it off its hinges. Both men go flying out of the car.

“That looks like a good idea,” you mumble, anchoring your arm to your own car door, the other pressing Natasha against you as tightly as you can. “Hold on, babe.” You ram your shoulder into the door with all your strength, ignoring the pain that rips through your stomach.

The door tears away from the car and turns into a makeshift sled as you go skidding down the highway. Sparks fly from the grinding contact of metal on the concrete road. When you finally come to a stop, Natasha stays on top of you, drawing her weapon and scanning for the masked figure. 

Meanwhile, the masked figure has hijacked the semi-truck, but instead of plowing you over, they turn to tip the entire vehicle over so it blocks every single lane of the highway.

“Where are they?” you pant, trying to lift your head to see the commotion but Natasha forces your head back into the car door. “Nat, stop—” 

“No!” she says. “They’re after you, remember?”

You don’t like the idea of her risking herself for you, but it’s a sweet gesture.

“Where are they?” you ask, unable to see.

“I…I don’t…” Natasha sounds confused. Suddenly, she takes off without warning. You don’t question it and run after her. Steve and Clint are engaged in an intense hand-to-hand match with the masked figure. The masked figure knocks Steve to the ground and wraps their metal hand around Clint’s neck, lifting him off the ground.

You put on a burst of speed, overtaking Natasha and launching yourself at the masked figure’s metal arm. They drop Clint instantly and you wrap your arms around the metal one, but it’s like trying to contain a bucking bull. You jerk your elbow back into their face to stun them, but it has no effect. The masked figure flings out their metal arm and you lose your grip.

You crash into the concrete highway dividers and the impact almost knocks you out. You feel your stitches tear open and you start bleeding underneath your shirt. As you stagger to your feet, you see the masked figure over Natasha, pinning her down and pulling their metal arm back, ready to deal the killing blow—

“No!” you scream, charging towards them. You catch the masked figure’s metal arm again, locking out their elbow and holding it against your chest. Natasha rolls out of harm’s way and Clint jumps into the action, launching himself at the masked figure’s legs and sending all three of you to the ground.

Natasha swings her leg around and kicks the masked figure in the face. The mask falls off. You and Clint struggle to hold them down as Steve walks up, blood dripping from a cut in his forehead.

“Bucky?” Steve says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man snarls.

“Help!” you choke, not sure how much longer you can hold on to his writhing metal arm. But Steve is frozen the same way Natasha had been when she saw you get shot. “You need to get in here, Steve!” you yell, and suddenly Bucky goes limp. You and Clint exchange confused glances.

“Wait, what?” Clint says.

“What happened?” you ask, hesitantly releasing the metal arm, which flops to the ground. “Why’d he just stop like that? Did I say his safe word or something?”

“What, ‘Steve?’” Clint laughs in spite of the tense situation.

“Apparently.”

Steve is in too much shock to bite back at your jibe.

“I’ll call for reinforcements.” Natasha takes charge. “We’ll bring him back to the Tower.” She comes over to you and touches your side gently, reminding you of the blood staining through your shirt.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, reaching out to run your thumb over the bruise forming under her eye. She closes her eyes and leans into your touch. “Let’s hope that Steve is, too.”

***********************************************************************

Bucky is detained in the holding cell at the Tower and Steve goes to speak with him privately. Afterwards, he regroups with the rest of you. Clint relaxes at the kitchen counter with a beer, while you and Natasha sit on the couch together. She holds an ice pack against your stomach and frets over the fresh swelling in your shoulder.

“So, I’ve got some good and bad news,” Steve says.

“You can start by telling us who that guy is,” Clint interrupts.

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “He’s…an old friend of mine. My best friend, actually—”

“You know, that’s the same thing people thought about me and Nat at first, but obviously we’re more than that—” you start.

“Bucky was also involved in the super soldier program,” Steve continues, ignoring your comment. “But he was under HYDRA’s control for decades. They were the ones who sent him after us. And…” Steve takes a breath, “We were wrong about who his target was. He wasn’t after you, Y/N. He was after me.”

“But he shot Y/N,” Natasha says.

“Twice,” you add.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Bucky was trying to shoot me. Y/N was just in the way.”

“In the way?” Steve’s logic—or lack of it—makes your head hurt. But as Natasha thinks about it—she’s always been the smarter one in the relationship—it makes complete sense. Her mind flashbacks to the scene of the condominium collapse, where all four of you had gathered on the street after you rescued the last victim. Her and Steve stood across from you and Clint. The bullets had come from behind you—if you hadn’t been standing where you were, Steve would have been hit instead.

“I don’t think you would remember this part, Y/N, but when Nat and I were trying to get you in the ambulance, we were shot at two more times,” Steve explained. “But the bullets hit the sideview mirror and the windshield. Those were places I was in, not you.”

“Okay, so why’s he trying to kill you if you’re his best friend?” you ask.

“It’s all HYDRA’s doing. He told me he’s part of a task force that was created to kill off the Avengers. Specifically, the original six, so there’s six of them in the task force. He’s the only one that got out, and he said the other five are being held in a facility in Siberia. He wants our help to free them,” Steve says.

“So, this Bucky guy wants to work with us now? After he took down a 12-story condominium and almost killed Y/N while trying to kill you?” Clint asks.

“Please, Clint,” Steve begs. “Bucky’s my best friend—”

“A best friend who tried to kill Y/N! And you!” Natasha argues. She lowers the ice pack from your stomach and you frown at the loss of contact. “You know I love you, Steve—”

“Not as much as me,” you mutter under your breath, guiding her hand to put the ice pack back against your side.

“—But I’m gonna need you to do a little better than that.”

“I need you all to trust me,” Steve pleads. “If we have intel telling us that there are five super soldiers in existence, who are programmed to take down the Avengers, isn’t it on us to do something about it?”

“How do we know we can trust Bucky?” Clint asks.

“Well, if he does go rogue, at least we know his safe word,” you answer with a chuckle.

“If you trust me, you’ll trust him,” Steve promises.

You glance at Natasha, who is looking at the floor, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stretch your arm over her shoulder, pulling her towards you and bumping your heads together.

“What should we do?” you whisper so quietly only she can hear.

Her free arm snakes around your waist, closing the gap between you and her, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. She rests her head against your shoulder. “Trust Steve,” she says.

“Okay.” That’s enough of an answer for you. You press a soft kiss to her temple and look back at Steve. “So, what did you have in mind?”

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

Click here for Part 4!

AN: I love taking inspiration from many places, and the inspiration for this part is the awesome fight on the highway from Captain America: Winter Soldier. Thank you to everyone for the continued support!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel

[carewyncromwell]

*hums the Up is Down theme* All right, let’s get the usual stuff for the POTC AU out of the way super quick so we can just jump right in --

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- alternate version of picture two with a lame attempt at blood is here -- and characters that aren’t mine are Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier; Finn McGarry/Davy Jones @theguythatdraws; Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts; Arjun Singh and Aishwarya Mehra @hogwarts9; and Ellie Hopper @that-ravenpuff-witch! Hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

The crew member Orion sent delivered his Piece of Eight -- his right earring -- to Jules aboard the Revolution. Both Bill and Jules had been concerned about Orion sending it on ahead rather than bringing it back to them himself; they were even more concerned when the fleet of small ships was led by Jae and the Kumiho, rather than by the Artemis. Jacob and Ashe, however, didn’t seem surprised, even though Jacob’s eyes narrowed slightly and he went oddly quiet when he heard the news. If Bill didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he might’ve even seen some guilt in the curly-haired pirate’s face.

Meanwhile Charlie pulled up alongside the Revolution to drop Chia Dalma off safely before the Phoenix rejoined the Blackbird, Naga, and Treasure. Before parting ways, Charlie actually pulled Chia aside.

“So,” he said a bit sheepishly, “guess it’s time, then?”

Chia nodded. She tilted her head slightly to the right in response to how uneasy Charlie looked.

“Something troubles you?” she asked.

“Not trouble, exactly,” said Charlie, offering a smile. “I mean, I’m glad you’ll get to be free. What the Brethren Court did, back then...it was a right rotten thing to do...”

His smile faded. “I guess I just wondered why you called yourself ‘Chia Dalma,’ and not Calypso. I mean -- you are Calypso, right? It’s not like when the spell is broken, you’ll just...disappear, right?”

Chia was taken aback by the concern. Then her pale face softened, betraying genuine fondness.

“You have a noble heart, Charles Weasley,” she said. “I’m afraid that Chia Dalma will cease to be, when the spell is broken. She is human -- I am human...and I no longer will be, when the spell is broken. I will no longer feel things the way I do now, or see things the way I do now...and my perspective once again will be that of an immortal, not a mere human.”

She gave Charlie a reassuring smile.

“But Calypso will not forget what Chia Dalma has seen and learned. Nor will she forget the kindness you showed her.”

The corners of Charlie’s lips turned up too. He brought up a hand and clapped Chia on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“And I won’t forget the sea goddess who was once my friend,” he said with a grin.

Meanwhile, on the HMS Lion, Cutler Beckett had assembled his higher-ranked officers on deck to give them their last set of orders. There would be no quarter during the battle, no prisoners taken -- everyone in the pirates’ fleet and in Shipwreck Cove would be wiped out, without exception or mercy. Carewyn could see how hesitant the other officers were, upon hearing this. Percy, in particular, looked very troubled.

“Lord Beckett -- ” he said before he could stop himself, “d-denial of quarter -- surely that isn’t necessary...we have more than enough room to transport prisoners back to Port Royal -- ”

“The pirates themselves wave a flag that represents no quarter,” said Beckett very smoothly without stopping his stride as he walked past the line of officers. “They have not earned the right to it themselves.”

Percy faltered. “W-well...yes, but...they are pirates, sir. Should we not...show a better example, as King’s Men -- ?”

Beckett came to a sharp stop in front of Percy, looking up at the slightly taller man with a rather beady dark eye.

“Do I sense a lack of conviction, Captain Weasley?” he asked, his voice very soft but very dangerous.

Percy stiffened, his freckled face losing quite a bit of its color. The officers surrounding him looked worried too. Rakepick, who was standing a few feet away from the line of soldiers with her arms crossed, didn’t look worried, but her dark blue eyes did narrow grimly upon Percy and Beckett.

“No, sir!” said the red-haired Captain very quickly.

“Ah, then it’s a conflict of interest, perhaps,” said Beckett, his voice becoming a bit harder as his lips spread into a cold smirk.

He leaned in a bit closer, and whispered something else in Percy’s ear that no one else could hear. It made Percy’s entire frame stiffen, his face blanching in horror as his wide brown eyes flickered over to Carewyn.

“Lord Beckett, Captain Weasley’s loyalty to the English Crown is unflappable,” Carewyn said in a very loud, harsh voice. “As is the loyalty of all of our officers. He meant no disrespect, I assure you.”

Beckett looked at her, his eyebrows raised high over his coldly narrowed eyes. As he strode purposefully over to stand in front of Carewyn, all of the officers tensed up even more anxiously, none more so than Percy. Rakepick had uncrossed her arms and was watching the scene unfold like a hawk.

“I certainly hope that is true,” said Beckett very softly. “Treason is -- as we all know -- a death sentence.”

Carewyn met Beckett’s icy gaze head-on, even as he likewise leaned in, his head once again lingering over her shoulder like it had back in his cabin, so that his breath grazed her face.

“I will not punish your brother for his insubordination, as a favor to you. But I expect proper gratitude on your part. After all, I’m already doing quite a favor for you already, allowing you and him to remain among the ranks.”

Carewyn’s almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed, but she refused to look at him or speak. Beckett’s face grew a bit colder still as he tilted his head enough that his lips were mere inches from her ear.

“Don’t forget, Admiral,” he whispered, and there was an odd satisfaction creeping into the corners of his pitiless voice, “your loyalty is, first and foremost, mine.”

He then moved away, turning his focus back to the rest of the officers with his more usual, detached sort of expression.

“Attack when ready -- no prisoners, no mercy. You’re dismissed.”

The officers all saluted and immediately bustled off to head back to their ships. Carewyn glanced over just in time to see Percy, rather than heading immediately back to his ship, rush up to her. His freckled face was ashen and his eyebrows were knitted tensely over his eyes.

“Carey...Lord Beckett -- ”

“I know,” Carewyn cut him off. She already knew what Beckett must have said to Percy, for the rose-colored lenses to fall from his eyes so quickly.

Percy’s brown eyes widened even more. They darted over to Beckett heading up to the helm and then back to Carewyn, welling up with anxiety.

“He suspected it after you expressed interest in him hiring a woman,” said Carewyn softly. “I reckon him knowing Rakepick first made it easier -- she dressed as a man for a while, when she was in the Navy...”

Percy seemed to be losing more and more of his courage every second. His face suddenly looked so much more boyish as his gaze fell away from Carewyn’s face, staring down at the deck of the ship without seeing it.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbled.

“Don’t say that,” Carewyn cut him off firmly.

Percy closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s all my fault,” he repeated, shame and pain pulsing through his face. “I never should’ve trusted him, I never should’ve believed -- I just -- he was so against piracy, and I...after you were taken by Orion Amari -- after you got kidnapped by the crew of the Revenge -- ”

“Percy -- ”

Carewyn brought a hand onto his shoulder, but he cut her off, his soft voice more choked and upset than ever.

“I never should’ve let Bill and Charlie go after you alone -- I should’ve followed them myself in my own ship, if I had to -- ”

“Percy.”

Her hand clutched the top of his shoulder, right beside his neck, so as to force him to look up at her.

“You were only trying to do what was right, as an officer,” said Carewyn, her blue eyes blazing with conviction despite their pain and empathy. “The Navy is your dream, far more than it ever was mine, or Charlie’s, or Bill’s. Don’t hate yourself for trying to do things the right way. ...That’s always been who you are.”

Giving Percy’s shoulder a tight squeeze, she steered him forward enough that she could bring her other arm around him and give him a hug.

“I know what Beckett must’ve threatened you with, Perce, but I want you to forget it,” she said, and her voice betrayed a crack of emotion Percy had never heard before. “Don’t try to protect me or my reputation -- those things won’t matter much longer anyway. Do what you need to, to do what’s right...for yourself and them.”

Them... Percy tensed. He knew who that “them” was, but...the way her voice choked -- was she...trying not to cry?

He looked at his surrogate sibling with dismay, but he couldn’t see her expression.

“Carey -- ”

“Admiral.”

Carewyn pulled away from Percy and looked up.

Rakepick had approached them, her dark blue eyes flickering from Carewyn to back over her shoulder at Beckett, who had seemed to have turned his focus back to the two red-haired officers -- almost as if she was...trying to warn them.

Recovering from this surprise quickly, Carewyn turned to Percy with a harder, more serious look and grabbed his shoulder, giving him a light push backward.

“Go, now,” she said, her voice hardening to try to obscure the pain and tears she was trying to force back.

Percy’s brown eyes rippled with anxiety. He clearly wanted to insist on her explaining, wanted to argue her point -- but he too could sense Beckett’s gaze. So, with a pained expression, he reluctantly straightened up and exchanged a salute with Carewyn, before finally leaving the deck and returning to the jollyboat that would return him to the Clearwater.

Rakepick and Carewyn both watched Percy go.

“You didn’t tell him,” said Rakepick lowly. “No doubt because you don’t want him to try to stop you...”

Carewyn looked at Rakepick, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Didn’t tell him what?”

Rakepick, however, didn’t respond. Her eyes watched the horizon absently, but seemed to almost look beyond it.

Carewyn's eyes flashed with even more distrust as she turned to face the older woman. “Don’t play games with me, Rakepick -- ”

“The time for games is long since through,” said Rakepick sharply, as she turned to looked Carewyn straight on in the face.

What...was that, in her expression? It was certainly harsh and arrogant as ever, and yet...there was something almost sadder there.

“You truly are a guardian, Admiral Weasley,” murmured Rakepick. “Right now, though...it seems to me that it’s you who most needs guarding.”

Carewyn felt a knife in her chest at the thought of Jones and the fate that awaited her. Her blue eyes drifted off to the side and away from Rakepick’s face, hardening further as she tried to obscure her emotions.

“I’m not so much of a coward as to choose my safety over the lives of others’,” she said very harshly, turning her focus to the helm.

She turned her back on Rakepick, her arms looping behind her straightened back in proper Navy posture.

“You should return to your post...before Beckett gives you the side eye too.”

Rakepick didn’t respond, and Carewyn refused to look back as she strode away.

Almost immediately, the strategy Jacob had devised did not go as planned.

The plan had been for Jules to bluff Beckett before releasing Calypso -- but although the Revolution, as flag ship, had pulled into position at the head of the pirates’ charge, Beckett’s (and therefore the Navy’s) flag ship the HMS Lion did not. Instead it hung back, letting individual Man O’ Wars immediately start the charge without it.

In alarm, Jules ordered her crew to hoist the colors and signal to the rest of the Pirate Lords to attack, as the Flying Dutchman sailed out in front as if to meet the Revolution. Charlie and Merula led the charge in the Phoenix and the Blackbird, firing at will against the Man O’ Wars in an attempt to hit their stores of ammunition, even as the Navy’s ships’ superior firepower quickly overwhelmed them, cutting down the smaller ships in the dozens with their cannons.

“Captain!” said Barnaby from his place at the helm. “We just lost three more ships -- oh. Make that four!”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he racked his brain.

The Man O’ Wars were too powerful to face head-on -- they just had far too much firepower, compared to their pirates’ fleet --

A mad idea beginning to take root in Charlie’s head, he whirled around toward Samantha O’Connell, who’d been up in the rigging adjusting sails so that the Phoenix could better avoid the Navy’s cannon fire.

“Signal to the Naga! We need to get closer to that Man O’ War at the front!”

Samantha’s mouth dropped open disbelievingly. “Closer? But that’ll only make it easier for them to shoot us down!”

“Not if we divide their attention!” Charlie shot back forcefully.

He ran up to the deck of the ship and leapt onto the railing so he could dangle off the rigging and better talk over the sound of cannon fire.

“We’re going to do what pirates do best,” said the red-haired pirate captain, shooting a huge, blazing grin up at Samantha, “we’re going to sack and commandeer that Man O’ War ourselves!”

With some help from Arjun and Aishwarya running interference, Charlie was able to steer the Phoenix up alongside one of the Navy’s ships, called the Clearwater. As mad as Charlie’s idea was, however, it seemed he hadn’t been completely off-base -- just as Ben Copper himself had proposed earlier, the Navy had indeed not expected the pirates to try sacking and stealing their ship. Unfortunately to get close enough, the Phoenix ended up directly in the path of the Clearwater’s cannons, and as the pirates started to board, cannonballs blasted through the air, smashing the Phoenix to pieces.

“ABANDON SHIP!” roared Charlie. “ALL HANDS TO THE CLEARWATER!”

The pirates all flocked to the rigging and gangplanks to board the Man O’ War, now their only hope at avoiding the ocean waves. Charlie met up with Barnaby on deck, even as its planks was blasted to pieces.

“Is everyone else off?” demanded Charlie.

“Aye, Captain!” said Barnaby.

As splinters of wood and metal shot through the air, Charlie and Barnaby both leapt up into the rigging, preparing to swing across --

Unfortunately, just as they both swung, a cannonball collided squarely with the ringing. In an instant, both men were flung off of the ropes they’d been holding and into the air, falling toward the water with the weight of stones.

Barnaby, in a purely instinctual move, leaned forward in mid-air and, with all of his strength, shoved Charlie forward just enough that he could clear the hurtle between the two ships.

Charlie ended up colliding harshly with the deck of the Clearwater, his leg collapsing out from under him with an unpleasant CRACK.

“ACK!”

With a bellow of pain, the red-haired pirate captain crumpled in on himself, gritting his teeth as he struggled to control his breathing.

“Charlie!”

Samantha chucked a lit grenade right into the side of one of the Navy soldiers’ heads, using the Navy officers’ alarm and the subsequent small explosion as a distraction so she could run over. Bending down, she quickly grabbed hold of his arm to help Charlie to his feet.

“Augh -- “ choked Charlie. “My leg -- I can’t...ack!”

Samantha secured her arm around his waist, using a considerable amount of strength to try to hold him up at her side. “Hold on -- I’ve got you -- ”

Charlie looked up and around, taking in the scene of his men hot in battle with the Navy’s men.

“Barnaby?”

Charlie looked around. His First Mate wasn’t there.

Limping badly on his injured leg, Charlie threw himself across the deck to look over. In the ocean between the two ships was an unsettling set of ripples -- as if a body had collided with the water.

“BARNABY!”

“LOOK OUT!” yelled Samantha.

Charlie would’ve likely thrown himself overboard to try to retrieve his fallen comrade, but he immediately had to yank out his cutlass and defend himself against a Navy soldier who‘d made to attack him. Samantha pulled out her pistols and began shooting, trying to beat the enemy forces back as they descended on the fallen Phoenix’s captain.

Neither Charlie or Samantha saw the second cluster of ripples and bubbles that burbled up from under the surface, nor the gold mermaid tail that briefly flipped up out of the water before disappearing again under the waves.

Nothing turned out as it should. The battle plan Jacob and the pirates had devised hoping to scare the majority of the Man O’ Wars into surrendering was cut off at the legs. If they released Calypso now, there would be no reason for any of the Navy officers to think that her release was a threat pointed squarely at them. Calypso would certainly have no reason to cooperate, even if Chia Dalma had expressed some favoritism toward Orion and Charlie previously. They were still pirates, and Calypso had no reason to help the kind of people who had trapped her for so long just because they released her, especially since the decision was made out of desperation. The only thing guaranteed by Calypso’s release would be that the battle would be harder and would likely put everyone’s lives in even more jeopardy.

Despite this, however, Jules was firm in her conviction. They’d made a promise to release Calypso, and more importantly, it was a decision that was already well overdue. Regardless of whether Calypso decided to help them or not, she didn’t deserve to stay in bondage.

So despite the hesitance on Jacob’s and the majority of her crew’s faces, Jules fetched the tricorn hat full of the seven Pieces of Eight she’d been given by the other Pirate Lords -- Orion’s gold hoop earring, Jae’s copper mun coin, Ellie’s sunflower-engraved pocketwatch, Arjun’s snake-engraved fob seal, Charlie’s “S”-trimmed anchor button, and Merula’s jade ring. Then Jules plopped in the eighth that Samantha had fetched from the inside of the Pirate Codex (a cheap copper brooch shaped like a mermaid and scarred over with greenish-white rust), to represent her as Pirate King, and handed the full hat to Chia Dalma before setting the pieces on fire.

“Calypso,” Jules murmured as gently as she could, “I release you from your human bonds.”

The transformation was terrifying. It was little wonder that the process of turning Calypso into a human was described as her “being bound in her bones,” for when the goddess was set free of her human form, it was like a foreboding, slow-motion explosion. Chia’s eye sockets erupted blueish-white light, while her hair and clothes dissolved away into terrible gusts of wind and crashing sea spray. The low, rumbling, earthquake-esque sound that erupted from her could not be contained by her lips, instead coming from her every pore, as she levitated up off the ground, her flesh and blood limbs dangling uselessly in the face of her supernatural essence breaking free of them. Her flesh seemed to melt away, becoming more liquid and blue and white and incorporeal -- until at last, Chia Dalma’s frame burst open in a violent crash of seawater that for an instant submerged the entire pirate ship.

Jules, Bill, Jacob, and the rest of the crew were suddenly underwater, scrambling to escape so they could breathe. It was only thanks to Ashe that they survived. The merman quickly swam up to the helm and took control of the ship’s steering wheel, chucking it all the way around to tilt the Revolution sharply enough that it forced the ocean wave that had been Calypso back off the side.

Calypso, however, was not just the wave, as the pirates quickly found out. Overhead, there was a horrible rumble of thunder. Within moments, the ocean began to quake under the Revolution and the Flying Dutchman, darkening forebodingly. Somewhere in the distance, Jules could hear a delighted roar, like a triumphant beast’s -- it was Jones, delighted by the liberation of his lover and by the vengeance she would wreck for him.

Rakepick stared up at the darkening sky, her eyes very wide. “This...this storm -- it can’t be -- !”

“Oh, but it is.”

The cursed captain whirled on Rakepick, a smirk curling up into his octopus-stained features and a malevolent gleam in his eye.

“And now,” he said as he unsheathed his sword, “I fear no consequence o’ this!”

Rakepick cried out in agony as Jones plunged his sword right through the upper-right side of her chest. The privateer-turned-pirate-hunter crumpled up on the base of the stairs, her tricorn hat flying off into the wind. She tried to pull the blade out, but she was pinned down to the deck, unable to move as blood spurted out of her chest like a red flower.

“Augh...augh...”

Satisfied that the woman who’d so haughtily lorded over him was going to suffer properly before dying, Jones whirled on the rest of his crew with a victorious gleam in his eye.

“Let’s finish dismantling this ship afore us!” he indicated the Revolution, which was sailing up alongside the Flying Dutchman. “Then we can turn our sights toward different prey!”

Out of the blackening sky, a bolt of lightning crashed down, colliding with the ocean a mere twenty feet from the HMS Lion. The threat of fiery white death terrified Beckett’s men. Carewyn struggled to keep them calm, ordering them to weigh anchor so the HMS Lion could join its brothers in the charge. Beckett, however, contradicted her.

“If we advance, then we’ll merely be sailing right into the pirates’ hands,” he said coolly, as he sipped a cup of tea from the helm. “Our other ships are already dismantling them well enough.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes flashed. In an oddly harsh move, she brought up a hand and slammed it down on the table, making the china tea set rattle precariously and her fellow Navy men flinch.

“Don’t be a fool!” she hissed. “This isn’t some normal storm! Look at the waves you’ve sent our ships into! Look at this lightning -- it’s touching the sea itself! This is not an act of God -- this can only be Calypso!”

The rest of the Navy’s crew tensed up at the name. Beckett looked up from his tea, his dark eyes flickering with some interest for the first time.

“Calypso?” he repeated.

“The Pirate Lords bound her years ago, and now it seems they’ve released her,” said Carewyn fiercely. "We can’t stay still, if we hope to evade the wrath of a sea goddess -- ”

“But you believe she can, in fact, be evaded,” said Beckett mildly, putting down his cup on its saucer with a soft clink. “Good. From what I understand, Calypso doesn’t particularly like pirates much either...so it seems we can have her do some of our workload for us, if we merely steer clear of her destructive path.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened, her pupils narrowing to slits of rage.

“So you sentence your men to death? You choose to abandon our other ships to the mercy of both the pirates and to a vengeful goddess, in the deluded hope that they’ll destroy each other and leave us be -- ?!”

She didn’t even care if her voice was shriller than it should’ve been, thanks to the emotions that rebelled against her chest.

Beckett got to his feet, stepping right into Carewyn’s personal space with a fierce, cold eye.

“Our men know where their loyalty lies -- may you not forget the placement of yours, Admiral!”

Carewyn, however, got right back up in Beckett’s space in return, yanking her pistol out of her belt and pointing it right between his eyes.

All of the soldiers on deck stiffened or let out small, shocked cries. Even Beckett, whose expression did not flinch, raised his eyebrows.

“Just because my soul is no longer mine doesn’t mean that I won’t protect my men, Beckett,” Carewyn spat.

Beckett’s eyebrows furrowed over his eyes, which gleamed with cold, stony, foreboding rage.

“You dare...?” he whispered.

Carewyn’s eyes flared with hatred. “The only leverage you had over me is currently out there, being sent to his death on your orders.”

‘You have nothing left to take from me, Beckett. I’m already enslaved to Jones, and therefore you. I have no future. I can’t do any more good for the others. ...I’m worthless...’

Carewyn returned her pistol to her belt and turned to her men with a gentler, but still very serious look.

“Prepare to abandon ship, Lieutenant.”

The young Lieutenant who’d nearly caught Ben the previous night straightened up sharply. “Sir?”

“I will not have men who were assigned to this mission lay down their lives fighting a sea goddess,” said Carewyn solemnly. “Just as I don’t intend to let the men out there do so. We can’t signal to them to retreat from this far-off, but I won’t endanger your lives while I call them back. Tell the men to abandon ship and head for the Swallow...and then do so yourself.”

Despite the firmness of her voice, she knew the gravity of what she was asking of him.

The boyish, uptight Lieutenant looked from the silently seething Beckett to the grim, pale face of his commanding officer, visibly conflicted. Then, his lower lip trembling, he saluted.

“...Yes, sir,” he said weakly.

The young officer and his compatriots reluctantly followed orders and left the helm, leaving Beckett and Carewyn alone.

“You will regret this most dearly,” Beckett said in a very soft, pitiless voice.

“I only regret that I wasn’t able to do it sooner,” Carewyn shot back icily.

“There will be no safe place to hide from me,” said Beckett. “The entire world will know who and what you are. I will hunt you down with the might of my Company and the English Crown, until you sit under my heel like a dog.”

Carewyn was reminded of how he spoke to Orion, back on that tiny island -- like he was some pathetic, disgusting cockroach.

“I’m not a coward like you, Beckett -- I have no intention of running and hiding.”

‘You won’t need to hunt me down,’ she thought. ‘I already know I'm trapped.’

She turned her back on Beckett and walked away, shooting coldly back over her shoulder,

“Flee with your life while you still can.”

Once Carewyn was sure that her soldiers had all boarded the jollyboats and were on their way toward the HMS Swallow, she immediately made her way down to the lower deck, to where she knew Ben Copper had set up the explosives from the previous night.

The HMS Lion could not use flags to signal the other ships to fall back, from this distance...but the flagship being in distress would be more than enough for them to come back to try to help.

Carewyn approached the highly flammable barrels of black powder, her jaw set in determination despite the fear and paleness of her face. There was only one way she could make it explode on her own -- and so, with a deep breath and a faintly trembling hand, she slowly slid her loaded pistol from her belt and raised it to point at the barrels.

All of a sudden, Carewyn felt someone grab her from behind. She struggled against the grip as the person’s hands seized her arm, trying to pull it back -- “No, please -- please, no -- please -- ”

The voice made Carewyn freeze where she stood.

It was soft, detached, almost airy, and yet so choked and tense...she’d never heard that voice sound that way. Not that voice, at least...only a voice much younger, much less confident --

Carewyn slouched immediately.

“Orion?” she breathed.

The Pirate Lord’s shaking hands still clutched at her arm even after her pistol was no longer raised.

“Please,” he gasped for air, clearly trying to steady his heavy breathing. “Please -- ”

“Orion!”

Carewyn dropped her pistol to the floor with a clatter. She couldn’t pull out of his grip, but she tried to turn around to face him. Only managing to make it half-way, she looked up at him, taking in his parted lips and hollow dark eyes, and reached up to take hold of his face.

“Orion...it’s all right...”

Shakily Orion released her arms. Then, very abruptly, he just as quickly grabbed the back of her head with one hand, cradling it almost desperately.

“Orion, breathe,” Carewyn said desperately as she trailed a hand through his dreadlocks to try to comfort him. “Breathe...I’m here -- I’m here...”

The pirate closed his eyes. His breathing gradually slowed and quieted as he worked to ground himself.

“...Carewyn...” he murmured against her hair at last, still sounding faintly tense, but much more level again.

Carewyn’s chest was so overfull of emotion that her eyes flooded with tears.

“God, Orion!” she swore.

She placed a short, searing kiss against his lips before pulling away to look at him and tearing into him with anxiety,

“What are you doing here!? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“I could say the same to you,” said Orion, his much more usual, calmer voice low in his throat with disapproval.

Carewyn’s eyes fell down to his shoulder uncomfortably. “I have to signal the rest of the fleet to retreat -- ”

“You needn’t sacrifice yourself for that.”

“I can’t make this signal any other way!”

“Don’t take all of this onto yourself -- ”

“It’s the only way I can help now!” Carewyn burst out. Her own hands were shaking now. “I know what you and Jacob were trying to warn me about, Orion, but it’s no use -- I can’t just stay off the Dutchman! Jones told me that the contract can’t be undone unless I wanted to condemn someone else in my place, and I...I can’t do that, Orion! Even if it means I can never make that world I promised for you -- even if it means I can never get Bill and Charlie and Jules their lives back, or protect Jacob and Ashe from the Navy, or even see you again...”

She fiercely tried to hold back her tears even as they blurred her vision.

“My life isn’t worth protecting, if it means I lose you! I can’t lose you! Without all of you, there’s no point to anything, anything I do!”

Orion’s dark eyes were swirling like miniature galaxies as he adjusted his hand on the back of Carewyn’s head more securely, tilting it up to try to prompt her to look at him before speaking again.

“Carewyn...will you marry me?”

Carewyn looked up at him like she’d just gotten a splash of cold water right to the face.

“What?”

“Will you marry me?” Orion repeated, undaunted.

Carewyn’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Where in the world did this come from?!

“I don’t think now’s the best time!” she said in a weaker, more high-pitched voice than usual.

“Now may be the only time,” said Orion, sounding oddly serious.

Carewyn scanned his face, struggling to understand his thought process.

“Orion...I’ll be part of Jones’s crew -- there can’t be a future for us, even if we -- ”

“On the contrary,” Orion cut her off gently. “We would only have the freedom to be together, this way.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. Then, very, very slowly, her blue eyes widened in understanding.

“You’d be a member of our family,” she whispered.

Orion inclined his head in a nod. “I’d take the Cromwell name, rather than give you mine. That would make it so that Jones’s conditions could apply to either of us -- and so, if we wished to be together...the one Jones does not take could volunteer to remain with the other, as part of his crew...or, if not...one of us would be free to leave, with the debt still paid.”

Carewyn stared, hardly believing what she was hearing. She clutched at Orion’s shirt with both hands.

“You...you can’t!” she said desperately. “Jones is still under Beckett’s command -- if you join Jones’s crew, you...you’ll never be free again! I can’t let you enslave yourself to Beckett, not after what he did to you!”

“What he did to me...” murmured Orion.

He cradled Carewyn’s head as he leaned his forehead against hers so that their noses touched.

“Carewyn...what Beckett did to me was make it so that I’m no longer able to live a normal life. What he did to me was make it so that the only life I can lead is that of a pirate -- a creature of few friends, adrift on an unfriendly sea. However much I’ve been able to find independence and camaraderie on the high seas, that doesn’t mean I’ve ever been truly free. For I was never free to stop being a pirate. I was never free to stop running. I was never free...to return to the island where I first met the girl who would flit in and out of my dreams, like a songbird on the wing...see if she was happy...see if...she even still remembered me...”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“When I met you, I was an orphan with no name or home to call my own,” murmured Orion. “Although I’ve since crafted a name for myself...thanks to Beckett, I can never have the second. And even if I somehow ever could...that home would not be complete without you.”

His lips spread into a smile as his dark eyes slowly flooded with tears too.

“The freedom I want more than anything,” he said, “is the freedom to stay. Perhaps this choice wasn’t one we ever wanted to make, and perhaps it will be one we’ll have to live with longer than either of us envisioned, but...please...will you let me stay with you?”

Carewyn choked, trying to hold in the storm of emotions beating at the inside of her chest. She covered her face in both hands in a vain attempt to obscure the pain. She could feel Orion’s hand on the back of her head tense slightly, but he made no move to comfort her -- the pirate wasn’t entirely sure how, and he didn’t know if he should, since he knew he’d unloaded a lot onto her.

At last, Carewyn finally tore her hands away and threw her arms around Orion’s neck, burying her tear-stained face into his chest.

“Yes,” she whispered against his neck. “...Yes...”

She placed a feathery kiss to his collarbone.

“...Orion, I’m...I’m so sorry...”

Orion mirrored her, bringing his lips into the crook of her neck.

“Don’t be,” he said seriously, “for I am not.”

Carewyn looked up at him, prepared to speak -- but she stilled when her ear caught the sound of a pistol being cocked.

“GET DOWN!”

In an instant, she’d thrown herself against Orion, knocking him down to the floor just as the bullet whizzed overhead with a loud BANG, just barely missing the barrels of black gunpowder and instead colliding with one of the columns.

Carewyn and Orion both shot up, to find Cutler Beckett standing at the base of the stairs, his stony eyes set ablaze with a kind of hatred Carewyn had never seen.

At the exact same time, the Revolution and the Flying Dutchman were hotly engaged in battle on the rockier, more tempestuous sea. Jules had been firm in not having anyone swing over to the Dutchman until their ship had the upper hand, since she knew her mortal men would be outmatched by men who were already technically dead -- but Jacob, it seemed, had no intention of following her direction. Jones was still aboard the Flying Dutchman, and he had a score to settle with Jones. And so he swung over to the ship of the damned himself to confront its captain.

“Ah, Captain Roberts,” sneered Jones. “Welcome aboard.”

“Where is she!?” he snarled.

Jones’s dark eyes narrowed coldly. “If you mean the Admiral, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. Her enlistment isn’t set to begin for another month or so.”

With a roar of fury, Jacob lunged at Jones, hacking at him with his cutlass. The shorter man was very talented with a blade -- it was fortunate, considering he was hotly engaged in battle with someone who couldn’t be killed through ordinary means.

“Don’t know what you’re intending to do, Jacob Roberts!” spat Jones. “The contract is not one I can break either! The Admiral will be in my crew, no matter what she or anyone else thinks of the matter -- ”

Jacob slashed at Jones’s beard, slashing off several tentacles. Jones cried out in pain and frustration and when Jacob tried to attack again, Jones seized his arm in his claw, snapping down on it really hard.

“AUGH!”

Jones lifted the smaller man up off the deck by his arm so that he dangled off his feet.

“She only has her brother to blame for her misfortune,” the captain of the damned said lowly. “Yet she somehow has enough grace to not do so.”

Jacob’s face blanched and his slit-like pupils flared with hatred as he fought against Jones’ grip.

“You -- argh!”

Jones’s claw twisted Jacob’s arm painfully, making him drop his sword.

“Were I not a heartless wretch, I would feel remorse, knowing I have to condemn so decent a person,” said Jones.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, Jones cried out in surprise as a sword was plunged through his back.

It was Bill.

The eldest Weasley knew that the wound wouldn’t really hurt Jones (and he was correct), but it was the proper distraction for Jules to jump in from the other side and bring her sword down on Jones’s claw with enough leverage that he dropped Jacob. The curly-haired pirate captain fell onto the deck, clutching his arm, as Bill yanked his sword back out of Jones’s back.

“That is for Carey,” he snarled at Jones.

Jones whirled on Bill with his own cutlass, hacking away at him. Jules rushed to help Bill, while Ashe ran over to Jacob’s side to help him up.

“Jack, you’re bleeding -- ”

“I’ll be fine,” croaked Jacob as he clutched his wounded arm.

Jones fought both Bill and Jules singlehandedly, his cutlass slashing at Bill as his claw snapped at the air sweeping through Jules’s dark hair.

“Tell me, William and Juliette Weasley,” he crowed, “do you fear death?”

“Do you?”

Jones froze. Everybody else on the deck froze. Then, as if as a unit, they slowly turned, to look at Rakepick standing at the foot of the stairs.

The privateer-turned-pirate-hunter had shed her red jacket, leaving her in her blood-stained, high-necked and long-sleeved white undershirt, and her ginger-red hair had come loose of its bun and flapped in the gusting wind like a flag. In her hand was the throbbing, pulsating heart of Davy Jones.

Both Jacob and Bill lunged forward, but Rakepick moved before either of them could. Her dark blue eyes flaring with pure, undiluted hatred upon Jones, she yanked her loaded pistol out of its holster, thrust Jones’s heart down hard onto the deck, and fired at point-blank range.

BANG.

Jones lurched forward as if he'd been shot in the chest. He choked, his dark eyes going very wide as he struggled to breathe -- then he swayed, suddenly finding himself unable to stand, as his claw shakily clutched the railing of his ship.

Rakepick’s eyes held no compassion whatsoever as she bore down upon the crumpled-up Jones.

“The Chest’ll be doing its work soon enough,” she said very softly. “As it’s said...‘the Dutchman must have a captain.’”

Jacob suddenly felt like his hand was on fire. Ripping off the bandages, he stared in disbelief as the Black Spot Jones had given him so long ago seemed to shrink and disappear, leaving his palm completely unscarred.

For the deal Jacob had made was only in effect as long as both he and Jones lived. 

Jones gasped for air as Rakepick seized him by the collar.

“I would ask if you wished to serve under me -- but I don’t want scum like you on my crew. So I’ll instead be kind...and send you to meet your dear Calypso.”

In a heartless move Jacob only knew too well, Rakepick shoved Jones overboard, right off of the Dutchman into the rushing waves.

“No!” hissed Jacob.

Rakepick turned to Jacob, a cold smirk spreading onto her face. “You know what this means, then, Black Jack? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised!”

Out of nowhere, Rakepick lurched forward, clutching at her chest, which pulsated with demented, sickly sea-green light. She shrieked in agonizing, hellish pain as her chest ripped itself apart, her own heart molting out of her skin -- the Dead Man’s Chest appeared out of nowhere in a flare of light at her feet -- and it swallowed up the heart that had ripped itself out of her chest before snapping shut.

“What -- ” gasped Bill, “what is -- ?”

“The one who stabs the Heart,” said Ashe, his face very pale with fury and anxiety, “must replace it with their own.”

“And become the immortal Captain of the Flying Dutchman.”

Rakepick clutched her chest with one hand, her long ginger hair in her face. She breathed heavily as her lips spread little by little into a broad smirk. When she pulled her hand away, the wounds in her chest and in her shoulder had completely sealed up. Even the blood had dissipated.

“Incredible,” she whispered. “I can feel the Dutchman -- the sea -- the creatures of the deep, all responding to my every whim...”

She flung out her arm. In an instant, Jones’s fallen barnacle-encrusted blade soared into her open hand, and she raised her head, her dark blue eyes devoid of human light or mercy upon Bill, Jacob, Jules, and Ashe as her loosely flying ginger hair seemed to smack the air like tentacles.

“Now I finally have the power I need,” she whispered triumphantly, “the power to destroy all of you and Cutler Beckett, in one fell swoop!”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #potc au #au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #jacob cromwell #bill weasley #charlie weasley #jules farrier #samantha o'connell #arjun singh #aishwarya mehra #jae kim #merula snyde #ellie hopper #patricia rakepick #duncan ashe #finn mcgarry #barnaby lee #sorry to leave you on ANOTHER cliffhanger #oh finn ;-; #don't worry man your ending will have a more bittersweet aftermath I promise #and barnaby ack!! #I know at least *one* of you will know what that fish tail means *smirk* #and percy!! my poor bb boy!! finally coming around!! #and carion!! AAAAHHHH #also rakepick had his heart in her coat pocket all along #when she said she 'couldn't give it to carewyn' it was because she had her own plans for the heart not because she physically couldn't DX #pirates of the caribbean

[elles-writing]

When The Worlds Collide - VI

Kili x reader

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not posting my own works in like two weeks or so. It was rough for my mental health and school was kicking my ass and I was not in a mood for doing many things, so now I hope you will like this long chapter!! It’s not really about the main plot, just some fluffy moments to enjoy. Also, it was my birthday 23rd September and it’s finally autumn!! I also don’t really know when am I going to draw, because like I said, I was not doing mentally well, but I think I could give it a shot in a next few days, because I’m on my autumn break, finally! I’ve been finishing a cake w my mom in past hour or so and I created a moon on it and waves in Gogh’s paintings style, I’ll show you a photo of it in next part.

gif not mine

gif not mine

gif not mine (inspo for the bun and cooking scene)

Also, I’m not sure in which year in modern world this shall be oriented, but songs I’ve been thinking of (aka you playing these to them):

Spanish: Volar – Alvaro Soler, also We Don’t Speak Americano

French: Amour Plastique – VIDEOCLUB, La Vie En Rose – Edith Piaf

Korean: Sweat, Blood & Tears – BTS (because I don’t know almost any Japanese songs, but I like this one and some other songs in Korean)

Vegetable pie – quiche (I’ve had a pumpkin one in a cafe and it was real good)

Warnings: fluff

tags: @moony-artnstuff​ @whenputtingpentopaper​

One of the fun things while having this group around was that they would constantly look around some rooms in your house and tell you how pretty it was, even if you haven't been tidying and cleaning it in two weeks at least. They also loved to explore your library and spended countless hours by reading the books. You've decided to introduce them to human culture. Only the basic things, really.

"So, here, the race of Men has developed into a different coultures and languages all over the world. Can you guess, for example, how many languages is here?" Kili didn't even thought about his answer.

"Well, you have one common language, so I guess just one, maybe two or three," He said with proud confident smile, changing in his typical cheeky grin as he winked at you. You chuckled and shook your head. Balin looked up from his book.

"There must be more. What about five, or ten?" You looked over others.

"Any other answer? C'mon, try out some number." You felt like a teacher in a class of many different students.

"Thirty languages, that could be," said Legolas calmly.

"Well, this is much bigger world, but it can't be that much. I guess twenty." Bard was thinking aloud.

"So, how is it, lass?" Fili asked and you couldn't help to cover a smile that was forming on your face.

"Well, actually, it's much more than that," you said. You've heard Gandalf to chuckle.

"It's over six thousand languages." Kili's eyes widened and his jaw fell down, Fili did pretty similar face. Most of them looked at you as if you'd told them you personally know Smaug and he's your best friend. And that dragons are the biggest cuddly softies.

"Bold of you to assume that whole population in this world speaks one language or a few dozens of them," you jokily murmed to yourself. Of course, elvish ears have picked that up. Thranduil looked at you with his icy glare.

„How does they sound, then?“ You pulled out your phone and opened YouTube.

„Well, this is a language called Spanish,“ You‘ve played one song in Spanish and all of them were listening to it, deeply in thought. You’ve noticed some dwarves trying to catch the lyrics, and when the song ended, you looked over them.

„This was Spanish, it’s one of the most largely-spoken languages all over the world. It can be slightely different, it depends on where you go. Then, there is another language, and it’s called French. It’s also called the ‚language of love‘, because it sounds softly and even as some sort of charm or magic.“ You looked to the elves.

„I think you may like it, it sounds a bit as an elvish in a way,“ You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to offend them. They looked more interested in what you were about to play to them.

„This song is in French, but it’s a sad song. It’s also quite old, but I think it’s quite a good example, because it’s well-known, so,“ you left the sentence unfinished and played La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, then one more modern song in French so they’d get the idea. When it ended, you’ve spoken again.

„Well, then there are much different languages. This one is Korean,“ you said and played a song, around fourty seconds.

„What were they saying? It’s all so different!“ You’ve heard Fili and smirked.

„You haven’t heard Russian, Fili.“ Kili sat closer to you, just as a puppy needy for attention.

„They are all so different!“ He threw his hands into air. You smiled.

„Oh yeah, they are. But it’s better to know at least two languages, to get higher chances of getting a job. The more languages you know, the more likely will people want you to work for them.“ Bard piped up.

„How can you learn them? Some of them sound way too difficult to learn, that Korean for example, how would you learned that?“ You looked over to your library.

„Oh well, you can go to some classes and learn the language here, or you can learn them by yourself. There are many textbooks you can use for learning grammar, and you can use books in your target language to help you to learn the vocabulary. Or you can watch movies in that language, listen to a songs, read articles instead of books, text or call with somebody who speaks that language...there are plenty of ways to do so, there is probably even more of them. Also, depends on the language and the person. Some people learn easier when they’ll learn the basic grammar first, someone needs to learn the pronounciation first, and so on.“ You finished talking and they were staring at you, surprised.

„How many languages do you know, if I may ask?“ Balin looked curiously down at you, sitting with crossed legs on the floor with Kili sitting next to you. You’ve thought about his question.

„Well, I’m fluent in two languages, and I’m learning another one. It’s a great way to relieve stress and it’s really fun thing to do, even though sometimes you have to learn to write completely different letters.“ You showed them Koren, Japanese and Russian letters, and they couldn’t believe their eyes.

A few minutes later

Fili sat down to the other side, so you were seated between them and they could look on your phone and into your book about Korea and Japan.

„How can you write that? How can you read that? It’s impossible! It all sounds the same!“ Kili and Fili cried out when Google Translate pronounciation have proved them wrong after another attempt of reading the languages.

„Every language has it’s own rhytm and you have to really listen to it, so you will recognize the words. If you don’t know the languages, it does sound close. Maybe we could try out some French and Spanish, what do you think?“ You said after seeing the elves being annoyed that they could not pronounce it, but not complaining as the dwarf brothers.

But oh boy, French and Spanish, that was another challenge. Even if not that big, but still.

„How do you do that with your mouth?!“ Kili asked you, looking as unhappy, flustrated puppy whom you took it’s ball and refused to give it back (or throw it).

„There are some rules for something called grammar and pronounciation, which you are purposely ignoring and then you complain you don’t understand how to do it!“ You said and rolled your eyes.

„You always tell me it’s wrong!“

„Because it is! You are pronouncing it wrong! It’s leviOUsa, not levioSAAA-!“ You stopped and then you started laughing. Kili furrowed his eyebrows.

„What, what are you laughing about? What is so funny? Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?!“ Kili looked at you, lying on your back on the floor, tears from laugh sparkling in your eyes.

„I sound-I sound just like a Hermione! It’s not LevioSAA-“ You started laughing again and they all looked at you worried.

„Shall we be concerned?“ Fili asked and you shook your head.

„No, no, it’s okay, I just-“ You looked at Kili and tried to not to laugh again.

„I’m okay, it’s okay.“ You breathed in and out, slowly, closing your eyes. You didn’t noticed how most of them looked at each other. As if they’d ended up with some crazy person.

You spoken.

„Okay, I think that was enough of languages for today. I know you have Khuzdul, Elvish and common language in Middle-Earth, but here is much more. Human culture in here has been developing for thounsands of years on many different places, so that’s why.“ You said and got up to your laptop to find some pictures of a certain places. They all came closer.

„Well, this is Rome, in Italy. Then, we have Paris, in France, now some Scandinavian countries. This is Stockholm, Sweden. Then, there is London, Great Britain. Now, this is Los Angeles and New York, that’s both in United States. This is in Japan and this is in Australia.“ You showed them well-known places all over the world and especially Europe, since you assumed it was the closest to Middle-Earth style of living.

After a while, you’ve decided to make some dinner. It wasn’t too much left, and you knew you’d have to go shopping soon, but you didn’t wanted to stress yourself about leaving some fictional characters alone in your house for an hour. No. You prepared a recipe and ingredients and started making dough and left them in living room with another pile of books. They especially loved classics, because they had similar language to what they were using, but they liked even more modern books. You didn’t even counted the time you were thanking yourself for collecting books and being a bookworm. And being a „public library“, as you and your friend would say.

Meanwhile, Kili looked up from his book to Fili, whom was reading one book series and seemed to like it, but now his brows was furrowed as if trying to solve some problem that came up. He quietly closed it and noticed you weren’t here with them, so he‘ve decided to find you and maybe talk with you about the book he was currently reading.

The first place, where he’ve decided to take a look to, was kitchen. He stood in the doorway, more to the side so you wouldn’t noticed him right away, but you seemed to be deeply in thought and mentally far away.

You were making a dough, with your hair up in a messy bun, your apron had quite a lot of flour on it, some flour ended up on your face and especially on your cheeks and up to elbows your hands were covered in it, even in your hair was a flour, but you didn’t seemed to mind it here. Next to you, there was a bowl of some cutted vegetables and a smaller bowl of cheese and a few eggs, some spices and herbs.

He didn’t noticed when you‘ve looked up as his memory flew back to his mother back in their old home in Middle-Earth in the kitchen cooking and his and Fili’s failed attempts they called cooking. They were much better at cooking from mud and twiggs than from real food. He imagined his mother and you in that kitchen and that you’d both tell him to get out from the kitchen and he’d sneak in afterwards to steal some piece of pie or cookies or sweet pasteries to prepare for you and him a picnic under the stars...

„Are you going to stand here and stare at me while I’m cooking?“ You placed your hands on your hips and a smile was dancing across your face. Kili’s head snapped and his cheeks blushed.

„I, uh, I wanted to talk with you about this book, I think it’s a good one.“ You came back to your dough and started working on it, again.

„Well, what books is it?“ You looked at the book he was holding.

"Oh, so The Picture of Dorian Gray. How do you like it so far?“ Kili looked at the book in his hands as if it could answer instead of him. He didn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of you.

„Well, I...uh...it’s-it’s interesting and-“ You softly chuckled and his head snapped up.

„You can sit by the table rather than to stand in the doorway, Kee. Or you can help me out.“ You clapped your hands and big cloud of flour appeared in the air. A cheeky grin found a way to his face.

„Oh, so you would risk cooking with me, miss Y/N?“ You grinned back at him.

„Well, maybe. And still, you can sit down and talk about the book, I’ll listen to you.“ You said and a soft chuckle escaped your lips when you’ve seen how eager he was to sit near you, somebody whom was ready to listen to him.

„Tell me what you honestly think of that book, Kili. I won’t get offended or anything.“ You smiled at him and you’ve seen his eyes to shine as he spoke and when you were talking about all the characters and the storyline from different points of view, but that didn’t lasted long, because...food.

„What are you cooking?“ Kili asked curiously as he’ve checked the dough you were doing, the vegetables, spices and herbs.

„I’m baking a pie with vegetables and cheese, Kee.“ He scrunched his face and furrowed eyebrows.

„Why would you bake it with vegetables? Pies are sweet, aren’t they?“ He looked up at you with his questioning soft brown eyes and you’ve melted once again. You sighed and started explaining.

„Well, they are, but this type of pie is made with vegetables and cheese and eggs. It tastes good, I promise. It’s something like a pizza, but...well, it’s just a bit different, but good too!“ You said and he nodded, remembering that you baked a pizza a few days ago. Then he was standing next to you, looking sleepishly down at it.

„Put your hair out of the way, Kili, or they will end up in it. And that would not be good.“ You said, pulled out a hair-tie from the pocket of your apron, and created a messy bun out of his hair. You’ve realized that touching someone’s hair is (well, at least in the movies and books) intimate for dwarves, so you felt your face to heat up in embarrassement. You realized that it was probably true when Kili was suddenly stiff and his ears became red.

„Oh, I didn’t realized, I’m sorry-“ He cutted you off.

„It’s okay,“ You noticed he was sleepishly looking at you, but there was a twinkle in his eyes telling you he was not mad at you. (As if he could be possibly actually mad at somebody, you thought.) You shyly looked away.

„I, uh, wanna help me out?“ You looked down at floor, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him, so you didn’t noticed how his eyes widened in surprise.

„Y-you would let me to cook?!“ His voice came out as high-pitched and you glanced at him. His eyes were set on you, he was clearly surprised and excited.

„I will keep an eye on you, but yes, at some point I will.“ You said a bit hesitantely. He looked a bit concerned, but excitement overtook him. You handed him an apron. Yours was dark blue with little stars on it, this one was creamy with brown fabric around the edges. You helped him to put it on and stepped a bit away, hands on your hips and slightely narrowed eyes.

„Yeah, that’s good. But we need to do something with your bangs,“ You said and pulled out a few hair clips and bobby pins in more sizes from pocket of your apron. You went through them and then slightely nodded, chose a few of them and the rest gave back. You looked up to Kili.

„This will help to hold all of your hair out of your face,“ you said and he took them and suspiciously glanced at them. You sighed and rolled playfully your eyes. You took one of your pocket, took a strand of hair that escaped to your bun and inhaled.

„That’s how to do it. It’s not like it will bite you.“ You said, clasped the strand to it’s place, placing your hands on your hips and rising your eyebrow. He grinned and winked at you.

„Okay, let’s get the pie done!“ You quickly said, trying to cover your rising blush.

You broke the eggs into the bowl with vegetables and let Kili to put the herbs into it, but you added spices and heavy cream into it.

„Now, mix it-carefully, so it won’t end up on the floor and stay in the bowl-and then carefully pour it onto the dough,“ you motioned to the prepared dough on pie dish. Kili, when he calmed down (which almost didn’t happened, he seemed to be excited somebody trusted him enough to let him to kitchen to do something else than just eat, drink or sneak in for food), was a quick learner. You placed the pie to oven and let it to bake. You leaned against the counter and with a huff you wiped off your forehead.

„I think it’s time to get cleaned up,“ you sighed, your eyes falling shut. Kili nodded, but it seemed something on your face cought his attention. He came closer, he was close enough for you to see his soft gaze filled with concern and his brows slightely scrunched, him being concentrated.

„You have...a bit of flour left here...“ he said and his thumb runned across your cheek. You slighely flinched on that sudden contact. Your eyes met his and you’ve seen in his gaze he was thinking about something. His touch was sending shivers down your spine. You slightely opened your mouth, but closed it again, not wanting to ruin the moment. His eyes had a sparks in them, but he looked more nervous than cheeky and confident this time.

You couldn’t help but looked quickly on his lips and back to his eyes. It was only you two now, as if the whole world disappeared. You were holding your breath, nervous what was about to happen.

„I-,“ Kili whispered and you felt his breath on your lips. He was looking deep into your e/c eyes, thinking about how beautiful they were and how close he was. He could kiss you, your lips were just a few inches away, and he’d lie if he said he have never, at least once thought about how it would felt like to kiss you, at least once, since he met you.

„Kili, where are you?!“ You both flinched, quickly parted and looked away. You’ve heard Kili groaning as his older brother appeared in the doorway.

„You need to read this series Kee-wait-“ he slightely frowned, looking at his brother more properly.

„You were...cooking?“ You nervously smiled.

„Uhm, yeah, I was making a dinner and, uhm, Kili was helping me out,“ You said.

„Kili, you can go clean up, I will clean here a bit,“ You didn’t gave him a place for an answer when you pushed him to go to Fili. When a door fell after them, you sat down on the floor and thought about that moment you almost kissed. And then Fili came in, you thought and groaned. He was definetely keeping an eye on his brother.

#kili x reader #kili #the hobbit #fanfiction #fili #fluff

[politicaltheatre]

Dissent

We’ll know soon enough what kind of Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett will be. Senate Democrats will stall the proceedings as much as they can and try to drag things out so a confirmation vote can’t be taken until after the election, but we must accept that the odds and senate protocols are against them.

Publicly, Democrats up and down the ticket are claiming that their fear is that a Barrett confirmation will kill the Affordable Care Act (ACA) in the middle of a pandemic, and they very well may be right. That, however, isn’t their true fear.

The one they’ll voice when Barrett gets in front of them and the TV cameras is that she would support her benefactor Donald Trump in any lawsuit his people file in their attempts to decide the election through the courts, which they most certainly will do.

Trump’s already said as much. It’s part of his campaign pitch. He’s boasting about it at rallies. He’s counting on it.

As stupid as he often appears, and as stupid as he is about so many things, Trump understands corruption. He lives it and breathes it. He is a bona fide expert in it, so we should listen.

What he, Mitch McConnell, and others who embrace corruption understand is what far too many of us refuse to admit, which is that there is no such thing as an independent judiciary, that there is no such thing as an impartial judge.

This is not to suggest that Judge Barrett is corrupt. The awful truth of it is that she doesn’t have to be. She is reliably right wing, which is more than enough.

Barrett clerked for Justice Antonin Scalia. Like her mentor, she believes that the law does not exist to protect the weak from the strong. It does not exist, in their world, to reduce or correct imbalances of power. It is, instead, an instrument and only that, one by which the capable may exercise their will over others.

As brilliant as he was and as brilliant as she may be, theirs is the law of the school debate team. To them, winning isn’t about being right, it’s about domination. You can be wrong, morally and reprehensibly, but know the law and know how to wield it as a weapon and you will dominate your opponent time and again.

It is the triumph of short term thinking. To those embracing this view, there is nothing beyond that victory, no consequence beyond it, and no effect on the world beyond it.

If you think they’re wrong, prove it. Challenge them. Bend precedent to your will. Apply the logic of allowable facts. Prepare better. Go for the jugular. Destroy your enemy or meekly and silently accept your defeat.

Theirs is a faithless law, even more so because it divorces the law from the humans its verdicts, opinions, and decisions affect.

It is strange, then, but not surprising that Republicans and their surrogates have preemptively sought to place resistance to Barrett’s nomination on her religion. Their hope is to obscure the beliefs that truly make her dangerous, the irony being that Catholicism is not truly at the root of it.

Yes, there are strains and sects of Catholicism that preach the virtues of authority and hierarchy. These are the ones that sided with the fascists in their rise to power in Europe and protected sexually abusive clergy for so very, very long.

There are, however, also dissenting branches, including the one currently led by Pope Francis, that preach compassion and the virtues of equality. It was the former that led to those centuries of abuse and institutional corruption; it is the latter, we should all hope Catholics and non-Catholics alike, that will redeem the Church of both.

So, while Barrett’s affinity for a brand of Catholicism that embraces authority and power as chief virtues may inform her legal opinions, it is not what motivates them. That motivation, again, would be an honest, sincere belief that the right to demand accountability resides exclusively with those who have the power to demand it and the resources to dominate those in their way.

Trump may not have thought this through as thoroughly as that. McConnell may not have either, for that matter. All McConnell cares about is having judges in place who will protect him and corrupt people in power just like him. All Trump cares about is having judges who will protect him and him alone.

Oh, and that this pick is big “fuck you” to Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg and everyone who adores her still. Trump loves that, too.

What Ginsberg represented, more than simply being a woman with the gumption to tell men like Trump and McConnell that they were wrong, was the power of dissent.

Dissent is more than just an exercise in freedom of speech, it is an act of empowerment, both for those voicing their disagreement and for the institutions in which they voice them. The purpose of dissent is to improve the institution, to save it from the corruption that would bring it down.

Ginsberg believed that whatever was wrong in the United States, it could and should be saved. To suggest that something could and should be improved is not disloyal but courageous. To criticize an institution is not pessimistic but the opposite, because to criticize it you must believe than it has the ability to improve.

That wish for the institution to be saved and to succeed is essential to dissent. It cannot be dissent without it.

By that measure, a lot of kinds of protest are dissent, and a lot of others very much are not. Refusing to wear a mask in a store, for example, is not dissent. Driving your car through a protest is not dissent. Silencing a reporter is not dissent. Cheating on your taxes is not dissent (Actually, cheating on anything is not dissent. Breaking the rules just because you want to win is despicable).

All of these examples undermine the communities in which we live. They pit us against each other and as a result weaken the bonds we need as a society in order to survive.

So, dissent is essential, it is part of our immune system, and in a democracy it is everything.

The legal right to dissent is relatively new to the human experience. Just a few centuries ago, speaking out against an authority’s decision was almost (and literally) unheard of. The opinions and decisions of powerful men and women from monarchs and clerics down to local landowners were absolute. To challenge them was treason and heresy. The penalty for either was the same: a painful, public death.

Around the world today we see example after example of authoritarian regimes denying the right to dissent and punishing it. Whether they are nominally Capitalist, such as Russia or Turkey, or nominally Communist, such as China, suppression of dissent is what truly determines what kind of life those they rule must lead.

To be left wing - truly and properly left wing - is to hold oneself accountable to others because we want them to be accountable to us. The ability to voice and listen to dissent is what makes that work.

With every non-unanimous Supreme Court decision, there is a majority opinion and a minority, “dissenting” one. There may also be concurring opinions to either. They are published together. It is the majority opinion that rules, but the reason for the inclusion of the others is that they may persuade those reading them to change their minds. In this way, each voice on the Court matters, each mind, and each opportunity to influence the voices and minds of those the Court serves.

The Supreme Court is the last federal institution where majority rule still holds true. The Electoral College and Senate disproportionately favor rural, right wing voters and have increasingly done so for decades. That makes this appointment the natural result, and with it will come things the Left correctly fears.

Barrett may very well support overturning decisions on the ACA and Roe v Wade, but, perhaps more disturbingly, she may support overturning the decisions that equalized LGBT rights and banned forced prayer in schools.

Again, this will not be because she is Catholic but because she believes that those in power, be they school boards or business owners, have the right to decide who has rights within their schools and businesses and who does not. If you don’t like that, you’ll just have to gain power yourself, or find a new school, or a new job, or a new bakery.

It will likely be a long time before Justice Barrett has to write a dissenting opinion. It will take the retirement or death of at least one of the right wing justices, and that may not happen for a decade or more.

There has been talk of Democrats stacking the Court with left wing justices. This would be a tragic mistake. Even talking about it is a mistake. If the Democrats did it next year, the Republicans could do it when they took power, and so on, and so on, and so on.

Meanwhile, it would corrupt and erode any confidence in any legal opinion issued by the Supreme Court or any of the lower courts, and with that whatever last shred of trust Americans had in government would be gone.

The better solution, one long overdue, would be to fix the imbalance of power in the Electoral College and the Senate. This would be done by admitting the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico as states and by splitting California into two or three states.

Doing so would add eight or ten senators and at least two voting representatives. This would not only repair some of the imbalance between right wing and left wing voters in this country, it would make it easier to pass new amendments to the Constitution, such as preserving the right to abortion, mandating health care as a right, setting term limits for all federal judges, and eliminating the Electoral College once and for all.

There would be resistance to this, of course. There would be dissent. And those offering genuine dissent should always be listened to. We fail to do so at our own expense.

Dissent is one of the prices we pay for democracy. It is sloppy. It is chaotic. It takes work and it takes time. However, much like our own immune systems, it must be flexible and robust to withstand change and adapt to new conditions.

That is the world Ruth Bader Ginsberg fought for. That is the world we should fight for, too.

- Daniel Ward

#dissent #consent #politics #law #supreme court #ruth bader ginsburg #rbg #amy coney barrett #antonin scalia #The Constitution #imbalances of power #corruption #cheating #cheating culture #taxes #tax avoidance #donald trump #mitch mcconnell #long reads #long read #democracy #authoritarianism #fascism #free speech

[artificialqueens]

Are You Gonna Stay the Night? (Sashea) || By Meg

What’s up you guys?! I know I haven’t written anything in a while. During season Nine, much like everyone else in the fandom, I became completely addicted to everything about Sasha and Shea. I respect both of them as artists and I respect their personal relationships, but I also love this one. So, please enjoy my little ode to these two beautiful creatures. Mwah!

It felt like Sasha couldn’t stop running.

She didn’t know why.

She wasn’t running from a monster that loomed over her like in nightmare. She wasn’t running from anything physical, she was running away from every thought she had ever had that was just continuing to swirl around in her head. She’d been trying to stop running and take a breath for nineteen freaking years. Every day of her life had been more fast-paced than the last.

She couldn’t stop running.

She didn’t know why.

And she couldn’t stop.

The only thing that had calmed her down was her cello. That beautiful, sleek instrument that she began to play only because of her doting mother. Her mother had always been a source of anxiety in her young life, Sasha always had to be the smartest, the prettiest and the most desired girl on the block. Wesley avenue was most certainly competitive, considering her best friend Alexis Michelle who lived next door graduated early to go off into New York City to attend Juilliard and act on Broadway. Sasha herself was Juilliard bound, it turns out, that massive instrument gave Sasha’s life meaning. Her talent was recognized when she was young, her teacher at the time noticed that she was picking up pieces like they were pieces of candy.

Sure, Sasha was good at Cello. People loved her and her beautiful wooden instrument, as well as the sounds that came out of it. But, Sasha wasn’t sure if she really loved herself.

Once she hit the scene of New York, she knew she had to finally stop and breathe.

There were too many people around for her to worry about crashing into anyway.

The little Starbucks that sat about a block away from Sasha’s dorm room, little did she know, would be the place that everything changed. After making her bed and beginning to personalize her room (with her Andy Warhol posters, for example,) and coming to the conclusion to live out of her suitcase for the first few days, she made her way to buy herself a coffee. It had been a long night. Although it wasn’t a long drive from Brooklyn, she had spent most of the night lying awake, anxious about what was yet to come.

“Grande black coffee for Sasha?”

Sasha snapped out of her sleepy trance before making her way to pick up the plastic cup that would hopefully wake her up. Nothing else seemed to. Not a run, not a Redbull and especially not her alarm clock.

“Damn girl, you look exhausted.”

Sasha didn’t register the other girl’s speech for a few moments before pushing her blonde hair aside and looking over her black-framed glasses. She was blunt in her speech, as she wasn’t really in the mood to deal with human interaction. “Thanks.”

“Sorry, I- I couldn’t help but notice. Are you Juilliard student too?” The brunette seemed rather anxious, and way too damn friendly for seven thirty in the freaking morning. Sasha couldn’t deny that the woman standing in front of her looked absolutely incredible, even in track pants and a sweatshirt with the name of a school on it

Sasha nodded, a weak smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, actually, I’m a cello player. What about yourself?”

“Ah, a cellist.” Shea nodded, winking playfully. “Thats sexy.”

Sasha blushed a bright pink. “So you find an over exhausted, hurried nineteen year old girl sexy?”

“Oh darling,” Shea purred, resting a hand on her shoulder. “it’s not every day that an over exhausted, hurried nineteen year old girl can actually pull off being over-exhausted and hurried.”

Bestill, her beating heart. “You’re so kind.” She smiled weakly. “I’m Sasha.”

“I’m Shea.”

Shea would soon become Sasha’s new favorite name. That name would roll off of her tongue like a caramel. She would be unable to hear anything else in her head but the repetition of ‘Shea. Shea. Shea.’

Shea often spent time laying on Sasha’s bed, panicking about her vocal performance curriculum. Shea had the voice of an angel, Sasha had learned, but she was so insecure about it due to the competition she had.

After knowing her for four months, this new day wasn’t much different. Shea was flopped on Sasha’s bright blue comforter, practically smothering herself with Sasha’s pillow.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” Shea groaned, trying to make an effort to hide her face that was seemingly flushed with embarrassment. “I’m not good enough for this place at all.”

Sasha shook her head frantically. “No, no, no! That’s not true at all. You’ve worked so hard to get here.. Please don’t stop now.”

“Easy for you to say.” The brunette pouted, peering over the left side of the pillow. “Your professors love you.”

That wasn’t just anxious Shea talking. That was very true. Sasha’s professors had been going completely and utterly gaga for the small blonde. They called her “a talent,” and “a genius.” Shea had always been jealous of her friend, she wanted her professors to feel the same way about her. Instead, they acted like she wasn’t there. In fact, nobody was there for her. Nobody was there for her besides Sasha.

“I-I-” Sasha finally began to speak after the brief pause. “I think you’re incredibly talented, Shea. You really do not give yourself a lot of credit at all, and it hurts to see such a beautiful soul fall down such an incredible pit of insecurity..”

Shea sighed, shutting her eyes for a second to take a deep breath. She loved Sasha. She loved her more than words could possibly say. Sasha had quickly become her best friend, and she had even begun to question if they could be something more.

Something more.

She was terrified, she had to run from this.

All her life, she hadn’t stopped running.

But one look in Sasha’s eyes that were magnified by her glasses, and she could feel her feet stop pounding on the pavement.

Sasha’s eyes made everything okay.

“I’m sorry for snapping, Sash. It’s just.. I don’t know. I feel like I never know anything anymore.” Shea didn’t know how to put her feelings into words normally, but she certainly did know one thing. Shea loved Sasha. She loved the way her frizzy blonde hair grazed her cheeks, the way her smile made her feel like she could do absolutely anything. She found herself tumbling deeper into her infatuation every time she listened to Sasha’s horsehair bow graze the strings of her cello. Those sparks that she had felt the first day had evolved into the brightest and wild of flames.

Sasha could tell that Shea was deep in thought, so she slowly moved down to lay beside her friend with that smile Shea loved so much. “Aw babe.. Just breathe, okay? I know you’re under a lot of stress. I’m going out tonight with a friend, but I bet our RA would be fine if you stayed here.” “Thank you, angel. Thank you.” Shea nodded, kissing Sasha’s forehead. “I would have been a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you.”

Sasha shook her head, adjusting her glasses. “That’s a lie. You would have flourished here. But you decided to hang out with the artsy loner on a daily basis.”

Shea’s lips displayed a weak smile. She certainly wanted to do more with Sasha than just hang out with her. She wanted to love her. She wanted to to make her feel like she was the only woman in the entire world. She wanted to feel a love unlike anything else, with her. Sasha wasn’t just an ordinary blonde. She had more depth to her than any of the girls she knew back at her high school in Chicago.

Please, Sasha. She thought. Don’t give me the material to write yet another sad love song.

Hours later, when Alexis Michelle came to pick up her friend, Shea could feel her heart stop beating.

Shea Coulee was absolutely no match for Alexis Michelle. Where Shea was tall and lean with a Naomi Campbell body, Alexis Michelle had all of the curves to make Kim Kardashian jealous. Alexis Michelle was girly, clothed in a pair of navy pants, a frilly blouse and a jean jacket, while Shea’s wardrobe consisted of flannels and concert t-shirts.

The way that Sasha looked at this girl wasn’t helping Shea’s confidence either.

“Hey..” Sasha smiled, looking absolutely breathless.

“Hey.” Alexis replied, wrapping her arms around the other girl’s waist.

She’s touching my girl, Shea thought.

“I’ll be back later, Shea.” Sasha waved as the pair of them exited the room.

Sure, or she’ll keep you to herself, and you’ll wake up in her bedroom.

As she heard the door click shut, Shea burst into tears. She would never be good enough for Sasha. Not in a million years. She would never deserve the love that she knew Sasha had in her heart, she never had as her friend, and she most certainly wouldn’t as a lover.

Meanwhile, Sasha knew something was wrong, and the entire night, she couldn’t stop wondering if Shea was alright. This infuriated Alexis. As they existed the restaurant, she stopped walking, looking at Sasha with a raised eyebrow.

“Sash, why don’t we go back to my place?” She asked, pulling her close and nuzzling her nose against Sasha’s own. “Just like old times.”

Ah, that phrase again. Just like old times. Old times consisted of closeted Alexis calling Sasha up to fool around during their Sophomore and Junior years of high school. Of course, ever so often she would meet some boy that would fawn all over her gorgeous physique, and she would be gone.

Sasha had always been her safety, her gay best friend.

She used to like being used, she used to enjoy that Alexis always came back to her, but now, a freshman in college, she just felt abused. She just wanted to be loved.

“I-I-” She muttered, her eyes falling to her shoes. Alexis’ face fell. Sasha didn’t want her anymore. She didn’t have the blonde wrapped around her finger the way she used to. Her quick fix now belonged to someone else.

“You find a hookup buddy better than me, huh?” She asked. “Remember what you told me, nobody can rock that body like I do.”

It was true, Sasha had said that, although, she wanted to push that person who felt that way out of her mind. Alexis didn’t care about her mentally, she was just attracted to the fact that she was a girl, who, well, liked girls and would willingly submit to anything she said. So, she stayed silent. Her silence was only met by more disapproval from Alexis.

“It’s that Shea girl, isn’t it?”

Sasha sighed. She was so used to Alexis’ bitching by now, she just didn’t say anything. Nothing would change her mind, it was always Sasha who was in the wrong. Alexis never admitted the fact that Sasha meant absolutely nothing to her romantically. She didn’t want to think that she had been toying with her closest friend’s heart for this long.

“It is. It totally is. I bet you two were sucking face before I got to your dorm room!”

“That’s it!” She growled, looking the taller of the pair dead in the eye. “I’m so done with this concept that you’re allowed to see other people, but when I have another friend who’s a girl, you suddenly feel threatened? I’m just a toy to you, Alexis. Just another goddamn toy you love to play with, just like every other human being with a pulse in New York City. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I won’t be going back to your place, I will be going back to my dorm where Shea is waiting for me.”

Alexis stood there, shocked. Not in her twenty years had anyone mistreated her like this. Okay, it wasn’t mistreatment. Nobody had taken the time to pick her apart. Not until Sasha. “Fine.” She huffed, tugging on the hem of her blouse. Someone saw through her facade. Someone was finally beginning to realize that she wasn’t perfect. “Go. Run off to your little bitch.”

That’s when Sasha stopped in her tracks. Who did this girl think she was? God? Turning around, she found her hand connecting with Alexis’ face in a rough slap. “I have never slapped anyone in my damn life, Alexis, and I never thought i’d ever start. But you, you deserve it. You are a god awful human being. Absolutely horrible. I no longer what to ‘go back to your place.’ That would have excited the me of three years ago, but i’m different now. I’ve outgrown your childish games of seduction.”

And with that, she turned away and walked away from Alexis, forever.

As the cab drove throughout the city that stayed so true to its name, “the city that never sleeps,” Sasha couldn’t help but think about what Alexis had said. She had always thought Shea was beautiful, both inside and out. She had always felt a little bit jealous when other women surrounded her. She was desired, it was very clear, with that chocolate skin and her deep eyes, she was every artistic lesbian’s dream. And unlike Alexis, she actually saw people as- well- people. You don’t play with people. All this time, Sasha had been so blinded by the idea that Alexis could have possibly grown up that she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her.

She was in love with Shea Coulee.

She practically tossed herself out of the cab as it pulled up to her dorm, sprinting past the front desk and up the stairs, praying that Shea would still be there, fast asleep by now. Shea always went to bed early. But, as she opened the door, she found Shea collecting her things she had brought with her.

“Shea? Wha-” she began to ask before she was cut off.

“I can’t do this.” Shea cried, Sasha could tell she had been crying. “I can’t stand to watch you run off with that other girl every night, when I’ve been standing right here since the first day we met with my arms wi-”

Then, Sasha knew what she had to do. Running to the other girl, she practically crashed into her to connect their lips, wrapping her arms around Shea’s waist to close any possible space between them.

Sasha hadn’t seen this many fireworks in her entire life.

As Shea pulled away for a moment, she was grinning like an idiot. “I- Uh…” She giggled weakly, wanting to ask what brought on that sudden burst of confidence, but Sasha beat her to it.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that.” She stammered. “I’m sorry, I bet you have a girlfriend, I bet you don’t even like me- I-”

“Are you deaf?” Shea laughed, pulling her closer to experience yet another one of those electrifying kisses. But this time, there were no other words. Just movement. It was like a waltz, their hearts beating in time with one another.

1, 2, 3…. 1,2, 3..

Shea began to toy with the hem along Sasha’s large white t-shirt.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3….

Sasha turned up the heat by tugging on the collar of Sasha’s flannel, trying her hardest to assert her usual dominance. As she did so, Shea could feel her heart pound faster.

123, 123, 123….

“Shirt off. Now.” Sasha growled, her entire body practically shivering because of the adrenaline. There was nothing like a fiery Coulee woman to drive her wild. It wasn’t long before the fabric was gently fluttering to the floor and Once again, Sasha was breathless.

God, she was beautiful.

123123123123…

Shea didn’t want this to stop. As seconds flew by, she was aching for more. Seconds when her fingertips didn’t brush against Sasha’s skin felt like small pockets of eternity.

She had always wanted to give Sasha the undying love that she deserved. Perhaps this night was just what it was, a single night. But, she wanted it to be forever.

Sasha did too.

#sashea #sasha velour #shea coulee #alexis michelle #tw slight smut #love #meg #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au

[luccie-eclair]

Dear Fellow KPop Fans,

I'm going to go ahead and put this disclaimer here: if what I'm saying doesn't apply to you, then don't worry about it. However, if you know that you've been an absolute ass to other fans and even the idols themselves, then sit on down and let me tell you what you're not about to do to these wonderful, hardworking people or their fanbase.

Therefore, I don't want to hear crap about "Well, not EVERYONE from [x] fandom is like that". Guess what? I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to the bad apples that ruin the name of your fandom when you're just trying to have a good time.

WARNING: I'm about to be hella salty. Don't mind me 🤗

1) These fan wars need to stop. It's pathetic. What are you? 12? No, wait. There are 12 year olds more mature than this. Not only is it unnecessary, but some of things you say to each other is just hurtful. I know we have a freedom of speech, but some of y'all really abuse that. What's sad is that the people doing it will never, and I mean NEVER, have the balls to say it to anyone's face. Do you honestly think that you're cool or funny hiding behind a fake name and fake age? You're not. You're telling everyone who has access to the internet "Hey, guys! I'm an ass who doesn't deserve friends because I treat people like shit! Make sure you block me!" You, yes you, have created a bad name for your fandom. So if you're ever wondering why someone says "Oh, ONCE's are so immature and rude" (that was an example, so chill because I'm a ONCE myself), it's probably because they've had to deal with jerks like you. Congrats. You played yourself. Oh! And chances are, the group whose fans you're being rude to is probably friends with your bias group. If they can be cordial and polite with drama, so can you. Grow up.

2) This whole "[x group] can't sing" argument has got to go. It's a weak argument and no one is falling for it anymore. Just to let you know, and anyone who was previously a trainee can confirm or deny this, you have to have some kind of talent in singing to even BECOME a trainee!??! Meaning! They have to stand out above the crowd. There is something about their voice that sets them apart for that company to even consider taking them under their wings. Even then, you probably have still have to go through another 2 auditions to be a trainee. If it's that hard to be a trainee, then think about how hard it is to get into a debuting group. Just think. Got an idea? Okay, now take that "can't sing" argument and throw in the trash. "Oh, but they lip sync", you mean like most musicians?!?!? In case you haven't noticed, not EVERYONE is built to be able to sing perfectly and still master dancing and being out of breathe. Sorry, honey, but even Queen Beyonce (while doing very well) doesn't get every single note correct while dancing under hot ass lights and running low on breathe. Doesn't mean she's less of a performer.

3) These rating members lists, "[x] idol is too fat despite being at a considerably healthy", "[x] idol (normally male) looks like a child", and "[x] idol (female with short hair) is too manly" also needs to go. Actually, insulting these idols as if they aren't people, as if they don't have emotions, as if they're supposed to just brush it off despite it being hurtful. NEEDS. TO. STOP. These people work their asses off all the time, sometimes having to stay up for over 48 hours to finish their long schedule with few breaks. You can rent a movie theatre and take several seats. You sit there and call yourself a fan and yet bash them???? Excuse me???? Don't even get me started on the ones that PAY MONEY to go to their fansignings and yet treat them like dirt, demand shit, hit them, and throw things at them. That is a new form of low.

4) PERSONAL SPACE!!!! Why does anyone even need to say that?!?!?! It's one thing if you calmly walk up to an idol (Bow first, please. They are Korean, Japanese, Chinese, etc. Respect is a big thing) "Hello, my name is [x]. I like your work. Can I trouble you for a photo or autograph?" If they say they're busy, bow and say thanks for letting you meet them. If they consent, finish up, bow, say thanks, and leave. DO NOT: crowd them to the point where they can't breathe or move, grab or touch them (believe it or not, you're a stranger to them), start flashing pictures and recording them, or screaming in their ears. AND: if they ask for you to leave them alone and let them be on their way, step off! You can argue "Well, they're celebrities. What do they expect?" THEY expect to be treated like people??????? Not animals???????? I'm confused with the logic. Because someone is famous, they no longer have basic human rights anymore? Is that what you're saying? That they're objects meant only for entertainment? Because I see a person. But maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the crazy one.

5) If you don't like a group, that's okay. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone is entitled to an opinion whether someone else agrees or not, but it's how you express it. Don't know what I'm talking about? Let's draw a picture (these are purely examples, so chill). Bob doesn't like BTS (again, example), he calmly and politely states that and gives good, legitimate reasons "Their concept doesn't suit them, lacks passion, the choreography isn't great, etc". Okay, Bob, while I don't agree with you, I see what you're saying and thanks for being respectful. Meanwhile, Jane doesn't like BTS and decides to go in the BTS tags on Tumblr to bash them and their fans, posts nasty comments on their videos, and even goes as far posting rude stuff on their V-Lives. This is obsession and this is not okay. There's disagreeing and there's being a jerk. Bottom line: Don't be Jane.

6) Who an idol dates is none of our business. They're their own person. They are consenting adults. Leave them alone. I'm sorry to crush your dreams, but they don't know you. Realistically, your chances of scoring a date with your idol is very low. I'm sorry, but that's life. You will find someone else. I promise. I'll even help you, but leave these people alone.

7) Example: Umji from Gfriend decides to do a stream with just her and Sowon. Please don't come on their stream and proceed state that you'd rather see SinB or Eunha. That is so rude and I can only imagine how they feel. It's called being empathetic i.e putting yourself in someone else's position and understanding their plight. We should all try it sometime.

8) This isn't a don't per se... eh, whatever. It's kind of irking when groups are compared to one another. Like, they may have similar concepts, but the size is different, the members are different so everyone has a different voice, the overall sound is different. I just don't find it... fair to compare them, but that's life, so I won't worry about it too much. Disregard!

I know that I probably missed a few more, but the bottom line is be a decent fucking person. It really isn't hard. You know phrase "do unto others"? Try it. It will get you far. Trust me, I know posting about this is pointless given that every fandom on this website is pure cancer because of a few bad eggs. But there comes a time when you just need to speak up against it. I'm kind of new to the Kpop scene and I'm already sick of a lot of these people. Also, if you see someone from your fandom being an ass, please say something because this behavior is not okay.

#kpop #kpop fandom #twice #gfriend #bts #red velvet #k.a.r.d #exo #nct #nct 127 #oh my girl #snsd #girls generation #super junior #got7 #seventeen #wonder girls #shinee #and any other kpop grouo that i missed #seriously stop #be a good person #please #youre ruining it for everyone #wsjn #mammoo

[bunnyjoyce-blog]

Ideas a Starlight Express cartoon could explore

The following was posted on my DA journal Jan. 6, 2015 and can be found here: https://bunnyjoyce.deviantart.com/journal/Ideas-a-Starlight-Express-cartoon-could-explore-505400224

In the 1990s a lot of PG-13 movies were being turned into G-rated cartoon shows. Ace Ventura, The Mask, Ghostbusters, Beetlejuice, Jumanji were among the titles that made it to the Saturday-morning lineups here in the States, and many of them were succesful enough to get at least two seasons (Beetlejuice had four!) Though I'm not going to hold my breath for one, I truly believe that adapting a story like Starlight Express to a cartoon series would be successful and even have lots of potential for a serial arc. There are two timeframes the cartoon could take place in -- the events of the show (but expanded) or as a sequel. From my above list of 90s cartoons, I offer Jumanji and Beetlejuice as examples. 

If you haven't seen the film version of Jumanji, the gist of it is that there is a magical (and dangerous) game that conjurs jungle animals that terrorize the local town, and the only way to make them go away is to finish the game. At the start of the story, a boy named Alan gets sucked into the game with his freedom being on the condition that another player rolls a five or eight. Fast forward 28 years, and two kids, Judy and Peter, find the game, start playing and free Alan. From there they work together to finish the game so that everything goes back to normal. What the cartoon did was to expand the events of the movie into three seasons, but there were significant changes. At the beginning of the series, Judy and Peter are sucked into the game, but they are given a clue by Jumanji's crystal ball before they enter its world. They meet Alan, who played the game as a kid and is now a grown up, and at first they think they're stuck there forever, but Judy discovers an object that relates back to the clue the game had given them earlier and figures that fixing it will take them home. At this point, Alan realizes that he never knew about the clues. Judy and Peter are able to leave Jumanji, but they promise to find a way to get Alan out, and the series follows their adventures to do just that. For a sequel show, Beetlejuice was an... interesting one, though very successful. The film was about a married couples recently departed and trying to get a family of three out of their house, but they end up befriending the teenage daughter, Lydia, who is the first human to see them. They summon Beetlejuice to help them, but Beetlejuice's tactics are too violent. From there, the plot follows the living character trying to exorcise the two ghosts, not knowing that it counts as a second death, and in the final show down, everyone is trying to seal away Beetlejuice again to keep him from marrying Lydia. What did the cartoon do? It takes place a year after the events of the movie, but the married ghosts are absent, and Lydia and Beetlejuice are best friends, and the show follows their adventures both in the land of the living and the dead. Four seasons, remember? With this in mind, I can see Starlight Express the TV Series as one of the two scenarios. Ideas for an expansion -- * Instead of one night of racing, it can be stretched into a tournament taking place over the course of a month with elimination races all over the world to narrow the racers down to the best of the best. This would provide a lot of new settings with new problems to introduce the characters to. For example, how would a steamer, a diesel, and an electric fare against each other on the icy rails of Alaska? Or in a desert? Or on a steep mountain grade? Or by a beach during a tropical storm? Or in different countries if need be? (It's a cartoon. International travel doesn't have to follow reality.) These displays of prowess can allow for Rusty to prove himself or doubt himself as his story arc sees fit. * With more races means more deadlines, so one episode can involve CB deliberately getting Rusty lost so that he'll miss a race, thus booting him from the competition altogether. * Electra's and Greaseball's individual motivations for racing can be explored in depth and as well as the back stories of the components and key gang members. * More races means more racers to flesh out the train world. In a society with diesel vs electricity, how does a hybrid electro-diesel engine fit? Or an electric-steam engine? What about maglevs, solar engines, and vacuum trains? What about older cars who enter the race? How does an older lounge car (where passengers once went for entertainment) fare against today's video-game cars? * The mythos of the Starlight Express can be explored more. (We can't forget him. He's the titular character!) Is he a train deity or an old racing legend that made his way into a train baby's lullaby? Does the title of Starlight Express get passed on like the position of Santa Claus in Ernest Saves Christmas, The Santa Clause (with Tim Allen), or Mr. St. Nick (with Kelsey Grammer)? If so, Poppa could be the Starlight incognito gently guiding his successor, Rusty, to achieve his destiny, and the series could follow the tests of not just his physical capabilities, but his character. Will Rusty abandon his partner to win a race? Will Rusty stop to help someone on his way to a race even if it means he'll miss it? If a city full of electric engines has a black out, will Rusty help restore power to the engines who were so mean to him? All his successes and failures will measure whether or not he is worthy to be the next Starlight. * Pearl can also be tested. If she's going to date the Starlight Express eventually, she'll have to prove herself worthy -- and maybe that's where Belle comes in. Maybe the run-down look is just a farce to test Pearl's character, so will Pearl listen to an old sleeper with good, but uncomfortable, advice or to her newer coach friends? Ideas for a sequel -- * The events of the musical could be turned into a one-hour/two-part pilot or a TV movie. Disney's Return of Jafar was this for the spin-off Aladdin series. * Sure, Electra and Greaseball claim they want to be steamers, but they have people in their pasts who might not like this. How will Greaseball's adoring fans take to him converting? Or the Union Pacific? Meanwhile, the "engine of the future" was commissioned by someone to be just that, and that someone might not like their creation making drastic changes. (This shady person could serve as the series' Big Bad if need be.) In either case, Greaseball and Electra may change their mind, and their character arcs may involve whether or not they are "under their own control" as themselves or if changing would be better for them. (Is Greaseball really free if he bows to social pressures? Is Electra's current life really better, or is he just a puppet on electrified strings?) * A sequel can explore the day-to-day life of trains and can take a slice-of-life approach, or it can also explore the repercussions of a steamer winning the world-famous race. How many trains will challenge Rusty to racing when he just wants to focus on his growing relationship with Pearl? How many gold diggers are going to start hitting on him? How hard will it be for him to be refurbished now if most of the repair trucks are pro-diesel? If he finally gets his dream of pulling streamlined coaches, how are the other trains going to treat him at different stations? * CB's fall from his social position can be explored. Can he be rehabilitated? Or will he plunge further into a life of crime? Speaking of crime, railroad police can be introduced as can other train criminals. Will CB join their gang? Will they pull underhanded means to keep him from reforming? Will CB temporarily join, take their loot, and then turn them in to the police so that he can play the hero while keeping the stolen goods? * Railroad museums can be addressed. Are they nice retirement homes or boring places for once active trains to live? * The component loyalties can be explored. Will they still be with Electra if he lost his money? If the TV pilot followed the canon and had some or all the components side with Greaseball during the "Pumping Iron" scene, they might not actually like Electra or are always looking for the next better thing.

#starlight express

[wagooglet]

where can i read about all ur ocs....i gotta kno

okay so since The Story ™ is constantly changing i’ve decided i’m gonna go here n explain everything to the best of my ability. (takes a deep breath) let’s get into it. under the cut because there’s a lot but thanks for your interest- this took ages to type out.!

oookay.. to start things off, there’s this bitch ass named cain. he’s pretty happy with his brother and sister (jax and lucidia) but he’s got internalized violent impulses. he doesn’t act on them but when he DOES it’s usually on himself. his dad is an asshole named azuriel. he’s an archangel. anyway, so azuriel is a good father to jax and lucidia- but pushes cain a BIT too hard, because he’s the younger sibling, and a bit physically underwhelming. you know. so he’s basically a huge asswad to cain. and with cain’s already detrimental impulses and negative feelings towards himself, he snaps at the smallest thing and stabs his brother, before panicking and killing his husband and two kids. then he freaks out about it, but instead of.. i don’t know, helping him out of it- his father says that the only way to repent is to do whatever he says. cain, being a pushover, does just that. he does a lot of shit (like.. eats people and stabs twinks), becomes a fallen angel because of his heinous acts + changes his name to okumura.

for the first half of his life, okumura’s torn between wanting to be cain again + succumbing to his father’s command. he misses his husband and his family but his father’s pushing him to eat people and do whatever he says so.. uh, he can’t go back. enter michael. michael’s the party hard, demon king of the time. and though he’s a good ruler, he’s.. too open on his romantic lifestyle, for the first portion of his rulership. basically, okumura’s father urges okumura to frame michael for his death (the father’s)- have him publicly punished, and then.. uh, banished to a rock. he stays in that rock for.. quite a while? a thousand years, at least- people sort of forget about him over time. with no legacy behind him, okumura becomes the king- and his father his most trusted advisor. okumura’s kingship is worshipped, and so is he, for the first few weeks. he publicly humiliates michael + goes on about how that’s what happens to traitors to the kingdom, and that’s what he’d do to any of them. then he doesn’t have anyone to make an example of, so it’s back to him being quietly punished by his father. because his father’s been.. mentally possessing him for quite some time, he leaves okumura as an empty husk when he stops possessing him. this causes okumura to completely break off the tree of “i want to go home”, and he.. err, goes berserk. he cuts his hair, takes after his father’s tyrannical and violent actions, and changes his name to yukio. lucidia (his sister) intervenes, at one point, and yukio bites her eye out. and tries to kill her. to death. so now she hates yukio. jax is back- he regenerated (a family magic), and he hates yukio, too.

so yukio’s terrible. he’s now a demon with a god complex- he’s a perfectionist, a narcissist, and he wants to make humans “perfect”. he’s lost all resemblance of his angel self- his missing arm is now completely made out of this black, tar-like matter, and his wings are basically bones covered in the same substance. now, his idea of perfection is unachievable (based on his father’s expectations for him), and when they aren’t up to par, he beats them up about it, before beating them mentally and.. ideally, taking complete mental control of them. this is where mikiko orochi comes in. he’s just a small guy who likes to skate and he’s got a crush on this one man who he thinks is completely out of his league. he’s walking down the street one day and he bumps into.. you guessed it- yukio. see, yukio isn’t in his demon form- he’s human, so he isn’t melting black slime all over the damn place. long story short, yukio sees the potential in mikiko, befriends him, and then locks him in his house. for like.. a year. he beats mikiko and yells at him, degrades him SO much that he, at one point, succumbs to yukio’s mentality, and basically has little free thought.

so this is going on- oh, by the way, michael’s back. it’s been like a thousand years since he was banished to a rock. yeah. he’s changed.. a lot, and he’s just a tired, old demon who drinks coffee in his mansion in the actual vortex. he’s also technically the grim reaper. so anyway, mikiko is FINALLY rescued from the Nasty Hands of Yukio by an archangel by the name of sig (haddi’s oc)- and he’s.. in shock, for a while, but he SLOWLY gets better. 

AAAND MEANWHILE.. there’s this guy named tony. he’s an incubus. works as a judge under this tyrannical king, and his.. ability, basically, is that he has this eye that can peer into the souls of others to distinguish the true from the false. he has no friends (they were all killed because they were rumoured to speak ill will of the king)- so he’s depressed, but he’s still fuckin. he has a huge ass dick.

back to yukio. he’s being punished for ALL his crimes, he has kids, he hurts them far more cruelly than his father ever was to him. eventually, they get out, but not without psychological damage. seeing as none of the punishments he’d gone through prior WORKED, yukio is finally sent to work as a servant under the demon king lucifer (haddi’s oc, also. i fucking love his stud ass)- where he lies to this day. sig and michael are married, too. it’s iconic. 

flash back to mikiko. it’s been approximately eleven to twelve years since he’s actually been in the human realm. he FINALLY hit his growth spurt, grew his hair out a little, got more comfy with his body and got a prosthetic ring finger (yukio. bit off his finger. it was a way of stopping mikiko from making any formal devotion, but it didn’t stop him from getting a sick ass vibrating finger. okay. it doesn’t vibrate. but we wish). 

he decides to head back to go to law school so he can become an international prosecutor. he goes to law school for two reasons- one, to defend others who weren’t there to defend him, and two, because he has the farfetched hope of meeting up with his long-time crush, who is also a lawyer. lo and behold, he DOES meet his lawyer crush. they get together, after YEARS, have some alcohol and kiss. and then they get together. they’re dating.

anywhosies.. that’s about it. a bit of a sweat, but that’s about the main story i’ve got. i have a few OTHER ocs i’ll explain but those are the important ones!! i’m SURE i forgot some details about my own story, but it’s a honkin’ 1,538 words. if you read through this WHOLE damn thing, i seriously applaud you. thanks so much for your interest! 

Kai (Lost): another one of yukio’s vore victims, his whole.. incident, dates back to the okumura ages. he pretty much almost got vored to death by okumura (forced by his father). he.. uh, survived- but he’s pretty much miserable. he’s REALLY miserable, actually. he roams the streets with his sister, buster kneecaps. (thank you anon for the name i will never stop being grateful) and they’re both part of a local, self-formed.. mafia, of sorts. more like a mercenary. they’re kick ass as fuck, pretty much. inseparable, also.

Atlas: everyone’s (not) favorite deity! he’s the god of earthly pleasures, and a real sweetheart. he can change his appearance and gender accordingly, can change what he appears as, etcetera.. he LOVES humans (hence.. why he chooses to make himself appear as one). he’s proud of humans, and he loves strawberries and gold. likes to treat himself and others. a generally pleasant and lovely man.

Seth: yukio’s younger son. he’s really depressed, dies a lot, and is pretty much falling down the steep slope into permanently dying. he only has his brother in life. exempt magic user, but using it too much hurts him. seriously needs a hug. has broken his legs more times than he can count. 

Riley: GOD HE’S SUCH A LOOOOOSERR RILEY IN HIS APARTMENT BY HIMSEEEELF okay no he’s a historian and he’s a loser and i make fun of him a lot. VERY anxious. has a cat named schrodinger. is fascinated with namely egyptian history. likes to ride those pizza scooters. he’s nervous constantly, tall and lanky, and falls over a lot.

Jax + Lucidia: right. so i know i brushed over them, but i’ll give you a little more indepth into their.. characters? jax is the oldest sibling in the yutrio (yeah.. that’s what i call them lmaohgfhug), he’s VERY intelligent, and works as the branch manager in demon chili’s (okay. no he doesn’t. but still)- the most revered by his father. is still petty at yukio, but would kill to have another chance at having a functioning sibling relationship with cain. VERY, very strong. he has crystalline slime magic. 

lucidia’s the middle sibling in the yutrio. a bit mysterious, but she’s a gorgeous, buff lesbian, whom i love so much. she’s basically on the hunt for yukio to get revenge for EVERYTHING he’s done. otherwise, she’s very kind. she frequents human bars, loves to ride motorcycles on highways at night, and she loves girls. she’s a succubus but she doesn’t actually fucking realize it. and even if she did, she doesn’t give a fuck.

Thicc the Elf: “Wanna try this bad boy? I call it the Ass Blaster.” we don’t talk about thicc you guys already fucking KNOW about him. (he’s my high elf d&d character)

#ask to tag #anonymous #ask #stuff it alex #my writing #oc tag