#sure whatever. tagging ship is probably easier than explaining what the fucks up with these two in my head

[b4kuch1n]

fuck it sk8 sketches from da sketchbook. get sk8ed idiot

#sk8 the infinity #kyan reki #hasegawa langa #renga #sure whatever. tagging ship is probably easier than explaining what the fucks up with these two in my head #hi. I watched sk8 with my friend cosme a while ago. I actually dont care about the allegations that much I just got #blasted with teenage years flashback. and now I need reki to have everything on earth and be well #these have been around for like a week lol Ive just been debating posting them to tumblr. bc like. Im not finishing these lol #hesitant to call sk8 ''therapeutic'' but boy oh boy. does it make me confront some stuff. yes a sport anime leave me alone!!! #its just. I think I was this way about raz too actually. listen I have History with Stuff. I'm allowed ok? I'm totally allowed #u can See it in some of these doodles actually. this fuckign anime got me so unwell #hey. if ur a fellow adhd potentials-havers out there. ur a real one. thanks for still hangin out doin what u love/ur best #if u were an 'if u wanna do art u have to be excellent and high-art at it otherwise it means nothing' kid. I am holding ur hand #I'll be normal now I prommy (lying) #well. what I'll be doing now is taking a nap. maybe. gods my schedule backslid like four hours again #eh whatever. I go to bed anyway. got my portion of the day done and tomorrow I go buy new knife #hope someone come give me a new table top and lower the whole thing a bit soon. so I can stop sitting like Im in a shopping cart #have a good night lads. have fun. its imperative

[purrincess-chat]

Lord, I'm tired of "which ship is better" between the LS dynamics. They're the same people.

I was never a huge LS shipper. I was always either indifferent at best and annoyed at the decisions they made at most because some stuff would be done so much easier if either character took more incentive. Like, a lot of it is explained away as plot decisions, but thats neither here nor there.

I think the reason why people think it was a bad idea that Adrienette was paired now was because it feels too rushed... No, it wasn't. It feels rushed to you because all you saw was the stumbling on the words and longing stares. I guess in these people's eyes, they didn't hang out platonically enough.

I'm still indifferent to the LS in general. I find the Adrienette scenes cute, but arguing over which dynamic is best is just pointless blowing of air. Just write something if you're not happy with how something's going in the show.

You probably get asks like this all the time, so I apologize if this is kinda redundant, I just see the salt everywhere and it's just aggravating

No worries. It's valid to be frustrated with the fandom. I've always found arguments over which side is better to be moot because one side isn't better. Which side people like more is a matter of preference, but in the end, they're the same two people, so no side is intrinsically better or worse than another. It's reductive to think of the square that way, and it misses the point behind the square. I think of all the MC stans that like to post rankings of each side in the ladrien tag, and they always rank ladrien last for being boring or toxic or whatever. I think ranking them is dumb. Have a favorite, sure, but don't put down the other sides that makes no sense lol.

In the case of Adrinette "not being close friends" I'd agree, it's fundamentally misunderstanding their canon interactions. It gives the same energy as people who claimed Ladrien is only capable of standing and blushing around each other. Not only is it an intentionally shallow interpretation of their dynamic, it's also directly disproven in canon every time they come on screen. In Adrinette's case, yes, Marinette consistently fumbles around him, but she has always shown to calm down in the face of something serious. In Gorizilla, she runs around with him all day and talks to him normally because they have other shit going on. Her stammering always related to thinking of him romantically, but they have had numerous platonic interactions where she could talk to him fine, and in most of those interactions, Adrien confided in her. His trust of her has been building over each season. S1 we had the umbrella scene when he confessed he didn't have friends, we also had gamer when he expressed insecurity in his ability compared to her. S2 had a bunch, Gorizilla, Frozer, Mayura. He gave a whole fucking speech about how he was happy they were friends in Mayura. S3 we have Chameleon, Puppeteer 2, he stood up for her in Ladybug, he and Kagami begged her to run away with them in Heart Hunter.

He and Marinette have always been friends, and they have been making small strides each season. That's why she went from "just a friend" to "a very good friend" to "someone special to me." Adrien has been giving us check ins on their friendship since day 1. Their development was slower and more gradual than LN, and of course they're not as comfortable with each other as LN, but that's the point of s5. They're working through their issues. They just so happen to be doing it romantically. And to say that their love isn't as deserving because they're not entirely thick as thieves is a very narrow view of love. Just because adrinette isn't the best friends side at the beginning of s5 doesn't mean they don't deserve to be together if they want to be?? I know plenty of people irl who have best friends of the opposite gender that date people they're not as close to instead. The point of dating is to get closer to people, and that's what is happening in canon. Adrien said it himself in Transmission that he wanted things to be different with Marinette. He can't share his true feelings with anyone else because they don't understand and only see a marketing image. And we have seen that this season with people consistently brushing off their feelings in favor of their own ideas. Adrien and Marinette fall back on each other, and have been figuring out how to be an effective couple that meets each others needs. And that's incredibly sweet, and I think it's worth showing. Lots of cartoons paint this idealized version of love and put it up on a pedestal as a prize to be won. I think if this season ended with them revealing their identities and getting together, it would be perpetuating just that. That love is a prize to be won in the end, then after that you live happily ever after. But they stuck adrinette together mid season and are giving us a half season where they bumble around and figure love out. Their story isn't over just because they are together. Relationships are complicated and take work, and I appreciate that message from canon.

I think people are just looking for excuses to justify their anger, so they are twisting their interpretation of canon to suit their needs. It's a very common strategy among salters, I've seen it plenty of times. They find vague at best "evidence" of their claims that ignores tons of context and other instances that disprove their arguments. It's not new to me, honestly. I do actually feel kind of bad for them though. Sitting at home all angry and missing out on the absolute bliss that is romantic Adrinette. What a miserable existence./j

#cat replies #asks #ml spoilers #s5 discourse

[drzenlin]

Queue's been refilled again. So, uh.... Let's do this again?

So, this post here (man, that was easier than I thought it would be.) That one detailed both The Labs and The Zombie Run. For Resident Evil, of course.

I have more to say about The Zombie Run. So, let's do this!

(Mind the tags. This kind of got away from me and angst was added. It's not detailed, just things mentioned.)

So, as established in the last post, Ethan Winters, our good papa, used to go to this damn thing every single year. He's got multiple victory shirts, as per tradition.

Chris gives Ethan a funny look when he first saw the shirt, sat and listened while Ethan regaled him of the story about past years. He was amused by the whole idea and wouldn't mind a shirt but come on? How realistic would it be to put a trained agent, used to dealing with this sort of stuff, in a city where everyone was playing the undead? Not realistic in the slightest. That's how you ask for someone to get hurt. (A shirt would be fun to have though.)

That conversation, a barely contained memory, after the events of Village, resurfaces. (Of course, as a whiny butt baby, myself, I cannot kill off Ethan Winters. I can't. I don't even make it make sense a lot of the times. He just survived. Possibly with the lords and Dimitrescu daughters.) Ethan and Rose have been moved to a special facility. One where they can figure themselves out but they aren't trapped. (BSAA aren't bad guys in this au) They're basically just on loose leads, scientists and agents helping the two of them, as well as the lords, figure out how to live, post Village. There's a lot to figure out, I mean. Mold powers, future technology, blending into being human again. (Ethan and Rose aren't really struggling with those last two, let's be honest.)

But, the kicker is that Ethan and Rose, less so the lords because of mutations as well as not really knowing the modern world, are allowed to leave the facility. Of course they are. This is best case scenario, after all. Realistic? Probably not. (But we've established, I'm a baby)

(Mia is here somewhere. I haven't decided what ships are even in this whole au. I'm a sucker for Wintersberg but I also really like Mithen? Or whatever the ship name is. I do like Chreon. That is a for sure.)

The other survivors from various games have also met Ethan and Rose and the lords. Leon is, especially, a common pest species that is often times found loitering in Ethan's home. He's awkward around Rose but he warms up slowly, like Chris had. (He's good with older kids, lets be honest. I love the idea of him raising Sherry after Re2.) He becomes fun Uncle Leon and that's pretty great.

So, our favorite DSO agent is loitering around in Ethan's kitchen, hoping to score some kind of baked good if not full on lunch when Ethan himself steps into the kitchen, wearing one of the shirts. (They, as well as the rest of Ethan's things from the house in Romania, were moved like every other time.)

Ethan looks up, not even startled to see Leon in the slightest and sees the exact moment the other man reads his shirt. He watches Leon's eyes go big, the giddy smile that spreads on his lips, the twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, that is an amazing shirt. Where the fuck did you get it?" Leon asks, amusement clear in his voice.

"Oh." Ethan looked down at his shirt, plucking at it a little to pull it out and peer at the words upside down. He gave the DSO agent a grin. "This old thing?"

He then promptly tells Leon all about the small Midwest town where they hold an annual Zombie Run. He explains the rules and how the event is held, how the zombies are all dressed up, and, most importantly, that there are very few that actually make it to the end of the race. How hardened military vets go in too cocky and end up taken out within ten, twenty minutes.

Leon is gaga for the idea of this dumb, stupid race. He's more excited about it than anything anyone's ever seen him excited about. He wants a dumb shirt. And the bragging rights!

So, he goes behind Chris' back, talks with the higher ups. (He kind of needs permission to take Ethan that far from the facility.) He talks with Ethan and Mia about it, wanting to steal the other man to go to this practically no name town, in the middle of no where America, to let loose and have some fun.

Surprisingly, everything works out. Road trip acquired. Leon and Ethan take the road trip, Rose staying with mommy dearest and all of her cool aunts and uncles from the village. Chris is baffled and surprised when he learns where the hell these two idiots fucked off to. A little jealous.

And then we get bonding time between Leon and Ethan. Ethan learns that Leon doesn't really get close to people, that he doesn't even really hang out and be close with his friends. That he's scared of losing them all. (Ethan assures him. If he can have his heart ripped out and come back from that, Leon's not going to lose him to much of anything else. Haven't decided if this is an 'Ethan survived the explosion, too' situation or not. But I'm leaning toward that because angst.)

Leon learns that Ethan is having a hard time differentiating what's real. His wife of ten years (Leaning toward their relationship working as I type this but who knows tomorrow?) lied to him for so long, that he doesn't always feel human anymore, which he's not. Not really. That even Chris was dishonest, leaving out need to know information. That sometimes, he doesn't want to leave the house because he's afraid it'll all be fake. Or worse. He really will become a monster. (Leon learns that all of the lords and Mia have all promised Ethan, all in separate, vulnerable moments, that if he ever loses his mind and becomes that monster, they will do everything they can to protect friends, family, everyday people from him and they'll put him down. Chris couldn't make that promise but Leon looks Ethan straight in the eyes and tells him if it came down to it and there was no other option, he would. He'd do anything. And the way Ethan just sort of sags in relief in the driver's seat breaks Leon's heart.)

It's not all angst during the road trip, of course. They exchange battle stories. Leon tells Ethan about Lickers and Regeneradores and the Plaga parasites. Ethan tells him about Lycans and the Moroaica and the Samca. They bond over the run down buildings that they've had to traverse through, the damn puzzles that are just ridiculous, and castles. Man, the castles. They talk about The Merchant and The Duke and the more wild and outlandish parts of their stories. They bond over dumb villain monologues, though Ethan's villains all turned out to be misguided and traumatized. (In this au. No villain is safe though. And I'm looking at Wesker and Krauser right now. *Waggles eyebrows*)

They don't just talk about their experiences with the viruses, parasites, and mold though. They also talk about collage and the police academy. They talk about kids and raising them and Leon gives Ethan some pointers for when Rose is older and has the normal, every day growing up questions. Leon shares stories about Sherry when she was little, fresh out of Raccoon City, and traumatized and rebellious just to feel alive. But also just a little girl that had been swept up by the madness of it all. They talk about how proud of her Leon is, how he had made it to all (that he could) milestones of hers. In school, sports, graduations, dances. (Ethan has a hay day when he learns that Leon's chaperoned middle school dances but promises not to say a word when they get back.)

They both feel alive in ways that they haven't in awhile. They find friendship and companionship in each other in ways they haven't in some time. (All of Leon's friends are busy, saving the world. Ethan had to leave what friends he had behind after Dulvey.)

Then, finally, they make it to the small, podunk, Midwest, no name town. And it's so alive for a place that boasts 'the best zombie run in America'. But it makes sense that it's bustling and alive and loud in ways that settle in Leon's veins like warmth. (It's surprising to him how okay he is with all the bustle and activity and loud shouts and voices. How little they trigger him into panic because of his ptsd. But on the other hand, it's also kind of not. This, it's life. Life in away that you don't see in sterile facilities or armed soldiers or battle fields. This, all of this, was things that he fought for.)

They get registered first thing, Leon vibrating in his excitement. They meet several other long term runners, Ethan greeting them by name and with fond smiles and clasps of hands, tight hugs. Leon introduces himself to several that recognize his name, several that even recognize his face. Some that he's even seen on the field, facing off with the real deal. (It relaxes something in him, surprisingly enough. If they could do something like this, so could he. He hadn't told Ethan that being there, in the town, was starting to fill him with a bit of worry that it would be to much for him.)

Ethan's greeted by name more and more, residents of the town that recognize him from past years. They're all excited to see him again, even more excited he brought a friend.

They head to the hotel. A small one. (It's a small town but they have a couple of good hotels. A lot of contestants like to camp around the town as well.) They settle in.

Then, gloriously, the next day, the race begins. And Leon? He's on cloud nine. The entire event is fun and exciting (but not in a 'I'm going to get murdered and eaten' kind of way). He has a full on blast!

He almost gets got more times than he cared to admit. It was a close call there before the final portion of the run. Ethan just laughs at every close call, each dodge of giggling 'zombie' teenagers and joking 'zombie' adults. Leon has a near conniption when he sees several of the 'zombies' dancing to Thriller. Laughs so hard his sides hurt when Ethan tells him they do it every year.

They make it to the final section of the run. Early on, too. (It's pretty common for regular runners to make it in the earlier half of the day. Unless they're doing some of the other activities that there are during the run. Like a scavenger hunt or a 'survivor' find or something. IDK, there's more going on than just the run.) Leon is pumped. Full of good adrenaline and ready to beat the race. Him and Ethan take the final run together. It's such a thrill, doing the dodging as people laugh and cheer him on. He's almost nabbed a few times even. But he races up the incline to the ramp, makes the jump and hauls himself over, lands on the other side on the mat with Ethan right on his heels.

He's earned that stupid shirt.

It's one of the best things he's ever gotten to do. He's never felt normal, not since Raccoon City, not with the pain and death and disease and suffering he's seen, felt throughout his life as an agent. Life had been rough, made even harder by DSO pushing him and pushing him. Go longer. Take out more. Prevent this. Prevent that. Save this person. Lose that one. It's been nonstop since he woke up in that motel all those years ago.

But this? A cheesy, zombie themed race? A tee-shirt that proclaims him to be something he had always been since 1998? This made him feel real. This made the horrors he had seen worth it. (Being the first two over the ramp sweetened the deal just a bit more.) This made him feel human. Sitting behind the ramp, on the sidelines as he caught his breath next to a man that was more mold than human, he felt more alive, more human, more freed than he had in a long time. He could tell that Ethan felt the same. They both had needed this.

They cheer along with everyone else as each of the other survivors make it across, wearing the stupid shirts over the other ones they had been wearing. They shout and cheer and stand, throwing up their arms when the dinky 16 year old, cross country girl threw herself onto the mats. They shouted excitedly when the military vet Leon had first recognized joined them half an hour later. They were nearly brought to tears when the single mother of four, battling cancer landed with a whumpf in front of them.

And, when it all drew to a close at the end, when the sun was beginning to set and the last 'survivor', a 7 year old boy that all of the other 'survivors' helped over the ramp, Leon felt at peace. Something he rarely felt most days anymore.

They pose for the picture, a tradition of the town's inhabitance. The little boy sitting right on Leon's hip, the mother fighting cancer leaned into his side, the little girl knelt in front of him, the vet behind them flexing like a dork. Ethan's arm around his shoulder and grinning like they had always been friends.

Leon decided that was the magic about Ethan Winters. He treated everyone like they were human, like they had already earned his respect even if they had hurt him in the past.

After the big party at the end of the day, where the whole town dances and eats and sings, Leon looks at the copy of the picture. Five very different lives, brought together by such a silly thing. The urge to have fun, sure, with a cliché theme. They all fought different battles. The woman with her kids and the medical bills and the weakening body. The 16 year old girl learning to live in a society that she was hardly ready for and that was hardly ready for her, that wore scars on her mind and skin, healed over now but were still fresh enough to hurt. A man that had seen the pain of the front lines, been traumatized in the fight for his country and people. The 7 year old boy that, later, Leon and Ethan had learned been declared dead at birth, again at 3, and still, to this day, fought a heart condition that would likely kill him but still wanted to do the race, that still got up and lived each day like a fighter.

The two of them, Leon and Ethan, that had seen and fought with real life monsters. Ones that wore human flesh, masqueraded as people and ones that didn't. Ones that had no choice and others that made their choice long ago.

It's on the drive back that Ethan asks. Was it everything Leon had hoped it would be?

"It was so much more." Leon shrugged his shoulders, eyes on the road. "It was so much more than I ever could have hoped for. I... sure, I wanted the dumb shirt. I think it's hilarious." He gave Ethan a brief smile, warmed when his friend shared it. "But." His smile slipped, a hum of contemplation in his chest. "It was more. It was life. I've missed out on so much." He said the words slowly, not wanting to admit them in the slightest. "I've missed out on a lot. This felt.... well, it felt a lot like I was reclaiming some of that life I missed out on. Like, I was finding joy again, reason. There's a lot of pain and suffering in our world. Not just to do with the viruses or corrupt people trying to destroy humanity. But... disease. Other kinds of wars. Not just the ones that soldiers dress up and fight. Depression, anxiety, trauma. People can really fuck each other up. But it's things like this, dumb races and silly shirts and jokes and good old fashioned fun that kind of make it worth it. Not just zombies races but good food and better company. Stories you can tell your friends. Memories that make the darker times not so dark. Friendships that." He glanced at Ethan again, flushing a little at the focus the other man was giving him. Embarrassed that he'd lost himself in speaking. He so rarely did that, speak his mind, about the good or the bad. "Friendships that kind of sneak up on you. Ones that, sure are hard to keep a hold of but are worth it in the end. Because they make you feel good. In ways that working, day and night, tired and exhausted and hurt, doesn't." He smiled as he focused back on the road, letting the heat in his cheeks and the embarrassment in his chest settle on him pleasantly. It felt good for a change.

Ethan nodded, smiling as he relaxed in his seat. "I agree. And, for what it's worth, Leon, I'm kind of really glad this friendship snuck up on us. Both of us."

Leon chuckled. "I am, too." He grinned. "I gotta admit, though. We really need to bring Chris next year."

Ethan laughed, head falling back against the headrest of his seat. His eyes danced when Leon met them briefly. "I whole heartedly agree with that. Think we can get a couple of the others in on it, too?"

"Together, I'm sure we can come up with something." Leon chuckled again, feeling free in a way a simple zombie race really shouldn't have let him feel. But it did, all the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, holy crap. This... this ran away from me. Practically a whole fic, let's be honest. Man. Whoops. Sorry for the long post?

But, hey, if you enjoyed it, that's what matters, yeah?

This is the kind of rambling I tend to do on a regular basis. It gets away from me and never is finished. I just start another word document for new ideas. Or when I decide to be Dr. Frankenstein and mold ideas together to make whole new amalgamations. I'm not great at finishing fics to begin with, honestly. This is about as finished as they come and even then, I could type more on this idea alone.

Because, quite frankly, there's a lot to explore in this idea. Leon and Ethan's friendship. Leon's friendship with everyone else in the 'verse, like Claire, Chris, Jill. Him being a father to Sherry. Him being an uncle to Rose. Mia and Ethan's relationship repairing or following whatever course it'll follow. Chris and Leon's relationship, it either being a budding thing for the fic or evolving from what it was as a simple thing of one night stands or even rekindling and turning into just more from a romance that hadn't felt real.

That also doesn't count in on the fact that the next year Ethan and Leon do, in fact, get more people involved. They definitely get Jill and Chris and Claire. Probably the lords and Dimitrescu daughters. Mia and Rose. It's a whole thing. (Again, looking at Wesker, like, come on man. I can fix you. I'm a writer. I can fix anything in canon!)

To think, this is only one of my dumb ideas. For only one of the dumb fandoms I'm in. (Should.... should I be worried?) But I do have to say, it was really fun to type this all out. Should do it for more of my aus. Even if it is just to the void.

#ferret rambles #aus #writing #Resident Evil #resident evil #I have no clue if those are separate tags or not #Re8 #leon s kennedy #ethan winters #Resident Evil: The Zombie Run #these things always get away from me #chris redfield #mia winters #tw: cursing #tw: illness #tw: discussion of trauma #All of the trigger warnings are merely mentioned #though tagging to be safe #tw: self harm mentioned #canon is my plaything #I do what I want #au ideas

[riveir]

wishlist plots & aus.

i’ve been meaning to do this for a while but because i’m a person that really strongly prefers plotted interactions and also runs into problems with actually getting those more developed things going, i figured compiling wishlist stuff and stuff that comes from my own brain might be helpful. i’ll keep this linked in the pinned post if anyone ever wants to draw from it for a starter call or whatever, and to also make it easier for me to find if plotting ever hits a road block.

peace corps. this would technically fall under the umbrella of one of river’s canon au verses, the one in which he lives but is in the less realistic scenario where he rejects his parents’ wishes and goes ahead and joins the peace corps. this could be a really good way to get muses from two different canons / universes / etc. to meet, because the organization brings all these people together into one group sent to work somewhere overseas. river works as an english education teacher, and where they’re working can be totally open. could be used as mentioned before, but also as sort of a stepping stone for river to start a life beyond the states / open up opportunities for him that will take him away from home, etc etc. just a fun way to take him out of his usual settings and throw him in a new place under new circumstances, whether your muse is in the corps with him or if they’re just in the same place and they meet under different circumstances.

political dynasty. rather than holding a high position with goldman sachs, river’s father has an influential political position ( like a diplomat or foreign ambassador, which could explain river living years of his life at least somewhat abroad ), something that would put the family under a microscope on a national scale. could be a very kennedy-esque thing where politics is sort of just like the family business and river would be expected to carry that mantle as well ( which, obviously, he doesn’t really want ). this could go a number of different directions because the barkleys would be considered high profile individuals: bodyguard stuff, danger stuff, etc. i’m open to anything here, this would just be the groundwork to set up some conflict that would be more specific to your muse and their circumstances, since this is pretty adaptable on river’s end. i’d also be willing to write river older than i usually would ( as a younger adult ), because i think being nationally known would change his circumstances a bit and yada yada i can elaborate on that more if anyone asks, if we wanted to go the route where river himself is the political figure, probably a junior congressman or something. he could pretty controversial, as mental health advocacy and gun control would probably be two of his biggest agendas / two of the most important components of his platform.

modern royalty. similar to the above, but rather than coming from a political family, river comes from a monarchical family. obviously not based in the united states but could open up similar plotting opportunities as listed above. for one example he could still be attending a traditional university, and could open up opportunities for your muse to be a classmate of his ( as a friend sure but maybe there’s some benefit your muse could gain from making friends with him or something shadier like that ), or maybe you’re super annoyed that he’s there because like who cares about the royal family and why does he get so much attention, or maybe your muse knows he hates the attention and it gets to a point where he actually has to be fearful about it and there’s some way your muse can help him out.

fake dating. this is a jam of mine always. river could have several reasons of his own to be in a fake relationship, and this could work especially well in another au like the political dynasty or modern royalty scenarios, but it could totally come more from your muse’s end as well. it could also be a thing where river’s parents are trying to set him up with your muse if that would make sense, because that’s a very wasp-y rich people thing to do. 

period aus. this one is super open but river could work really well for this type of thing, especially because his family is so old fashioned in a lot of ways and very traditional in how they expect their family to be and how they expect river to be and all that. also could work super well for this letter writing plot i have in my wishlist tag.

ghost!river. this would have to be plotted for sure because the way river’s “ghost” canonically manifests is as an extension of the other person; he exists to give them advice or as their moral compass/conscience or something like that. it can be different depending on the muse, but he manifests at their own will and serves some sort of purpose for them. he’s more of a guiding force of some sort rather than an actual ghost coming back to reveal new information or anything like that. he wouldn’t do anything that the other muse wouldn’t think he would do, and wouldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. the exception to his in river’s canon is when the protagonist has a near-death experience and sees river in the afterlife and they have an actual conversation as two separate entities, and that could definitely be something i’d be up for, too.

champagne problems. this song off of evermore has enormous river energy. from the genius description of the song: “’champagne problems’ tells the story of a woman who shocks her would-be fiancé and their loved ones by turning down a marriage proposal right before christmas ... the song depicts ‘longtime college sweethearts [who] had very different plans for the same night, one to end it and one who brought a ring.’ the song implies that the protagonist has a history of mental illness, which the town subsequently stigmatizes in their gossip surrounding the failed proposal.” river could be either of the people in the couple for obvious reasons ( either the wealthy person from the well-to-do family all expecting the proposal, or the person who breaks it off and is subsequently - or, maybe, already is - the subject of that gossip ). the circumstances of the breakup can vary depending on the specific relationship between the muses: maybe they were really in love and had a great relationship but the influential family just had too much influence and pressure, maybe the stigmatization and gossip was a bit too much, maybe neither of their hearts were really in it and it was just an advantageous thing that appeased the big family but the other person ultimately just decided they couldn’t go through with it. as i am with everything i’m totally open here. it also totally doesn’t have to match the exact circumstances and can just be based on the general idea. ( in the same vein, here’s a link to some cool folklore-based plots )

apocalyptic danger. or to be honest, any sort of scenario that creates a life or death (or near life or death) situation for one or both of our muses. in all honesty i just love raising the stakes.

musician or actor river. even though it’s not my favorite alternative path to explore for him to seriously pursue acting or music as a career, it could open up some potentially cool dynamics that i’d be down with. maybe river plays piano in a bar or restaurant or whatever at night during college and your muse loves open mic night. maybe they’re doing a show together in college or maybe even out of college if i think it would make sense that river could get to that point in life. maybe river’s actually achieving some level of success and has some degree of notoriety. idk this is just an option that could be cool if we develop it enough ( cause like i said, without that development and specificity to our muses i’m not as into this route for him specifically)

childhood best friends to lovers. ( or some variation ). self-explanatory, just my favorite trope. some wishlist stuff here.

wishlist post #1: “i just want a plot where it’s two rich kids who live in neighboring estates and their families always throw parties together and they have vacation homes in the same spots and their elite parents are too busy to notice when they sneak off to fuck in that second guest bathroom that no one uses or get high in the back library and makeout”

wishlist post #2: “give me a we broke up because i had to move away because of school and we knew we couldn’t do long distance but oh my god i’m home for christmas and you’re still beautiful and we’re wine drunk slow dancing to the sound of elf on the television and you smell like hot chocolate and i miss you so much please don’t let this end again plot !!!!!”

wishlist post #3: “someone give me “you live in the apartment across the hall and you’re so fucking hot but i get so awkward around you even though you act completely normal and i stutter every.time. you’re out of my league anyway but then one night my stupid roommate locks me out and i forget my key and you see me sitting the hallway so you invite me in. and obviously i say yes but holy crap what is happening” plot pretty pls”

wishlist post #4: “au where it's a blind date gone wrong/really awkward first time/two people who just get off on the wrong foot but keep on running into each other and then slowly fall for each other”

wishlist post #5: “give me best friends who harbor feelings for each other . they’ve acknowledged the feelings but they don’t do anything about it , because the friendship is too precious . and when one of them is finally ready to say “ fuck it, let’s take the risk ” , they see the other making out with another person”

i also always just want more college things and things in pre-established canon universe aus ( all linked in my pinned post, but including hogwarts, gossip girl, legacies, riverdale, etc ). i’m also always down for plotting ships.

#。 ·ﾟ ⎛ 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ⎠ wishlist.

[ascottywrites]

The Steter List --Tails

  After I realized that the last post was getting pretty long (what does that say about me?) I decided to split it up into two parts Sterek and Steter, so that it’s easier to deal with and not as possibly overwhelming...here’s that Steter half! 

         --Steter a.k.a Stiles Stilinski/ Peter Hale--

  *a.k.a. The ship that makes me rethink life

Something Powerful Between Your Thighs by Bunnywest (Complete: 4/4| 18,595) --Steter/ --Biker!Peter

Someone’s actually replied.Fuck.

I’ll give you what you need, pretty boy. And you can call me Sir.

The hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck prickle at that, and his dick throbs. He clicks on the profile and the picture that pops up is UN-FUCKING-FAIR. Jesus Christ on a bicycle, nobody should look like that. The man’s staring into the camera, a smile that’s almost a sneer on his face. And what a face it is. Intense blue eyes, cheekbones like cut glass, and a strong jawline covered in the perfect amount of stubble. His neck, what Stiles can see of it, is thickly muscled, and Stiles can see the beginnings of a tattoo that travels down. There’s the tiniest scattering of grey at his temples, and Stiles breathes out, “Oh yes, Sir,” as he drinks in the details on the profile.

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest (Complete: 21/21| 54,900) --Steter

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Wild Card by Bunnywest for Rainy182 (Complete: 1/1| 10,799) --Steter

It's courting season, and for Omega Stiles, that means he has a month to choose who he's going to spend his heat with. He didn't think he'd have many suitors to choose from, but apparently he was wrong. It's a good thing he has Derek's uncle Peter to guide him.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum (Complete: 1/1| 24,501) --Steter/ Tattooed!Peter 

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

smoke & bone (mistletoe & fang) by rightsidethru (Complete: 1/1|  3,075) --Steter 

Deaton once told Stiles to be that spark. He never fully explained what that meant, however. (It was intentional.)

Lie to me (I like them pretty and white) by orphan_account (Complete: 8/8| 12,577) --Steter 

Fact number one: Only true mates can have kids together.Fact number two: Peter had a mate, who was pregnant with twins when he died in the fire.

When Stiles tells him he’s pregnant, he... well, it doesn't really go according to plan.

Stiles wakes up in the hospital. He’s alone, a packed overnight bag beside him brought by his dad probably... and he doesn’t really have a reason to stay, so he grabs it and runs.

/look at end notes for TWs/

*I still think this one is a cute little ditty. 

Til Death by Bunnywest (Complete: 10/10| 50,770) --Steter 

"How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks.

“Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is.

“He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her.

The camps……aren’t camps.

Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

*I'm not really a fan of female!Stiles, no particular reason, just not my cuppa. But this one I enjoyed all the way to the end! Intro to Ethics by thegirlnamedcove (Complete: 8/8| 18,061) --Steter 

"The universe isn’t wrong about this stuff, the soulmate spell is ironclad, and that means you know this is going to work out. That’s something people don’t get with friends, or dating around.”

“Sure, people say that,” Stiles gestured at the mark where his arm was now stretched out along the back of the couch, “but we don’t actually have any way of knowing. None of us signed up for this. The Ancestors just decided to bestow it upon us and we all have to live with it. Maybe it’s not magic compatibility after all, maybe people just learn to live with one another because everyone around them is telling them to.”

In Sickness and in Fire by wynnebat for Green (Complete: 1/1| 7,320) --Steter 

After a fight with an alpha from a rival pack, Stiles begins to turn. It doesn't go as expected.

*Despite the villan-esque portrayal and the Satan in a V-neck tag, there is a large part of me that believes that if Resurrected!Peter got the opportunity he would be that guy you want to have your back. Puppies and Programming by Bunnywest (Complete: 12/12| 17,012) --Steter 

Stiles is rich, successful, and lonely.

Buying a Halebot Personal Support Bot seems like a great idea. A human-like robot that can read and respond to his desires and is perfectly sexually compatible, and doubles as a bodyguard? Sign him the fuck up. And it's perfect, at first. But then the P3Tr develops a glitch. Feelings.

Gentleman 'verse by Bunnywest (on-going series) --Steter 

Stiles is an omega who just wants to be courted properly, and needs someone to help him though his upcoming heat.

Peter's the alpha who thinks he'd quite like to help out.

Things don't quite go as planned, but they still work out exactly as they should.

*Is it obvious that I have a special appreciation for Bunnywest?... Like is it too noticeable? Ha! 

Worn Out Shoes by moonstalker24 (Complete: 28/28| 96,763) --Steter 

When the dead rise, and the world comes to an end, the McCall Pack must learn to live in this new world, or die in the attempt. This is the story of the end, and of the year that follows.

*I found this origionally for the Accidental Baby Aquisition tag. ...I love that tag.

Falling In, Not Through by Julibean19 for Mysenia (Complete: 10/10| 49,898) --Steter 

“You need to help me,” Stiles says eventually. He’s still in too much pain to move off the floor, but he’s picked up a stray feather, twirling it between two fingers with a look of pure terror on his face. Peter nods immediately, eager and willing to be involved in whatever this is.

Peter’s eyes flick between the feather spinning between Stiles’ fingers and the harsh angle of the bend of his wings above his shoulders. He doesn’t look like any picture of an angel Peter has ever seen. There should be an elegant swooping curve there, neat little rows of white or gold or silver, pointed tips flung far out from Stiles’ body and a halo above his head. If Stiles is an angel, the myths are all wrong.

In which Stiles finds that he has wings and Peter finds that a pack doesn't always need to be made up of wolves.

Wild Creatures by neglectedtuesday (Complete: 1/1| 13,000) --Steter 

The treaty is signed while Stiles is being laced into his wedding corset. Ink splatters parchment as a maid pulls the ribbons, tighter and tighter. Stiles’ breath and future are taken away, all to save a village. He is a sacrifice more than a bride. The maid assists in fixing a choker around Stiles throat. Her hands are cold despite the roaring fire in the grate. The choker is a string of blood red rubies, they reflect the firelight with a wet shine like an open wound.

I'm Only Heard During the Silence Between My Screams by Irukashi_Narukib (wip: 39/?| 47,481) --Steter 

Stiles thinks no one is listening, so he just... stops talking. It's just like that asshole Peter to refuse to take the hint.

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic (Complete: 28/28| 106,631) --Steter 

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek's uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

A Darkness Follows by havok2cat (Complete: 9/9| 41,994) --Steter 

Stiles serves his community service at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He's assigned to a mysterious patient and finds himself quickly becoming obsessed.

Reluctant Allies With Benefits by veterization (Complete: 8/8| 93,217) --Steter

Peter suggests he and Stiles start having no strings attached sex. It's that simple. No, really, it totally is. Stiles will make sure of it.

as you are by veterization (Complete: 1/1| 34,093) --Steter 

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth (Must've Been When You Where Kissing Me) by stellewrites (Complete: 1/1| 6,008) --Steter

"Maybe he’s genuinely flirting, but he’s just pretty bad at it. Like, pulling your pigtails kind of thing?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Look, if you’re not going to help, I’m going to hang up, ok?”

“You asked for my opinion!” Scott laughed.

“Yeah, yeah…” AKA, Stiles works at a diner and has a love/hate relationship with the flirty Alpha that comes in almost daily with his pack.

Winding Roads to Flowering Fields by Tahlruil (ongoing series) --Steter

#steter #stiles stilinski #omega!stiles #regency #fae #zombie apocolypse au #teenwolf #teen wolf #fanfiction #ao3fic #peter hale #supernatural a/b/o #a/b/o #alpha!peter hale #ficrec #10/10 would reccomend #recommendations

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Barren: Chapter 15

Words: 3,021

Ships: Established Moralogince, Eventual LAMP

Warnings: food mention, past death mention, characters fighting, crying, eavesdropping, mention of an abusive ex

A/N: I’m not paying any dental bills if this gives anyone cavities 

Tags: @fandermom @astral-eclipse @patheticlilkiddo @a-pastel-pan  @dr-gloom @cloudedskies29 @quietwords-loudthoughts @mentallytiredgoat  @merlybird500 @notveryglittery @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @ninja-wizard101 @littleladynightshade @pumpkinminette @weird-spooky-broody-dude @unicornlogansanders @muliphandomer @jacksmellington101 @notalwaysthebadguy @skruffy901 @jynxlovesluck 

Previous / Next

---

The woman took purposeful strides, often forgetting how much shorter the boy walking next to her was. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail and she seemed to be dressed more for a business meeting than a therapy session. While not of a corporate degree, the woman certainly had business to attend to.

“Oh- H- Hello, I don’t have any appointments this week, but-“

“Cut the shit, Emile,” Nicole said. “Where’s my son?”

+++

Virgil was thriving from all the attention he had been getting. Patton showered him with forehead kisses and cuddles, Roman offered compliments and hugs at every corner, and Logan was always there to offer reassurances and reminders of how loved he was.

He felt like he belonged. And that was the most confusing thing of all. His heart was torn in a million different directions between soaking in all of the love or hiding far, far away from it all so that the rejection would hurt less.

But Virgil was selfish. And deeply falling into the abyss of love. He laughed as he saw Logan and Patton dancing in the kitchen, both so clumsy but laughing and full of love. “Dance with me,” Roman said, holding a hand in front of Virgil’s.

“Oh- I- I have two left feet,” he lied.

“So do those two. C’mon. It’ll be fun.” Roman’s invitation felt so common yet so intimate all at once. Virgil knew how the three of them loved to dance together when they were alone, was this some sort of a silent invitation into the quietest and domestic parts of their lives? Of their relationship? Virgil’s heart sped in his chest.

He took Roman’s hand and let himself be twirled into the kitchen and a gentle waltz, safely tucked between Roman’s arms. His heartbeat in time to the soft, jazzy tune he vaguely remembered from a movie he had seen with his mother when he was a kid. He could hardly remember anything other than talking dogs and a lot of balloons, but the song vibrated through his chest with the word “soulmates” echoing through his head.

It was a feeling he had read about in books and fairytales. Soulmates knowing that they’re meant to be together. It all seemed so fake all those years ago, and as he got older he knew being Barren meant he’d never be able to feel that. But now? Everything seemed perfect. It seemed so right, in a horribly wrong sort of way.

Roman twirled him into Logan’s arms as he began to dance with Patton. Virgil smiled at Logan and laughed awkwardly but found dancing with him to be far easier than expected. Logan was a perfect lead, precise and taking each step deliberately, and he kept a firm hold on Virgil but one that felt comforting nonetheless.

They all kept dancing, switching partners every few minutes, and laughing and loving. The song ended with Virgil once again in Roman’s arms, laughing as their foreheads pressed together. He found himself completely blind to the glance that Logan and Patton shared; he found himself completely blind to the fact that his life was about to change forever.

Later that day, when Roman was tucked away with work and Patton and Logan were busy training, Virgil found himself lying on the floor of Elliot’s room. “How much did it hurt?” he asked. “The tattoo. Mom always wanted me to get one, but I was too scared of the pain.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said. “But it’s not that bad. And if it saves your life, it's worth it.”

“And yet we’re both here,” Virgil said. “So, was it?”

“I-“ Elliot thought for a moment, silence on their tongue. “I just... chose the wrong name.”

“A bully?”

“A boyfriend,” they said. “He’s not exactly... a fan of people like us. Sometimes I wonder if he’s the one that reported me.”

“Tattoo shops are raided all the time,” Virgil said. “Someone probably just stole the documents.”

“Someone,” they argued, “would have had to tell the police first.”

“That’s fair.”

“How did you get caught?”

“Typical story. Someone saw my arm, caused a scene, and I just couldn’t outrun the cops. I was put on display. I hated it.”

“Virgil, that sounds awful.”

“I’m sure what you went through wasn’t exactly a picnic either.”

“Being Barren sucks ass.”

“It really does, doesn’t it?” Virgil laughed. “But at least we have company. I can’t imagine doing this all with anyone else.”

“It sounds like you love them,” Elliot teased.

Virgil stood silently for a moment, memories and emotions rushing to his head and through his heart. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh no, you’re in deep, huh?”

Virgil sent them a glare. “I’m just saying that I,” he said slowly, putting deep thought and consideration into every word, “enjoy their company.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh don’t give me that look!” Virgil said. “It’s not like I’m calling them my soulmates- well...-“ He decided that was a topic for a different day. “They make me feel safe. And loved. And isn’t that all anybody wants when all is said and done?” He paused for a moment, face blushing as he thought of that morning’s events. “I think they’re incredible.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Thanks. And I wish you the best of luck with getting out of here. I’m sure this isn’t your ideal situation.”

“Living with my therapist, three polyamorous idiots, and my best friend’s hero?” they asked. “Not what I expected, no.”

“Hero?”

“You’re a living legend!” Elliot explained. “My friend Kai really admires you. He thinks you’re pretty kickass.”

“Kickass? I hardly did anything. Logan is the one who saved me.”

“Au contraire,” Elliot argued. “You saved me.”

“Huh. Maybe I do have a bit of kickass.”

“Hell yeah, you fucking do.”

“Language.”

“Kiss my ass,” Elliot said, sticking out their tongue with a laugh. Virgil fell back against the floor with laughter. He finally felt like he was making up for lost time on all the years he spent friendless and alone.

+++

It was a grocery day. Patton was thankful to have the least risky job of the bunker, but that never meant he was completely safe. He kept the sleeves of his cardigan just high enough the show that he had a mark, but still covered enough to prevent anyone from looking any closer at it. He carried reusable shopping bags in his hands as he walked the extra block back to Roman’s Jeep. As he walked, he found himself faced with a difficult proposition.

Would it be the right thing to do to visit Emile?

On one hand, if Emile had wanted to see them, surely he would have come back to the bunker already.

But what if he needed company? There’s a large difference between having a friend visit you and going back to a small family.

Patton pulled out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the Jeep. He piled in grocery bags into the back seat and got into the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and started the directions to Picani’s office...

+++

Roman was starting to get really sick of the sound of keys typing. He had been locked in the office for hours, trying to get paperwork done for the organization. He hated paperwork, especially on such short notice. He had been taking whatever short lunch break he had to just walk around the bunker and have an opportunity to stretch his legs. He stopped in front of Elliot’s room, his hand on the doorknob, to ask if they were hungry.

“It sounds like you love them.”

“Yeah. Maybe I do.”

Roman knew that eavesdropping was wrong, but could anyone blame him if he stuck around for a few more seconds, just for some context?

Eventually, his guilty conscience was too hard to ignore and he quickly made his way into the kitchen to at least attempt a meal. That is if black coffee and ramen count as a meal.

“A man of high taste, huh?” Virgil teased as he passed by.

Roman’s heart raced as he emptied the noodles into the pot. Did Virgil know he had been listening? “I could make you some if you want.”

“Nah, I had a turkey sandwich earlier,” Virgil said. “But have fun with your John Mulaney Piss Poor College Student Dinner Deluxe.”

“No one said it’s easy when Patton is on grocery duty,” Roman teased, turning around but easily finding himself chest to chest with Virgil and trying not to blush so hard. Was Virgil’s smirk always this adorable? The younger boy was at the same height as Roman’s lips, perfect for forehead kisses; was he allowed to be flustered by such a simple fact?

Virgil quickly moved out of the way. “No offense, but this place has never exactly had a five-star kitchen.”

Roman laughed, moving to a different counter to chop up some old vegetables for his noodles. “In our defense, all we have is Emile’s extra cash to feed us.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Virgil asked quietly. “Or- Or maybe I could hide in the back of the Jeep next time Patton leaves and- and then I can talk to him and say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I- And then maybe he will come back! Or- At least things will be okay again and- and- and-“

“Virgil, you need to calm down you’re getting hysterical,” Roman said. “You can’t leave the bunker. It’s still very dangerous for you out there.”

“But Emile-“

“Emile will be fine. You, however, won’t be.”

“But-“ Roman opened his arms wide and Virgil ran into him, hiding his face in Roman’s chest. Roman rubbed on hand on Virgil’s back as he hummed the gentle tune they had all been dancing to that morning.

“What if I lose Emile too?” Virgil asked quietly. Roman could feel the tears on his shirt. “I already lost my mom. I can’t lose him too.”

“You won’t,” Roman whispered. “This is just how Emile is. Sometimes he just needs to hide away for a while. Until the sadness subsides, you know? He’ll be back in his own time. He’s gone through a great loss and all we can do is give him time.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“And Virgil? He loves you. Don’t think that this means he cares for you any less.”

“Your ramen is burning.”

“Oh fuck!” Roman yelled, running over to the stove and quickly moving the pot off the burner. He tossed in a few of the chopped veggies and stirred in the seasoning. “Not my best batch,” he teased, easing off the mild heart attack he was experiencing. “I’m usually better at cooking.”

“That’s half my fault,” Virgil teased, quickly wiping his eyes and seeming more than eager to change the conversation.

“Oh please, I’ve ruined plenty of Patton’s meals by being an attention whore,” Roman said. “The desire for Patton hugs waits for no man, woman, enby, or pot roast.”

“I believe that.”

“So uh, this is probably a bad time to ask,” Roman said as he poured his half-burnt half raw soup into a bowl. “But I’m working on getting Elliot transferred.”

“Transferred?”

“And I, well, I need to ask if you want to go with them,” Roman said. Despite knowing that Virgil would likely say “no” he couldn’t stop his heart from racing or his hands from shaking. “I know this isn’t really your thing. We can get you a tattoo and send you to a division in another country. You can start life all over again.”

“Start over?”

“And you won’t be trapped underground,” he said through a forced smile. “But it’s up to you. It wouldn’t take long to do the paperwork once I get Elliot’s set up.”

“Leave,” Virgil said slowly as if the word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“You know, repeating everything I say isn’t much of an answer.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer straight away. It’s okay to take your time.”

“No, that’s not what I meant I- I think that paperwork is completely unnecessary.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know, I have an anxiety disorder and I, well, I don’t like change soooo.”

“So?”

“You’re really going to make me spell this out for you, huh?”

“It’s a simple question, Virgil.”

“I want to stay,” he mumbled. “As cliche as it sounds, you guys are like a family to me. I don’t want anything to ruin that.”

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile. We love you too.

+++

Patton hated going anywhere empty-handed, which is why he was currently walking into Dr. Picani’s office with a box full of chocolate donuts. He had expected to find Emile alone and silently working on paperwork, what he found instead was the flap of a butterfly’s wings that started a storm.

Or perhaps it was already a storm from a butterfly of long, long ago.

“Emile, I didn’t realize you have patients.”

“Patton!” Emile yelled. “What are you doing here?” He seemed to be in the middle of a fight with a tall, brunette woman and a short boy with cotton-candy hair.

“I came to see how you’re doing. And, uh, give you these,” he said, putting the box of donuts on the table. The young boy immediately went for the box of donuts and started eating one.

“Patton, I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Bianchi. Mrs. Bianchi, this is my old friend, Patton Hart.”

“Bianchi?” Patton asked, eyebrows raised. “Any relation to the wanted fugitive?”

“Who’s asking?” Nicole asked, her voice dripping with poison.

“It’s okay,” Emile said. “We’re all on the same side.”

“Nicole is Virgil’s mother. She’s trying to find him.” “And I need to find Elliot!”

“Kai,” Nicole whispered, “you need to calm down.”

“NO!” Kai yelled. “I need to know where they are!”

“Elliot’s with Virgil,” Patton said. “Both of them are only an hour’s drive away.”

“Oh my God,” Nicole gasped. “He’s okay.”

“Elliot’s on their way to being transferred, though,” Patton said.

“Transferred?”

“The bunker only has room for so many,” he explained, “and it’s not exactly a life living underground.”

“So, where are they going?”

“One of the other branches of our organization will take them and help them set up a new life.”

“And Virgil?”

“The choice to stay or leave is Virgil’s to make,” Patton said. “That is if he hasn’t made it already.”

“I need to see him,” Nicole pleaded. “Please, I need to see my son!”

“And you will,” Patton said. “But not today. You never know who could be following.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do? Wait?!”

“With the knowledge that your son is safe and loved, yes.”

“Mr. Hart, I need to know, how is he doing? What has his life been like for the past few months?” Nicole asked. “You said my son is loved, how can I be so sure?”

“Virgil has spent the past few months living with and my two boyfriends, Roman and Logan, as well as Dr. Picani and his late queerplatonic partner, Remy- may God rest his soul- and I can assure you that we have spent all these months making sure that he is comfortable. As I have grown closer with Roman and Logan, the three of us have also grown to care for your son. I can only hope that no matter what, he is safe and happy.”

“Patton,” Emile whispered under his breath, a knowingness in his tone and the shine of his eyes.

“And I know he misses you, Nicole. Call me in a week and I can arrange for Emile to bring you to our hideaway.”

“Will Elliot still be there?” Kai asked.

“Of course,” Patton said. “As long as you can promise to see them, I’ll hold off on their transfer. You two deserve a proper goodbye.”

Kai blinked back a few tears and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Hart. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, now if you don’t mind, I need a few minutes alone with Dr. Picani.”

“Of course, Mr. Hart,” Nicole said. “And thank you so much. I will be in contact with you in one week.”

“I look forward to it, Mrs. Bianchi.”

Nicole and Kai smiled as they left the room and Patton was quick to fall onto Picani’s couch.

“Patton, you really must warn me next time,” Emile said. “You know how I hate surprises.”

“You’re going to complain to me about surprises? That was a surprise, Em.”

“She shocked me too, but-”

“How long have you known?”

“What?”

“Nicole. How long have you been hiding the fact that she’s trying to find Virgil? How long have you hidden Virgil from her?”

“A month or two but-”

“A month?! Emile!”

“I didn’t want you all to lose Virgil!”

“Virgil needs his mother, Emile. As much as you care for him, and as much as I love him, he needs his mother.”

“He needs us too.”

“That’s his own choice to make.”

“I just... I thought this would be easier. For everyone.”

“Em,” Patton sighed, “it’s time to admit that you were wrong.”

“How can I make this up to you guys?”

“One week,” Patton said, getting up from the couch and heading out of the office. “I have frozens in the car.”

“Patton-”

“Enjoy the donuts.”

+++

When Patton got home, seeing Roman waiting for him seemed to be all that mattered. He parked the car and turned off the engine, lazily putting the keys in his pocket as he slipped out of the car.

“Babe, let me help you with the bags.”

“Shh, bags can wait,” Patton said, wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck and letting all of his weight fall onto his boyfriend.

“Long day?”

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to just shut up and kiss you?” he teased.

“You know me so well,” Patton said as Roman’s hand cupped his cheek and they closed the gap between them. Yeah, Patton thought, bags can wait.

#Barren #btw any urls that weren't able to be added to the list were removed for space sake but are still on the original list #PLEASE dm me if I need to update your url on the list okay

[ifridiot]

ok but imagine this: lieberpool. Imagine david not knowing what to think when frank comes back to the hideout with a red-suited body riddled with so many holes david can see through the guy. Imagine his surprise when the body gets up and starts talking. David and wade bonding over hideout pancakes and synthpop bops. Imagine wade sneaking david out to tag along on his hits. Imagine franks face when wade and david come back at 4 in the morning and david is covered in other peoples and just fine

Dude, I’m not even going to try and say I haven’t been rolling this vague ship concept around for a while. lets take ‘er for a spin.

The Start of a Good Porno

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Wade being Wade, Suggestive Dialog

It’s a hair past three AM when David’s phone buzzes. It should irritate him, but he’s just laying alone in the dark imagining what a full night’s sleep is like anyway, so having Frank call is more an excuse to start the day than anything.

Rolling out of bed, he thumbs the ‘accept’ icon, muttering a tired, “Yeah?” and getting the exhausted, exhilarated panting that he expects. Frank sounds like he’s hauling something heavy, and David can only imagine him, shitty burner phone tucked between shoulder and ear, hoping David picks up. “What’dyou need, Frank?”

He sounds more awake that time, and he’s a little surprised at the breathless chuckle he gets.

“Got a guy you need to talk to,” Frank manages, and then, grunting, speaking away from the receiver, “Stay fuckin’ put, idiot.”

It’s too early for this bullshit. It could any hour of the day, David thinks, and it would be too early for this bullshit.

But what the fuck, right? He’s divorced, he’s got no social life left to speak of, and helping Frank at least lets him feel like he’s not completely dead. So he’s on his feet, grabbing jeans and sweatshirt, looking for his damn hat to cover the hair he keeps meaning to get trimmed but can’t seem to find the drive to actually deal with. “Where?”

“Second closest to you.” He can hear the twist of Frank’s smile, that grim and somehow mocking expression. “Wouldn’t want you to have to walk far at night.”

“Fuck you,” David says, but he’s smiling too. He knows the place Frank’s referring to, knows all the boltholes and hideaways Frank’s got the city because half of them he helped set up. After all, if he’s going to get calls at ungodly hours, he might as well be able to find the places and make himself useful. He shoves his phone into his pocket, turns a slow circle in his tiny apartment, and nabs his hat from the far side of his bed, tugging it over his hair in an effort to make the wild curls less obvious.

It’s not a bad night. Morning. Whatever you call it when midnight has come and gone but the sun still hasn’t risen. He moves briskly, covering ground quickly. People tend not to remember you if you move like you belong, and David’s spent long enough pretending to be dead to know how to get around without attracting attention. He’s more worried about Frank, honestly; he knows he won’t lead anyone anywhere because he’s not the guy out there shooting thugs and crooked cops. People chase Frank; no one is looking for David.

All told, it takes less than twenty minutes to get to the rundown tenement block Frank’s rented space in. David has been here a few times, first to set up a computer array (he gave Frank a list of what he needed and didn’t ask how Frank came about the components, just installed everything) and then a few times to run some info or track leads Frank couldn’t muddle the old fashioned way. Or didn’t have time to muddle.

Either way, he’s heard dry coughing from one other room several times, and once the hair-raising laughter of someone either exceptionally stoned or experiencing a sharp mental break from somewhere above them. It’s the kind of building that will, sooner or later, be bought up for cheap by some real estate group and torn down to make way for more fashionable, expensive accommodations, whether the people already living here could afford to leave or not.

He expects -- always expects -- Frank to be waiting, some poor schmuck bleeding all over the shitty carpet, maybe tied to one of the chairs, maybe under gunpoint. Once the schmuck in question had been half dead and, in Frank’s words, “a decent bastard”. David didn’t know what happened to him after he’d finished getting the information from him that he’d needed to finish the hack job Frank had assigned him, but it was kind of hard to imagine Frank rolling up in that shitty van to the ER.

David learned in the year he spent playing a dead man that it was better not to ask questions you didn’t need an answer to.

This time, he’s beaten Frank. That’s fine; it gives him time to get the computers running. Sometimes he misses that basement, eternal damp and all. At least down there the computers were always live, and he didn’t have to worry much about Frank fucking them up because he was always there and Frank knew better than to touch shit he didn’t understand.

Here, who knows how often Frank hides out? How much of the time is this collection of computing equipment just left on its own, perfect for some junkie looking for an easy score? He likes to think no one would dare break into one of Frank’s places, but then again, if the intruder doesn’t know who’s place it is, it doesn’t rightly matter does it?

He’s listening for the rattle of the doorknob, expecting Frank to be injured or dealing with someone live enough to give some measure of trouble. His heart is tight -- all this time and this bullshit still gets him nervous and flighty -- and when the window squeals open he whips around where he’s standing just in time to watch a dark bundle tumble through the window. Frank climbs in after, stepping neatly around the ominously still bundle, mouth set in a grim line. It’s Frank’s ‘my patience is wearing thin’ face, and the body -- David’s pretty damn sure it’s a body -- is covered in a lot of red.

Some of that is fabric, but David knows plenty of it is blood; Frank’s smeared in plenty of it.

Without really thinking, David moves to try helping Frank get the guy off the floor, and Frank irritably waves him back, moving to get his arms around the man. He’s limp as a rag doll, and he’s --

“Holy shit, Frank, did you cut his leg off?”

This leaves him in a sort of muted shout, because he’s aware enough to know that he can’t be shouting here, even if most of the other tenants are unlikely to stick their noses into someone else’s business. Run-down place like this, no one wants to call the cops.

Frank gives him an evil look, and David realizes that the guy he’s hauling up is also missing a hand on the same side. He’s wearing a mask, and it takes David a minute to place the mask before he sits heavily in his computer chair, cursing under his breath.

Deadpool is infamous enough that David knows at least some of his business. Not enough to have a full picture, but enough to know a willing team-up with Frank was unlikely. David doesn’t really want to be around when the supposedly unkillable mercenary comes to and tries to skewer Frank from dragging him here.

But he is here. So that’s that, he guesses.

That’s what being alive is, isn’t it? Being afraid of dying.

“You know, I feel like I shouldn’t have to be the one to explain to you that dragging home crazy immortal murderers is a really above-and-beyond way to get us both killed.”

Frank crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, Deadpool deposited to leak all over the ratty leather couch. “He wanted to come. Stay here, I gotta go get… uh, the rest… out of the van.”

He laughs at whatever scrunched up face David makes, and David flips him off. He’s pretty sure when Frank says ‘the rest’, he doesn’t mean more people. And sure, David’s been around his share of dead bodies at this point, but it’s not exactly like he’s had to worry about any of them coming back to life while he’s alone with them.

But Frank, as ever, gives him no room to argue; he’s back out the window and rattling the fire escape like he’s looking for extra attention. All David can do is sit and stare and hope Deadpool stays dead until Frank’s back.

Which, of course, means he draws a sharp, rattling breath two minutes later, sitting up and clawing at his mask with the hand he still has. He hauls it up over his nose, revealing enough of his face for David to figure out that everything he’s read is true as far as the disfigurements go -- the skin shown is waxy and scar-riddled and pale, and he gulps air like he’s been drowning.

Then he starts trying to sit up, looking around the room. “God, wow, what a sty. Please, please tell me he doesn’t make you live here. God, he probably does. Don’t worry, scared little computer man, I’ll talk to him.”

It’s a lot, really, and somehow David finds himself chuckling. It’s not as nervous a sound as he expects it to be, and the mercenary bleeding all over the couch and floor grins, all crooked teeth and honest pleasure at having gotten a laugh.

“So where’s Himbo Rambo gone? Pretty sure he didn’t make you carrying me inside.”

“Frank?” David doesn’t know why he looks for clarification -- who the fuck else could that be? “He, uh. I think he went to get your, uh. Leg? Maybe?”

"Aw, bless his heart, he actually grabbed it? So much faster than waiting for it to regrow. Hi, I’m Wade, Deadpool, I’d offer to shake your hand, but only horse thieves shake left handed.”

Maybe it’s the absurdity, or maybe it’s the way the man reclines back on the couch and crosses what’s left of his right leg over his left, but David finds himself laughing again. It’s even easier the second time, and Deadpool -- Wade -- looks downright smug about it. “Is there anything I can, uh, get you?”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna ask Frank if we can trade minions, you are already so much better than Weas.”

“Uh.”

“Jokes, haha, we love to laugh. I know you’re not a trading card, and Weas would suck at helping Frank. He barely helps me.”

“O-kay,” David drawls, not sure anymore about the giddy bubbling in his chest. Exhaustion is a hell of a drug, he supposes, and the rapid banter from a guy missing a significant portion of his limbs is probably something of a shock. He turns his chair back toward the computers, sifting through files until he finds the project documents he’d put together surrounding the case Frank was supposed to be prioritizing now. He can hear the rattle of the fire escape, more subtle now, and after a second Frank comes in through the window again, something bundled up in the fabric of his coat.

It makes David grimace, and as Frank drags the window shut after him, jerking it down sharply against the resistance of the ancient frame, the room seems to bloom with a butcher-shop smell David is regretfully familiar with.

“Oh Frank, I figured I’d have to buy you dinner first,” Wade says, and when David glances at them, Frank is scowling, on his knees in front of Wade, one hand wrapped with business-like authority around the merc’s severed leg, the other pushing his legs open to give himself room to work. “Though I gotta say, you getting on your knees on the first date is super good fanfic material. I hope the readers are enjoying themselves as much as me.”

So the thing about him being absolutely insane is clearly as true as the rest. David can’t imagine anyone making that kind of joke with Frank, and he’s not even going to try addressing the ‘fanfic’ comment.

“Shut up,” Frank grumbles, and sits back on his heels to start peeling the leg out of the section of costume that had been cut off with it.

Wade presses a hand to his chest, mock offended. “Are you worried that I won’t reciprocate? I’ll have you know I am a very generous lover and there are people who would pay to get my mouth--”

“Wilson, I will break your goddamn jaw. Zip it.”

“And then how will I tell Micro here -- please god don’t let that be some kind of foreshadowing size joke -- all about the pretty tech you need him to hunt down?”

“I assume you know how to write.”

“Oh, witty repartee from the man who mostly just grunts in his Netflix show! I love it. But sadly no, not left handed, and since I don’t see Ms. Michigan falling out of your badass leather duster, I’m going to assume I’m expected to just wait on that to grow back.”

Really, David’s not sure if he’s even meant to be keeping up in this. Listening to them is like being an extra in a film, like he’s not important enough to have his own lines. It’s both irritating and a little soothing -- he’s not exactly sure he wants to be a main character in this situation.

“Just tell him. I want to get this done some time before the end of the fucking world.”

“I love when you get all grim-dark, baby, it’s a real mood elevator. You sure you don’t wanna just trade blowies and call it a night?”

Frank makes noise that promises violence, one hand moving to sweep over his face. David knows whatever patience Frank’s got left is fraying by this point, and decides he might as well speak up.

“What’m I supposed to be looking for?” He asks, and feels weirdly trapped when Deadpool turns his attention on him, like he’s no longer interested in Frank ripping the fabric away from his thigh. He doesn’t let himself look away, although he really wants to, and the merc grins. “I mean, if it keeps him from stabbing you, probably better to just tell me. I wanna go back to bed sometime tonight.”

Wade shimmies on the couch until he’s sitting straight, make Frank growl in frustration before getting up to go fish something out of one of the narrow closet in the hall. David’s not terribly surprised when he comes back with a roll of duct tape, but he’s more focused on the merc as he starts describing the tech that Frank was interested in. He knows, of course, no actual technical terms, so is reduced to gesturing vaguely with his stump and his hand, describing colour and function and the exact way the device had exploded when he had shot it.

“It was like it made everybody else think they were somewhere else,” Wade says by way of wrapping up. “Somewhere bad, if the screaming was any judge, which it usually is. Where’d it take you, Frankie?”

Frank made a vague noise, lips pressed together, eyes on his work as he tried to get Wade’s leg back in proper place, taping it carefully. Obviously not something he wanted to talk about, which was, honestly, par for the course with Frank and unpleasant situations. He preferred to bottle everything up until it exploded, violently, out of him.

“Anyway, I figure it’s probably some kind of brain fuckery, cause a lot of that shit doesn’t work on me. My eggs are already scrambled. But it wasn’t just brain stuff cuz some guy got for-real gutted, and usually psychic visions don’t do that. And there was no evil Professor X in that little box, either.”

David has already turned and started searching. He has a few vague ideas about what the device could have been and whole might have made it. “And the thing you blew up, was it… streamlined, I guess? Did it look like something you could make at home?”

“Nah, it was super sci-fi sleek, very high tech. I wouldn’t promise ‘mass-produced’ but if there was an Evil Villain Market this would be like, in the artisan crafts section.”

The room goes quiet, just the sound of David typing and Frank tearing short strips of duct tape, and eventually Wade starts humming. It takes David a second to place the song, before he recognizes it as ‘We Found Love’. His brows slide up, because that’s an odd choice, but he focuses on following the data, between the goons Frank had been after tonight, they guy paying them, and the various shiny new bits of tech that could feasibly manage what Deadpool had described.

When Frank meanders over to his side, he can feel the agitation drifting off him like a cloud. He wonders if Frank has any new injuries he’s covering up with all the anger and irritation he’s projecting, and decides that’s probably Frank’s problem if he has. If Frank wanted help getting patched up, he’d ask.

It takes almost fifteen minutes before David finds anything promising, and by the time he’s pointed out the connections and given his obligatory words of caution, it’s almost 5 AM and Frank is moving to climb back out his window, keen to follow the lead while it’s fresh.

“Well if you gimme like, two hours to get in running shape, I’ll come with,” Wade says, trying to get to his feet and failing. There’s a few creepy nubs starting to form from the mess at the end of his right arm; the beginnings, David guesses, of a new hand. “For real, by the time we get where we’re going I’ll be rock steady. I’m a great meat shield. Come on, Frank, let’s be buddies, I’ll spring for tacos after!”

Frank gives him a hard look and says, “Next time, don’t get half your limbs chopped off ‘n we’ll talk.” Then he’s gone, the fire escape rattling and Wilson crosses his arms and openly pouts.

David feels a little weird, and strangely a little bad about the merc being stuck. The idea of leaving to go back to his shitty, lonely apartment is supremely unappealing, and feels kind of bad given that Wade would be stuck here alone. And anyway, David doesn’t want to leave anyone alone with the computing array. This one is more complete than any of the others he’s put together for Frank, and Deadpool seems like the kind of guy to break shit out of boredom.

Or spite.

“You want breakfast?” He asks impulsively, moving to the tiny kitchen. He kept the pantry stocked with non-perishables, never knowing when Frank would end up shacking up here. “I can do, uhhh…” he opens the cupboards and peers in, frowning. “I can do pancakes?”

That gets the merc to perk up shockingly fast. “Pancakes are almost as good as murdering violent apocalypse-nudging bastards. Syrup?”

“Yeah, I got syrup,” David says, pulling the ‘just add water’ mix out of the cupboard and heading to the sink to try eyeballing the appropriate amount of water. “I got instant coffee, too, if you want.”

“You are really the full package, huh,” the merc says from the couch, reclining again. When David looks at him, he grins openly. “Usually I only get breakfast from people I’m paying or am sleeping with. You expecting a check?”

Why that makes David start to blush, he doesn’t want to examine. It’s a joke, the implication is part of the joke. He looks back to the pancake mix, like he needs to watch the bottle as he shakes it to combine powder and water. “Cash or credit,” he says.

“And me without my wallet. Now there’s a good start to a porno. Micro and the One Armed Merc. Honestly, we gotta get you a better code name if we’re gonna make this work.”

#neoma writes #deadpool #punisher #frank castle #david lieberman #wade wilson #lieberpool #reveriecacophony

[2cumlord]

> Sock: Wake up and talk to KN.

stellar-aide

It's been an on-and-off evening; you've gone between sleeping like the dead and watching blankly as the mediculler Vriska hired looks after Sollux. Since you've gone to sleep, it seems like the nutriment pump you suggested has been installed, hooked up to the nutrition tube you cut him from on the ship. Seeing it in use relieves you a bit: it's good to know that he won't accidentally waste away in the operating block, but it also reminds you that it will probably be a long time before he can eat solid food again. 

Again, you dwell on whether he'll ever forgive you for this. Hal would say it was necessary, and that you've done a good job evacuating him safely from the ship without accidentally hurting him any further than what was required for uninstallation. You're not sure how you feel about that, seeing him like this. The block is so quiet. He was always motionless in the rig, too, but he was never quiet. 

The mediculler very politely doesn't look at you or make you talk to them, and you're grateful for the relative silence. You realize you haven't eaten since your escape, but you aren't particularly hungry either. You decide that you'll remain here for now until you fall asleep again; fitful rest is the only reprieve you have from your guilt.

2cumlord

Something is pressing up against your back. It's pushing you upwards, unyielding. It puts you on edge. You imagine countless hands at your back, unrelenting. Surely, that's the force you're now aware of against your body. 

Actually. No. You think you might just be lying down. Gravity is pushing you down against some sort of surface, not the other way around. You've spent so long hung up in a suspended position, that this new orientation for your body makes you uncomfortable. You don't want whatever you're lying on to be here. If only it could fall away, let you plunge down forever into space and nothingness. 

You're not sure where you are. There's a steady, quiet beeping sound coming from nearby. There's a lot of pain, pervasive throughout your body. As though it were written into your DNA. Both of these sensations are familiar. They could be happening on the ship. But you're lying down. 

You try to move but everything hurts. "Ugh." What else is there to say? You sink your overgrown fangs down into the skin of your lips. Deeply, as hard as you can. It's a comforting, repetitive action for you. You could barely move in the helm, but you could move your jaw. It's clear what a habit this became from the amount of scarring around your mouth.

stellar-aide

You scramble to at the sound, but the mediculler doesn't seem nearly as interested. They move to check on him, but clearly, this is just another fucked up patient to them rather than a living miracle. "Sollux, I'm here." You stop short, asking how he feels would be... completely pointless. You know he's going to be in a lot of pain, and it isn't about to get better. 

Even so, you do not possess the willpower to stem the flow of conversational habit. You weren't raised in a barn. 

"How are you feeling?"

2cumlord

You think you hear movement, which isn't great. But you also hear Kanaya's voice, which is great. You'd be fine if her voice didn't get any closer, though. "Oh, you know." That isn't really an answer. You're not sure how to answer that question other than asking her to shove you out of an airlock, which you still might do. But you want to know what's going on. "How are you feeling."

stellar-aide

"Better. It is just the mediculler and I here, for now." You take a breath, relaxing a little into your seat. "You've been out for a full night. I'm surprised and sorry that you are awake so soon..." 

 You don't dare to touch him, folding your hands in your lap. "We should be boarding the Antares within a few hours, and your moirail has been asking about you."

2cumlord

None of that makes you feel any better, but Kanaya's presence is a relief. You're just glad she isn't dead. Thoughts float by you as though just out of reach, blanketed by a haze of pain, shock, and what you can only describe as a dying feeling. "How's Hal," you ask. "And Eridan." Yeah, you should probably get that out of the way so you can decide just how awful you feel about this whole thing.

You feel pretty awful as it is. Everything hurts, and you find yourself wishing you could be unconscious again. But they'll make you be conscious eventually. So what's the point? You feel what you assume is medical monitoring equipment pressing against your body. "Hey, can you pull this shit off of me," you say. You'd like to think the cadence of your voice toes the line between casual, asking a friend to rip off a clothing tag, and the early stages of an anxiety attack.

stellar-aide

"Hal is fine, he got out safely. I think he's hitching a ride with us back to Earth, I am not sure if that is a personal choice or if it is just easier for him. Eridan lost an eye, but he's taking it well, since nobody died. I'm advising him to rest at the moment, he's a seadweller so I'm sure he'll get over it soon." You're relieved to ramble things off, your body shaking a little, though it doesn't color your voice. 

You do freeze up a little at the ask about the goggles, though. "I believe it was decided to wait for the Earth facilities to remove those, to do as little damage as possible." You glance at the mediculler, then back at Sollux. "Would you prefer to be sedated until then?"

2cumlord

"Lost an eye." You decide not to ask for more information about that, but repeat it to yourself in an effort to hold onto some sense of where you are. "Ok. What happened to the ship?" 

You're pretty sure she isn't talking about the medical hookups. What damage would those do? Maybe she means the goggles still latched onto you like some kind of headcrab. You can keenly feel the pain of that in your eyes, more blunt and less burning than usual since it isn't being used to direct power to a spaceship. You assumed she was going to take it off in the helmsblock, but you find that you don't actually mind that it's still attached. Maybe if you keep the goggles on, it'll make it easier to attach you to another ship.

stellar-aide

You shift uncomfortably, knowing how badly he'll hate hearing this. You don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but it's not as if he can read a message from Hal, and it wouldn't do to hear it from Eridan. "Hal disabled it, but the tech jockeys managed to lock him out of the rest of the ship's major functions before he could do much more than what was necessary to get us out alive. He froze navigation, at least, they're not coming for us."

2cumlord

"Oh, ok." It's not like you're surprised, not really. How is anyone going to destroy a warship? How is anyone going to do anything? You want to tell Kanaya to put you back out there, back to the ship. But she isn't going to do that no matter how much you know it's right, and it would just make her upset. You let out a slow, tired breath. Even breathing hurts. "Hal must be disappointed about that." You remember how excited he was at the prospect, how it was his idea in the first place. You kept saying it wasn't possible. 

Were you just right about the situation, or do you curse people's efforts to fail just by saying it?

stellar-aide

"He certainly isn't happy about it. Personally, I am grateful we are all alive and that he did not have to die in there. I think that is a fair tradeoff, for the moment. The Starscreech will have its time, eventually." You say a bit more than you really feel, partially because you know you have to have optimism enough for the both of you. Who knows what sort of awful things are running through his mind right now. "Would you like me to get you some water?"

2cumlord

"Sure." You don't really believe that. But if Kanaya feels okay about it, you guess that's something. You feel like someone scooped your innards out, left them behind on the ship, and now you're here. A shallow, hollow husk. There's no way this is you, that the majority of what you are wasn't lost in translation. You steer yourself away from this line of thinking, for now. Kanaya just asked you something. 

 Water. You tentatively attempt to shift your arm, and it's all shooting pain. You wouldn't be able to drink it yourself, you're sure. "No thanks," you say. You're quiet for a long moment. At least it feels like a long time to you. "You said Bo was messaging you?"

stellar-aide

"Yes. A lot." You pause for a moment, unsure how much you should share, exactly. He deserves to know everything, but you're worried about giving him too much to work with too soon. You remember your conversation with Hal - at what point do you become the bad guy for making decisions in his best interests without his input? 

"He wants to send you a card, so I'm having him send it to the Antares. I also let him know that I would set up a voice call for you, when you are ready to talk. I know for a fact he hasn't set down his palmhusk, so I could do that at any time you like. I promised I would tell him when you woke up, but also told him that you might not be ready to speak to him immediately, so you do not need to feel pressured to act immediately. If you don't want to talk directly to him, I could also type to him for you and read his messages back to you, but it would be simpler to call if you are going to be speaking anyway." 

 You chew your lip, brow furrowed. "What would you like me to do?"

2cumlord

"Uh." That's a lot of information, and you're pushing yourself to wrap your thinksponge around it all faster. Kanaya is explaining it clearly and plainly, though. She's such a good friend. "You don't have to do anything, KN," you say. "If Bo messages again you can tell him I woke up, or that I'm fine, or. Whatever." There's a sort of a catch in your throat thinking about him, you think. You grimace — from pain, not because of the subject. "And I'll talk to him whenever he's ready."

"You don't have to do anything, though," you say again. You feel like it bears repeating, for some reason. "Though if I could be alone that would be great."

stellar-aide

"Oh." The disappointment creeps into your voice, despite your best efforts. You clear your throat, the chair squeaks against the floor as you rise from it. "Of course. The mediculler has to stay on duty, but... yes, you can do that. I'll check up on you in a half hour or so."

2cumlord

"You don't have to," you say quickly. You're frowning, brows furrowed, at the reminder that there's someone else in the room. If anything, you'd prefer being alone with Kanaya than alone with some mediculler. You don't have high expectations for either of them to not invade your non-existent bodily autonomy, at this point, but... still. Asking if the mediculler can fuck off doesn't seem like an option, though. Vriska paid for them to be here. Way to be ungrateful. 

 You need to think of an explanation for why you're saying you want to be alone. "I just don't feel great." Yeah, that works.

stellar-aide

"No, of course. You have had it the worst of any of us, despite what Eridan may think." That's not true at all, but jokes at Eridan's expense tend to cheer him up. You reach out a hand to ruffle his hair almost reflexively, but you stop and drop your hand back down. "I would like to check up on you to make sure you're okay, but if you want me to go, I will leave you alone. Just tell me so I can give you at least one choice, today."

2cumlord

It isn't much of a choice. You want to be really alone. Alone for good. But maybe Kanaya should go anyway, just because it would suck for her to be around you any longer. She's only doing it because she feels responsible, or because she's trying to be nice. So you say, voice flat as ever, "Yeah you should probably go stretch your legs anyway. How long were you even sitting there." The irony of that coming from you, huh.

stellar-aide

His tone hurts. "Twenty hours and thirty-two minutes," you say. 

You briskly turn and leave.

2cumlord

Kanaya seemed hurt by you not wanting to be around her, you don't need working ganderbulbs to tell you that. It's understandable, if she'd waited around that long. You shouldn't have said anything in the first place, you tell yourself. Idiot. But it would have happened eventually, no matter what. You feel a wave of burning pain in your head and behind your eyes. 

The mediculler on duty asks you something about your "pain level," and whether you need any anaesthetic or more painkillers. You aren't sure how to interact with that question in general, and you don't want to try. You have a brief conversation that ends with you telling them to pretty much fuck off.

#stellar-aide #action post. #mentioned: clippy2 wwayfinder pro8lematic wwickedspirits #medical -- #self injury text -- #suicide ideation --

[dentelle-grise]

Your Latest Trick - chapter 29

Summary: Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party. (Loki x Reader NSFW)

Chapter 29 - Loki sets out to impress and tries a little too hard.

First chapter here (can be read as a oneshot) All chapters to date at AO3 (71K, NC-17)

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Chapter 29

You’re in this place again. The cottage. His place. And though Loki seems unusually bright and light hearted, you can barely hold back from bombarding him with questions.  

The weather is turning. It’s not a storm coming, but the true onset of winter this time. Looking at the darkening sky, you wonder how long he intends you to hide out here. You ask yourself whether you’d be prepared to live somewhere lost like this, give up everything else, if it meant being with him.

He’s hiding from Thor of course.  And you’re hiding from the rumour mill.

Well, one thing is sure. Out here, sooner or later, he’ll have to explain himself.

The boat is laden with parcels. They mostly contain food, but you get a surprise when what you took for a hamper, well covered by a blanket, turns out to be the casket from the throne room. Its colours are angry and agitated, moving faster than before, perhaps from the shaking they got on the ride.

“Whoah.” you say, taking a steps away from it. It doesn’t seem a reassuring thing to have brought on a trip away. But then this isn’t any regular romantic break, is it?

He shoos you away from it, handing you a box of apples instead, and takes the casket himself, lifting it up carefully, almost reverently, only holding it only though the blanket, without letting to touch his bare hands.

“Does your Dad know you’ve got that?”

“In point of fact. It’s mine.” He says, more to the box than to you.

“The Aether!?” Now, admittedly Odin is probably safer without it, but is Loki any better?  

“No, the casket.”

Whatever the reason is that he brought it, you’re not happy about having it in the cottage.

“But why bring it here?”

“Wait and see.” he teases, like you were an impatient child. This doesn’t reassure you.

Magic artefacts aside, Loki has certainly stocked the kitchen well enough, so much so that that the house looks even smaller.

You spend the waning day quietly. There’s just a single chair by the hearth, this is a place for one person after all, but you fit in it perfectly beside him. You are hardly touching, but it feels like an echoed afterglow of the frenzy of last night. If only it weren’t for what happened this afternoon. There’s a warmth between you but also a tension that hovers like an uninvited guest.You alternately  watch the growing dusk, the dancing flames and his face.

“Why deceive Heimdall?” you venture.

Without any sign of surprise or resistance to your question he looks you in the face and smiles.

“Because he’d only snitch on me to Thor.” he states simply. “As he so finely demonstrated.”

Why deceive Thor though? To ask that question would be to enter troubled waters indeed.

“But couldn’t you just have hidden us?”

“It’s not that simple. When so much of my attention and energy is otherwise engaged…” He gives you a knowing and appreciative look. “It’s far easier to wear a mask than to disappear. A simple illusion is all it takes, then a person’s imagination will do the rest. Even Heimdall’s.”

“So… he saw me and… Odin…” You shudder and pull a face, but Loki doesn’t react and when you look at him he’s got this wistful expression and you start to feel deeply annoyed that he’s missed the point. Ignored your discomfort.

But then he says, “I told father everything about us.”

You catch your breath. Finally.

Your joy bounces in your chest and you want to hug him, but you keep it squeezing his shoulder.

“And what did he say?”

There’s a silence.  Too long a silence. Loki takes a breath.

“Well nothing actually.”  

You feel a shiver of cold, despite the fire, and picture Odin at his worst. Is this why Loki whisked you away?

“He was asleep at the time.”

“Asleep?” You let your hand fall to your side. “Well why tell him if he couldn’t have heard you.”

“On the contrary, mother once told me he hears everything when he is asleep .”

Something is not right. What does Loki mean by ‘asleep’?  Could it be that Odin, overdoing it as you’ve seen is not just asleep but in ‘the sleep’.

“Why are we here even? And why did you bring that…‘thing’?”

“We need give things a chance to calm down.”

That you can see.

“And this,” he nods at the box glowing under its cover. “Well this I’ve got to show you.”

“It’s not going to bring Malekith here is it?”

He seems just as unruffled and amused.

“Not while he only has one arm and is on the run from his own countrymen, which I have on good authority.”

“But the Aether…”

“It makes the casket’s magic stronger.”  

You didn’t know anything about Loki possessing a magic casket before now.

“But what does it do?” The only magic casket you know of is the ancient one from Jotunheim and that’s hardly be Loki’s, but then neither is the Aether.  And with Odin ‘asleep’…

“It can make anything you want.” He says cheerfully.  The glow in the unlit kitchen is more rosy than blue at the moment. Loki reaches to touch the casket and you watch fascinated as he undoes the clasp on the lid. “But mostly it makes ice and snow.”

So it is the Jotunheim casket.

“Look.” He points out the window, away from the artefact in his hands. In front of the house there’s a small decked area, for mending nets and the like, but now you see there’s a terrace.  “Look” he prompts again and before your eyes columns grow at each corner and a roof, the across the beach and shore a there spreads a sheet of smooth shiny ice as flat as a frozen lake. What’s he doing? You go to turn. “Keep looking out there, you don’t want to miss this.” he warns. Arches, cloisters and stairs and doorways to great hallways grow, all apparently out of ice. You’ve never seen anything to dazzling or impressive, its as though Loki just created a whole new palace out of ice and magic.

“Not such a hovel now is it?”

You look over at him.  Loki is turned away, his face in darkness, but you can hear him gently panting, Such magic must take quite an effort. You politely ignore it. And look out at the new buildings that have sprung up. “It’s beautiful.” It’s not just incredibly built, but tastefully designed. You see the expanse of ice that has replaced the beach.  “I wish I had my…”

“By the door.” And there lie your ice skates. “Go on, try it.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

You step outside onto the terrace that wasn’t there before, then onto the transformed beach that lays beyond it like a vast mirror-smooth plaza reaching into the ocean.

Under your skates, its fabulously even. It’s been nearly a year since you skated but you remember instantly. You set off, alone on the ice like you’ve never been.  The ice is new and there’s no one to run into. You can go as fast as you like, turning curves and figures you never thought yourself capable of. You wonder if it's an illusion that he’s spun, purely in your head, because it’s incredible. You decide you don’t care.

The sea seems miles away, barely audible. Surrounding you is the crisp cold air of a winter’s day. When is he coming you wonder. The palace has grown so huge now that it dwarfs the island, the little house must be there somewhere among the ice buildings.  

And there he is, coming for you out of the night.  He’s already built up quite as when he catches up to you and sweeps you up and into the movement. You speed into the growing night together, dark before you, the moon above and the light of a fantastic city behind you.

You’re laughing, nearly screaming, from the exhilaration, the cold air drawing tears from your eyes and drying them just as fast.

He leads but you turn together, as though you had always been partners and knew where to go, when to move. You are so close that a single false move would send you into a high speed tumble, skates and all, but you have no fear. You are perfect together and you feel how simple it makes things to trust him.

You don’t want to break the spell with a single word. If he can do this, he can do anything. But finally, you circle to a halt and he lifts your hands together in his.  He kisses them warm, making you realise how cold they were, you hadn’t given it a thought.

His embrace is firm and his kisses are hot and welcome, but you’ve got to get moving again before you get too cold. As you make your way back, the house is a little warm light in the nestled among the cool graceful architecture of spires and arches, all sculpted from the frozen waves.  

At the foot of the great castle, you shed your skates.  He steps towards a grandiose doorway framed by a pair shining columns in the form of snakes. Then he looks over his shoulder a moment, gives you another look you know and he starts to run. You follow him into the palace, first great reception rooms, then though passageways and up stairways to balconies sparking in starlight. He is  showing off and you let him. This he can have when the rest of his life is in hiding. And you allow yourself to dream a little of a time when that will no longer be so.

You stare in wonder at a vaulted roof high above your head. An ice palace, like in the stories of Jotenheim. Did he have all of this stored up in his head waiting? Then you see Loki’s already at the very end of the hall and disappearing up a narrow spiral stairway. After him you go, racing up and bursting out on a roof garden.  It’s devoid of any plant life but breathtaking. Like everything here, it’s timelessly beautiful, though completely hard and cold. The ice isn’t like the stuff you know from winter. Underneath, it glistens blue or pink.

The roof, like most of the floors are powdered with snow, so you can keep up without slipping, and see Loki’s prints before you. They lead to a small suite of rooms at roof level, like private apartments, but with little in the way of furnishings. But Loki has gone from there already. Running down an outdoor stairway you think you see real snow coming in the air now and feel the wind rising, and then your slip though an archway into a darker chamber, less exposed but just as cold.

What will you do when you catch him? You would surely welcome one another’s heat, but there is nowhere here that is comfortable. You’ll get him back to the cottage, once you’ve got your hands on him.

Though you follow through a multitude of rooms, you notice you are no longer chasing but searching, the building seems to have a thousand rooms and staircases, avenues and hallways and all show his footprints, or yours.  It’s magnificent but somewhat eerie when you’re alone in it, this palace all cold and sparking under the moon.

He must be playing a game with you.  Hiding like this.  But really, it’s creepy, everywhere you meet ice mirrors or rooms with floors you can see through to the storeys below.

Perhaps he’s gone back to the cottage.

“Loki !” The name echos around you off the high ice walls, coming at you as though a handful of other women were wandering somewhere in these walls looking for him.

If only you could get back to the cottage under.  Though it must be close now, in the  complex of rooms leading one from the next, you can’t seem to get to it. Are you lost? You decide just to keep moving toward the exterior.  If you keep moving out and down you’ll be okay. Loki needs to understand that there’s a point when things cease to be funny. It’s as though the palace had continued to grow while were on your way downstairs. The stairway just leads to another passageway through the dark heart of this place.  You brush aside the feeling of panic and head for the glow of moonlight.

Finally you come out into a courtyard in a light flurry of snow. Real white snow falling from the sky. From the courtyard you are relieved to see the cottage again and although no light comes from its windows now but a cold purple glow, you head for it.

The interior silent and you sigh with relief at the warmth.  There’s nothing left of the fire and the only light is from the casket. And there’s Loki, finally, standing over it, a dark form against the glow.

“There you are!”  you cry.  But he doesn’t move or reply,

He’s bent slightly, a hand on the nearby wall where he must be channeling the energy.

“Loki?”

The figure turns. And though you can’t see much against the light you see straight away that it’s not Loki.

The scream is out of you before you even think it. The horror that fills you is worsened by the fact that you thought it was Loki. It’s not, it’s a monster.

 For Loki has summoned not just the ice powers of Jotenheim, but one of its creatures. Red eyes glow through the dark as you back away, screaming louder than you ever thought you were capable.

You yell at the monster to get back and run from the cottage. Outside in the snow you scream for Loki again. What has he done. Out here in the middle of nowhere. Then you hear the clumping step of the monster coming for you and you start to run.

TBC

#loki #fanfiction #lokixreader #your latest trick #mcu #thor

[pengiesama]

Too Many Cooks (Fic, Gen)

Title: Too Many Cooks Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Gen Characters: Rose, Alisha, Malfore

Summary: Rose and company help Alisha protect a vital shipping lane from attack by a rampaging drake. "Luckily" for them, Rolance has sent their own Shepherd to help.

(Or, "The One Where Everyone Involved Learns a Lesson in Patience and Self-Control, and Also How Not to Stab People.")

Link: AO3

This was my entry for day one of the TOZ 4th Anniversary project, at @tozanniversary! Day two's prompt was “I’m the son of a provincial lard!”.

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Rolance and Hyland were now working together on a variety of initiatives. Rebuilding destroyed towns, reseeding blighted fields, purging the land of the hellions that still roamed and of the lingering pockets of resistance to the kingdoms’ treaty. Alisha, of course, worked tirelessly; alongside Sergei, when he was available, but always Rose. Rose was still styling on the Shepherd Incognito thing – she was just used to working in the shadows when it came to things outside the Sparrowfeathers business, and it was easier besides.

There were those who remembered the Shepherd Sorey, and tales of his deeds were spreading; tales made larger than life and more wild by his sudden disappearance, at the very same time hope returned to the land. Surely he will return when humanity becomes pure enough. He sleeps under the mountain, waiting for this day. Leave offerings at the mantle for his seraphic helpers to bring to him each night. Rose was kind of worried about how Sorey would react to having a religion built up around him when he finally woke up.

Rose knew that taking up the Shepherd gig wouldn’t be easy. Sure, Sorey was stuck handling the really hard stuff. (She sent up a little prayer every night to wish him well – she never prayed in the past, never thought anyone would listen, but now she knew that Sorey would and was and always will.) But she was stuck handling the really annoying stuff.

The political stuff.

The political stuff that you couldn’t solve by stabbing with a knife.

The political stuff that you could solve by stabbing with a knife but now you’ve got a very delicate truce situation to navigate and so you can’t.

“…and I tell you this in utter sincerity, and above all, humility: the moment I appeared on the scene, the hellion took a single look at me and turned tail! I spoke naught a word, but the foul creature surely understood the overwhelming holy power at my command.” Malfore nodded gravely, and adjusted that stupid fucking beret on his stupid fucking skull. “It is a heavy burden. I do not intend to upset your delicate feminine composure with my travel accounts – please do let me know if you feel that you are about to faint from terror. But I tell you these tales for a reason. Understand, ladies, that you are safe under my protection as we travel.”

“Cool story, bro,” Rose said. Alisha was stiff as a rail, walking several paces ahead of them, clearly too infuriated to trust herself to speak. “I bet that was totally a hellion and not just like, a fat raccoon you saw knocking over the garbage cans behind the Shrinechurch one time.”

“Yes, it was truly a saga for the ages,” Malfore said, clearly not having registered a word she said. “I am indeed writing a memoir about my experiences, so please, do be patient while the creative process works. Ah, but that brings to mind another encounter…”

The mission they were on today was, indeed, dangerous. They were out to investigate a string of destructive landslides that threatened to dam up a major shipping highway between Rolance and Hyland – which would bring trade, not to mention transport of relief supplies and doctors, to a screeching halt. Preliminary scouting around the area led to the grim conclusion that they were probably dealing with a drake. An impossible task for the Hyland princess and her troop of ordinary soldiers (and her totally ordinary merchant pal who was only tagging along to make sure their supply train kept running smoothly) to be expected to deal with herself. And so, Rolance had graciously allowed Hyland to borrow their Shepherd (who was Totally Legit, and definitely not a fake asshole who didn’t know a hellion from a hole in the ground) to help with the process of retaking the river.

Rose was used to humoring pompous windbags – it was part of the customer service gig. Even Edna and Lailah had learned to live with the situation for the time being. But Alisha…well. She’d been condescended to and insulted and disregarded by people all her life, and had taken it with a kind of martyr attitude; as if it was simply a test to make her a better knight. But Malfore seemed to really be stretching her patience to the breaking point. She’d hardly said a word the past few days – as if Malfore had even let them get a word in, with all his yapping, but even when they were in their tent alone together, she was as silent as a stone, and as prickly as a pufferfish every time Rose approached.

“May I explain Alisha’s struggle?” Lailah asked politely.

Rose jumped a mile at the sudden sound of Lailah’s voice in her head. Malfore laughed magnanimously, and gently patted Rose on her head like a scared puppy. He removed his hand before Rose could break his fucking fingers.

“Fear not, for as I am standing here in front of you today, you can be assured that this story has a happy end. Now, as I was saying, I was wooing the beautiful water seraph who had rescued me from my sinking vessel, when the pirates attacked…”

“I’m going to bury him in dirt and bugs tonight while he sleeps and you can’t stop me,” Edna said.

“Now, now,” Lailah said mildly, not even pretending to dissuade her. “Regarding Alisha’s stress, it is clear that she is upset by Malfore’s falsehoods above all.”

“That makes approximately all of us,” Rose whispered back under her breath. Gesticulating wildly as he mimed the pirate battle, Malfore didn’t notice one bit. “But she’s spent her whole life working with politicians. I’ve seen her with them before, and she’s never gotten like this even when they’re lying through their teeth.”

“It is the nature of Malfore’s falsehoods, specifically. She is clearly quite upset at the thought of him taking credit for your and Sorey’s hard work and sacrifice.”

“And she can’t even call him out on it, or bury him in bugs and dirt,” Edna added. “This Rolance treaty is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I don’t remember ever fighting off a hellion raccoon,” Rose said dubiously. “Or wooing a water seraph. Unless bringing that stack of books for Mikleo to read on his downtime counts.”

Mikleo was usually too preoccupied with tending to Sorey’s light in the ruins to come along on these missions, but this time it was probably for the best – he’d probably be stomping along ahead, fuming at Malfore’s bullshit right alongside Alisha.

Which, in turn, would have resulted in them both getting caught up in the sudden landslide that knocked Alisha off her feet and sent her tumbling down the mountain. Her form rapidly became a white and pink speck as it was swept away under a tide of mud and stone, down into the river below. Rose heard the telltale shriek of a drake, and jerked her eyes away from Alisha just in time to see the creature charging at them from the woods.

“Hepsin Yulind!”

Edna’s stone fists grasped the drake by its curled, goat-like horns. Rose dug the ornate heels of her boots into the ground; only barely managing to halt the drake’s charge with the armatus’ strength before it knocked her down the mountain and into the drink with Alisha. The drake, undaunted, thrashed its head in an attempt to break Rose’s grip.

“Think fast!” Edna snapped at her. “You can’t expect me to keep this up forever!”

Even if Edna’s grip remained true, their footing was becoming less and less existent, with every stomp and thrash of the drake’s cloven hooves. If they didn’t get on solid ground fast, both she and the drake would wind up careening down the mountainside – she had no idea where Alisha was down there, and would have no way to keep her from getting crushed by ten tons of malevolent scales. That would ruin her day even faster than Malfore rambling about pirates and racoons. She had no idea where that idiot had run off to – he certainly wasn’t helping, not that Rose would have wanted to have to deal with whatever his idea of “help” would be. Alas, Rose was the only Shepherd on call today. What a tragedy.

In situations like these, Rose liked to go by the mantra: What Would Sorey Do?

“Yeehaw!” Rose yeehawed yeehawingly, and flipped herself onto the drake’s back.

She held on for dear life as the drake shrieked and bucked. With the horns in her grip, she was able to steer them – inexpertly, and clumsily, but it was enough to get the drake to tangle itself in the trees and crash headlong into the mountain face. It was stunned, stunned long enough for Rose to summon Lailah’s power and get to work.

“Here,” Rose said hurriedly, lowering the unconscious earth seraph to the ground in front of Lailah. “Keep an eye on them, I’ve gotta—”

“Thank your radiant Lady Edna for her compassion?” Edna asked. She had Alisha held aloft in a bower of vines and flowers – Rose hadn’t noticed her slip away while she and Lailah purified the drake. Alisha was soaked from the river, and covered in scratches and bruises, but was conscious, and struggling against the vines that held her tight. “You’re welcome. Here’s your special delivery.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” Alisha managed to get out. Rose helped her down from the vines, and slung Alisha’s arm around her shoulders to steady her. “If I hadn’t been acting so childishly, I…I wouldn’t have put everyone in danger…”

“And we would have had no heads up that the drake was two seconds away from charging us flat.” Rose thumped her on the back, and Alisha grunted at the feeling. “Believe me, that could’ve gone way worse…speaking of worse, did you see if our friend came tumbling after you? We were down one Shepherd in that little scuffle.”

Alisha’s eyes narrowed, and her expression darkened at hearing of Malfore’s…lack of participation. “…no, I did not see whether he was knocked down alongside me. I suppose we must form a search party.”

“Don’t bother,” Edna said. She pointed into the trees with her umbrella. A telltale fallen beret pinpointed the location. “He’s cowering under a bush over there. Better go get him before the poison ivy does.”

Rose sighed. “Sometimes I really wish this Shepherd gig really was just fighting hellions. C’mon, I’ll help you walk…”

To his credit, Malfore only screamed a little when Rose drew back the leaves covering his hiding spot. He stared at Rose in wide-eyed terror, his complexion pale, his whole body shaking.

“Nice to see you’re well, Lord Shepherd,” Rose said. She dropped his beret back onto his head.

“You…how…” Malfore grasped for words. “You…wrestled the landslide itself, as if – as if it were some charging beast—”

Rose distantly recalled Lailah explaining that humans without resonance couldn’t quite perceive drakes – dragons were a different story, but before things got that bad, drakes could only be seen as natural disasters. Whirlwinds, typhoons. Landslides. Her escapades probably did look pretty damn weird to an outside observer.

It would be nice to tell him the truth. It would be nice to grab him by the ear, and forcibly share enough resonance with him to show him the real deal – show him what a fake he really was. But…Rose looked at Alisha, at the unhappy line of her mouth, at her bruised and battered body. She understood what was going through Alisha’s mind, even without Lailah’s voice to tell her. Alisha worked herself to the bone to improve relations with Rolance. She’d made so much progress, and they were helping so many people. As they helped people, the world’s malevolence lightened; as the world’s malevolence lightened, they helped Sorey. And to keep this going, all they had to do was humor an idiot.

Rose closed her eyes, and gently eased Alisha to stand on her own. She crossed her arms over her chest, and pressed one hand to her heart.

“I’ll tell you my secret – but only you,” Rose said, her expression grave. “I’m an alien from beyond the stars, fleeing from my planet that was destroyed when I was but a babe in my cradle. I was adopted as a baby by a simple farmer couple.  This world’s yellow sun gives me ten times the strength of a normal human, and also I can shoot laser beams out of my eyes.”

Alisha blinked slowly, then pressed her fingers delicately to her skull, as if checking for a concussion. Lailah hummed thoughtfully and continued to heal the worst of Alisha’s injuries; saving the rest for when they had privacy.

Malfore squinted as he processed this information. “But…how did you learn to tame the landslide?”

“I grew up on a farm. It was a rock farm. A farm for rocks,” Rose explained, as Edna fed ideas in her ear. “Landslides were a basic occupational hazard. You know how it is.”

Malfore shakily rose to his feet, and dusted himself off. “I was born to one of Rolance’s most ancient and noble houses, so I’m afraid the finer points of farming may be lost on me…but thank you for assisting, visitor from beyond the stars. Had I been alone, I would have been able to best the hellion in perhaps a similar – but more elegant, of course – fashion, but I was too preoccupied with ensuring the safety of you and the Princess Alisha, and, alas, it very nearly spelled the doom of all three of us. My compassion has always been my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rose said. “That’s totally probably what happened. How about we get turned around and get back on the road? I’m sure your bosses in Pendrago will love to hear about you getting this taken care of.”

“Oh, silly thing,” Malfore laughed. “The Shepherd serves no master but the people. But yes, yes, the Shrinechurch will want to hear my report. Do not worry – I will keep your secret safe, and will not speak of your involvement in the incident.”

“Thanks,” Rose said drily. “You’re a real pal.”

“The seraph we saved will follow along with us to the nearest town,” Lailah explained to Rose. “We can perform the necessary steps to install them as Lord of the Land there. They should be able to extend their domain to prevent any further malevolent influence on the sensitive areas of the shipping lanes.”

That, at least, made Alisha smile. Rose sighed and shook her head as they began walking. At least something good came out of this trip.

Though at least now she knew that she could pretty confidently tackle a goat.

#tales of zestiria #tales of zestiria the x #a tenderly crafted fanfiction #tozanniversary

[oppressiveliberator]

romance headcanons.

→  repost, do not reblog.

((FOREWARNING I do mention a protag ship as well as an incest ship, but aside one or two other implications it only comes up once I think. Also this is a fucking mess so it’s under a cut. Someday I’ll write concisely but today is not that day!))

name: Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius nickname:  Ghetsis; G-Cis; Lord Ghetsis; [Holy] Father gender: Male romantic orientation: Debateable. Gray-Aromantic? May not experience romantic attraction, but enjoys or will get into relationships to some degree. Will definitely indulge someone’s feelings for fun. preferred pet names: Lord. Master. Sir. Father. Basically, if it’s a dominance-expressing petname, he’s good with it. Depending on who it’s from something like ‘dear’ could also be acceptable.

relationship status: Single, but has or has had repeated partners and hookups. May be or have had been married in some verses? favorite canon ship(s): Canon as in officially shown or implied?  The closest we’d have is probably Ghetsis/Zinzolin lmao. . . . favorite non-canon ship(s) so far:  I mean I ship more or less anything as long as it’s interesting/has potential and my muse wants to roll with it but.  I fuckin love me some Ghetsis/Hilda. Ghetsis/Zinzolin, Giovanni/Ghetsis, Lysandre/Ghetsis, a hard to explain one but I like the concept of like Ghetsis/Reader, not in that I’m the ‘reader’ but that the reader is a ‘fan’, grunt, etc, so I guess Ghetsis/ghetsis fandom, and I have a real big ‘guilty’(read: i enjoy it and it’s harmless fiction so i don’t really feel that guilty, but people will definitely be real unhappy to hear it but fuck it it’s not like I’m forcing it on anybody) love for Ghetsis/N or other members of his family.  But Ghetsis goes well with like everybody tbh depending on what you’re after.  opinion on true love: Ghetsis finds that romantic feelings are, in general, for weaker persons.  True love is self-love, and letting yourself love or enjoy as many others as you’d like.  Of course, true love directed at him isn’t shameful or pathetic at all, and if he finds himself attached to somebody. . .well, he’ll admit to feeling weak for them, but it’s not something that makes him in any way less perfect.

opinion on love at first sight: You’ll love him at first sight. How weak do you have to be to just see somebody and be romantically infatuated with them?  You don’t even know anything about them.  Pathetic.  You’re going to get yourself into trouble, silly pet! 

how ‘romantic’ are they?: MMMMMMM Ghetsis is. . .willing to be romantic and would probably enjoy doing so because it makes him feel impressive.  Plus, pleasing a partner or object of affection increases the likelihood they’ll be attached to him, and thus he can benefit off of or use them for longer. . . .  So if you mean like in terms of reasoning, uh, he’s not super prone to thinking about other people more than himself at all. .. but in terms of actions and what he’ll be willing to do, he’s gonna be a big show-off and treat you real nice and spoil you.

ideal physical traits: Smaller and/or physically weaker than him. Feminine, especially with long hair, especially girls with long hair.  Shapely/curvy girls are good.  Healthy, strong, but weaker than him--strong enough to put up a fight, maybe. Expressive--shows a lot of emotion and reacts openly. Traditionally attractive, especially in a feminine way? I imagine he’s oddly attracted to people he can identify as having similar features to himself. . .not sure if that’s narcissism or something else entirely.   But, to be honest, he’s not too picky--he’ll act like he is, and he’ll certainly talk like he is, but. . .so far he isn’t. female: No specifics

male: No specifics ideal personality traits: Intelligent. Submissive.  Expressive.  Eager to please. Interesting. Fighty. Honestly, he’s attracted to people who’re either easy to use or hard to get.  Depends on how hard he wants to work for it.  To an extent, materialistic--being easily won over with expensive things and fancy dates.  Clingy. Loyal. Faithful. Lost. Exploitable.

unattractive physical traits: In general he’s more attracted to traditionally attractive people, so if you’re traditionally unattractive, he’s fairly likely to be offput by it? Unhealthy, unclean, generally not caring about your appearance at all? But he remains not too picky.  If you’re unattractive in some way, it just makes him look better--and gives him something to hold over you.  So he won’t be too bothered by it unless you’re, like, disgusting in some way he doesn’t want to put up with.

unattractive personality traits:  If you aren’t obedient, subservient, willing and/or wanting to see him as your superior, try and dominate him (and not have anything worth him letting you do so for,) etc. . .well, you’ll have lower chances.  Unintelligent(and yet, you’d be so much easier to mess with if you were. . .)  Gossipy, bad at keeping secrets(bragging is okay, telling the world his plans is not--it’s okay if you tell him about what other people do, though, that’s fine.)  Bossy, although he’s willing to put up with some of this. . .it’s hard to say, because he’s interested in people who’re subservient to him or express a lot of interest in him, but also in people he’d have to chase/who he’d have to struggle to have. . .but if you intend to get in the way of his plans or you’re uninteresting(and not physically appealing or you don’t have anything to offer/for him to gain, if you try and, like, overthrow him or take command of him without him seeing benefit to it(for example, RR!Giovanni is allowed to dominate and order him around because Ghetsis wants him to feel in charge to better take advantage of him) then you’re gonna have a harder time getting his interest.

ideal date: He loves to spoil a motherfucker.  Fancy restaurants, shows, trips, whatever you’d like as long as he won’t hate it himself.  Also, spending time at his castle, lavishing him--uh, you in attention and affection, parading you around, evangelizing and liberating Pokémon together, things that mean he gets to show off. . .he’d probably like an escape room if you were competent enough not to infuriate him through the whole process. Although, in his current, fragile, sickly, weakened state. . .the idea of something simple like a walk outside, going to a park, something lowkey seems especially nice. . .but also if you just stay in and hang out, that’s good too.  He’s not so open with it, but since he’s not in his usual position of power, he’s a lot happier than he lets on if you’re just. . .with him.

do they have a type?: Weak-willed men and spunky women.  Or something like that lol.  People he can gain something from. People he can’t have?  He may have incestuous personality disorder????  i have it in my head that he’s somewhat attracted to his own family due to having this understanding of historical royal families intermingling to keep their bloodlines ‘pure’.  But it’s not an active part of the blog character, like you’d probably never find out if I hadn’t said it just now, yeah?  

average relationship length: Until he gets bored or you outlive your usefulness or you break up with him when you realize he’s abusing you.  So, like, hookups are regular, but if they don’t count. . .a few months to a year.  But it’s probably not exclusive.  On his end.  If you’re fucking somebody else and finds out rather than you just telling him. . .he probably won’t be too pleased about it.

preferred non-sexual intimacy:  Worship him. Obey him. Being leaned against. Being held onto. Putting an arm around you or on your lower back or near your neck as if leading you or showing possessiveness of you. Being kissed.  Petting on the hair and back and so on.  Whispering. Leaving marks.  Things that make you respond, especially if they fluster you.

commitment level: You belong to him now. You are his until he's no longer interested.  It likely won’t be an exclusive ordeal, but you’re stuck with him until he decides otherwise.  Even if you leave him, expect him to pursue unless you have reason to believe he’s lost interest.  Then again, choosing to leave may spark his interest in chasing you. . . .

opinion of public affection: Public affection is an expression of his ownership of you and of your affection towards and desire of him.  It’s good shit.  He’s into it.  Expect surprise kisses, his arm around you, holding your hand if he’s able, close proximity and disregard of your personal space, pulling you into his lap, him openly referring to you as being his or with him. . . .

past relationships?: He’s definitely had plenty.  I say he and Zinzolin definitely had some kind of D/s shit going on.  I’m open to other preestablishments too, if they can be explained in some way.

tagged by: everybody’s doing it, so I stole it from everyone tagging: Do things I would do, like steal memes.  But not things that I would do like accidentally use the ‘post’ keyboard shortcut before you even finished clearing the formatting of the post.  Don’t do that.

#long post #Tag Memes | They Want To Bite Us Inject The Virus #Shipping | Take You Down Another Level Get You Dancing With The Devil #bad ship mentions #protag ship mention

[romaniassexdungeon]

Pretend - chapter 1

Pairing: OzEst (some OzNZ and EstUkr

Summary:  When they're five, Logan teaches Eduard how to pretend. He finds it comes in handy later in life.

This is a project between @tikola-nesla and I that we've been working on for a while now, featuring our favourite pairing: OzEst. We've both written large parts of this fic together and it was really fun! Now, while I chose not to use archive warnings, the individual warnings for this fic are in the AO3 tags. But yeah, this fic touches heavily on various aspects of abuse. Neither OzEst or the other pairings listed are portrayed as abusive, though. New Zealand and Ukraine aren't going to be portrayed as abusive. Also, we know this is a very rare pair, but we're asking y'all to give it a chance. It's a very lovely pairing! Hope y'all enjoy this fic too!

This chapter is fucking huge so I’m just putting the first scene here. The entirety of the first chapter can be found on AO3

Logan - Australia Jem - nyo Australia

They first met when they were five.

It was the summer term, and Eduard still hadn’t made many friends. Or any at all. It didn’t bother him. Probably. Maybe. It wasn’t like he’d made enemies, and his parents said it didn’t really matter if he made friends as long as he did well in the lessons, didn’t get in trouble, and got his homework in, so surely it didn’t matter? Einstein didn’t have friends either, or Tesla, and they were the smartest people ever!

Still, he couldn’t help a pang of jealousy as he watched the other kids running and shouting and, well, laughing. His parents never laughed, though the did tend to sneer in amusement at the neighbours. And people they knew. And pretty much anyone they deemed to be beneath them, which was everyone. To be honest, Eduard couldn’t remember if he’d ever laughed. He’d have to try it sometime, when he was alone so he didn’t look stupid. Or not. It probably didn’t matter.

Still, he had his book! And what better way to spend lunchtime than relaxing with a good story? Okay, he barely understood a word of ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’, but he wanted to look smarter than his classmates, and the bits he did understand he loved.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise that he had no friends.

Eduard tore his gaze away from the other children and settled down to read. He didn’t need them anyway. He just focused on all the words in front of him, willing them to make sense despite the fact that he was a small child and this was his second language.

He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t notice he had company until a hand was shoved under his nose. Eduard jumped, eyes fixed on the rock cradled in a rough, dirty palm.

“Hi!”

He glanced up. The owner of the palm was just as scruffy, a boy his own age with dark hair that stuck up everywhere and missing front teeth. His school tie was draped around his neck like a scarf, and there wasn’t a limb without a cut or scrape; even his nose was obscured by a plaster.

“Hey! You look lonely!”

Eduard scowled. “I am not lonely.”

The boy bit his lip; every inch of him was covered in dark freckles. “Well, you look it. So I got you a rock! Um, I thought you’d like it. You can keep it!”

Eduard looked at the rock. It was grey, and covered in tiny rings, like little eyes. His eyebrows shot up.

“It’s got fossils in it!” the boy explained, “isn’t that cool?”

Eduard bit his lip. He didn’t know what a fossil looked like, and didn’t like not knowing. He didn’t want to ask though, because that would mean telling the boy he didn’t know something.

“I can keep it?”

“Yeah! It’s a present.”

He’d never had a present before. Cool. When he put the stone in his pocket, it weighed down his school uniform’s trousers a little.

“Wotcha reading?” he asked, sitting down in front of him so he was still in the sun. Was he afraid of the shade or something?

“Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.”

“Oh,” he looked like he regretted asking, “what’s it about?”

Eduard scowled. “Things.”

He half-expected the boy to get bored of trying then. There was a reason he didn’t have friends, and it wasn’t just his need to focus on schoolwork. The boy smiled instead.

“I’m Logan Cooper,” he said, “and I like lizards.”

“I’m Eduard Mets,” Eduard mumbled, “I like… erm, computers.”

“Like, computer games and stuff?”

“Erm, yes.” Eduard at least knew enough to not make fun of the kid for being less intelligent than him. Sure, he played games when his parents weren’t home, but his computer was generally for learning and coding.

“I like that game where you’re the shark and you gotta jump out of the water and grab planes and stuff! I even grabbed the missile and blew up the world!”

Eduard tried not to morph his face into a sneer. Tried. “That’s impossible. Sharks are smaller than planes, and they can’t go out of the water, and if you go that high you get sick.”

Logan shrugged. “It’s a game, mate. Wanna play football?”

Eduard really didn’t. He tried not to make a face about it though, because this was the first time anyone had wanted to spend time with him, including his parents, now that he thought of it.

“We can play space exploring instead,” said Logan quickly, glancing at the cover of his book.

“Is that a sport?” asked Eduard worriedly.

“Nah, we just explore space and stuff.”

“We can’t get into space.”

Logan shrugged. “I know. It’s a game. We just pretend we’re in space.”

“But we aren’t in space.”

“I know. Just pretend.”

Eduard looked at him like he was a cat that started talking. “Pretend?”

“Yeah,” Logan grinned, “I’ll be the captain of the Mad Cunt Rocket Ship!” Eduard reeled at that; he’d said a bad word! “And you can be the pilot.”

“You’re not allowed to be a pilot if you have bad eyes.” Eduard pointed at his glasses. “I read it in a book. You have to have to have 20/20 vision.”

“What’s that?”

“Good vision.”

“Well, pretend they’re your goggles! Anyway, you’re the pilot and you’re flying us to the planet Geekassnerdeon, home of the Geekassnerds.” Eduard gave him the stoniest expression.

“That’s not a real planet!”

“Pretend it is! And you’re from there-“

“No. I’m from earth and that’s a real planet.”

“Don’t you know how to pretend?”

Eduard shrugged. He still wasn’t fluent in English so maybe he just didn’t know the word, but he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know something.

“It’s, like, you use your imagination to play! You think of things, like, that bench over there can be our rocket ship!”

Eduard glanced over at the bench in question. “It’s not.”

“Yeah, but we can imagine it is.” Logan gently bumped his shoulder with a fist, “imagining stuff is great! It’s like real life but better. Like, you can pretend there’s no bad stuff, just aliens and pirates and space ships with lasers.”

“Pirates aren’t good,” he mumbled. Imagination sounded fun though. He thought about the rock Logan had given him, and could feel its weight in his pocket. “Can you teach me, please?” he asked.

“Course!” Logan scrambled up and offered his hand. Eduard took it.

“So,” he began, helping him onto the bench, “set a course for the planet Geekassnerdeon!”

Eduard gave a whine. “May we go somewhere cooler?”

Logan thought for a moment, then nodded. “Planet Icecream?”

“That is- yes, sure.” Eduard sat down and looked across the playground. “What now?”

“Well you’re the pilot!” Logan pulled his lunchbox out of his bag. “Here’s the steering wheel!”

Eduard took it silently. It was a lunch box. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Eat out of it? “Space shuttles don’t have steering wheels.”

Logan gave a whine. “It’s a rocket ship! Like in the films, and- and you built it yourself because you’re a genius who can make anything!” Eduard quite liked that. “So you put a steering wheel on so I can drive while you’re on the toilet.” Oh. Fun. “You can close your eyes if it’s easier. I do that sometimes. Like when I stared at the sun and it made my eyes hurt.”

Eduard wasn’t even going to comment on that. “Um, okay.” He closed his eyes and thought about space. Okay, he could see it, and maybe he could see himself in a spaceship. With a big, bulky steering wheel.

Logan flicked him on the nose.

“Ow! Hey!” Eduard pouted.

Logan shrugged. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. Now, the next bit is, um,” he thought for a moment, “try and picture the close eyes bit on top of what you’re seeing now. Like, use your brain to turn that lunch box into a steering wheel.”

Eduard looked at him. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re smart! You read books that don’t have pictures in it! I believe in you.”

“Maybe you’re pretending I’m here.”

Logan’s face fell.

Eduard flicked him.

“Ow! Wotcha do that for?”

“It was revenge. And it was funny also,” he grinned. Eduard actually grinned. Logan, despite being busy rubbing his nose, beamed at that.

“Oh no! An alien!”

“I doubt- oh. Oh no! I can see him!” So the other students… were the aliens? Or were the aliens invisible and he’d have to ‘pretend’ they were there?

“They’re horrible!” Logan cried, “look at all their slime and tentacles and big crab claws!”

“They have tentacles and crab claws?” Eduard raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I made them up so I decided they have both.” He beamed.

Eduard looked at him with wide eyes. “Please can I make aliens up too?” He really liked aliens, and their various designs and bright colours and their spaceships.

Logan grinned at the question. “Of course! Make them whatever you like!”

Eduard thought for the longest time. What aliens did he like best? He sometimes looked through picture books in the library, but most of his experience with aliens came from films he’d occasionally watch, to improve his English.

“Blue,” he said eventually, “and… um, with feathers?” Birds. He was thinking of birds. And birds weren’t even blue, usually, not the ones around here. He saw some from his bedroom in his old house once - his book of birds said they were called barn swallows, and that they lived in more places than any other bird, but he hadn’t seen any here yet. But maybe swallow aliens would be cool? After all, they were pretending they were in space. Maybe they had swallows in space. No, that was stupid and Logan probably thought he was an idiot. He was an idiot. Birds can’t fly into space!

“Blue bird aliens!” Logan punched the air, “yes! Can they be like those birds of paradise with the weird feathers and stuff?”

Eduard smiled behind his sleeve. He’d seen those in his book of birds, but never in real life. “Yes, but they’re blue.”

“I like the blue bird aliens! I’m going to pet them!” Logan pet the air, making little kissing noises to these imaginary aliens. Tentatively, Eduard joined in. For some reason, that made Logan so happy he looked like he was going to burst.

“Yes! They like you!”

Maybe playing pretend wasn’t so bad after all.

#ozest #aph estonia #APH Australia #hetalia #nyo australia #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia fic #aph #hetalia estonia #hetalia australia #Pretend #tikolanesla #aph fic #nyotalia #aph: estonia #aph: australia #abuse cw #child neglect cw

[blackwatchstray]

Rules for everyone not able to see the actual side, click on the tiny thingies, etc - and for me, if the browser crashes while I edit them to fit the thing

Basics

Don't be a scumbag. 

What does that mean? No random witch hunts out of personal vendettas, no starting wars about ships of any kind, no hating on Ocs (duh) or the insulting/hating on the portrayal of other people – simply put, I don't wanna be pulled into a war, especially yours. Your character can be the biggest piece of shit on the world, I really don't mind, go ahead but I really have little to no time to deal with people who make fun of others just to feel better with themselves.

Drama-Llamas: 

If you want to pick a fight, you won’t have any success here.

Godmodding:

No, thank you. However I'm perfectly fine if you decide to write what would happen if the plan of your character succeeded to lengthen your posts. I do that too after all.

As it stands – do not control my character. Unless agreed upon or for scenery changes aka moving from one place to another. For the sake of timeskips, scene skips, etc this is fine.

Relationships: 

Don’t just assume a certain relationship to my character. You can always ask me and I’m totally fine if your character knows mine, especially if you're Black – or Overwatch, just don't expect them to be official lovers, friends or family. Everything else? Is fine. I won't forbid you to have a purely visuals based crush on Feral, for example. He has one on a certain Blackwatch member too, so there's that.

Please don't be intimidated by me. I'm as scared of you, as you are of me – probably more even.

On writing

Selectivity:

I'd love to write with everyone but my anxious mind and horrible self-perception causes me to turtle and avoid reaching out. Even more so if a try for interaction ends in being ignored. So, if you want to write with me – are interested in Feral, by all means, come at me, send a meme, as random as it may be as long as it isn't romance or smut related I'll figure something out – and likely return to bother you later on. Still, all things combined I can be counted as semi-selective.

Universes/Alternative Universes/Crossovers

Given Feral is already – in one way or another – an AU version of my main RP character I'll limit interactions to the Overwatch universe and/or my AU verses listed under verses. If your character still works in these scenarios – as in for Overwatch a somewhat dystopian futuristic setting that I always feel hesitant to call Cyberpunk, you're more than welcome! Just please don't be upset if Feral might call your Robot character an Omnic.

More on verses

As it is now I operate on the following principle: Each version of Feral has one main verse. What this means? Everything that happens in the Blackwatch Era is in one Universe, everything that happens in the Recall universe is also one universe, and so on.

Duplicates

If I ever happen to get into the situation to RP with duplicates of canon characters, I'll break the former rule and set up multiple verses to the time era. I might then set up Mains though.

Activity

Hi, I'm slow and my mental health is giving me hell. Together with my other problems I tend to not get myself motivated to write, so when I say I'm slow, I mean I'm really, really slow. My sense of time is all kinds of fucked up and 90 days can feel like a week to me when it comes to writing. I'm sorry about that. I'm not disinterested, just fucked up.

Length:

From one line to paragraphs it really depends, on my mood, the alignment of the moon, how much something triggers Feral basically. Most of my writing is his thoughts because I like exploring those, so if you are one of those 'If I can't hear it anyways it doesn't belong into the RP' kinda people, you won't be happy here. You don't have to match my eventual wall of text anyways – as long as it feels like you put effort into it, that is.

Memes | Starters | and so on

Are free for everyone unless stated otherwise, or if they are smut. But please don't like starter calls if you will ONLY write ONE single reply and ignore the thread from there on. I hate that. Also don't like starter calls if you will never answer on the offered post – or at least tell me you don't know what to do with it. Otherwise you'll only shatter my motivation to write anything.

If you reblog a meme, please send something in or reblog from the source. I can understand if you don't wanna leave an IC meme but if it's just informative asks towards the character? It takes a second to send one random symbol in and save the day of a person.

Ocs:

I like Original Characters, more than canon ones at times. The universe has enough space  for unknown relatives, other former Overwatch members, civilians, random passerbys, superheroes and so on. Ocs give a universe more life and I like that. So you're welcome here.

Minors:

You are welcome here but I am not responsible for you. If you choose to look at content not suitable for you, it's not my fault. But I'll do my best to make avoiding it easy.

Everything nsfw will be tagged! Innuendos and gross flirting however will not. Everything going beyond that, naked skin, descriptions, getting turned on by danger and or violence will be tagged by my nsfw tag. Everything getting a definitive mature/R-rating gets my tag AND the nsfw tag, just to be sure.

NSFW:

I am of age. Feral is of age. Still, given not a single nsfw thread (smut) of mine has EVER been finished. I'll just resort to accepting the unsaid truth that I just suck at smut rp and I will probably not pursue them any further. Allow me a second of salt here: Thanks past people, I got it now.

Violence, innuendos, invitations for sex will be here plenty. Feral's young version has a very twisted worldview that drives him towards a very promiscuous, risky and unhealthy lifestyle. Whatever it takes to not having to sleep alone.

And that should be enough warning for:

triggering content:

Feral's past is a mess ranging from child abuse, cannibalism, violence, murder, twisted worldviews, mutilation, body horror and other things. His future, aka Recall Feral isn't any better. And both will mention snippets of their life from now and then.

I'll do my best to tag those. Due to my vast uncertainty what might be triggering to people, I'll put a general 'dark places' tag on everything I deem eventually uncomfortable to people.

Shipping:

Shipping with Feral?

Is easier than you might expect – and oh so much harder than it will seem. He crushes easily, if you're after bedding him? Just be nice and he'll offer himself up anyways just to make your character stay. Pursuing romance however is a completely different deal. Your muse will have to work for it. It takes time, understanding and care. At least for the Blackwatch version. And due to the timeline of the blog, he will have lost your character one way or another in the Recall verse. Which is likely rather unlovable.

As a general note? Shipping is only enabled for Blackwatch Feral but I won't deny you the fun of trying to get Recall Feral back if you managed to win over his younger version

multiple partners?!

Feral is polyamorous. So if you're fine with polyamorous ships? Great! He likely won't have a problem with it. If you are not. Your character will have to explain it to him. So unless that conversation has been held, all ships will be in the same verse! Unless with duplicates of course.

How to pursue a ship:

See if the characters work out, just let it flow. Be courageous. If your muse tries to make a move on Feral and he doesn't want to, he will let you know. While it's really nice that people come to me and ask “would ship xyz work?”, I kinda feel like it's betraying the character. I'd rather let Feral have the choice than me.

Other blabla:

Feral's opinions aren't mine. Seperate RP from real life – meaning, if he hates your character, we could still be good friends.

I'm really awkward. I have a hard time talking to people unless they clicked with me or it is about one of my obsessions. Those being shadowrun, megaten, dragon age and some random animes I watched. But even those might not work at times.

English isn't my mother tongue and I suck at grammar. His fucked up accent during dialogue is intended though.

Also, hey, if you feel better with showing you read those, why not Like this?

#mobile rules #also me cheating to get the html code

[thepallas]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG:

SPEED:  Umm pretty slow I’d say. Depends on how busy I am with uni stuff and if I feel inspired. I’ve noticed that if the thread is new I tend to respond faster (wellp probably because I’m kind of more excited about the thread and I don’t want to disappoint the rp partner), but after few replies it takes longer. My inspiration is a very unreliable thing. It comes and goes, so that’s why sometimes I reply quickly, sometimes after few ages.. and sometimes I would remember some old rp and post a reply to it, even though it hasn’t been touched for months.

REPLIES: Well, I try to match the length, but often my replies happen to be longer. And !!! if I wrote 5 paragraph reply because I got way into it, you don’t have to make your reply as long. It’s fine. I know that I like to get into the details way too much sometimes, especially when I really like the whole plot/idea and I don’t require others to force themselves to write more than they want. (As long as it’s not two sentences to two bigger paragraphs). Oh, and it would take me a bit to get to know your muse and get used to them if we haven’t talked before, so the replies probably won’t be as detailed.

STARTERS: I’m always open to them! Send me something from the post that I’ve reblogged, tag me somewhere. Also, you can message me and we can try to plot something, though it can be hard for me to think of a plot for our muses if we haven’t interacted before or if I’m not accustomed to your muse. That’s why I prefer others to write the starter.>> It might be hard to come up with interesting ideas for me sometimes and I don’t wanna mess it up, like I said, especially if we haven’t interacted. Ofc I can also try to to write it if you wanna, though it will probably take longer.

INBOX: It’s always open! I love when people wanna know more about my muse. Same goes for various memes, symbols, prompts, etc. Send me whatever and it will make me smile for sure. Though, please don’t think that I’m ignoring you if it takes me longer to answer. I try to post the answers as quick as possible, but it depends on how busy I am and some questions are not so easy to reply to, no matter if it’s a meme or a starter.

SELECTIVITY: Umm.. I don’t think that I’m selective.. or at least I’m trying not to be. I am often too shy to approach someone myself, so I’m glad when others do. Though, I personaly tend to approach muses who I can imagine having some kind of relation to Pallas. For example Varus has a direct relation to him (at least in the old lore). Same goes for other demons or Ionian characters since he had spent most of his life in Ionia and has been imprisoned there. Also some Noxians... people related to the spirit world  and so on.. Well you get what I’m talking about... the reason is that it’s way easier to think of a plot for characters like that. Yet Pallas travels/used to travel a lot, so encounters with any other characters are possible and I’m more than happy when someone approaches me despite the character. Just in that case it will take longer to my muse to get used to yours since he is yet to form an opinion and the situations probably wouldn’t be usual to him.

When it comes to other things... I’m rather selective when it comes to smut (other forms of nsfw content are always welcome and will occur in my rps). That’s because I’m not really comfortable in writing it or at least I could write it to the certain point.  I can try to go more into it but only if we’re developed a close relationship between our muses... and if I trust you enough. I dunno. That’s just the way it is. For now it’s only Varus (ask-arclight-varus). Pallas can be extra flirty and would fuck whoever he wants. I can’t ignore that part of him, so like I said if, for some reason, our rp is moving ‘into the bedroom’ I can write it to some extent. Later, we can either skip it to the next morning or I dunno. In short, if you only want to write about our muses having sex, then you came to the wrong blog. Sorry. xd

Hmmm also not sure if it should go here, but I don’t want to change my character just to get along with yours. Yes, if he wants something, he can act and lie to get his way, but despite that he has his beliefs and all of that stuff, so won’t be surprised if he will be rude, too proud about himself, confused by your muses words/actions or would generally respond not the way you would expect.. but I guess this is common sense, since everyone’s character is different. The more important thing is when it comes to the implied (romantic) relationships.. it’s most likely that he wouldn’t be interested in your muse romantically, but no one’s stopping them from trying lol. When it comes to any kind of ships please message me.

WISHLIST:  OOOOhh Gosh there’s a lot of stuff I wanna do. I really want to build relationships with him. Any kind : platonic (he needs buddies), familial (I doubt that demons know their every biologically related relative... And family doesn’t have to be biologically related after all), rival/enemy relationships.. anything really. I’d love to see him interact with more characters. There's a couple of posts where I’m talking more about ships that I’d love to build and specific characters that I’m thinking of → X Y←. Also, I’d love to roleplay different stages of his life. He had lived for ages and he had changed a lot, experienced a lot of stuff.. So I’d love to see people interact with smol young Pallas when he was just discovering the world, a bit older when he was getting hang of it.. to him during the peak of his power when he was the most powerful, cruel, dangerous and careless.. during the days of his imprisonment to the times when he was free again (no matter if he’s dating Varus or not. there are different aus for that). AAaahh just imagine the stories we could write. Especially, if your muse is immortal or so, imagine them playing a part in his life when he was still very young and then them meeting after ages. Or even if your muse is mortal (with the help of au) they could be a somewhat unique human that would interest him in any way.. maybe your muse would be the human who would explain him what is friendship or the one who only enhance his hatred for humanity. *sighs* just imagine.

HONEST NOTE: Amh, well, always feel free to approach me, I’m friendly to everyone. I am patient with replies and I beg you to also be patient (because mine can take forever x.x). If you’re missing a reply and you’d like me to write it faster or I dunno if you’re just wondering if I’m going to reply, please message me. There’s a high chance that it just got lost in the drafts, I’ve missed the notification or I simply forgot about it. If you remind me, I will try to focus on it. :) Also.. please please please, if I take long to reply to your ask/starter/rp/whatever, don’t think that I’m ignoring you on purpose. Heh and one last thing is that I’m always open to talk. Not only about rp, but also if you just wanna talk with someone (doesn’t matter if you wanna vent or share your excitement), feel free to say Hi. ;3c

TAGGED BY:  @deathlygaze TAGGING: @ask-arclight-varus, @deus--irae (or your other blogs), @feuerliebhaber, @zaun-s, @messiahofthevoid, @sxlemnity aaaaa and anyone who wants to do this. (Dunno if you guys had done this already tbh)

#thanks for tagging! #preferences #long post #how I run my blog

[allsystemsarenotgo]

I had this article written out mentally. I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to say.

Then a paragraph came flying in through messenger like a brick and knocked me to the ground in pain. It made me re-think some of what I was going to say.

Now I have to start over.

I am only writing these so that I can try to shed some guilt and at least make an attempt at explaining myself and closing some doors. These may not be very appeasing, but I honestly have nothing to lose, and would rather be embarrassingly honest.

The other day I did something wrong, and the first thing my dad said was "I don't know where your mother and I went wrong in raising you....."

Do you know how much that hurts to hear? Do you? I get yelled at alot for doing things wrong or the hard way or just understanding instructions wrong.

I am already hard on myself. I say it. Others say it. Most of the people on this list have probably said it at some point or another.

But hearing that? That fucked me up inside.

I am the problem. I am always the problem. I'm a pathetic piece of shit that doesn't do shit right, doesn't understand, doesn't know, and gets yelled at for everything.

The recurring theme here is going to be jealousy, controlling my surroundings, shutting things out, and overall selfishness...

JP-

I don't remember ever doing what I was accused of. It's just not something I would do, but if I did, I did. I've always thought it was the other person involved that did it. Sharing others' secrets isn't something I'm about. I wouldn't want mine shared, so I don't share others. But if I did, I did. Taylor told me some years later how things affected you. I wish none of that shit had ever gone down. It's been nothing but a thorn in my backside.

Taryn-

I don't know if ^^that^^ is part of why you hate me, or if there's something else entirely. For almost the entire time that we've known each other, you've had me blocked on FB and never so much as complained or thrown/given statement as to why. I've successfully-ish avoided you, your family, and your clique in general for the last 6,7,8 years or however long it has been. I've felt extremely uncomfortable when your dad has asked for computer help, but I only do it because it's the right and nice thing to do. I've avoided the winter bowling league because you are there, I've gone the long way around many times because you are there. Now that you are married, that has added a whole new realm of people for me to generally avoid. Not because I have to, but because I don't want to get close enough for you to maim me like the muscular lionesse that you are. I don't know what else to do or say, other than I'm sorry for whatever it is that I did to scorn you. I know I'm a dumb ass and we'll probably never be anything close to friends...it would just be nice if I didn't have to awkwardly avoid you out of fear and if we could at least say hi to eachother in passing every once and a while.

And yes, you (and your parents too) legitimately scare the ever-living shit out of me.

Mackenzie-

We have known eachother for a long time. We had our ups and downs, but you've been an important friend to me over the years. I haven't looked forward to moving on, but you have your own family and busy, busy life to deal with now and I know that there is no room for a high school friend anywhere in that puzzle. As much as it hurt to be at the receiving end of the thing you did, it also showed how much you cared. I appreciated that, and the rare serious talks that we would have at night. You could explain things in ways others couldn't and answer the questions I didn't want to ask and ones I didn't even have. We also shared alot of laughing moments and learning moments together. You're responsible for alot of what I did and didn't do in high school. I've also worried about you from time to time, hoping that your condition wouldn't reflare.

Mallorey-

I've had a crush on you ever since we worked together in high school. You have alot of drive and motivation. You could be a great inspiration to others, if you came out of your shell a little more often. But like me, I know that is a difficult thing for you to do. That's one of the several things we have in common. I appreciate that over the years, you have told me things and we have had our deep talks. We have gone years without talking much less seeing eachother in the past, but this time feels different. As though you are not there at all. Or is it myself who does not exist anymore?

Destiny-

I had a crush the moment I laid eyes on you, before I even knew your name or knew who you were. The next time I saw you with Keith, the feeling I had was some sort of pain, but over time I got over it since I didn't have to see you. Then I got you the job working with me....and all it did was cause me more problems to deal with. I enjoyed your company and compassion and being able to easily talk...but it was still taking a toll on me. I abandoned ship to get away from you, and started the temporary downturn of my career, until I quit completely. Now I don't get to see you at all, and we hardly talk, but it makes my life easier not having to see you on a regular basis. I miss that company and compassion at times...I feel like you are a knife-edge to my feet.

Rebecca-

You are fun but serious. Working for your mum was extremely difficult in alot of ways. Some things made me stronger and better as a person, but others had be feeling like a worthless peon. I always enjoyed when you were around because you helped balance situations, even when you became the 'fall guy'. I don't agree with alot of how you were treated or how things were done with your name on them and how you got pushed so far beyond your limits in a multitude of ways. You are smart, skilled, and tested...but had the volatility of any other person under those stresses. You were a good friend to have. Sometimes too good of a friend.

Jett-

I have known your dad for several years now. Early on, he told me about the troubles in your upbringing. I always asked him how you were doing when we talked, because I was concerned and didn't want you to have the problems and issues that I have. There were alot of things that he never understood and I had to explain to him about being atypical and diverse. I never wanted to talk to you, but when he asked me to, I didn't want to tell him no. I know I hurt your feelings along the way. I tried to use your preferred name instead of your birthname, even when it just didn't feel comfortable to do so. Knowing you as one name and one personality for so long at a distance, then finding out you went by a new name and new personality was tough for me to accept. I wanted to (and still do)support you along the way, I just wasn't a very good friend at all. I'm sorry.

Jordin-

You're cute. There is no denying that. I also thought you were much older when we met (don't take that the wrong way). Once I learned your real age, I had to wipe my brain and just watch from afar. The day that you posted a photo of yourself in bed with Philpot (then alluded to it over and over again tagging your hotel stays with him and all that stuff), I slowly lost respect for you. I'm a stupid dumb ass by most regards, and I still know better than to do that. I kept an open mind about the things I read and was told when you broke up after that. But then seeing you latch to Kilgore rather quickly after the breakup, that didn't sit well with me. I'm old-school when it comes to time tables. Seeing you leap like a frog from one lillypad to another rubbed me the wrong way. And the level that ya'll shared every. single. moment. involving or around eachother...it kept rubbing me the wrong way. When you up and moved across the state chasing a boy after (was it even 6 or 8 months?). Ugh. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to let go. I couldn't keep watching this real-life movie play out in either "Perfect Love" or "The Lie Before The Blowup". Just just because I was jealous that you found eachother and Kilgore got a good score, yea those orntrue too. But I just couldn't stand seeing all this lovey dovey blah blah blah gushing hearts.

I HAD to cut loose to save my own sanity. I'm old school. I keep bedroom/hotelroom shit to myself (give or take my rants and vents on this blog) or at least out if public eye. I believe in dating for a year or two or three before getting engaged. Waiting a year after that. Moving in together....somewhere along the way.

Honestly, when I found out you were engaged after not even a year....I thought for sure somewhere there were going to be ultrasound photos. I'm sure I wasn't the only one. It's just not something that alot of people are used to.

I don't have anything against you or your dad or Austin. I just can't take having all that love and shit shoved through my eyeballs.

Not that my or most anyone else's opinion should ever matter in what you do.

I'm just saying what I'm thinking.

"Jenny"-

I have already said everything there is to say.

I'll miss you.

Yea, I'll miss you.

But I won't wish you were there.

[musikat18]

Non-Stop (Jim Kirk x Reader Part 3)

That Would Be Enough (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3- you are here)

Pairing: AOS Jim Kirk x Reader

Rating: PG for angst, language and descriptions of violence

A/N: Time to pick up steam and get into the meat of some plot~ Enjoy!

You probably should have taken that extra languages credit at the Academy instead of Advanced Physiological Analysis.

If you had, you would have found it easier to focus on the words of the panicked alien woman through the universal translator and not the tense figure of your ex-captain just across the way.

“Can we trust her?” Commodore Paris looked at you as the female alien, identifying herself as Kalara, tried desperately to read your face.

“There’s nothing significant in her records,” you half-mumbled and scrolled through the file. “She is the captain of a science vessel, though I....” You hesitated.

“You don’t know why she would leave without any of her crew with her,” Jim read your mind. Your smirk was almost noticeable. Dear god, did you miss what marginal intuition he showed.

“Exactly.”

“If there is any chance that crew can be rescued from the nebula she speaks of,” Paris looked over the chart of the region, “Starfleet has a duty to retrieve this peaceful vessel.”

You switched over to a new data chart on your PADD, “Sir, the region has yet to be explored by the Enterprise, or any other far-reaching vessel Starfleet operates. We have no idea what or who could be waiting in that nebula.”

“The Enterprise would be happy to accommodate space to allow Commander Y/L/N to join us,” Jim suggested. You snapped your head in his direction. He clearly did not take that Advanced Physiological Analysis class, because you were this close to yelling at him, and you probably would have if he hadn’t, for once in his life, suggested a perfectly logical and decent idea.

“...A word in my office, Captain,” Paris waved Jim after her. You blew air out through your nose. Great. Just great. You had worked so hard to keep yourself out of any emotional situations, and now Captain James Tiberius Perfect-Hair-Pretty-Eyes was going to ruin all the barriers you’d put up around yourself.

Like any logical person, you decided to retreat to your own office.

“Wow.”

You heard that from your doorway, and for all your training in combat and security, you still jumped at the sound, almost falling into your holo-display of information.

Jim gave you an empty chuckle, “You’re putting that all together like you’re running out of time on something.”

“Well, I am,” you reasoned, “It’s for your crew. Information that might be helpful going into the nebula in that sector.”

He frowned to one side, “So you don’t want to come with us.”

“I have work here, Jim. I have a life here. I can’t just drop everything and run back out into space with you just because- because- why do you want me with your crew again?”

“Because I know you, Y/N,” he said, giving you a sincere look. “You’re the best security officer in this fleet, and an even better tactical officer than me or anyone currently on the Enterprise. You don’t deserve to spend your time on a Starbase where-”

“Can you cut that out, Jim?” you snapped. “I know what you’re discussing with Commodore Paris. You want to leave the Enterprise. You applied for a vice admiralty, and you applied for it here. How can a Starbase be good enough for you and not me?”

“That’s a different situation, Y/N, and how did you even find out about that?”

“I’m the security head, smartass. All comms go through me, voice-written or not.”

“That...that would make a lot of sense.”

“You don’t seem to be very good at that.”

Jim bored his blue eyes straight into yours, “That’s why I need you.”

“You have Spock and Bones to babysit you, and don’t you say ‘but I want you to babysit me.’ No, you don’t, because there is so much dumb stuff you could have done in five years that there’s no way I’d ever let you off the hook for it.”

“...Be that as it may-”

“Jim,” you sighed. “Don’t fight me, okay? Just don’t.”

Your ex-captain and current crush and friend and lots of other things nodded and hung his head, turning to leave your office.

“...I do think about why you could have left, you know.” He said, “I think about it all the time.”

Your heart wanted you to run after him, to tell him everything, but you couldn’t. Not before he was heading out on such a dangerous expedition. You turned back to your work. There was still a lot to do before the Enterprise left Yorktown with Kalara.

“Commander Y/L/N,” Paris greeted from your doorway.

“I am not getting on that ship.”

“I can’t believe she made me get on this ship,” you grumbled at Bones. 

You were now sitting in medbay, back in a standard red commander’s dress, crossing your legs over the edge of a biobed and waiting for McCoy to gather your new medical scans and vaccines.

“You and me both, darlin’,” the Southern doctor waved his tricorder at you. “You and me both.”

“Who does Jim think he is, asking me to drop everything and run back off into space with him?”

“Y’know, me and the others are still on this ship, too.”

You rolled your eyes, “You know what I meant.”

“Listen, Jim isn’t one to admit when he fucks up, but he does fuck up, and he knows he did with whatever happened between the two of you,” Bones offered. “You two have the same line of thinking.”

“Okay, but I keep myself alive, he goes and throws himself into danger at the flip of a switch.”

You could see the change in emotion behind Bones’ hazel eyes.

“This is about the warp core three years ago.”

You sputtered, “That’s ridiculous! That was three years ago!”

“I get it, alright?” McCoy cleaned his tools as he spoke to you, “You lost him, and it’s your job to keep this whole ship safe.”

“It was my job to keep this whole ship safe. I have a lot more on my plate now.”

Bones stood firm, “We do things that are more alike than I thought, I’ve decided. Save lives, just in different ways. I know you might not be able to let that all go so easy-- do you think I sleep well at night?”

You sat, silent for a moment. He was right, of course; you hadn’t had Jim’s dead body dropped in your security mainframe.

“Well, you and I tend to handle tragedy differently, don’t we, Bones?”

He didn’t argue with you. You weren’t sure if it was because you had struck a nerve or because you were right.

Both. It was probably both.

“Y/N,” Uhura poked her head in your new-old office on the ship. “Wow...you’ve gotten busy again quick.”

“I’m not staying here, Nyota,” you said, trying to cover up your disappointment for the sake of your sharpest friend. “I still have some Yorktown stuff to manage while I’m out here. Finnegan can’t do it all by himself, after all.”

“You’ve written a thousand pages of orders for Yorktown and any nearby vessels in three hours,” she said seriously. “Dr. McCoy would have a fit if he knew you were working this hard.”

“What else is there to do? Like I said, I’m not staying here.”

“Shame. Now that you and Christine are both transferred, I’m starting to run out of crew for girls’ night.”

You smiled, “Maybe we’ll have time for one more on the way back.” 

“Anyway,” she said with a laugh, “Captain Kirk wants you on the bridge. We’re almost through the nebula. Kalara says there’s a planet beyond there, and that that’s where her crew is.”

“When does Jim not need me on the bridge?” you grinned. There were so many meanings and feelings to swallow with that statement.

You could tell it hit Nyota more than you intended. 

“...He has mellowed out, you know. Not a lot, he’s still Jim, but you get it.”

“I don’t think he’ll stop being Jim for anything. Not that I mind Jim, just...”

“I know,” she nodded, walking ahead of you into the turbolift. “I know you’re upset with him, we all see it.”

“Nyota,” you stopped her, “can we just focus on the mission?”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she said.

You hated her a little for being so good at reading anyone and everyone.

“Security commander on the bridge, keptin,” Chekov announced your arrival. You gave the sweet kid a little wave, and he grinned back. You didn’t quite regret coming back as much after that.

“The planet is called Altamid,” Kalara explained to you, standing with a tense posture at one of the viewing stations. Something about her had changed. She didn’t look worried anymore; she looked downright scared. You tried to meet eyes with Jim, but he was focused on other things.

“Captain, we have an incoming vessel,” Sulu warned Jim. You cast your eyes to the screen of the ship, trying to analyze the odd movement of the vessel across the way.

“Uhura, hail them.”

“Hailing frequencies open...they’re not responding.”

You’d never seen a ship move in such a serpentine manner before...

“I’m getting some kind of signal...still no response.”

It was almost like movie made each individual panel of the unidentified ship glimmer... You moved over to your old station, eyes bursting wide at the readings. 

“They’re mobilizing weapons!” your cry caught Jim and Kalara’s attention.

“Shields up!”

You began optimizing the weapons at your disposal as the unidentified ship split into hundreds of smaller battle pods. 

“Captain,” Spock warned, “we are not equipped for this kind of engagement.”

“Y/N?”

“He’s right, Jim,” you said. “The size of that fleet alone will-”

You cut yourself off as the ship jolted.

“They’re boarding, sir,” Nyota said. Your gaze steeled.

“Y/N,” Jim warned as you grabbed for a phaser under your station. “Y/N, what are you doing?!”

“You’re not the only one with the authority to save lives, Jim!”

Your stony expression froze his as the turbolift doors closed in front of you.

Your life, as it seemed, was going to go back to non-stop, break-neck action.

Tagging: @mrkrychek @wonders-of-the-enterprise

#jim kirk x reader #james t kirk x reader #captain kirk x reader #jim kirk imagine #james t kirk imagine #captain kirk imagine #star trek imagine #star trek aos imagine #star trek beyond imagine #ta-da cliffhanger #also i wanted to touch on bones and reader in this one #since i mention they're friends in part one but never anywhere else #and i wanted to explore the way they look at each other #trying to decide where to send reader when the crew splits up tho #either jim or bones could further the story #thoughts?