#you’ll get more respect from most people admitting that your real problem with the ship is that it’s clarke with a woman and not your male

[helisol]

dude im not sure you will get it after reading this either, but you Can read it now

okay so first of all do not expect me to adhere to rules of grammar or Proper capitalisation, I am writing from the heart

so it’s been said before by other people but if Quark and Odo didnt look like the aliens that they are but instead like two regular prettybois the fandom would do cartwheels over their dynamic and Not call them a crack ship. because really, their dynamic fucking SLAPS and I’m here to tell you Why.

their surface-level dynamic is “Respected and Talented Security Chief and Cunning Immoral Businessman who are in Love but pretend not to be” and that's just an off-brand version of enemies to lovers! which is excellent and for some people that’s all you really need to get invested in a ship.

but some people look at it and go “Hm, no, that’s not enough. I mean, they work as friends but it doesn’t really have to be romantic.” and to that I say you are Absolutely Valid, not everything has to be romantic.

it just so happens that these two fuckers have one of the most compelling romance stories ever, and it’d be a shame not to explore it.

so before I dive into the internalised homophobia and repression, I’d like to take a moment to talk about Quark as a character.

because if you have brainworms like me you can kind of see that its an honest to god greek tragedy.

this guy comes from a race of people where being kind, ethical and fair is considered Abnormal and Horrifying. and I’m not gonna call Quark out of all people kind, ethical or fair but,,, 

you ever notice how he’s A Much Better Person Than Pretty Much All Other Ferengi?

dont get me wrong, Quark is still a bastard, but every once in a while his True Character shines through. and I say True Character because guys,,, the way he behaves around other people is an Act. he’s pretending to be something he’s not.

he has to try so hard to be a good ferengi it’s honestly painful to watch at times. because he is a SHIT ferengi! 

he loves his friends- because that's what the ds9 crew are. they’re his friends! and it makes him miserable because that's not! normal! for a ferengi!

let’s compare Quark and Rom for a second. 

Quark reeks of self loathing because a lot of the time he just Doesn’t act like a ferengi is supposed to, and this drives a lot of conflict in the show. he knows how a ferengi should act, it’s just that he can’t!! fucking!! do it!! but he still tries and tries to fit into that mold, which straight up ruins his life on multiple occasions.

Rom is also not a Model Ferengi, but he lives without hating himself. and it’s mostly because he doesn’t care about how a ferengi Should act, he’s loved and cared for even when everybody knows that he’s a shit ferengi! because his non-ferengi-ness works to his benefit. it encourages and highlights his abilities as an engineer. the success and love he finds make it easy for him to be content with his true self. Unlike Quark, who doesn’t get unconditional love from anyone.

its so!! tragic!! because you can see what Quark is really like!! his true self!! he’s a nice guy who cares for people!

its right there all the time and it's so blatantly obvious. especially in episodes like “Body Parts”, “Bar Association”, “The Way Of The Warrior” and “Ferengi Love Songs”

his own wiki page literally calls him “a compassionate and generous man by ferengi standards” which pretty much translates to “not really a good ferengi”.

anyway so Quark is a tragic figure or whatever but we’re actually here for the REPRESSED! HOMOSEXUAL! TENDENCIES! that he and Odo both exhibit.

with characters like garak you don’t really need to have brainrot to pick up on those tendencies, because that was something andrew robinson chose to do, on purpose. 

and to be fair, Quark wasn’t intended to be Any kind of representation, not even by the actor. I’m just pointing out that he Does look and act and talk like a little gayman.

I will admit that he is Painfully Straight in the text of the show, but on a meta level he’s just. a dude who has a serious case of repressing his real personality. and taking it a step further- he also represses his feelings towards another man.

and that man is Odo.

a few things on him:

Odo is literally desperate to be a person. unlike Quark, who at least has the comfort of belonging to a society of people with a set of rules and expectations, Odo has never met anyone or anything like him in all his years of life.

like, we all know Odo basically grew up in a lab, right? 

with people who didn’t know anything about him. who he was so unalike that they literally called him “Nothing”

but he still learned to look and talk and act like them (because if he didn’t he’d feel *pain* which is very fucked up by the way?)

so we know for a fact that Odo wants to be recognised as a person- which is why he tries really hard to conform to the ideals of the society that raised him. instead of exploring his nature as a shape shifter he maintains a humanoid form, picks up a job and creates an entire personality around what he wants to be seen as. but not what he really is.

and that's the thing that causes all the conflict between Quark and Odo. the type of person odo wants to be seen as is the polar opposite of whatever the fuck quark wants to be seen as.

In the same way that Quark acts like a Normal Ferengi, Odo acts like a Normal Security Officer.  and in a cruel twist of fate, the Ferengi happens to be the antithesis of the Security Officer.

If you only look at them as the things they act like, and not the things they are, you might say they’re way too different to like each other, right? 

but,,, if you think about the fact that they’re both putting on this act,,, this performance of idealised versions of themselves,,, you can see that they are The Same. They Are Both Gay Repressed Loser Aliens Who Try To Act Like Things That They Aren’t!

Imagine you’re Odo. 

Imagine that you’re Nothing, because you’re not like anything anyone has ever seen- and because you are Nothing you don’t fall in love with anyone for years and years. since who could love something that isn’t like them at all?

But then one day this Thing shows up in your path and you just hate it. Because it’s not like anything *you* have ever seen. It’s disorderly and looks grotesque and it’s criminal to boot.

It’s all the things you learned would make a “Bad Person” It’s everything you aspire not to be, because if you were any of those things you would BE PUNISHED.

But the trouble is, eventually he’s not an “it” anymore, he’s “Quark” and you see him every day of your miserable little life because you live on the same damn station in space and it’s hard to avoid each other.

He also happens to be one of the only things in your life that are constant. He will never leave because he is stubborn and greedy and you just *hate him so much* that you’re convinced he must be doing all of it to spite you. And yet you also can’t seem to leave him alone.

So Odo Must Hate Quark. everything else is a non sequitur for him. he can’t not hate Quark.

because Quark is, and i’m sincerely sorry to apply christian fucking imagery to this, The Forbidden Fruit.

If he liked quark he’d admit some kind of moral failing. it would be the end of his act. but on the other hand...it might be a good thing, because at least he could have quark.

but Odo can never go through with biting into this apple because the consequences are horrifying to him. he could never have quark because, according to his performance, he would Never like quark to begin with.

and here’s a take for you: Odo's Brand Of Internalised Homophobia Doesn't Stem From Heteronormativity. It Stems From The Fact That He Was Kind Of Assigned Asexual At Birth.

and the show sort of alludes to this, for real! not just subtext! canon! except the writers used the wrong person. 

because instead of Odo having these Forbidden Feelings for Quark he has them for,,, Kira.

but since this is My Quodo Manifesto you’ll understand that i am 100% willing to just toss that part of canon out the airlock.

so Odo does canonically have that mindset of “no one could ever love me”  for decades he repressed any and all feelings of love to avoid getting hurt. in the show he breaks this cycle of repression when he takes a chance and enters a relationship with Kira. yay?

but we all know that aint it chief. and part of the reason why That Ship Ain’t It is the fact that Quark is Right There. and he is simply the more interesting choice for odo.

he and Odo literally share the same problem and have weird intertwined character arcs! they are both dreadfully afraid of not conforming to the ideal versions of themselves, so they reject everything that could challenge their Performance!

on some fucked up level they hate each other *and* themselves individually. and this hatred makes them reject parts of their real identities for the sake of protecting their image. which. yknow. in gay people. is internalised homophobia!

so you can see that they’re both repressing A Lot even if you view them as Friends, but the most important thing in this kind of romantic dynamic is usually,,, when the characters *stop* repressing.

and the thing is. the thing that Kills Me with these two. They Never Get That Moment. Thats Why You Need The Brainrot To See Them As Romantic.

The Ascent gives us an example of what happens when they both take their act too far. I mean, who could forget “Fascist!” and “Fraud!” That is what odo thinks of quark’s performance and vice versa, but we don’t really hear them adress the fact that they *are* playing these roles to a ridiculous extent.

We also never get an example of what would happen if they dropped their act instead of over-performing it. or rather we don’t get to see both of them drop it.

And the reason why we never get that moment is because there’s this one key difference between Quark and Odo. 

Quark knows that he’s constantly repressing his true nature and his feelings for odo. We pretty much hear him say so in the iconic root beer scene in Way Of The Warrior. he knows that he’s not a good ferengi but he keeps up his act.

So quark is aware enough to feel that sweet sweet self loathing. But Odo isnt self loathing as much as he is just self sabotaging.

and this subtle difference between them is why, at the very end of the show, we get “That man loves me, can’t you see? It was written all over his back!”

this moment is quark dropping his act and asking odo to do the same. he wants to hear a genuine Goodbye from him because they have known each other for Decades and they are Friends. but odo is so unable to express the feelings he’s been repressing all these years. that he self sabotages again and just walks away.

even though this is like. very anticlimactic. considering I just spent 2000 words talking about how Odo and Quark are Most Certainly Gay For Each Other.

The fact that their ending is so Weird is the reason why quodo is so engaging and appealing to me? especially post-canon quodo.

like, the amount of “what if’s” this ship has are Astounding.

What if either of them had dropped their act a little sooner? What if they both did, for just a moment, and it was the straw that breaks the camels back?

What if Odo comes back after a few years? What if Quark comes to get him?

What if, in that moment in the finale where Quark drops his act, Odo had returned the gesture? What if Gag-Reel Quodo Kiss.gif Real?

with the depth that I read into their relationship, those what ifs are really fun to think about.

anyway its 1 am and i’m not an english major so literary analysis is not like, my strong suit. plus most of this was written in a late night screaming session with a friend who has the exact same opinions as me. i just think aliens hot and in love. thats all.

#the SOUND of my HEAD hitting my DESK with TERMINAL VELOCITY #quodo #star trek

[lunarfly]

Ok so I decided to finally post the promised: defending Romione (🥺💗💕💖💞💘) against Dr*mione (ಠಿ_ಠ) shippers.

So I've read a few posts about Dr*mione shippers, talking about why their ship is amazing (which had nothing to do with canon btw) and bashing Ron (for no reason) and I'm literally shaking out of anger.

Here are my thoughts:

1. "Ron is too dumb for hermione"

Stop- Just-

Stop.

RON IS NOT DUMB.

Yes, he might not be very interested in school subjects, but 👏 that 👏 doesn't 👏 mean 👏 he 👏 is 👏 dumb 👏.

He is actually very smart! He beat McGonagall's chess game, he is logical and quick-thinking. There's MANY examples of this that I won't name right now, but it's a canonical fact. Ron. Is. Not. Dumb.

And consider he was dumb. So? Would that stop Romione from happening? NO! Hermione didn't mind Ron not being smart. She was just upset that Ron was lazy and wouldn't study anything until the last minute. She wanted to get both Harry and Ron to study according to a schedule.

Is it clear? Intelligence doesn't determine love.

**And this is something that confuses me. This doesn't have anything to do with the point, but why does nobody realize that Harry isn't much smarter than Ron? Yes, he was better at DADA but that requires TALENT, not intelligence. And I'm pretty sure we all know that Ron is talented as well (hopefully everyone realizes that). Nobody uses the fact that Harry wasn't intelligent against Harmione, but everyone uses the fact that Ron wasn't intelligent against Romione. The double standards tear apart the fandom.

2. "Ron bought hermione perfume and Draco could get her something better."

Soooo, you're saying that just because Ron didn't have the money that Draco had means that Hermione didn't deserve Ron?

Wow, this just says a lot about you dr*mione shippers. You only care about the money that Draco has, not his personality. You don't like Ron because he's poor (and I know how FanFics give the "kind Draco" Ron's canon personality so the only "problem" with Ron is his looks and lack of money). And you don't see Hermione nor Ron the way they are. This "point" of yours is literally stating that Hermione should be a gold-digger and get Draco because he can get her the expensive presents that she deserves. Yikes.

3. "Draco can understand the emotional side of Hermione while Ron can't."

Wait

What?

WHERE DO YOU GET THIS IDEA FROM-

Draco is only EVER concerned about his own self, he is a NARCISSIST. He would NEVER care for someone (let alone Hermione) as purely and truly as he cared about himself. He didn't even care about Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson etc. He was selfish. The only reason he could express his emotions was because he had to go through a lot since he realized that killing Dumbledore wasn't as easy as bullying Hermione. This would never ever work.

And even if Ron didn't understand her as much, he STILL comforted her. Take the beginning chapters of The Deathly Hallows as an example. You'll see.

4. "Ron is too immature."

I need help.

Of course Ron was immature when he was 11!! Yes, he acted immaturely many times, yes, he made many mistakes, but guess what? He changed! He changed for Hermione!! Draco didn't change at all, not for Hermione, nor for anyone else. He remained the same bratty bully.

If you could reread the books and read prisoner of azkaban vs deathly hallows, you will definitely see how much Ron has matured. He doesn't argue with Hermione anymore, he comforts her, he's there for her. Yes, he made a mistake but he was manipulated by the horcrux! We don't blame Ginny for what tom riddle's diary made her do, do we? So stop blaming Ron!

Anyways, I think if dr*mione shippers have read the books, they'll know what I'm talking about when I say Ron changed for Hermione. I honestly don't know how you could miss Ron's character arc.

5. "Ron would be jealous of the brilliant Hermione."

What?

If I remember correctly, the reason Draco bullied the trio was because he was jealous of them. His jealousy turned into a 7 year torture for the trio and now you're saying that Ron is the jealous one? Please.

But anyways, Ron has been jealous of Harry and has made a few mistakes. But there are reasons behind them and I can defend him for each of these with arguments other than "everyone makes mistakes" (cough cough* Draco stans* cough cough).

First of all, Ron has admitted being jealous of Harry's fame because he lives with 5 older brothers who outshine him. But that's not really a mistake because he never let it get in his way. There were only 2 situations in 7 years when he left Harry out of jealousy but I think these have different explainations.

No1 Ron left in goblet of fire. I think the real reason that Ron let his jealousy get in his way this time, was not only because Harry got to participate in the tournament which could bring him eternal glory, but more likely because he was disappointed that his own best friend didn't even tell him that he was entering and didn't even help him participate (which wasn't true, but Ron thought so back then).

No2 Ron left in deathly hallows. This one was 100% because of the horcrux and I think we should all accept this by now and stop hating on Ron for being affected by dark magic.

And just like that, Ron never let his jealousy get in his way of friendships. I can't think of a situation where Ron is jealous of the brilliant Hermione so if you remember, please let me know so I can argue against it. <3

6. "Ron and Hermione would break up and remain friends, it's easy to imagine because they didn't have a strong relationship."

This was actually said, someone actually said this-

I'm just going to say that Ron and Hermione are happily married to this day (which definitely proves that their relationship is strong) and give the dr*mione community a moment of silence.

7. "Ron didn't do anything for Hermione and was just a jerk."

Coming from a person who has read and reread the books multiple times, I can assure you that Ron did many things for Hermione.

Of course, he was immature at first, he was mean to her, but slowly he started seeing more of the good in Hermione and started changing for her.

And even when he was immature, he still cared about Hermione and would protect her no matter what.

Let's remember how many times rubbish Ron stood up for Hermione against the brilliant bully Draco. 🥰

Let's remember how cowardly Ronald faced his fears of spiders to help Hermione (and the rest of the school, just how jerkier can he get?). 🥰

Let's remember how ridiculous Ronniekins stood up for Hermione against sensational Snape and got himself into detention (oh yes, this is the book version of the movie moment where Ron agrees with Snape about Hermione being an 'insufferable know-it-all'). 🥰

Let's remember how rotten Ronny comforted Hermione when she was worried about Hagrid and Buckbeak (and he even let her hug him and cry on his shoulder, how rude). 🥰

Let's remember how revolting Ronald sacrificed himself to save Harry and Hermione in the chess game. 🥰

Let's remember how horrendous Ron attempted to hex Draco when he used a slur that was meant to offend Hermione. 🥰

Keep in mind that all of these were done when Ron was still immature and still argued a lot with Hermione.

And these aren't even all.

8. "Ron and Hermione have a loveless marriage."

What the-

I'm sorry, I'm trying to be respectful here but this is crap. And the fact that the person said they also had "proof" from the c*rsed ch*ld but didn't want to spoil it-

As much as I hate the c*rsed ch*ld, I can tell you that it did its job portraying Ron and Hermione's unconditional love. Even in alternative realities, where they didn't get married, they were still in love.

And why would you even think that Ron and Hermione would marry and have kids if they didn't love each other? I need explainations.

Next.

9. "Ron never listens to Hermione."

I'm sorry, what? I'm genuinely confused??

What do you even mean by this? Yeah, they used to argue a lot, and? Ron thinks Hermione is brilliant and wonderful and he follows her advice. I can't recall a moment where Ron won't listen to Hermione, doesn't agree with her and ruins her plans. Anyone else?

Since this one is a big mess and a confusion, I'll move on to the next one until someone explains the points and arguments.

10. "Draco could make Hermione laugh while Ron couldn't."

....

Do I really need to say anything for this one?

Ron was the funniest one from the trio, that's why Harry enjoyed his company so much! Don't you remember the line in goblet of fire where Harry thinks about how much he misses having Ron as his best friend, because without him there's less fun and less laughs? I do.

But what I don't remember is finding Draco's sense of humor funny. I'm sorry but his intellectual level is almost as low as Crabbe and Goyle's. His insults are none other than Potty and Weaselbee, he only got 3 O.W.L.s and all of his jokes were stupid and dumb and their only purpose was insulting people he was jealous of.

These fanfics have rotten people's brains...😬

Anyways, I'm going to stop here. I've delayed this post for very long and I'm so excited to finally post it!

I read a book on wattpad by a dr*mione shipper and it was nothing but a giant headache. That's where I got all of these statements from. Most of the garbage in the book revolved around Draco and Hermione being inseparable and getting over all obstacles (wth) and other stupid stuff like that which really annoyed me. The book was called "why we love dr*mione" and it was by Bittenwizard. You can read and enjoy! Trust me, you'll have lots of content to post about after that 🤠👍

*I always try to be respectful to all ships, but sometimes some of them really anger me because the ships are either toxic or the arguments are plain trash. I'm sorry if I offend anyone.

Thank you for reading this. If you're a dr*mione shipper, I hope I've convinced you to give up the ship or come up with better arguments for it.

If you're an anti-dramione I hope you enjoyed the post. I'll delight you with more anti-toxic-ships content. :)

Thank you once again! <3

#ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley #ronald weasley #romione #ron and hermione #hermione and ron #hate dramione #anti dramione #dramione #draco and hermione #hermione and draco #hermione x draco #draco x hermione #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #anti draco malfoy #draco malfoy #hermione granger #anti draco x hermione #anti draco stans

[lettheladylead]

Title: A Night Out Ship: Baloo/Rebecca Summary:  Rebecca decides to have a night out and goes with Baloo to hang at Louie's Place. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30942905

It wasn’t often that she humored Baloo by coming along with him to Louie’s (or that he humored her by not complaining too much when she asked). But Kit had been begging to babysit more to earn money for some new toy he wanted and Rebecca had to admit...she could use a night off. Molly was an angel, but she’d been very needy the past few days.

And it wasn’t like she had any other friends to spend time with.

So off to Louie’s they went, though Baloo was side eyeing her the entire flight there, clearly suspicious of her motivations. They’d been out before and it wasn’t a problem! She’d been to Louie’s before, no issues about it. He had no reason to think that she was being sneaky.

“So, Becks…”

“What?”

Baloo tapped his fingers against the wheel. “...you’re not gonna try to get Louie in trouble again, are ya? He’s real sorry ‘bout what happened last time!”

Rebecca scrunched her brow at her partner’s words before the memory of her last visit to Louie’s hit her: one of his regulars had groped her and Louie didn’t kick him out until she threatened to call the police. She’d completely forgotten about it thanks to how busy she’d been with work and Molly starting school soon.

“It’s fine, Baloo,” she finally replied, rolling her eyes at his loud sigh of relief. “Just so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh, no worries there!” Baloo smiled at her as the Sea Duck started down towards the water. “I personally told Ralphie to never darken Louie’s door again!”

Rebecca huffed and turned to look at the pilot next to her, thinking he was making fun of her. She stared at his face to see a surprisingly serious expression - and not his standard Gotta Land This Plane Safely look. She took another moment of staring at his profile before turning away with a slight blush on her cheeks. She’d had a long week, maybe a night of drinking too much would be exactly the break she needed.

-

And they were making fun of her.

They were always making fun of her, but this time she tried to play along and then it just made it worse and now she was stuck with these two boys who bounced off one another like a comedy routine while she nursed a drink that she didn’t really know what it was but it tasted good and it was her third one and she was feeling quite a lot more relaxed than she normally would have when being mocked by two absolute morons.

“Ahhh, Becky, Becky, Becky,” Louie cooed at her. “You really should drink some water. Baloo tells me you’re quite the lightweight!”

“No, no, you got it all wrong!” Baloo said with a smirk, taking a big gulp from his beer. “I didn’t say she’s a lightweight, I said she fights me about my weight!”

They laughed together - a lot harder than Rebecca thought was necessary for such a bad joke - and she responded by taking a bigger swig of her drink than she probably should’ve. She hadn’t stood up since arriving and she knew once she did, all the alcohol would hit her at once. It was nice to know she could trust Baloo to get her home safe, at least. If nothing else, he was a good guy.

“Don’t you two have any material that isn’t at my expense?” she said, leaning on one arm. “Like if there was a different girl here, how would you entertain her?”

Louie and Baloo locked eyes for a quick moment before turning back to her. “If there was a different girl here, then we’d be having a very different -”

Baloo cut off his friend with a hand over his mouth and glared. Louie shrugged and laughed as the bear pulled his hand away. “What he’s trying to say, Becks, is that you’re a classy lady. Louie’s Place doesn’t get a lot of classy ladies, so most of our jokes aren’t exactly your style.”

“Oh? Since when do you care about my style?” Rebecca laughed, snorting once and immediately trying to hide it by taking another sip of her drink. “Considering the kinds of things you say to me on a daily basis, I can’t imagine you’re holding back.”

“Izzat true, Baloo?” Louie elbowed him and faked a shocked look on his face. “Are you not treating your lady here with respect?”

Baloo glared. “Not my lady,” he started as a quiet mumble. “...and yes, Becky, I do hold back a lot out of respect for you!”

She took another sip, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Is that why you told me my new pants make my ass look fat?”

Louie’s burst out into laughter as Baloo blushed, glaring at his friend and then glaring down at Rebecca. “N-no, I mean...you asked for my honest opinion! I’m a spontaneous guy! I say things without thinking sometimes!”

“Sometimes, sure, alright.” Rebecca smirked, feeling proud that she’d produced the biggest laugh of the night so far. “I don’t think spontaneity is an excuse for pissing me off every other day.”

Baloo frowned at that, looking over to Louie for some help, but the monkey just shrugged and grabbed his own drink to focus on that for a minute. Baloo huffed before taking another long gulp of his beer and decided to go on the offensive. “That’s just ‘cause you don’t know anything about being spontaneous! Sometimes you piss people off, that's just how it goes!”

She sent him both a pout and a glare before opening her mouth again. “Says you! I’m not just some stuffy, boring office woman! I can surprise people!”

Baloo let out a harsh laugh, though this time Louie didn’t join in, opting to stare awkwardly between the two bears instead. “Come on, Becks, no point in pretending to be something you’re not!”

Rebecca dramatically slammed down her glass and glared at him again. Then she glared down at the bar and huffed before gripping the edge of the table and standing up. She climbed up onto the bar and tossed her hands in the air. “See? You didn’t expect this, did you?”

A moment later and the rush of drunkenness flooded to her head and Rebecca quickly sat down, her legs swinging off the edge of the bar. Baloo and Louie locked eyes again and Louie moved towards the sink to grab her some water.

Baloo slid closer to her - his elbow lightly grazing the edge of her thigh. “Yeah, so, standing on a bar isn’t as crazy as you seem to think it is. If you ever do something really unexpected, I’ll let ya know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what?”

“I dunno!” Baloo shrugged, looking over at Louie to see the monkey struggling to find a clean glass. “You gotta take people by surprise! Make ‘em speechless. I’ve had too many beers to come up with somethin’ now, but trust me, you'll have to try much harder to catch me off-guard.”

Rebecca let out a hmph! as she thought about his words. They wandered through her muddled mind and her eyes widened as the perfect way to prove her spontaneity came to her. Plus - it was guaranteed to make Baloo speechless.

She looked over at him and before he could even ask what she was doing, Rebecca grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her while she leaned forward. Her lips crashed against his and she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of him pushing her away and calling her crazy.

For a brief moment, her fear wasn’t wrong. Initially, his eyes grew as big as dinner plates and the red on his cheeks was not just because of the alcohol. He was certainly tempted to push her off, but mostly because she was drunk and they’d never done anything like that before. Well, either she was hiding some intense feelings for him or she really wanted to prove him wrong...or both. Whichever her reasons, he felt his heart do backflips as the realization of what was happening set it.

At least ten seconds passed with neither of them moving, and then all at once, they came together. Baloo set his beer down and moved one hand to her waist while the other crawled around her back, cradling her closer to him as he leaned in to deepen the kiss.

Rebecca kept her hands wrapped up in his shirt collar, but tightened her grip as she tilted her head and slightly opened her mouth against his in a clear attempt to bring their kiss to the next level. She wanted to be shocked by his reciprocity, but she was really just focusing on the feeling of his hands wrapped around her. She’d kissed him before, as a joke, but only light pecks and he’d never kissed back. This was something very new.

Baloo followed her lead and pulled her even closer to him - her knee bumped against his chest - as the hand that was on her back moved up to the back of her head. He tilted his head, too, and pushed a little more towards her - relishing the tiny little, satisfied-sounding noise that came from her throat. He wouldn’t dare call it a moan, but it was definitely something. Never in a million years had he imagined this actually, really happening. He’d barely imagined it in his head! But…

“Whoa!”

The two bears broke apart at the sudden sound of Louie’s voice. Never thinking of manners or social graces, he gave them a big confused smile. “Should I give you two the room?”

Baloo and Rebecca were breathing a little heavily and staring into each other’s eyes as he spoke. Baloo’s hands slowly moved down to cradle her hips while her grip on his shirt loosened to the point where he could easily pull away. Instead they stared for another few seconds before Rebecca finally spoke.

“I…” she said quietly. “I...need to use the ladies’ room!”

The pilot didn’t react as she quickly jumped away from him and hobbled towards the bathroom, occasionally losing her balance and grabbing bar stools or tables to get upright again. Baloo stayed exactly as he was before, only turning his head slightly to watch her walk away.

Louie placed the glass of water in front of him. “My man...what was that?”

Baloo didn’t bother trying to hide the dark blush on his face. “I, uh...I’m...I’m not sure.”

“Well,” Louie leaned onto the counter. “It definitely wasn’t nothing!”

“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious,” Baloo grumbled at his friend. “She was just tryin’ to prove that she can be spontaneous. I guess.”

“Uh huh. That looked like a lot more than her tryin' to prove somethin’, buddy.”

Baloo copied Louie and leaned onto the counter, partially covering his mouth with his hand. He could still feel her lips on his and it made him feel a lot of funny feelings. “...yeah, I know.”

Louie raised an eyebrow. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ through that thick head of yours?”

Baloo huffed and opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a voice that made him blush once again.

“I’d like to go home now.”

She was already turned around and walking towards the door before Baloo and Louie could see the look on her face. But the way she was cradling her purse seemed like she wasn’t in the best mood anymore. No doubt she was embarrassed, but Baloo was stuck wondering exactly what kind of embarrassed and how awkward this would be in the morning and if there was anything he could do to fix it.

And, well. If he wanted to fix it...or if he wanted to see where it could go. He wasn’t really sure about anything at that particular moment. He also wasn’t sure he should fly the Sea Duck after the amount of beer he’d had, but it wouldn’t be his first time flying with a buzz. Probably not the last, either.

He looked back at Louie and shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Louie responded with a short laugh. “Baloo, if anything happens between you two, you’d better give me more than a maybe!”

Baloo rolled his eyes and chuckled in embarrassment before stomping off after his partner. He didn’t know what to expect for the ride home, but he was certain it was going to be the most awkward ride of his life.

Fortunately, when he climbed up into his plane, he found Rebecca curled up in the passenger seat, snoring loudly. He wondered for a moment if she was faking, but decided it didn’t really matter. Neither of them were ready to have a conversation about what happened and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.

#talespin #rebecca cunningham #baloo von bruinwald xiii #baloo #beckloo #fic #fics

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 46

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 46: Right before the storm, there’s a calm. 

            “Easy…easy.” Tommy enveloped Kate into his arms. The second he had told her what happened, she had gone into a panic. “It’s going to be alright.”

            Her knees buckled as she cried into his shoulder. “I told you! All that time ago, I told you! If John had just apologized. If you had made peace with the Changrettas none of this would’ve happened. I told you, Tommy, I told you.”

            “What’s done is done.” He pulled up a chair for her in the kitchen and eased her into it. “But you can’t have a fit.”

            Kate wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked at him. She hiccuped as she studied his expression. “You’re lying to me about something.”

            His brow creased slightly, an obvious tell that she was right. Maybe he had been hoping that the news would be so upsetting to her that she wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

            “I don’t believe that anything could’ve happened. You had the entire place on lockdown, you were in on it with Alfie. You…” It dawned on her. “You knew they were going to come and kill him. You let them kill your own brother?” She shouted.

            “No!” He grabbed her wrists before she could start getting some hits in. “No, he-” Tommy huffed. Leave it to his fiancée to unravel his plan in mere seconds. “He’s not dead.”

            There was fire in Kate’s eyes. The second his grip loosened on her, she whacked him in the shoulder so hard he actually flinched. “So, you wanted everyone to mourn another one of your brothers?” She snapped. “You just love to toy with everyone’s emotions, don’t you, Thomas?”

            “If you’d let me explain…”

    ��       “Y’know what I did tonight? I murdered Mickey. You’re down one less Italian thanks to me. But you’re behind the scenes playing everyone like fucking puppets while everyone else does your fucking dirty work!” She continued to rant.

            “Oi!” He yelled over her. “If you’d let me fucking explain.”

            Kate was fuming but didn’t say another word, allowing him to continue.

            “We needed Luca to think Arthur was dead. You know the rules of a vendetta.”

            “There are no fucking rules. You think Luca’s going to suddenly go back to New York because he thinks he killed John and Arthur? Tommy, he wants your empire, and the only way he’s going to get that if we’re all dead.” Kate reminded him sternly. “He doesn’t respect some rule of getting even.”

            “He doesn’t. But his mother does.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “Shelby residence.”

            “You really answer the phone that way, huh? Far as I’m concerned you ain’t a Shelby yet, love.”

            Kate smiled when she heard Alfie’s voice on the other end of the line. The day had been a mess of emotions as they faked Arthur’s funeral and met with Audrey Changretta. The more time passed, the more anxious Kate became. The end was coming very quickly and she couldn’t predict how things were going to play out. “Did you arrive safely at Margate?” She asked.

            “Yeah, well wouldn’t be calling you, now would I?”

            She laughed softly. “I was just being polite.”

            “Should be asking if all of you got out safely.”

            “I assume you already know.”

            “Yeah, right, well I do pride myself in having eyes and ears all ‘round the country. It’s a nice thing to have. Keeps me well informed in matters even if they ain’t none of my business.”

            “And what have your ears been hearing?” She asked.

            “The rest of Changretta’s men, including the man himself, stormed me bakery today. M’sure they were intending to take it as their own. Had a feeling they would.” Alfie replied.

            “And?”

            “Well, unfortunately, your fiancée’s trick of hiding grenades didn’t work out this time.”

            Kate rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Alfie, you were willing to blow up that whole building out of spite?”

            “If I can’t have it, no one can.” He retorted almost like a child. “Not that they would’ve done business well there anyway.” He mumbled to himself.

            “Well, if they’re there, Alfie, then I’m guessing they took over the building whether you like it or not.”

            “Right, but how long could they have control over it, aye? Just until ‘ol blue eyes comes in to end them all?”

            A sly smile crossed Kate’s lips. “Alfie Solomons, is that faith in Tommy Shelby I hear?”

            “Now hang on. This phone call weren’t meant to sing praise. Just stating some facts. ‘Sides, if it were me in his shoes those bastards would’ve been dead weeks ago.” He asserted.

            “So, you were just calling to tell me about the bakery?”

            “Partly. Also, when you run those rats out of the country, I would ask you to extend the bakery to Alice Diamond.”

            Kate looked a little shocked. “Alice? I’m not sure I understand.”

            “Y’know they’ve had hands in Camden Town for years without me permission. But I turned a blind eye because I am a very forgiving man and frankly, I would go to great lengths to avoid a meeting with that woman. If she wants to try her hand at baking, under your guidance, I think it might make a good fit. I’d rather have people I know take it over than some American fucks, you excluded.”

            Kate smiled. “You’re being awfully generous for one day. Is there any other reason?”

            Alfie cleared his throat. “I perhaps have to thank you and one of Alice’s she-devils for my current situation. Lillian, to be specific.”

            “Oh…I see. You took my advice then.”

            He took a deep breath as if it pained him to admit she was right. “I extended an invitation to Mabel to come visit me in Margate.”

            “And she said yes, of course.”

            “If ya wanted to talk to yourself, I might as well not have called, smug girl.” He retorted. “Don’t need you finishing me sentences like a fucking parrot.”

            Kate stifled a giggle. “Well, I’m very happy for you. Truly, Alfie, I am.”       

            “Right…” He didn’t seem to know how to respond.

            “And maybe one day soon I’ll come visit you and Mabel.”

            “She’s just visiting don’t get…” He groaned knowing he wasn’t going to win. “I suppose that’ll be alright. Although I’m not quite open to the idea of Tommy coming too. Lethe, right, it’s a very peaceful place and he’d just fuck that up, wouldn’t he?”

            “Lethe, am I supposed to know what that is?” She asked.

            “It’s what I’ve called the home I’ve bought. I’m not about to explain the intricate workings of Greek mythology to you.”

            “I see.” Kate turned when she heard the door open and Tommy came in. “Well, suppose we bring along the children, would that negate Tommy’s presence?”

            Her fiancée rolled his eyes knowing exactly who was on the other end of the line.

            “I’d consider it,” Alfie replied.

            “Glad to hear it. But I’ll have to go now, Alfie, it was nice talking to you and say hello to Mabel for me when she arrives.” The two friends exchanged goodbyes before Kate hung up the phone.

            “So now you and Alfie gossip over the phone?” Tommy asked, taking off his cap and coat.

            “Well, he called to tell me Luca and his men took over the bakery. At least for the time being.” She reported. “And also, that I was right.”

            “Yeah? Right about what?” The news about the bakery didn’t particularly bother him. Who cares if Luca had a warehouse full of rum? His days were numbered anyway.

            Kate followed him into the parlor. “Right about the fact that I could find someone for him. I did.”

            Tommy raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Then I’m glad I didn’t let you bet anything on it.” He sat down and patted his thigh.

            She smiled and eagerly curled up on his lap. “You still would get me something for being right.” She murmured and kissed down his jaw.

            “What do you want, then?”

            “Hm…” She thought to herself for a bit. “How about a nice wedding to the man I love?”

            Tommy chuckled. “You’re already getting that.” He reminded her. “Just have to be patient.

            “Then that’s all I want.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder.

            “Was worried you were going to ask for a summer home in Margate so you and Alfie could be neighbors and torment me.”

            She laughed softly. “I’m not that cruel.” With a heavy sigh, she returned to the real problem at hand. “Who were you going to the office to call?” She asked.

            Tommy was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” He admitted.

            Kate lifted her head to look at him. “Tom…who was it?”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It was a long argument while Polly and Tommy were gathering paperwork. Tommy was ready to ship Kate out to Margate to be as far away from the action as possible. He was confident enough in the plan, but if there was even a slim chance of Kate getting hurt, he wasn’t going to risk it.

            But she wasn’t having it. “So, I’m supposed to sit by the phone to wait and hear if he’s killed you or not?” Kate snapped.

            It was an already tense enough scene organizing the papers for the company. Polly was there as a fly on the wall for most of it, silently signing papers and glancing back and forth between the two arguing.

            “What choice do I have, aye?” Tommy, who was under a considerable amount of stress, was not about to lose this battle. “You’re the perfect target for him, Kate. I told you time and time again that I won’t have you dealing with any of this because you’re pregnant. Yet time and time again, you’ve stuck yourself in. This is the final stand and I won’t have you there. You aren’t changing my mind.”

            “You’re not the one who decides where I go, Thomas.”

            “Why do you feel the need to put yourself in unnecessary danger?” He asked exasperated that she was still pushing the matter.

            “Because I’m a part of this family and I will stand with this family.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

            “You’d be willing to put the lives of our children at risk because you want to prove some fucking point?” He demanded.

            Kate’s resolve faltered. Her stomach was in knots, it had been for days. “Tom, if something happens to you and I’m not there…” Her voice trembled.

            Polly finally had to step in. She touched Kate’s arm gently. “Darling, nothing is going to happen. We’ll be alright.”

            “Then there’s no reason for me not to be there.” She asserted.

            Tommy exhaled sharply and forcefully stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray mixed within the sea of paperwork on his desk. “What would I do, aye, if something happened to you? I’ve risked enough.”

            “But if it’s just Luca against all of us then how could you think that anything could go wrong?”

            “Because I’m not letting that chance happen. Now go home, I’m done fighting about this with you. The answer is no.” He spoke firmly, pointing to the door.

            Kate’s jaw tightened but she decided to turn on her heel and storm out instead of arguing further.

            When the office doors slammed shut, Polly looked up to her nephew. “She’s worried about you, that’s all.”

            “She should be worried about being pregnant.” He grumbled.

            “It will go as planned. And if it doesn’t, then who is Luca going to aim for first?” Polly reasoned with him.

            Tommy sighed and rested his hands on his desk. “I can’t fucking believe you’re siding with her.”

            “I’m not. I just know she’s going to show up there no matter what you say. So, you might as well put her into the plan or you’ll be caught off guard tomorrow.”

            Tommy looked angry that she was right. He couldn’t physically drag Kate into a car and send her off to Alfie’s beach house. “For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

            Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen @merlettina

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelbyxofc #tommy shelbyxoc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #ofc #ofcs #alfie solomons #arthur shelby #polly gray #luca changretta #season 4 #cillian murphy #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy fanfiction

[smolbeandrabbles]

Common Threads - An Orson Krennic AU (Rogue One: A Star Wars Story)

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

This will be a short series set across a number of parts.

Author’s Note: All credit, and I mean ALL credit, to Harry & Rob @ Stop Making Sense Podcast. They’re real ones!  REAL ones. Thank you both for letting me write such a genius idea!

Basically this all started here on Instagram. And if you want to see where it’s going you’ll want 54:33-61:20 of this! Also please support these guys, they’re so great and so funny! Highly recommended!  While we’ll have no central romance, we know how Krennic is so... there’ll be fleeting mentions of goings on.

Also it wouldn’t be my writing if I didn’t almost lose half of it due to microsoft word complications, would it?

Disclaimer: Star Wars & Rogue One characters places etc all not mine / There’s some call backs to Catalyst but they’re rather small / The idea certainly isn’t mine either in this case / lyrics not mine / I did bring my OCs into this.

Premise: When Krennic is attacked by a band of rebel insurgents and they get away with vital information, the Empire devise a rather unusual punishment...

Words: 3547

Warnings: Slight sexual references / Please don’t look at the timelines too closely / AU

_____ I know what I want And I'ma go and get it, I'm a number one, I know you won't forget it Keep my eyes on the prize, no surprise that I'm lit I be cruisin', you be snoozin' That's why you losin', I'm oozin' Confidence is boomin', boomin'

I ain't worried 'bout nada 'Less it Gucci, 'less it Prada 'Less it Dolce and Gabbana 'Less a trip to the Bahamas I wanna feel like I'm way up Stay lit every single day I wake up I ain't worried 'bout shit, you a parody Ain't no wonder why they all so scared of me I'm a rarity, I got clarity

---

Part 1: Stitched Up. 

The communications device rumbled across the table again, begging to be picked up. This time it annoyed her; she’d managed to ignore it up to now but if it interrupted the meeting one more time she was in danger of being thrown out. She pulled it from the table, glaring. The person on the other end of the line, who clearly needed her desperately, could have only been one of two people – and due to the frequency, she could easily narrow it down to one. Krennic. And if it was her boss, she’d find that highly ironic, considering he’d been the one to tell her how imperative it was she took note of every little thing said here. ‘I don’t want a single detail missed Lieutenant; do you understand me!?’   It continued to buzz on and off feebly in her lap as she listened to the group of commanders drone on and on… but at least it wasn’t disturbing anyone but her anymore. Upon exiting the meeting it rang again, probably for the billionth time, and she answered: “Director.” He seemed a little taken aback that she knew it was definitely him, “What took you so long to pick up!?” “I was in a briefing you told me to go to! And yes, before you ask, I made all your notes. I’ll send you a copy of them right away.” “Well forget about that, I have something far more urgent for you to attend to!” “Sir?” She stilled in the corridor, ready to run in whichever direction he commanded. Krennic’s voice lowered to a hiss, “This is very embarrassing Lieutenant, and I would prefer you kept it discreet. Can you get yourself to my place?” “Yes, Sir.” She waited for a further instruction, yet upon receiving none but “Good, and make it quick, Suraya.” and the click of a terminated communication, she supposed that the only thing to do was board a shuttle to his apartment and pray that his version of urgent was not ‘I need a suit for a ball tonight, and your help to pick one!’ …again. ***

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary when she stepped off the ship, smoothing out her uniform as she did so. Krennic was waiting for her by the door and ushered her in quickly – what could this have been about? Suraya’s question was answered before he’d even closed the door, “Oh… my…” Her eyes traced slowly from floor to wall to ceiling, but there wasn’t a part of his apartment that wasn’t ransacked. “…word.” She finished, not able to think of something better to say. Krennic stepped forward into the room, arms crossed and staring hard at everything before turning to her. “Rebels!” “…Rebels?” Suraya immediately questioned, “In your house? ON Coruscant?” That didn’t make any sense, “They wouldn’t dare!” “Well they did!” He indicated around, then waved her forward, implying she should join him. “How?” “That’s what you’re here for.” “I’m hardly a detective, Director… where were you?” His blue eyes lowered to the floor and he chewed his lip, face a little flushed – she could bet from embarrassment and anger. Therefore his answer was a little mumbled, “Not conscious.” Suraya couldn’t help stifle a laugh which turned his steely gaze on her, “The rebels knocked you out?” She scanned the room again, “Well did they break in, there’s no broken glass or forced entry?” “...No.” Krennic was hesitant, and the lieutenant knew she’d missed something, turning in a complete circle on the balls of her feet, she stopped as she eyed the bed. Bed sheets rumpled and his clothes strewn nonchalantly around, there was no evidence that he’d been with anyone, but Suraya knew better. “Where’s the woman?” “What woman!?” Although there was hesitation in Krennic’s voice again. She quirked an eyebrow as she looked back at him; there wasn’t a planet in the Galaxy that didn’t know about his reputation. Her look was enough to get him to confess. “She was here when I was blindsided, when I came to, nothing!” She doubted this account by the fact that, although Krennic looked fairly unscathed, there was a mark above his eye. He’d likely let them in and would never admit it. He grumbled again, “What kind of woman would just answer the door to the rebellion!?” Or maybe that was it, but Suraya doubted Krennic would have just let anyone else answer his door for him without express permission or command. “Did it occur to you she was a rebel?” The Director nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, then composed himself. “Nah. I would have known. Anyway, why would she?!” Suraya let her eyes linger on him a little longer than she perhaps ought to; “I dunno, if I got the opportunity to say I’d slept with you, I would. Your reputation does precede you, Director Krennic. Why not take the opportunity to see if the rumours are true?” Krennic flushed but automatically dismissed it, “No. There’s no way. Self-respecting rebels would never-! And I---” She kept her mouth shut for now, and pushed a scoff and a taunt back down where they belonged. “---No. No.” As he began walking across the floor, musing to himself, Suraya traced his footsteps. “Well, what did they take?” “Hm?” “If they’ve overturned everything here, then they were looking for something Director, what have they found? What was here?” “Most of my research is back with Galen at the Eadu facility. I suppose there are a few data packs… but that’s general Weapons Division stuff. And-” Krennic turned quickly, trying to figure out where he’d last seen his personal data pad. He wasn’t about to outwardly look flustered about this though, he’d been in little mishaps before and he’d always come out of them on the right side of things. This was just another one of those, Krennic told himself he had nothing to worry about. Something else was pressing on the lieutenant’s mind as she watched him move around, and Suraya wasn’t thinking as she interrupted him to voice it. “Where’s your cape?” Suraya wasn’t sure he wore it all the time. Did he wear it when he relaxed? There weren’t so many times she’d seen Krennic in civvies or ever had a reason to come over here, unless it was for an early morning pre-meeting briefing; by which time he was usually up and dressed. But he was certainly in his uniform right now – so, where was the most iconic piece of it? Then Krennic really did go red and in his attempt to stutter through a sentence, couldn’t, and had to sit down, running his hands over his face. Then it all clicked; this was what was so urgent. It wasn’t that the rebels had come here, upturned his place, perhaps stolen documents – Krennic was annoyed about that but he wasn’t bothered by it. The information he was about to impart to her was his top concern. “It’s gone.” He managed, muffled slightly behind his hands. Okay, but he had more, right? Krennic wasn’t the type of man to keep one copy of a uniform around, especially when he was so picky about tailoring. Those poor imperial tailors were yelled at if there was even so much as a stitch wrong. She was pretty sure that he’d even stood over their shoulders to watch them remake it after he’d sent it back. “There’s more than just one, isn’t there?” If there wasn’t, he at least had a rainwear version he could substitute until they made him another. Krennic just shook his head, but still wasn’t looking up. Suraya crossed to his wardrobe, pulling it open and immediately seeing the problem. She stepped back with a gasp. By ‘it’s gone’ Krennic didn’t just mean the cape, he meant his entire closet was empty. No uniforms, no finely tailored suits (that he spent who knows how many credits on just so he was on trend), nothing. There was a single note stuck to the inside of the door, which upon reading Suraya found was indeed from the rebellion – but also fairly unrepeatable. She untacked it and walked back to him. “…Well, that’s a story you’ll have to tell Uniform.” “They’ll make my life hell.” He protested, suddenly regretting all the times he’d had them redo his clothing over one stitch, finally taking his head out of his hands and looking up at her, “I can’t leave my house like this!” “At least you have a uniform, Sir.” Was the best she could do, and by the looks of it Krennic also had whatever he’d been wearing last night, so not all was lost. Still, Suraya knew why she’d been called here, “I’ll put an expedited request in for you.” He nodded, and opened his mouth to verbally agree, when there was another sharp knock at his door that demanded both of their attention. “Director Krennic! Open this door at once!” Her heart dropped and Krennic groaned, “This is just what I need!” He stood, turning back to his assistant, “I TOLD you not to say anything.” “I didn’t! It’s not like I knew this had anything to do with the rebels before I got here-!” Suraya would have hit him with her data pad if she thought it would get her anywhere. Krennic swivelled from the door to her and then back to the door, “Then how the hell does Tarkin know!?” Forced to play defensive she held her hands up, and said her next sentence almost hopefully, “We don’t know he does, maybe that’s not what he’s here for!” ***  Krennic took the deepest of deep breaths as he cracked the door open, leaving Suraya to stand to attention on one side of the room, data pad behind her back keeping it dead straight, a trick she’d learned was pretty useful as a cadet. “Governor Tarkin, how may I assist you?” “Let us in, Director, my day is very busy and I don’t have time for this, particularly.” Tarkin was curt as ever, it didn’t help Orson’s mood. “Time for what?” Clearly Krennic’s feign of ignorance wasn’t making him friends. “Oh, out of the way, Krennic! We spotted some Rebel insurgents leaving atmosphere and on breaking down the contrails of their craft and fuel particles in the atmosphere, it appears they came from your apartment. Now I don’t wish to accuse you of treason, but if you want to confess it might make things easier.” The lieutenant found herself suddenly wishing Krennic hadn’t dragged her into this first, so she could be saved from watching these two argue again. The Director scowled as he was forced to open his door wider on the chaos of his apartment.  “Oh dear!” Although as Tarkin waltzed in it was clearly only said as a formality, and the sharp smile on his face let Suraya know he was about to lord this over her boss. He was followed in by no less than five other imperials, all young looking protégés, eager to survey the scene for themselves. She would suppose even if they found forensic evidence, Krennic wasn’t about to be told of it, and it also didn’t look like they were about to be too careful with his remaining things. Once Tarkin had acknowledged her presence at the scene and turned back to Krennic, still scowling, Suraya made her way quickly across the room to kick Krennic’s discarded clothing under the bed. Maybe the kids wouldn’t put two and two together, but Tarkin certainly would. Rebels were scandals themselves without a potential sleeping-with-the-enemy situation. “It seems to be a bit of a mess you find yourself in, Director.” “It’s hardly of my own doing.” Krennic straightened, defensive, “There were far more of them than I, I fought back but was unfortunately blindsided.” “I see no evidence of force entry.” Suraya shook her head subtly as Krennic’s eyes flicked momentarily to her; if he wanted to go that way, he probably should have opened a window or the balcony doors or… something. “Well, no, as it turns out I let them in.” She couldn’t see Tarkin’s face, but his movement and the freeze of the others in the room said everything. Krennic’s eyes momentarily flickered in panic but he controlled it, “I expected to see my assistant returning to de-brief me on the meeting I sent her to this morning.” Suraya did everything in her power not to look pissed that he’d just thrown her to the wolves instead, with Tarkin immediately turning, but it was not her he addressed, “I believe I know the briefing the lieutenant attended, which you also therefore would have known did not finish until after the incident took place. Why would you expect her so early?” Krennic shrugged coolly, “Sometimes they end early.” This wasn’t untrue, of course, but it was a big bluff. It didn’t explain why Krennic wouldn’t have checked who was knocking. Also if Tarkin had the inclination to check the call log, it would show that the Director also began his tirade of calls after the rebels had left. Krennic, having become suddenly useless, was dismissed, for Tarkin to turn back to her. “Lieutenant. When you arrived did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Suraya could see Krennic gesturing out of the corner of her eye but ignored him. “Besides the whole place being over turned, nothing Sir.” Although she tilted her head, before pausing, immediately thinking better of it. “Lieutenant?” It didn’t get passed Tarkin. “I just don’t understand why they would take the Director’s wardrobe, Sir.” The word ‘take’ obviously alerted Tarkin to something else, and his eyes darted around the room again, Krennic walked forward, clearly bumping Tarkin’s arm on purpose as he strolled to the closet to present evidence. You watched the Governor’s little smile widen in amusement, before he became serious again, “Well, well, Director. You better check they’ve not stolen anything important. Especially with the project you’re working on.” “Anything of significance is with Galen.” Krennic disliked how quick he was to address that point, he didn’t want Tarkin to know how irked he was. “Still, it would be best to check. I believe that your personal data pad will have been here along with some files. Something as significant as those would not have escaped the rebels notice.” Krennic’s teeth gritted, as he indicated back to the closet; “My WARDROBE is gone!!” Suraya was right, that was the most important thing to him. Tarkin’s eyes flicked to hers, and they shared the same exchange of exasperation, unable to quite comprehend why clothing was at the forefront of Krennic’s mind. “As I was saying…” She almost chuckled as Tarkin made it clear on what he perceived as important and it was not Krennic’s lack of uniform, “There’ll be consequences if anything is missing, Director! This is already a dire security breach.” Ironically Krennic thought that was a little dramatic, but simply grumbled to himself as Tarkin took his forensics team back and exited the apartment. The Director was just glad to get them out of his hair. “Security breach.” He muttered, “You’d think I handed them the whole damn Project Stardust!” Suraya sighed gently as she made her way back over to him, “For now, Sir, I believe we should figure out exactly what data has been taken. And report it up the chain as soon as possible, less Tarkin find a reason to return. Then we can get your uniform re-ordered.” He turned those blue eyes back on her, at least a little brighter at that idea than they had looked when she arrived, “Yes. Let’s… let’s do that.” *** It took a couple of days to overturn the damage that the rebels had done and take stock of what was actually missing. Krennic had retrieved his personal data pad, and they hadn’t managed to gain access to the most important discs in his desk. Nor his own weapon, thankfully. That didn’t mean data packs and other things of value weren’t looted. Krennic had to go through the ordeal of cancelling a lot of his access pips and cards – but they arrived fairly quickly from the Intelligence Bureau, reset. Suraya remained with him to assist the clean-up operation and order his uniform; this took a little longer to arrive and by the end of the second day Krennic was starting to get antsy. “What takes them so long!?” “Well you do have very exacting standards, Sir!” “Exactly! So they should know how to do it by now. Did I not specify clearly enough!?” She wasn’t about to answer that question. If his previous interactions with them were anything to go by the urgent note she’d placed on it was being wholly ignored and the Director would be constantly bumped to the back of the queue. She couldn’t say she’d blame them, either. On the morning of the third day, as they both anxiously awaited the results of their carefully worded email detailing exactly what documentation the rebels had stolen, Krennic received another knock at the door. “If this is Tarkin-” Suraya wasn’t about to tell him to keep a level head, but she did give him a look to tell him not to blow up. He opened the door to a woman dressed in civilian clothing, even though it appeared that she possessed rank pins. She had bright pink hair and light eyes and as she moved her hair flew as if she was starring in some kind of commercial. “Director Krennic? My name is Kora, I’m here about your uniform.” “About time it turned up!” He took a pace back in order for her to walk in, “Are you from Uniform? Next time you ought to tell them that when I say urgent, I mean same day-” Kora wasn’t done talking, and she turned back to him, saying rather bluntly, “Request denied. For letting the rebellion enter and steal documentation of the upmost importance to the Empire, YOU are going to star in a documentary about Empire approved businesses.” There was silence in the room for a moment and Krennic wore a half smile as he tried to work out if she was serious. Kora simply stared him down, and as the Director’s face fell, Suraya once again wished she wasn’t in the room. “No.” Suraya couldn’t tell if that was Krennic refusing or his own disbelief. Kora knew which way she was taking it. “Well it better be a yes before I go back, Director, or you’ll be in hot lava.” Krennic’s eyes widened and no one was under any illusions as to what he was thinking; “Not Mustafar again-!” There had to be a way out, he wasn’t about to waste his time on this! “This documentary will be of the upmost importance Director. Lord Vader and the Governor only hope that you will take it seriously.” Suraya couldn’t help giggling behind her hand at this. It wasn’t the being in front of a camera, it wasn’t the thought of doing a documentary on business – or fashion - it was that Krennic was being forced into this by a man he hated. Krennic cleared his throat, once more folding his arms as he looked back to Kora, giving her a single nod. “Very well, but there is nothing in my wardrobe that isn’t tailored to within an inch of its life and most of it is from high end shops, some of which are on Lexrul.” Krennic was a very big advocate of his home planet after all, so he’d expect at least one part of this documentary to take place there, “So you better have budget!” Instead of agreeing Kora simply smiled, in the same way that Tarkin had a habit of, “Oh no, Director, we’re highlighting small businesses that scrape by for a living, right here on Coruscant, to show our support and cater to all audiences.” Suraya thought that his face fell even faster than it had with Tarkin around, and she also didn’t think that livid covered it. “WHAT!?” “That’s the deal Director.” “It’s not much of a DEAL!” “It’s the one I’m giving you, I can take it elsewhere… and I’m sure that Lord Vader and Governor Tarkin would love to hear why you couldn’t do it.” The Director looked desperately to Suraya, but she wasn’t sure what she could say. How could, at her position, she possibly rescue him from what Tarkin wanted?

Realising indeed that his assistant wouldn’t be much aid to him, Krennic’s eyes fell back to Kora and he swallowed hard, smile feigning confidence - but also a little nervous. “Well then, I suppose I will accept your offer.” This time Kora’s returned smile was warm and sweet, “That’s great news, Director Krennic.” She took a step forward and extended her hand to him, “Well, as series producer and director, I’m very much looking forward to working with you. Welcome to the team.” Suraya bit her lip as she watched him step down to shake Kora’s hand, hoping he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back: this could be huge for Krennic if he used this opportunity wisely. Things were about to get interesting around here...

---

Thank you for reading! 😘😘

I really am SO excited to bring you the rest of this

#Director Krennic #Director Orson Krennic #Orson Krennic #Rogue One #rogue one a star wars story #188 #Ben Mendelsohn #You have NO idea how long it took me to name this damn thing! #I just have a list of fashion related things that I'm going to use as titles now. #I don't know if I'm 100% happy with this I think it reads as if she's the main character so I'll have to work on that in the next few parts #But also as she's the audience's character maybe I don't? Idk... #Remember when I talked about Sway 5 consisting of having a full on breakdown over losing the whole damn thing? #Well the same thing almost happened here - luckily word managed to eventually recover it #but I'm talking like almost breaking down in my kitchen over thinking so many classic lines were lost #honestly you just can't get an energy back when you write something all in one go and have that energy #So if this was a reader - you'd be Suraya obviously #But Kora is back! #And technically so is Suraya this is just a different version of her #And... well... it wouldn't be Krennic if I didn't attempt to bring Lorena into this later right

[artificialqueens]

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 1 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: Oh hi. Welcome to the Galactica sequel that I’ve been planning FOREVER. Like...literally since the time these two started interacting on Twitter, during season 10. Thanks to @artificialpuddle for the beta help, and @aqcitrus for brainstorming with me. <3

And of course, a HUGE thanks to @theartificialdane, for humoring me the whole way through and letting me explore this ship in the Galactica verse. It is mostly fluffy, fluffy shit, which is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I love them so much and I just want them to be happy.

I think it can easily be read as a stand-alone story. The only thing you need to know from Galactica is that at this point in the story, Courtney is a wildly successful queer pop star and star of a fictional Disney franchise called ‘Glimmer,’ which costars Honey Mahogany as her love interest.

Challenge Notes:

Story is told mostly from Vixen’s POV

Her BFFs: Asia, Monet, Monique, Mayhem (who show up in person in Chapter 2)

The title is a song by Cree Summer. I’ve also made a playlist for this story, which can be found here.

#Vixney4Eva

TW: vague reference to past transphobia, sexual apprehension/nervousness that should in NO WAY be construed as dubcon

***

It was Honey who introduced them. Or, rather, Honey who handed Courtney the book that started everything, on the set of Glimmer 3.

BEWARE WHITE TEARS: Performativity and Racial Justice, by Toni “Vixen” Taylor enthralled Courtney so much that she barely slept for 3 nights, devouring it twice. And then she read the whole thing again, slowly, highlighting the parts that blew her mind the most.

On set, when she just couldn’t stop raving about it, Honey laughed at her.

“So...you liked it?”

“Omigod, yes!” Courtney exclaimed. “I mean, obviously I feel very called out. But in a good way? Like...this is making me rethink everything.”

“That’s good! I thought maybe you’d be offended,” Honey said, adjusting her crown.

“Offended? How long have we known each other?” Courtney giggled, bumping Honey with her hip. It was true: they’d been co-starring in the Glimmer franchise for 8 years at that point.

“Still.”

“But god, Honey, it was just...I mean, I don’t even have any words for how amazing it was. She’s so fucking smart and passionate, and so funny, and everything she says is like…” Courtney shook her head, starry-eyed.

“You should tell her,” Honey said with a saucy wink. “Send her a tweet or something.”

“She’s not gonna care what I think,” Courtney said. “I mean, hello? Chapter 4?”

“Okay, but she’s a professor. She’ll be thrilled that someone learned something. Besides, even if she doesn’t respond, maybe you’ll encourage your fans to read it.”

“That’s true…”

“And maybe get more people to listen to her podcast-”

“She has a podcast?!!” Courtney shrieked excitedly, then whispered, “Sorry,” when she saw the boom operator cringe.

Maybe Honey was right...but what should she say?

***

Vixen felt absolutely silly. There was really no reason for attention from a celebrity to make her so giddy. True, there’d been a phase when she hung on Courtney Act’s every word--but that was years ago. Early in her transition, when she felt like nothing she did was right. When she was desperate for any voice telling her that who she was was okay.

It was different now. She was 30 year old, for fuck’s sake. She didn’t need validation from anyone anymore, especially not a pop-star-come-Disney-princess. At least, that’s what she would have told anyone who asked.

But to herself, she couldn’t deny the thrill she got when she saw that first notification on her phone. The mild anxiety all day as she taught two lectures and graded a handful of thesis proposals--a nagging thought in the back of her mind wondering how she should reply. It wasn’t until late into the evening, after 2 glasses of wine, that she allowed herself to read it again, slowly typing out a reply.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 15h Just read @professorvixtaylor’s “Beware White Tears” and my mind is BLOWN. Everyone needs to read this game-changing book. E V E R Y O N E!!!! It’s so good, so informative, so powerful. AND I just found out that she has! A! Podcast!! #obsessed <3 <3 <3 <3

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Glad you found it interesting! Thanks for the plug.

That was fine, right? Very chill. She went to sleep feeling pretty satisfied with herself. It wasn’t until the following morning when she saw Courtney’s response.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 6h Replying to @professorvixtaylor That is the understatement of the year!!! I LOVED it! You are BRILLIANT. I just listened to the first episode of your podcast and holy shit...it’s phenomenal.

Vixen put down her phone, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was shallow and cheap--being this enchanted by obviously exaggerated praise. But still...not a bad way to start the day.

***

Vixen was used to fighting. All of her life, it seemed, she’d had to prove herself. Scrape and claw for her voice to be heard. Shout into the void over and over, praying that someone would eventually listen. Demand attention and bang down doors and yell until she was hoarse.

Having someone at Courtney’s level of fame pay attention to her--emphatically describe her as brilliant, incisive, powerful, mind-blowing--Vixen’s impulse, in the beginning, was to lie. To say she didn’t need that kind of validation from anyone, especially a rich, famous, beautiful white girl. The embodiment of privilege. Someone whose coming out was celebrated in the media like a massive human rights achievement. Because how could someone like that ever really get it?

But on the other hand…she had to hand it to Courtney. She had excellent taste in podcasts.

And there was something soothing about a person who didn’t expect her to prove anything. Someone who respected her from the jump, who engaged with her book and her podcasts from a place of dignity, assuming that she knew what she was talking about. She didn’t demand back-up or further explanations when she came across material that was confusing. She did the work herself, looking up the articles and studies Vixen cited, posting them with a quote when something in particular caught her attention.

So reluctantly, over the next month or two, Vixen found herself warming to the idea of a real dialogue. It was January 1st, sitting on her grandmother’s plastic-covered sofa, when Vixen finally bit the bullet and slipped into Courtney’s DMs, so to speak.

Courtney had been tweeting up a storm over the holidays. Gobbling up her podcasts rapidly and hungrily, heaping her and her guests with praise and incidentally, making her subscriber numbers climb. She opened a direct message window, typing out a message that she hoped would make Courtney laugh.

@professorvixtaylor: Alright, already. This is getting embarrassing...

The response came within minutes.

@courtneyact: LOL! Listen, nobody ever accused me of a lack of enthusiasm.

@professorvixtaylor: I bet not ;)

It took one afternoon of DMs before Courtney gave Vixen her phone number. “Twitter’s great, but it’s probably easier to just text, right?”

Well.

Vixen had to admit, she had a point.

***

“So listen,” Latrice said, heaving a deep sigh. “I hate to be the one to tell you this. Like, I really, really hate it.”

“Oh shit,” Courtney said, wrapping herself in a blanket and preparing herself for whatever horrible news her manager was about to deliver. “Go ahead…”

“This isn’t coming from me, okay? It’s coming from Disney.”

“Just tell me, Latrice. What? Is the tour cancelled? Do they hate the new video? Do we need to do reshoots? What?”

“No, all that’s fine. They just...they’re a little uncomfortable about your interactions with this Vixen person.”

“Why?” Courtney sat up, ready to get extremely annoyed, extremely fast.

“Well, it’s just...she’s apparently got some very radical ideas, and-”

“So? Maybe they’re amazing ideas? Have you read the book?” Courtney countered.

Latrice sighed.

“Courtney, listen. It’s just...not what they want while they’re trying to promote this last movie.”

“It’s a movie that ends with a gay interracial marriage!” Courtney exclaimed. “So why the fuck do they have a problem with me complimenting a Black political science professor on Twitter?! This is beyond idiotic, Latrice, you have to admit that! And by the way, I’m not gonna stop. She’s amazing and her book is important and more people should know about her, and if they want to fire me, then fine!” Courtney’s heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath.

There was a pause before Latrice spoke again.

“I assumed this would be your response.”

“Yeah, so. Now what?!”

“Now, I tell them that you feel very strongly about this, and that you’re not breaching any contract, and if they try to silence you on this issue, you’re prepared for a very public, very embarrassing fight,” Latrice said.

“Okay…” Courtney waited for the catch.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll drop it.”

“Just like that?” Courtney asked, confused. She’d gotten herself well and riled up, prepared for a real battle.

“Yeah, baby,” Latrice said. “Just like that. Chalk it up to white privilege.”

Courtney couldn’t help but laugh at that, head falling back on the sofa cushions.

“Good one, ma’am.”

After they hung up, Courtney opened Instagram, delighted that Vixen had updated her story. It was just a casual picture, her and two other professors getting ready to speak at a round table discussion. Courtney smiled, replying to the picture with heart eyes and the question, ‘Is that top from my collection?’

She responded a little while later, while Courtney was on the elliptical, saying, ‘I was hoping you’d notice. ;)’

Courtney giggled to herself, wondering when she’d get to meet this amazing, glowingly beautiful woman. All she wanted was to finally talk, face to face. Maybe in the spring, when her tour hit Chicago? Which, as far as Courtney was concerned, couldn’t happen soon enough.

***

It may very well have been a love letter, Vixen thought, finding her cheeks blazing hot at the thought. She’d woken up to a video posted on Courtney’s Twitter feed. “How To Be a Race Ally.”

Vixen watched the whole video with a healthy amount of skepticism. It was great, actually. Humble and informative. Cleverly incorporating some of the points from her podcast (with proper credit given) and even some things she’d said over text recently (also with credit, and a wink straight into the camera that made Vixen feel things she wasn’t prepared for at 7:30 in the morning).

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Okay fine, you can come to the cookout.

As usual, Courtney's response was lightning fast, an emoji wearing a party hat and about 10 exclamation points. Vixen couldn’t resist teasing her a little bit more.

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact I don’t know how vegan-friendly it’ll be, though.  

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 1m Replying to @professorvixtaylor You really think I’m there for the food? ;P

Vixen rose from her bed, an almost giddy feeling filling her chest. She really needed to calm the fuck down. What was with this silly schoolgirl behavior? And on a public platform? Every interaction ran the risk of absolutely ruining the street cred she’d spent years building up. (Monet was already making it her personal mission to screenshot every exchange and then tease her mercilessly, and Asia had begun to join in.)

Besides, what were the odds that it would ever be anything but a short-lived flirtation? Courtney was bound to become captivated by something else soon. An animal rights group, perhaps. Or funding for the arts in public schools. There were a billion issues competing for her attention. How long would Vixen’s moment in the sun possibly last?

And yet, when Courtney tweeted that she was on her way to New York, Vixen found herself taking a shot of liquid courage and then sending a text.

VIXEN: Hey...how long are you gonna be in New York?

COURTNEY: A couple of weeks, why?

VIXEN: Well, I have a conference at Columbia on February 23, and then I’m gonna stay for a few days. Maybe we could meet up?

COURTNEY: YES

COURTNEY: I mean, sure. Sounds lovely. Tell me what day you’re free. <3

***

It was strange, seeing Courtney in person after all this time. As much as Vixen enjoyed chatting with her, and as validating as it was to get so much attention, she had reminded herself over and over again that this was all just friendly banter. A bit of lighthearted flirting, maybe, but the possibility of a genuine romantic connection was absolutely out of the question.

But then.

When Courtney first emerged from the elevators, smile bright, it was like time ceased to be linear. Nothing...not pictures, not video, not even that concert she’d attended all those years ago, prepared her for how heart-stoppingly beautiful she was in person.

Vixen stood, in slow motion, knees shaking a little, suddenly hugely aware of her height. Was Courtney always this little? Why had Vixen worn heels?

It must have taken Courtney less than 10 seconds to cross the lobby to where Vixen stood, but for some reason, it felt like 10 years. Excruciatingly slow, and yet somehow, Vixen was still caught off guard as she bounded up and grasped both of her hands.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Courtney exclaimed, that dazzling smile still on her face. “It’s amazing to finally be in the same room!”

“Yeah, it’s…” Vixen offered a smile of her own, swallowing hard. Her hands were warm and soft, and as Vixen gazed down at her, she could feel her heart racing faster than ever. “How was your day?”

“Crazy…” Courtney linked an arm through Vixen’s, leading her towards the hotel bar.

It took a concerningly short time for all the weirdness to dissipate, for Vixen to forget that she was across the table from a celebrity, a person she’d been following for years, a person that she’d idolized at one point in her life.

She was just a girl. Granted, she was a beautiful girl, but one who seemed incredibly excited, even honored, to be talking to Vixen—about her book, her podcast, her life. Where she came from and what she cared about and who she looked up to. A girl who wanted to get to know her.

After awhile, when Vixen was finally relaxed enough to really open up, she told Courtney about hearing ‘Kaleidoscope’ for the first time. How, at that point in her transition, it made all the difference in the world to see Courtney so open about the fluidity of gender and sexuality. To hear those magical words. ‘This is who we are.’

Courtney nodded along, listening to her, tears filling her eyes. She covered Vixen’s hand with her own, and said, “I needed it too.”

As the hours ticked by, they talked about everything. Passion, art, travel, identity. She wanted to know when Vixen began to question her own gender, how she knew that she wanted to transition. She was delighted by the story of her brief foray into drag during the early college years, the source of her now permanent nickname. In spite of all the questions (or maybe because of them), for once, Vixen felt like she wasn’t on the defensive. She found herself being more sincere and honest about all of it than she’d been in a long time.

“I’m not usually this open,” she admitted at one point.

Courtney laughed, eyes glittering, and said, “I’m usually too open.”

“I think you’re just right,” Vixen replied, giving her a generous smile.

They talked about their childhoods. How much she loved pretend and fantasy as a kid.

“I went through a phase—that’s generous, it was like 3 years—where I really wanted to be a dragon. I had this dumb...dragon hoodie, that I wore all the time. And when I finally grew out of it, I cried.”

“Aww,” Courtney said, reaching for her hand. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I think I just really, really didn’t want to be me.”

Courtney took in a slow, deep breath, and then let it out even slower.

“I’m not gonna pretend that I really get it. Everything you’re talking about. I don’t know if I ever could. But...I get that part.”

Vixen raised an eyebrow.

“You? How do you get it?” Vixen let out a chuckle. “I’m not trying to judge you, but I just...look at you. You’re this perfect, sparkly princess. Everything the world wants a girl to be.”

“Yeah...I see what you’re saying. But...sometimes it feels like that’s all the world wants. Is the sparkly princess part. And I’m more than that. Or, I hope I am. But…” Courtney trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “Do I sound really dumb?”

“You don’t sound dumb. You sound like a very intelligent, thoughtful...sparkly princess.”

Courtney threw back her head and laughed.

“I can’t believe you laughed at that,” Vixen said with a shake of her head. “It was such a cheap shot.”

“Well, I’m an easy laugh,” Courtney said, shrugging unapologetically.

“Yeah I’ve heard that about you,” Vixen couldn’t help saying, and Courtney’s giggles continued.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes burning in the dim light, with matching, goofy grins decorating their faces, until Vixen broke, shaking her head.

“This is so surreal…”

“How so?” Courtney asked, voice lilting in a way that felt almost like a tease, resting a chin on her hand.

Vixen hesitated. It felt so cliché to say that it was because Courtney was famous, or because she once cried at her concert when she was 23.

“I mean...you’re not even really my type,” she finally answered with a small shrug.

“Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Ummm...I normally go for curvy Latinas,” Vixen said, lashes fluttering.

Courtney’s eyes widened, smile deepening, as she exclaimed, “Oh my god, me too!”

They both started laughing again, clinking glasses for good measure.

“So, um...do you have to go back to Chicago tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I decided to stay a few more days,” Vixen replied. “See some shows, meet up with some friends. There’s this museum in Brooklyn that I’ve been dying to check out for years.”

“What museum?” Courtney asked.

“It’s, uh, called the Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts,” Vixen said. “Kind of a mouthful but-”

“Sounds great. I wish I could see it.”

“You wanna come? I’m going tomorrow after lunch.”

“Ugh, I wish!” Courtney said, stretching her neck. “But the press tour schedule is insane. I’m doing two more interviews tomorrow, and then I fly to LA to kick off the tour.”

“Tough breaks.” Vixen tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound sarcastic.

“Listen, I’m not complaining. I’m very lucky.” Courtney smiled, tilting her head. “But it would’ve been cool to see that museum.”

“Next time,” Vixen promised.

“I’m holding you to that,” Courtney said, gaze fixed on Vixen’s face as she downed the rest of her drink.

Vixen gave a small nod, finding her eyes hypnotic. Surreal indeed.

They ordered yet another round as hotel patrons trickled out, crowd thinning, closing time approaching. By the time they stood up to leave, they’d knocked back quite a few--more than Vixen realized at the time. She grabbed Courtney’s arm to steady her as the blonde swayed in her heels.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm…” Courtney gazed up at her, lashes fluttering.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs?”

“Okay…”

In the elevator, Courtney wrapped her arms around Vixen’s waist, leaning a head on her shoulder. Vixen’s heart hammered in her chest, one hand gripping the railing for support.

At the door, Courtney looked up at her, eyes bright, breathing out, “You know, we don’t have to be up until 10 tomorrow…”

“What are you…‘we?’”

It took Vixen a moment to catch on to her train of thought, a wave of nerves washing over her.

“Listen. Um. I think you’re great,” she began, wincing as she saw Courtney’s blissful expression crumble. “But...I just, I never hook up with girls who’ve been drinking. It’s just…”

Vixen didn’t want to explain the whole story. The girl in the lesbian bar, years ago, who danced with her all night, flirting and rubbing against her, inviting her back to her apartment. Only, when they began to undress, and it became clear that Vixen’s body was a little different, the girl flipped a switch. Went from a delightful buzz to drunken rage. Accused her of taking advantage, called her...Vixen didn’t even want to think about that. Or about how she’d left her apartment as fast as possible, terrified and choking back tears. How at home, she’d collapsed into Asia’s arms and sobbed most of the night, wondering if she’d ever fit in, anywhere.

Courtney wasn’t that girl in the bar—Vixen knew that. But she was clearly tipsy, and some things, some decisions, required a clear head.

“It’s not you,” she finished lamely. “You’re amazing.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing her disappointment like a champ and saying, “You’re amazing.”

Before she left, Vixen leaned in and brushed her lips against Courtney’s cheek.

She walked toward the elevator, regret stinging the back of her throat. She had no idea how long it would be before they saw each other again, and suddenly her arbitrary rules based on one shitty asshole in a bar 7 years ago seemed...absurd. She turned back around. Courtney was still leaning in her open doorway, watching her walk away.

“Hey, how drunk are you, actually? Can you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” Vixen asked.

“No—” Courtney said, brow furrowed.

“Oh.” Vixen’s heart deflated a bit.

“—Because we don’t have the Pledge of Allegiance in Australia.”

“Right,” Vixen laughed.

“But what about, um, okay...so...here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't-”

Vixen strode forward and silenced her with a kiss, soft and sweet, almost chaste at first, both of them giggling. As the kiss deepened, Vixen grabbed Courtney around the waist and pushed her backward into the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

Vixen was so enamoured that she barely registered Courtney’s massive hotel suite, the entry hall or huge living room that Courtney led her through on the way to the bedroom. Guiding her by her hips to the bed, Courtney pushed her into a seated position and stood between her legs, chasing her lips as she took hold of her collar, fingering the little pearl buttons down the front of her shirt dress.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Vixen nodded.

“Yeah.” She watched Courtney’s heavy-lidded eyes as she quickly opened the buttons, skin prickling as she pushed it off Vixen’s shoulders. She kissed Vixen again, deep and messy, sucking on her bottom lip.

Panting, Vixen reached around, fumbling for Courtney’s zipper. Once she pulled it down a few inches, the cotton dress easily came off over her head, and then there she was, standing in front of Vixen in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties.

Vixen swallowed, eyes sweeping over Courtney’s body, dying to touch her but nervous as all fuck.

“Listen, um...I should tell you…”

Courtney paused mid-way through opening Vixen’s belt to look at her curiously, face earnest and alert. The perfect student.

Vixen sighed. The fact that Courtney was so willing to listen, so considerate, should have been a bonus. But in this moment, it just made her feel startlingly inadequate. She hated this. The feeling of not being enough, or being too much. She didn’t even know anymore. All she knew was that she was about to make herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been, and she was terrified.

“So...Okay, um. I guess...it’s just been a long time since...I was with a girl.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney said, grinning.

“No. A really long time,” Vixen said.

“Okay. Does that mean you don’t want-”

“No!” Vixen burst out, a little too emphatically, and then lowered her eyes bashfully, adding in a calmer voice, “No, I want to be with you, I just...might be a little out of practice.” It was an understatement, a lie of omission that unsettled Vixen’s stomach a bit. But it was all she felt comfortable with revealing at the moment, and she hoped that she’d be forgiven later.

“Hmm…” Courtney took Vixen’s face in her hands, tilting her chin up. “I think I can work with that…”

She bent down to kiss her again, soft as a whisper, fingers stroking Vixen’s cheekbones, before pulling back and gazing down at her.

“God,” Courtney breathed, “You are so beautiful.”

Vixen took in a shaky breath, her hands finally lifting to slide around Courtney’s hips. Something about the way Courtney looked at her was different than anything she’d ever experienced. She’d been the object of lust before, and sometimes very much enjoyed it. But this was more than that. She felt more than sexy, more even than beautiful. She felt seen.

But for once, rather than get all wrapped up in anxiety about what it meant, Vixen acted on instinct. She gripped Courtney's waist and pulled her forward, flinging her onto her back on bed. Courtney squealed delightedly, pulling her along.

Courtney smiled up at her, reaching a hand out but then pausing, letting her fingers rest on Vixen’s shoulder.

“Am I allowed to touch your hair? ‘Cause I’ve heard...”

Vixen couldn’t help laughing as she nodded and said, “That rule doesn’t really apply here.”

“Okay,” Courtney giggled, fingering her twists gently.

Vixen turned her head, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s wrist, then slowly moving up her arm, and finally nuzzling into her shoulder. Her skin smelled fresh and almost sweet, like she’d recently been in a doughnut shop. It wasn’t sugary like some kind of food-based perfume or soap, just a gentle, vague deliciousness that Vixen became addicted to immediately, burying her face into her neck to inhale deeply.

She found a soft, tender spot, just below Courtney’s ear, that made her sigh when kissed, and began to suck. Courtney inhaled sharply, hips thrusting up against Vixen’s, hands tightening in her hair.

“You like that?” Vixen asked, emboldened, hands sliding up from her waist to scratch gently at her ribcage.

“Uh huh,” Courtney breathed, arching up again as Vixen kissed her, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. A whimper fell from her lips.

Vixen’s dress was half off at this point, pushed down around her waist, and when Courtney’s fingers began to trail lightly up and down her back, she shivered. Courtney pushed the dress further down, wriggling it over Vixen’s hips to her thighs, and Vixen pulled it off the rest of the way.

She was expecting to feel uncomfortably exposed, both of them now just in their panties—a situation she hadn’t found herself in with a woman is a very fucking long time. Especially a woman she liked this much. But instead of feeling awkward, she found her pulse racing with excitement, nearly breathless in anticipation of what might come next.

She realized that she’d been frozen for a few moments when Courtney raised herself up on her elbows and asked, “Are you alright?”

Vixen nodded, and Courtney sat up further, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“You want to take a break? Slow things down?”

“No,” Vixen said simply, slipping her fingers under the sides of Courtney’s panties. Her hips lifted, allowed Vixen to slide them off easily, heart in her throat when she saw how glistening wet she was already. She knew that she was potentially in over her head, but there was also a strong urge to keep going, pulse racing with desire.

“Come here.” Courtney stretched out her arm, pulling Vixen in for a kiss, tongues tangling together. She rolled Vixen over, onto her back, grinding down against her.

As much as Vixen wanted to please her, ceding control to Courtney felt liberating. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Courtney lavished her with affection, layering kisses against her skin. When a warm tongue swirled over her nipple, her hips jerked up, a stifled moan escaping from her throat.

Courtney sucked harder on her nipple, hands sliding down her torso, lips following as they trailed over Vixen’s tense abdomen. She hooked her fingers into the sides of Vixen’s panties and then looked up questioningly.

“Can I...?”

“Go ahead,” Vixen replied, straining to raise her hips, finding her core muscles in a weakened state, skin so flushed and hot that for a moment, she barely remembered to be self-conscious. Until Courtney began to slide her panties down, and suddenly she remembered exactly what she’d been dreading. When the reality of who she was would confront Courtney, more than theoretical, more than an idea.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched Courtney’s face. If she had any qualms about a girl with a dick, she certainly didn’t show it. She simply continued to suck soft kisses into her skin, warm hands resting on her thighs.

Vixen finally relaxed backwards, eyes falling shut. She let go of all her worries, all her stupid insecurities. At least for now. At least while Courtney took her dick into her mouth, tongue flicking delicately at her. Vixen’s hips thrust upwards, hands gripping the comforter tightly, moans dripping from her lips like honey.

It had been so achingly long since anyone had touched her this way. Maybe no one ever had, she realized as she arched into the soft caresses. She’s certainly never experienced this kind of loving attention from a woman, a woman treating her like she was precious and beautiful, turning her into a gasping, quivering mess. Vixen felt herself falling apart quickly, losing control, nearly gone before she had the wherewithal to choke out a pained warning.

“I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Mmhmmm…” Courtney made no move to stop, swirling her tongue again, then taking her deeper, sucking harder.

“Oh fuck,” Vixen moaned, hips pumping uncontrollably as she came, gasping for air.

The way Courtney’s hands stroked her thighs, continued to suck softly as she melted backwards into the pillows, every muscle in her body going slack--the small part of her that was still conscious shivered with delight, thrilled with the feeling of being spoiled.

It wasn’t until her body was completely still, bones feeling like jelly, when Courtney began to work her way up her body once again, hands sliding over her skin until she came nose to nose with her once again.

Courtney smiled, kissing her cheeks, down along her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Lips rousing her from a state of sheer exhaustion into warm, sleepy affection. Her hands circled Courtney's waist.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Courtney murmured.

“Uh huh.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she pressed more kisses against her.

Vixen sighed contentedly, pulling her in close, not caring how clingy and pathetic she might seem, just wanting the warmth of Courtney’s body against her own. Courtney snuggled into her arms, slipping to the side of her, legs still tangled together.

After a few slow, lazy kisses, Vixen started to sense a shift. Courtney’s breath grew hot and ragged, hips rutting against her. She cautiously moved a hand down, working it in between her thighs, fingers seeking out her wet heat.

“Show me what you want,” she urged, desire to give Courtney pleasure finally outweighing her fear of looking like an amateur.

Courtney lifted her head, giving her a sleepy grin and reaching down to guide her. She patiently showed Vixen exactly where to touch her, what to do to tease her, when to speed up and circle her clit, how deep for her fingers to go and exactly how to curl them to make her tremble. Vixen followed her breathless instructions, guided by Courtney’s own hand, thrilled at the way her body responded.

Soon, Courtney’s eyes were rolled back, muscles straining, tits brushing against Vixen’s chest as she thrusted against her fingers, fucking down into them, breathy moans music to Vixen’s ears. Her hips moved faster and faster until she stopped, whimpering, just barely grinding against the heel of Vixen’s hand, lips pressed to her neck.

Vixen had never made a girl come before, and it was so much more beautiful than she’d imagined, from the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks to the slick sheen of sweat on her forehead, to her ass flexing, muscles still twitching against Vixen’s fingers. And the best part, the way she looked up at Vixen at the end, eyes locked with hers as the waves of pleasure radiated through her body, fingers wound tightly into her hair.

“Fuck,” Courtney sighed, collapsing against Vixen’s body, trapping her hand for a few moments before realizing it and letting her wriggle free with a sleepy laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vixen said, tilting her chin up for a kiss. Her whole body had suddenly become soft and pliant, and all Vixen wanted was to wrap her into an embrace. She wasn’t expecting it to feel this intimate. A part of her had even worried that this whole affair would be wrapped up in a one-night stand. But as Courtney cuddled against her, heart still hammering, she felt closer to her than ever. “I should probably tell you…”

“Mmm?”

“What I said earlier, about not being with a girl in a long time?” Vixen swallowed. “I uh...I haven’t really had a girlfriend since high school. And I guess I’ve come close since then, but never really went through with it...as me. The real me.”

Courtney lifted her head, fingers trailing down Vixen’s arm, a smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you for trusting me with the real you,” she said softly.

Vixen nodded, not sure what more there was to add, when a clap of thunder outside scared the living shit out of her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. So much for a warm and fuzzy moment.

Courtney laughed, pulling up the covers and cocooning them both, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she said, snuggling tight against Vixen’s body.

“You better,” Vixen replied.

#rpdr fanfiction #the vixen #courtney act #honey mahogany #latrice royale #courtney x vixen #trans!vixen #fluff #smut #mild angst #lesbian au #galactica au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #revelation sunshine #veronica #trans character #tw mention of past transphobia

[freewheelshippin]

PIRATE pt 1 (ish)

It’s summer!!! I want to think about swashbuckling pirate AU adventures!!! I’m still thinking I might just snippet and snapshot the rest of the ideas I have here so it’s like a big bathtub full of toys I can do whateeeeever I want with, but you know. It’s me. I don’t do a damn thing without 1) slowburn 2) tappin into that Too Much Gene. So here u go, a setup. 

Takes place right after the events of Pirates of the Frontier drama CD-- you don’t have to have listened to be able to enjoy my offshoot, but you can read a great translation here and hear the whole thing here if you haven’t and would like to! (I still gotta find a sauce and watch the stageplay of it...but this is not about that!) 

Not much by ways of content warnings other than some reference to alcohol. Onwards!

Ikki came back with a smile that awarded Malreaux and the White Devil their first agreement. 

“Oi, Cap’n,” Malreaux growled. “Who the hell is she?” 

“Our new boatswain!” Ikki said without a shred of doubt in him. “She overheard me trying to recruit someone and said she was looking to join a crew.” 

The White Devil clicked his tongue, turned on his heel, and began to stride towards the ship. 

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Malreaux barked after him. 

“I will let the peasantry sort their problems out,” he said, not bothering to even turn around and acknowledge them. “While I rest in my quarters.” 

“Don’t you fucking care who the hell Ikki decided to bring onto the ship?!” 

“I do not. Whomever is brought aboard is a new recruit and therefore beneath me. If they intend to be a turncoat, it is simple to kill them where they stand. Good night.” 

It was barely sundown. 

“Oi! OI! Get back here and deal with your problems like an actual crewmate, you hoity-toity bastard!” 

“...So what’s he do on the ship?” the new boatswain asked plainly. “Other than be a pompous ass?” 

“Be a pompous pain in the ass,” Malreaux muttered, giving up on getting the pale specter to listen. He crossed his arms, and his expression seemed a few words away from an outright snarl. “The cap recruited him barely two weeks ago,” he said pointedly, glaring a hole in the new recruit. 

“Malreaux, calm down, please!” Ikki pleaded. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad person. He’s already helped us lots, and he cares…just, in his own way.” 

Malreaux looked incredulously at his captain, brows knit. “He threatened to throw you and your lucky pendant overboard because you ate some of his fucking macarons.” 

“But he didn’t!” Ikki defended. “Because he wants to find the Red Angel, too, you know, and we’re the only other people in the world he can do that with!”

 His crewmate sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead where it creased before giving Ikki’s recruit the once-over. 

“So who the hell are you?” 

“You can call me Maighread,” she replied coolly enough. Malreaux studied her expression, meeting her eye. She held his gaze challengingly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she was hiding something.

“And what the hell makes you think you’re worthwhile joining us,” he said flatly. 

“Well,” she started, shifting her weight. She had an impractically big sword with her, and she began to lean on it. “For starters, Mr. Pompous, Pale, and Pillow Princess is proof positive you’ll all strangle each other at sea if you go much longer without a boatswain.” 

Malreaux snorted. “You think you can get him in line, huh.” 

“Oh, sure. Ikki tells me he’s a sweet tooth, I’m sure there’s a solution that involves padlocking the galley unless he’s been a good boy and pulled his weight.” 

Ikki laughed at that remark. “He’s going to be so dramatic if you do that!” 

“He’d shoot off the lock if you did that!” Malreaux barked, though he liked the idea of someone else on the ship who thought of the White Bastard as a problem. “But you still haven’t answered the fucking question about why I should let you on the ship.” Ikki opened his mouth before Malreaux cut him off. “From your mouth! I wanna hear whatever snake oil you fed him myself!” 

Ikki sighed. “I’m sorry, he’s just looking out for us.” 

“No, no. I get it. Honestly, there’s not much story to tell. I’m a scholar, and I’m on a hunt for rare plants and animals that haven’t been recorded yet.” She opened a pouch on her belt, showing it was stuffed with drawing tools, and handed Malreaux the book strapped at her hip. He took note of the tattoos scaling up her hands and arms as she handed it to him; the images were fearsome and aggressive, but not from any dangerous allegiance he confidently recognized. 

“What the hell’s a scholar doing looking for a tiny pirate crew like this, huh? Shouldn’t you have fancy navy escorts?” He flipped through the book. Indeed, they were mostly sketches and notes of flowers, plants, and animals, the pages warped and slightly shimmering from dried-up seaspray.

“Fancy navy escorts are a natural disaster with government funding,” she supplied. “You heard about the ones that torched a whole island just for fun? The way I see it, I’d rather trust a small crew headed by a good man to take me to new places we don’t know how to respect yet.” 

“And what kinda scholar needs a big dumb sword like that?” 

“Family heirloom,” she said flatly. “My dear old departed khun yai meemaw would flood the seas with her tears if he found out I wasn’t taking ole necklopper everywhere for protection,” she continued facetiously. 

Malreaux met her eye, still frowning. He tossed her back her book. 

“I don’t like her,” he remarked to Ikki as he crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked genuinely. 

“She seems like bad news.” 

“She seems like a good person, and she’s already offered to use her skills to help me find the Red Angel.” 

“You ever met a scholar covered in ink like that?” Malreaux replied. 

“You’re covered in ink like that,” Maighread shot back. 

“Yeah,” he snorted. “And I’m bad news. But we’re short on hands, the captain likes you, and I’m just the cook. We’re ditching you at the next port if I’m not convinced by then,” he said, shouldering the pack of goods he’d bought as he went to board. 

Maighread shouldered her sword again. “I’ll be on my best behavior, chef,” she called after him, letting a long sigh of relief out when she thought Malreux was safely out of earshot. 

“That went great,” Ikki cheered, patting her heartily on the back. 

“...Really,” she said, looking at Ikki disbelievingly. 

“Well, why else do you think our crew’s so small? I know he’s kinda rough, but I don’t think I’ve known anyone who’s worked harder to keep me safe. Normally he’s way, way angrier about how annoying someone I want to recruit is or just doesn’t let them onboard to begin with.” 

“I’m glad I had you vouching for me, then,” she replied with a tired smile. “So, all that’s left is to fetch dinner and we’re good to depart?” 

“Yeah! I ordered ahead of time. Four whole portions of fresh steak, to celebrate our new crewmate with,” Ikki replied with a beaming, infectious smile. 

--------------------------------- 

Maighread set to work immediately, as promised, but with gusto and ease like her sealegs had been built on this ship. The White Devil was goaded into tasks he complained furiously about but did impeccably, she took plenty on herself, while Ikki and Malreaux redistributed their responsibilities amongst one another. There was less for Malreux to do, in a relieving way, and he could focus more on the meals they relied on to keep spirits high and their bodies alive. 

She was talkative at meals, but evasive about any real questions they had about her. She only started conversation with Ikki, and seemed to avoid Malreaux outside of duty. So when she asked Malreaux for a favor at the next port, he was caught off-guard. 

“Assuming you don’t still think I’m a disaster waiting to happen.” 

“...You earned points just for getting the pale bastard to pull his weight. Figures he’s wicked competent.” 

“I won’t lie,” she started, encouraged. “I feel a little bad. Some stuff I assigned him was out of pure pettiness. I just can’t fuckin’ stand how he thinks he can order me around and call me peasant.” 

Malreux’s mouth crooked into a smile. He told himself it was because someone else was as sick of that shit as he was, and Ikki was too forgiving, even when he was the one the White Devil was taking most advantage of. “It’s what that fop needs. He can’t keep going around like this, and it pisses me off he’s got all that fancy magic that means we can’t just kick his ass.” 

“Oh. What, that rope trick he does?” 

Malreaux groaned. “My ribs still hurt from last time.” 

“What?” She grinned at him. “You’re serious, he used it on you?” 

“Did the captain seriously not tell you how we met that bastard?!” he grunted irascibly. 

“Why don’t you tell me all about it later? Sounds like a conversation you can’t have in polite company,” she said with a challenging smile, leaning ever so-slightly-back into the busy port town behind her.

“Shaddup!” Malreaux barked. “You really wanna undo all the good will you earned?” 

“Well,” she replied, the smile softening into something more relieved, “it’s nice you admit I’ve earned any to begin with. Lemme earn some more. I got an idea that’ll get us some coin, but we gotta go now.” 

“Fine. I can see just what kind of bad news you are that way.” Maighread’s face fell for a half a moment before she stopped herself from giving away anything more. 

“Oh, just the worst. Like, fuck you and the boat you rode in on. C’mon.” 

They strolled through town. Maighread tucked her sleeves into her bracers despite the heat, hiding away the markings lining her arms, even as townsfolk gave them extra wide berth as Malreaux didn’t bother to hide his. 

She took them to a liquor distiller in a back alley, unmarked and unpopular, where she negotiated buying barrels of rum wholesale to age in the ship’s hold. They’d sell them at different ports and spread the word of the distiller, and they’d likewise keep some for the crew to do with whatever they pleased. She looked pointedly at Malreaux as she paid for it with her own money, and he could only snort and gesture to show he got the point. 

Malreaux was strong enough to pick one barrel up over each shoulder. He caught out of the corner of his eye that she’d seemed ready to roll hers back to the ship, but she tried to hoist hers up the same way once Malreaux had lifted his up. 

“What the hell are you doing,” he growled. “Don’t try and show off if you’re not strong enough.” 

“I’m strong enough,” she replied with more venom than he’d seen or frankly expected from her. 

“You aren’t if you’re just gonna slow me down.” Malreaux started to walk ahead, back to the ship. She trailed far behind, like he expected, as she insisted on carrying them herself. He met her part-way back after loading them onto the ship and seized one of them off her shoulder. 

“What’re you trying to fucking prove?!” he scolded.  “You’re the fucking boatswain, who fucking expects you to be freakishly strong like me?” 

She snorted, trying to hide how heavily she was breathing. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause the first thing Ikki thought when you met was ‘hm, that guy’s really strong, I better make him my cook!’” She paused. “...ah, shit, nevermind, he might’ve thought that.” 

Malreaux, despite himself, laughed. She looked so relieved when he did, and he set the barrel down as he sighed heavily. 

“......Look,” he started, despite everything telling him he shouldn’t bother for just another seafarer who’d leave him for dead someday if it suited her.  “I’m still not convinced on you, but I’m not gonna kick you out just ‘cuz you don’t lift a barrel like I do.” 

“....it’s about my pride, too,” she admitted, but she laid the other barrel on her shoulder down on its side, bracing her foot on it to keep it from rolling away. 

“Well.” Malreaux kicked a barrel over to roll himself. “Can’t fault you for having that. Just stop doing stupid shit ‘cause of it, you’re gonna make trouble for me ‘n Ikki.” 

Maighread didn’t reply verbally, but the look she gave him was grateful, and she kicked the barrel in front of her gently to get it rolling towards the ship. They didn’t talk outside of practicalities as they loaded the rest of the barrels, but Maighread walked side-by-side with him from then on. 

It was as he passed her a handspike for the turnstile that she started a new conversation. 

“Can I ask you something?” She notched the first one in, and he tossed her the second one. 

“What.” 

“Nothing big. I just wanna know how you met Ikki. You two really look out for one another.” 

Malreaux hesitated as he took his place opposite her. 

“Haul,” he signaled, as he gripped and leaned into the handspike. 

“Haul away,” she replied, and they groaned forward, slowly lifting all the barrels off the deck to lower into the hold. “You gonna answer my question or not?” 

“I got left behind by my old crew and he picked me up.” 

“....like a kid and a stray,” she offered, a touch of apprehension in her voice. 

“Exactly like a kid and a stray.” 

 “I mean...it still sucks to get stuck like that, even if it got you a good captain.” 

“No. I dug that hole for myself. I must’ve fought everyone on that crew at least twice over and drawn blood from them at least once. I didn’t know shit about how to be on a crew. It was a long time coming.” 

“...huh.” 

“What?” 

“Oh, nothing, I’m just. You’re impressively honest is all.” 

Malreaux narrowed his eyes, even if the compliment didn’t feel sour. “Just baring my fangs. I never said I wouldn’t kick you into the sea right after we get all the rum loaded.”

“Heh. I’ll fight you tooth and nail when you inevitably don’t double-cross me.” 

“What’s that confidence for? Tch.” 

She laughed before they reversed and slowly lowered everything into the hold. Malreaux wanted to dislike how natural these motions felt together, but instead his body just felt lighter. 

In the hold, as they untied the lines holding the barrels together, she insisted they take a little sample of the rum. She said it was for comparing the taste later. Malreaux thought it was for making sure it wasn’t water with a shot of piss. 

“....He deserves it,” Malreaux admitted after the slight burn of the rum fired the nerves in his tongue until it almost hurt. 

“Hm?” 

“Ikki. If someone’s going to put their faith and trust in me, I owe them my best. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?” 

“It should.” She took the cup from him. “I can promise you I’ll abide by that, too.” 

Malreaux steeled his gaze on her. If she was a charlatan, she was a goddamn good one. 

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #pirate au #scribblings

[gumceline]

another massive bubbline shipper here too say i got mad respect for this blog. as much as i stand by my ship 1000%, i also stand by the fact its totally okay too ship them with other people. i admit the bubbline fandom can be pretty toxic, but alot of us will stand by you. not only are you being super respectful even when you get hate, but you arent straight washing. also the way you looked at the negative parts of our community with understanding in last post, that was real great

oh i appreciate it! I prefer never to judge an entire fanbase by one dude because EVERY fanbase has THOSE people, no fanbase is ever perfect.

I really wished my experience with bubbline shippers had been better, it really was unfortunate to have countless hate, to have people make posts mocking me, to be put on “Lists to block”, not to mention that i legit had supportive friends who were bubbline shippers, but they pretty much turned their back on me, abandoned me, and called me a “Homophobic uncaring asshole”.

It really broke my heart dealing with the stuff i did, and i wasn’t perfect either, but i still don’t think i deserved what that was. I was a kid at the time, and was still having fun and i REALLY wanted to be a part of the fanbase because i love the series and loved the characters, but the fandom just....hated me.

Because i was a multishipper and had different opinions on the characters.

It really didn’t matter to them that i also shipped the characters with other female characters, or i said myself i don’t consider them straight. Because the fandom didn’t really care, they took one look and decided nothing i said mattered.

Being in the star fandom is widely different because the biggest ship there is Starco, a MXF (Which i personally don’t really like but that’s just me), and my favorite ship was...and still is Tom and Marco, because i love their chemistry so much and i genuinely consider them to be a much more believable relationship then the romance they wrote for star and marco.

And trust me, it’s always annoying if you don’t ship the most popular ship and like another pairing more but are succumbed to it everywhere regardless of the characters themselves.

But me not shipping star and marco didn’t make me someone who hated straight people, so i don’t think it’s collectively fair to tell anyone who may of liked marcy or bonnie with finn or maybe they ship them with a male oc of theirs....hate lesbians or were just homophobic.

it’s Like if i took finn out of his (Maybe) relationship with huntress and shipped him with....Tiffany (Who is a male character)...that wouldn’t mean i suddenly hated all straight couples and think finntress should burn.

That’s still a huge leap to jump to and extremely dangerous because you’re collectively accusing someone of something serious without really knowing much more about them then “They like this ship”.

Without any knowledge of them outside of that.

You could effectively damage their rep and make their time in the fandom a living hell out of something minor or something you just assumed, i would know.

I welcome progress, i am quite happy for the bubbline shippers who got their ship, heck...i’m STILL mad that we didn’t get poly tom x marco x star on star vs and felt VERY baited by the crew on that.

but even though i am happy for those people, i don’t think it’s validation to beat up on other shippers either, it does nothing for anyone’s case to do that. If the people are actual bigots who are actively acting terrible and throwing around nasty words and doing terrible stuff, then by all means, call them out.

But people who are just causally shipping stuff for fun? In a way it just feels like using them being a gay ship as a weapon against everyone else, because if they disagree with you and have a different opinion you can effectively boil them down to a bigot and no one might question it...especially when it’s the vast majority.

And that should not be acceptable to do, i ended up hearing from a friend of mine that this fandom actively started purging out other creators for having opinions people didn’t like, and now people are starting to regret that they shunned out so many members of the fandom based on things that were probably incredibly trivial in the long run.

And i get it, it’s an important ship, but it’s important as a rep of that ship to be respectful to others, because if not what you’ll end up doing is turn people away. I would like to be more celebratory of your success in getting the ship canon, but it makes it harder if i’m getting several messages asking when i’m deleting my “Hateful” blog because bubbline was now canon.

I’d like to get along with and support these people, but they don’t want to try and support me and have almost just decided to hate me and it sucks, and there’s not much i can do. That’s why i am thankful for those who don’t just immediately decided to judge me and want to know more about my views on the characters. 

This of course does not apply to the community as a whole, not everyone is acting like this, but it is a problem and it has consequences and i hope the fandom does work on it in the future. Please do better in the future.

Now when it comes to shipping, I have my limits personally, like if the characters have canon sexualities i tend to stick to those sexualities, i for one, have a oc that’s gay. I effectively tell others if they make fanart with him for fun that’s great and i love it, but i want his sexuality respected if ships are involved.

Since the AT ones are left in the air, it means i am left to come up with my own ideas, so that’s what i do. I think everyone should be allowed in that regard to have their own interpretations, marcy could be bi, lesbian, ace,pan, ect and all of those are perfectly acceptable headcanons.

i don’t think one should be held superior over another.

I’ve never looked at Marcy or PG and said “Oh yeah, these two are so obviously straight”, they’re about as straight as a bent nail. XD The people who say this stuff clearly don’t follow me to know that they’re not treated as straight here and i think that’s just frustrating because it’s attacking for completely incorrect information.

And the main problem i think i have, like the biggest issue, is i see the F&C characters differently.

Because i know where the fandom is getting this impression people who these other pairings are homophobic is coming from, it’s because most of the fandom doesn’t really see those characters as much more then well...GB characters.

If i saw tomco, and one was turned to a girl to avoid them both being boys, i would be annoyed, i would, i wouldn’t assume the person was homophobic without other evidence but i’d be annoyed. (I mean for all i know it could be an au and i could be mistaking the situation entirely)

What makes this different for me, is because for one, these aren’t fan-characters, the fans didn’t make a genderbent world and design these characters for fun or anything. These were show characters, that were in episodes and have their own comics and all that.

The way the show approached them for me, makes me feel like they’re kinda misjudged, and people don’t have to agree with me on that fact. But i just feel like between them being fanfiction characters ice king made up, the fact their canon is different, the fact the characters do things the F&J characters don’t do, i just can’t help but feel like treating them as if they were something fans did for fun and have no difference outside of their gender is not the right approach for them.

(I mean ice queen died in one comic and has her own unique origin story which is apparently tied to cake’s, flame prince apparently speaks cat and is the most nervous and awkward cutie I've ever seen, gumball is apparently a card wars superfan and legit takes it WAY too seriously, i just can’t really look at these characters and say “Oh, these are all just Ice King, Flame Princess, and Princess Bubblegum but the opposite gender”).

I feel like the show does enough with them,and had a unique enough approach, that i feel like they should be judged as different characters. Like the redraws of regular episodes with the F&C characters are cute but they’re for fun and probably not what ice king wrote for them in his weird stories.

Like i can’t imagine ice king knew PB so well he made sure gumball had her entire backstory and motivations.

And i feel like the people who do enjoy these ships, heck, ALL FOUR of these ships, feel the same way i do. I’m sure some could def be shipping them for the wrong reasons, but i can’t help but think it’s less about their gender and more that other people recognize they’re different and have considered the different dynamics...like they would if they were shipping any other pairing.

And people don’t have to agree with any of us on that, but i don’t think the alternative should be to accuse us of something so heavily either.

These days i have newer friends who like bubbline who are chill with me, and yeah that’s cool, and i personally don’t really draw the ship myself because i’m still not too comfortable in the AT fandom or with the community right now....the situation with it never leaves me feeling safe frankly.

But we get along, they’re lovely, and the shippers who like bubbline but support the blog are also lovely people and i adore them.

At the end of the day i just want to have fun, i’m fine being in a small subsection of the fanbase and who knows, maybe i have gotten people to think about the F&C characters in a new light, i’m not sure.

But i hope maybe at some point the fandom can chill down and we can support each other without turning it into...whatever that entire situation is. Because i don’t want to be fighting with that community and would prefer to get along with them, but only time will tell.

But thanks for the support! I wish you the best ! I sometimes still have a lot to learn but i hope throughout this whole thing I've gone about it as respectful as possible.

I love the show and all the characters and the fun ships and relationships, i hope someday in the future i can be comfortable enough to get back into the fandom as much as i used to be! ^-^

[incarnateirony]

Optimism, Nihilism, Absence, Realism.

Alright, so I’ve got time for some real talk here.

By the title you’re probably expecting a meta, but that’s not really what this is. It’s time for a rare post laced with enough negativity to break my mold, but more congealing thoughts I’ve been banging on about in the background since I came to tumblr into a set of realities on my thoughts on the show at large.

Before this begins, this is absolutely not an invitation to come to my wall and start crowing and screeching about your ship, your characters, bagging on the authors or anything else. If you can understand the difference between constructive conversation, and prim word laced unbridled and pointless cynicism and complaining, you’re welcome to engage, but don’t mildew up this post.

But it’s about time we talk about the elephant in the room with the show. And despite this fandom’s gong banging, it isn’t Andrew Dabb. It isn’t MuH dEStiEl. It isn’t muh poor baby (fave char)

It’s SingerBuckLeming.

And I mean, in a way that’s obvious, and I really don’t think everybody has really, truly, wrapped their heads around it because they’ll still come yelling about Dabb whenever anything goes wrong.

But Dabb isn’t the one that’s been obsessed with a psycho dark godbaby story; Dabb’s the one that tried to at least craft it into something fruitful for TFW and subvert it into something more than burning bibles -- it’s SingerBuckLeming trying to relive the Lois and Clark fantasy they were denied.

It’s not Dabb that decided to hard push the AUverse story and all its attached splendors. The idea started as a one-off intro idea for Wayward, but it had to be pushed off a year, and Leming admitted to snaring the idea and, summarily, attaching it to their evil godbaby and making it their plot point.

It’s not Dabb that has an honest to god boner for Mark P and can’t shut his mouth up about him, that’s Eugenie too. It’s not Dabb that obsesses over half crocked characters like Asmodeus and Donatello. It’s not Dabb addicted to big shiny CGI and super saiyan powerups.

You’ll notice how many of these ideas are enmeshed into one giant ball of fuckery that, somewhere along the way, Dabb has tried to groom into having some sort of substance but there’s a very clear line going on here.

“How does this relate to my ship/my favorite character reeee”, why? Because with the amount of weight being tossed around via advantageous nepotism and a different core cluster in the author room quite clearly on a different creative page than everybody else, guess what -- everybody else gets railroaded.

And at times, yes, some presentations are becoming stressed and stretched. They only way to even bring any sort of emotion to the content is by retreading or exaggerating emotional roads, especially at the end of seasons. A season starts strong, and poetic, and then somewhere around or right after episode 14 everything starts fucking falling apart, often with one or two disjointed episodes in advance but strong character driven arcs. Traction and motion are lost. Poetry starts falling into pieces. Superpowers and over the top manpain become the leading thing.

This happens every year, and this year is more vivid than last. I do remind people that the last time we had SingerBuckLeming throwing their weight around on decisions so hard they double-directed-and-wrote an episode was Dark Dynasty, which the rest of the author room was uncomfortable with, even argued about, even lost author heads in the aftermath of. Guess what - we just got our second episode like that. The attempt to work into this weight-throwing by the rest of an author room tends to turn into a lack of cohesive storytelling. S10 turned into a rapid degredation into a benny hill chase for a book. This year - well, shrug.

That’s not to say I agree with every piss and moan about characters being “OOC” as often, in this fandom, the fandom’s idea of “OOC” ends at “things I don’t personally like”. There are differences between OOC and just not really... belonging in the moment. Because they’re often things the character has in their range of potential action, but whether or not the story is cohesively meshed in a way that’s worth a damn is a WHOLE other topic.

And this has just gotten worse. As the writing room gets newer and younger and SingerBuckLeming age older and older -- some of you may have remembered my panic attack realizing BuckLeming were being seated in position to become the next showrunners and Bobo had been bumped back. At the time, even meta bloggers I trust held different opinions that, frankly, I considered daydreamy “Oh don’t worry BuckLeming only handle this but all of the emotional stuff goes through Dabb co” but no, once BuckLeming get their hands in enough of that, the rest ends up on a railroaded crash course everybody is trying to write around to deliver as better than a doggie doo bag.

And I think, honestly, J2M know that. I’m sure a huge amount of their decision was indeed about family time, but the real question is, looking at this show that SingerBuckLeming have been aggressively railroading off a damn cliff while everybody tries to compensate, is it really WORTH negotiating more family time, do they really WANT to wait for it to crash out, do they really WANT to let Eugenie Leming run the show out of gas in the middle of a desert with hew new, bestest idea once Dabb inevitably leaves and she and her baes get full reign to make the endless Lucifer clone fleet and their godbaby powers all going super saiyan? Is that what they want their legacy to be, or would they rather go home, and be with their family instead of propping this up as it continues to veer to the left?

I keep praying SBL disappear for the final season, kinda like Singer buggered off in S11. And it’s kinda sad, because I do recognize that without Singer we wouldn’t have the show at all but somewhere along the way, he lost his nut, he lost his directing skills, he lost common sense and he let his seniority get to his head, probably in tandem with bringing his wife back in and getting to be a power unit which is just WOEFULLY unadvised to be honest.

This is so far beyond how anyone’s ship or favorite character is treated. It’s about the internal war in a writing room that’s as clear as plain day that’s causing a deterioration of the show that Dabb has DESPERATELY been trying to curtail into SOMETHING of note only to catch shit from people who can’t do a little bit of common denominator searching into events even before his showrunning time that just keep getting louder.

Right now I’m at a point where I’m just begging for cohesion and emotional worth from the final season. For something that BuckLeming aren’t just throwing off the cliff like a sacrifice to their new, bigger, dumber idea once S14′s Jack Course reaches its cap. And honestly, I’d hope that’s everyone’s primary concern rather than circular bitching about whatever element they’re hyper fixated on because this is an issue that spreads well and far beyond whatever singularity you choose to scream about. And most people just blind sweep in rage at the first name that’s easy to pick out that they feel is responsible. But this has been going on. FOR YEARS. It’s just getting louder.

I try to not be negative about the show in general. I do appreciate Dabb, Berens, Yockey, Merecuda, and to some extent Perez (though I still hold he’s the least artistic of that bunch.) I’m still in love with Sgriccia and Wright and Showalter. I still love this crew. But I’ve never been shy about pointing out BuckLeming problems and at this point, it’s just THE problem, to whence nobody is even realizing where they need to set their sights and complaints at. Everything else is an emotional or continuum casualty in their fuck offs to the new shiny idea. Or, in cases of the Lois & Clark godbaby, their old AF tarnished idea.

Some people may remember me saying that without Dabb converting Jack into being a TFW mirror for catharsis, Jack’s only individual arc is that of a villain, and here we are swinging around full force with BuckLeming sinking in, waiting to see how Dabb may subvert that in the final episode. 

“I’m losing faith in Destiel” “I’m mad about Sam/Dean/Cas” “This plot is dumb” ultimately all fall down into the same goddamn railroading that habitually, like clockwork, louder each year, fucks up the end of a season and I just want them to disappear before the final season, but I doubt I’m going to get that. Maybe, just maybe, they can be staved knowing they won’t need the new ultimate escalation to carry on the show yet-again. Fingers and toes and arms crossed. 

That said, this vivid repeat of S10 author room shift should also, hopefully, give at least some potential hope to meta authors who at least remember that S11 was recoverable and was in fact recovered, and also had final season plans afoot. It was on the table, at least, in thought in early concept, just not without the true bang announcement to promise it through. So I’m going to hold out some hope that this is going to shape up fine in the end.

But don’t expect me to humor your bitter bitching about your ship or favorite character of choice. You wanna bitch about the strokes Singer seems to have had that have stripped his directorial gifts, or Eugenie’s obsession with SSJ archangels and Mark P, by all means. They’re major culprits in everything else being flattened on the way with an author room y’all are bitching at trying to make it at least vaguely cohesive.

I’m a natural optimist experiencing distinct nihilism at the absence of any sort of respect for the show or J2M going on with SBL right now, and as ever a realist looking at it in the frame of what’s going on beyond our surface level issues, and what I can hope to maintain to roll back around to the optimism part. Ouroboros. Hopefully ending at the start of the journey and not to loop back through the nihilism by next season.

Can they just retire? Please?

Dump Mark P. Dump Donatello. Hell, dump Jack at this point with as much as they’ve fucked that off again. Dump the AU. Dump the Drama Coffin. Dump the instaboop angels. Just dump all of their dumb ideas and let the final season roll out without the resulting tire fire of all of their ideas and suddenly, the show is infinitely cleaner. Don’t think this is all their bullshit? Literally follow their episode impact in reverse the last few years before you come at me. It’s literally all their bullshit.

I really don’t give a shit about fandom drama around Mark P’s opinions. I get it, but I don’t care. What I care about is his unwillingness to look at his character and refuse a contract for any sort of integrity, doing literally anything to pull a goddamn paycheck out of milking this show. His character, formerly one of the most inspiring renditions of an overshadowing idea of good and evil and biblical scale, has turned into a toddler throwing tantrums on the floor of mcdonalds, begged for redemption that underscores the entire point of the hero’s journey, splattered in remnants of Hallucifer that wasn’t even the original character, and just won’t go away.

And antis can say what they want about, say, Misha or Castiel, but his character at least has a solid direction, and growth, and a real hero’s journey. It’s not just vomit splatter on the wall of whatever he can be niched into like Not!Lucifer. Mark S at least had the dignity to leave when he saw shit degrading for his character.

Oh yeah a lot of that was BuckLeming too. The plotholes in Crowley’s story he called out were BuckLeming, who summarily pitched Rowena. And I love Rowena and Ruthie and wouldn’t undo it for the world but GODDAMN am I glad Yockey basically adopted her. She was turned into something past their basic dumb ideas and, as of yet, BuckLeming has yet to unravel that like they’re proactively doing with Jack after Dabb and co put so much effort into him.

Like literally the fandom’s collective bitchfits have a very common denominator and nobody’s willing to suss out why.

SingerBuckLeming seem to have had a collective stroke and still think they’re creating for Lois & Clark in the 70s and not Supernatural as made manifest into absurdity by 13.23; and several people like Mark Pellegrino refuse to have the basic decency to say, you know what, pass. I had my show here, it’s been good. They feed it. But it still falls back to SingerBuckLeming in the end at the heart of it. 

Not enough for you? Still think it has nothing to do with J2M or Mark Sheppard’s choices? Don’t even just listen to the scalding tea, look at the post-engagement between Jensen and Mark S.

They need to go away.

#supernatural #negativity #realism #buckleming #singer

[technicallyoneofakind]

Info post on Professor Mitochondria

Origin: Alternate Reality- Another version of Professor Membrane

Race/Species: Human (as far as anyone knows)

Appearance: Long white lab coat, long black gloves, black platform boots, smart goggles, frizzy hair that can never be fully pulled back (makes science “interesting”) with some of the strands forming “M”s and one long somehow neat M shaped zag in the midst of the frizz.

Known Aliases: Aunt Mitochondria (to other versions of her kids in alternate realities)

Powers: Forcefield manipulation, Teleportation, Time Travel, Reality jumping, Forcefield enhanced strength. Intelligence gathering

Considered the “Professor Membrane of an alternate reality”, Professor Mitochondria is considered just as smart- and at times possibly wiser- than her original counterpart. She tends to be more attentive than him in some respects, often making time to see her son and daughter during the week.

Her forcefields are generally meant to prevent injuries from explosions. She can turn it off by pressing the switch on her arm. Technically, it should only be used to repel debris from explosions and fire, however, there have been times she’s used it to reinforce her gloves and double her strength. She’s also been known to project her forcefields into bubbles, the item/creature still being very animate, and levitate them or toss them into things, making them rather effective weapons and shields. Her forcefields are powered by the small device attached to the left sleeve of her lab coat which doubles as a computer and reality nav- the information she needs generally showing up on her goggles.

Her ability to teleport came before her reality hopping ability. It saves on commute time, she found. Her ability to reality jump was first thought of by her son, who had gone through a horrible ordeal getting stuck in an alternate reality himself. He proposed that maybe there were realities where world peace had been achieved and that he was successful in defeating Zim. She considered the idea and set to work trying to make a safe way to jump realities herself to explore the concept, eventually using the properties of her teleporter to improve on the traverse between worlds as well as stabilize her form. Despite this achievement of being able to exist in alternate worlds without any harm to herself, the Florpus caused so much interference, her reality nav and teleportation systems refused to work for a few days. She thought it for the best since that could cause the rift in space time to become even more problematic. A lesser used ability is that she can also teleport through time. However, she has only used this to confuse people she truly despises while maintaining the timeline. After all anyone who would intentionally alter the alter the past to change the future would be a complete moron.

She has visited three realities, one of which she persists in antagonizing Professor Membrane by encouraging her adopted nephew to chase aliens. She considers most alternate versions of her kids her niece and nephew to keep hers separate from the others. There was another where her counterpart married- a fact she was heavily confused by as her and the other Membrane seem disinterested in romance/married to their profession. The other considers a fantasy realm as magic is a staple component and used in tandem with science. She hardly visits there. She prefers sticking to realities that obey the rules of physics and form closer to her own. This oddly limits her travels as there are only so many realities she can jump to with that setting without some things getting redundant due to very minor changes.

Her Intelligence Gathering Systems (IGS) activate immediately entering a new reality but only at surface value and what she’s already noted in her home or previous realities. She only explores realities out of curiosity and often finds concepts or ideas she hadn’t thought to try or even experiment with in her own. This tends to result in an improved version of the original concept in her own or even an inspired invention based on a creature from her travels. The lag of how much information she gathers is based off importance and the amount of differences in the world. (And also, maintenance of the IGS.) If it’s something to do with her family, the system tends to be more thorough. If it’s something to do with the taco place down the street, the system won’t really pick up that the ingredients on their best-selling item is different, but it will notice a change in the layout or theme.

 Her Kids:

Dib is still considered her son and Gaz is still is still considered her daughter. They are clones, originally supposed to be better scientists to aid her work, but she failed to account for something in the process and ended up with them instead. Dib was the first try and Gaz was the second attempt. It’s often guessed that the reason she doesn’t have a medical license is that she was caught creating them and for whatever reason they let her keep her children. Despite their origins, she loves them very much and considers them her greatest work.

She makes sure they are well taken care of while she’s away discovering new realities. The staff at her lab are tasked with checking in on them every now and then personally. She keeps the fridge well stocked with food they can easily make. She encourages them to speak up if there’s anything they don’t trust about her employee’s actions or they do anything untoward while she’s away. If so, she’ll “take care of the problem.” That staff member is never seen again and no questions are asked.

 -  Dib

 She’s known to take her universe’s version of Dib seriously when it comes to aliens mostly because of the idea of microbes on earth evolving into complex creatures in impossible conditions and expanding on the idea of similar situations occurring somewhere else in the universe. Her help in discovering bacteria on Mars in her reality helped enforce this belief. However it’s still widely unexcepted in the scientific community of her reality that intelligent and complex life forms exist outside of this.  

She uses Dib’s research on Zim and other findings as a basis for her own experiments- sometimes just to help him get through with his mission to stop Zim. While people still think Dib crazy so he still has a hard time befriending people. Despite this, she continues to believe in him. She’s seen the evidence- the space ship, the pictures, and Zim’s weird other-worldly house. She keeps the fact that some of her revolutionary feats of SCIENCE are based on Dib’s ideas a secret, covering up his sources, so that she doesn’t get discredited. This often causes some tension between her and her son and makes it more difficult to help make the world ready. "The world just isn't ready for it" she often says (in place of “trying real science”) and it frustrates Dib to no end. Despite all of this, a lot of her experiments are still geared towards peace on Earth and she knows without her son’s obsession with saving the world they wouldn’t exist. She views Zim as a threat to that and will stop at nothing to help her son prevent his reign of terror.

For once, Dib wants to have another person openly believe in the paranormal like he does (If not more so than the original) rather than be quietly supporting him like his mother does. He's made so many great strides thanks to her support and even was the one who proposed the idea of hopping realities. Science is about answering and discovering the previously unresolved questions, after all. Since he helps her with experiments and ideas, spending a lot of time in her laboratory as a result, Dib is often seen wearing a smaller, unbuttoned version of her lab coat.

 -   Gaz

 Mitochondria tries to encourage Gaz to go into something involving video games, like video game testing. She even makes new ones for her daughter to test out that are really just complex simulations for experiments with a different coat of paint. Gaz knows this but plays anyway. The “games” are fun and she doesn’t want to ruin the illusion for her mother. Knowing how good the professor is with building things, Gaz goes to her if her game system breaks for a new one or to repair the old one with some newly added features- something the tween looks forward to each time despite losing her game data. She even helps out in the lab with experiments using video game controls- especially the ones involving Nano-technology and robots.

Gaz is a little less quiet. She's still prone to her grudges and torture towards Dib, but that's just standard sibling stuff. She still barely talks when no one is talking to her. Thanks to her mother playing video games with her, she's become more open about sharing her enthusiasm of her favorite games with others. Often, the modified versions of the original game system catch her classmates’ attention. When asked she’ll just shrug and say that her mother improved on it for her. It used to catch her off guard when people would admit that their parents couldn’t do that- she thought everyone’s parents could- but now she understands that her mother is the exception.

 She even has rules for her kids to follow:

If Dib goes out to investigate ANYTHING he must be home by 8:00 pm.

If Gaz gets mad at Dib for things he’s interested in and begins to torture him call the professor at work. She’s always available.

Never tamper with Mitochondria’s equipment unsupervised or without permission for ANYTHING! It’s DANGEROUS!

Never talk with your mouth full. You’ll choke that way.

If the guards don’t let you in, find the nearest payphone or call on a cell phone} and request that Professor Mitochondria speak with them right away using a specific phrase for verification.

Do one thing involving science every day!

Important rule: No insane paranormal experiments LIKE RAISING THE DEAD At home or at any place where people could be in danger.

Most important rule: Live a fulfilling, fun, and exciting life! Even if isn’t filled with Science!

She has these hanging on the fridge.

[Compiled from varying sources I’ve made or private roleplaying I’ve done.]

#Invader Zim #Professor Membrane #Dib Membrane #Gaz Membrane #Professor Mitochondria #My OC

[bestiesandagents]

Memories

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 25 | bestiesandagents vs. @tricksterarchangelgabriel

Prompt: The Open Road Ship: Drowley Word Count: 1671 Tags/Warnings: angst, major character death Summary: Dean has too much going on in his head and he just needs to get away from it all, but a certain demon won’t let him be. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874074

Tagging: Drowley: @dauntlessdiva, @hekate1308, @supernatural-lover26 Everything: @evansteph, @cosmicallydepressed, @siluthis

Dean wasn’t sure where he was going exactly. He just knew that he needed to clear his head. To think, even though those two things sounded contradictory.

Sam had been asleep when he’d left he bunker. He probably should’ve been asleep too, but after laying there for over an hour, unable to close his eyes because whenever he did he was reminded of all that he had lost, he decided to seek out the best remedy he knew – the open road. There was a sort of clarity it brought him. Just him in the Impala, the road spilling out before him. It was the one time that it didn’t matter where he was going. There was no one to save, no obligation, no expectations, he just had to follow the road wherever it took him. And wherever that place was, it was guaranteed to be better than what he had left behind.

“Running away from your problems again, squirrel?”

Dean kept his eyes trained straight ahead, ignoring the figure of the demon that had materialized beside him. Maybe if he ignored him…

“You have to know it won’t do you any good,” Crowley continued.

“Go away,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked skeptically.

Dean didn’t reply.

“Thought not,” he chuckled. “That’s one of the things I like about you. You put on your little tough-guy act, but anyone who knows you can see what’s really going on in that head of yours. You’re an open book.”

“Am not,” he protested, even though he knew it was useless to do so.

“Oh, please. Right now, you are drowning in your most recent loss, and you are absolutely desperate for my company. Care to object?”

“If I do, will you leave me alone?”

“Of course. So long as it’s the truth,” he added with a knowing smile.

Dean looked over at him and sighed. “So, what? I’m just stuck with you forever, then?” he demanded, knowing that it would be pointless to lie.

“Aw. Are you saying that you’re always desperate for my company?”

He glared at him. “Right now, the only thing I’m desperate for is some fucking peace and quiet.”

“Then why won’t you let yourself have it?” he challenged.

He turned away, focusing once again on the road ahead of him. He wanted to be mad or even indignant, but he knew that the only person he had a right to be so with was himself. And he was mad at himself, but it wasn’t exactly like that was anything new.

“You can’t lie to me, darling,” Crowley said victoriously. “Peace and quiet means that you’re alone with nothing but your own thoughts, and we all know how that song goes.”

“Not if I’m driving. Then I’ve got the road to focus on. Keeps me distracted without all the annoyance.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

Right again. Dean shook his head as though doing so would rattle his thoughts enough so that he was no longer drowning in them. It didn’t work. The pain and grief of loss was still bearing down on him. His slammed his foot down on the gas pedal as though he could accelerate away from it all.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Crowley asked after a minute of letting him stew.

“Nowhere,” he answered shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Remember the last time we got in this car and just drove to see where we ended up?”

Dean’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He remembered alright. Remembered taking off, not a care in the world. Remembered stopping at every dive bar they came across and not having to worry about moving on until he became bored with a place. He remembered the months filled with fighting, fucking, and far more alcohol than a human being would be able to consume. And he remembered Crowley being at his side through all of it. It had been a life without consequences, without guilt – at least until that had all come crashing back down on him with the force of 1,000 archangels. “Yeah,” he said gruffly.

“The good ol’ days.” He looked over at him with a smile.

“Not sure I’d call ‘em good,” he argued stiffly.

“But you miss it. The fun, the lack of responsibility, quality time with yours truly.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t all there was to it,” he sighed, glancing over at the demon and then away again. “It wasn’t… I wouldn’t go back, even if I could.”

“Oh, I know that. You can miss the symptoms without liking the cause. It’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I killed someone, Crowley,” he snapped. “And that’s not even touching on all the other shit I’m never gonna be able to wash clean.”

“Again, I didn’t say it was all good. I turned you over to your brother for a reason, after all.”

“Yeah, because I wouldn’t listen to you,” he scoffed. “Real noble.”

“You know that’s not all it was.” His voice was no longer lighthearted. It seemed to echo in the car with an implication that Dean didn’t want to hear.

“Well, it’s in the past,” he sighed, forcing himself to relax his grip slightly.

“You learned nothing from being a demon, did you?” Crowley demanded.

“What was there to learn?” he shot back incredulously.

“That you need to take better care of yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone so far off the deep end if you hadn’t spent your life depriving yourself.”

“Or maybe I would have because I had become a demon,” he said exasperatedly.

“Oh, of course, I forgot. You’ve never met a single demon who has any redeemable qualities. Who has a handle over their nature and can even help people, given the right motivation.”

He shook his head. “That’s not-”

“Because to you demons are all just heartless monsters who don’t care about anything but destruction,” he plowed on. “And I’m no better than the rest of them.”

He swallowed thickly, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. “That’s not true.”

“No? That’s how you always treated me. Oh sure, you’ll humor me so long as I’m useful, but that’s only assuming you have no other options. When it comes down to actually considering me a part of the team? Or heaven forbid, actually treating me with respect? Even when I’m offering you my help, it’s like pulling teeth. And yet, time and time again I’ve come to your aid, put my own life on the line for you, even though we all know you’d never return the favor. Because you’re so much better than me.”

“It’s not like that!” he protested. “I never knew when I could trust you or when you’d end up stabbing us in the back!”

“Now that’s a lie. You’ve known for some time now that I would never actually harm you. Or even stand by while someone else did so, if there was the slightest chance that I could prevent it.”

“Yeah, but it’s one thing to know that and another to be able to accept it. I mean, trusting a demon doesn’t exactly come easily to me.”

“Of course not. So rather than break the status quo…” He trailed off, a layer of sympathy sliding over the pain in his eyes without completely managing to obstruct it. “I get it, Dean, really. Anything but hatred towards me is out of your comfort zone. And why make yourself uncomfortable for the sake of one demon? Doesn’t matter what I’ve done – no demon’s worth that, right?”

Dean was silent. What could he say? Crowley was one hundred percent right. He had never treated him fairly, all because it would make him uncomfortable to do so. He had to hate him, had to set those boundaries, because the alternative… he just didn’t know how to come to grips with it. Except that he didn’t hate him. And that alternative was staring him in the face and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it.

They were silent for the next few miles. He could still see Crowley in his peripheral vision – mostly looking out the window, but occasionally looking at him – but they had crossed over the state line before he spoke again. “You can’t run from it, you know.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “And what do you think I’m running from, Crowley?”

He didn’t answer. “How many is it now?” he asked instead.

Dean didn’t need to ask for clarification, he knew exactly what he was asking. How many people have you lost? How many of your friends, family, people you were responsible for have died? How many have you failed to save? “Too many,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

He didn’t feel like humoring him with a response.

“I’m surprised at your reaction, honestly,” Crowley continued. “Given everything…. Why?” He looked over at him, his expression open and curious.

He shook his head. “You know why.”

“Don’t I deserve to hear it?”

Dean slammed on the breaks. He didn’t even take a second to see where he was before he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He was in the middle of a crossroads. How fitting.

He took a few deep breaths, trying and failing to calm himself down, before he spun around to see Crowley standing right behind him. Of course he was. He always was these days. “Because I loved you, Crowley,” he said, his voice breaking. A tear slid down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow. There, he’d finally admitted it. Not that it mattered at this point. It was too little too late.

He imagined that he felt the brush of lips against his and he opened his eyes. But of course there was no one there. There never had been. Crowley was dead, and he was alone with nothing but a memory.

#drowley #crowlean #spnrareshipcc #tricksterarchangelgabriel #dean x crowley #drowley:fanfic #my work

[mumbal33]

The Warrior Within

Dark, brooding, and burly, one-time badass Ronon Dex has come a long way since he first jumped through the Stargate. Now a trusted member of the Stargate: Atlantis team, Jason Momoa reveals that there’s more to Ronon than just his muscles…

By Byran Cairns, Stargate SG-1/Stargate Atlantis Magazine

Big guy. Big muscles. Big gun. Big attitude. There’s no denying these qualities immediately impressed Stargate: Atlantis viewers about Ronon Dex, a Satedan soldier from the Pegasus Galaxy who was implanted with a tracking device so the life draining Wraith could hunt him down. After easily getting the drop on Lt Col John Sheppard and Teyla Emmagan in the episode Runner, Ronan agreed to help them capture the infected Lt Ford if Dr. Beckett removed the alien mechanism under his skin. Realizing his potential as an ally against the Wraith, Sheppard later invited him to join his team and although they’ve slowly gained his trust and have been a positive influence on him, it has still been a difficult transition.

“To a certain extent, it has,” notes Momoa in his deep, gruff voice. “Ultimately, Ronon is still kind of a loner but has taken direction from Sheppard as long as he thinks it is right. That is the great part about him though. He’s military so he’ll still react and have that instinct within him but at the same time, he’ll still listen to commands.”

Since his inauguration, Ronon has been a key participant on multiple missions and the outings have given him the opportunity to connect with his team mates and adjust to his surroundings.

“Sheppard is Ronon’s commander but to me, he and Teyla are the only ones I can trust,” offers Momoa. “I go to Teyla for everything because Sheppard isn’t big on the emotional things. If I had a problem, I would go to Teyla because we’re both aliens. She’s like my sister. Shep is like my best friend through the whole thing. Weir is just my boss, I don’t know too much about her but at the same time, I respect her. Rodney is the brains and I’m the brawn and it will always be like that between us. I can kick his ass but he’ll outwit me. Beckett saved my life numerous times and in these episodes, you’ll see he’s probably saved me more than anybody. He is someone I trust and Beckett is like a good buddy now.”

The second season concluded with Ronon and McKay captured and cocooned onboard a hive ship awaiting either rescue of imminent doom. Among the Atlantis squad, those two are arguable the most polar opposite as McKay can be annoying and Ronon takes no crap. The unlikely pairing is a guilty pleasure and the new season sees them sharing even more screen time together while engaging in their trademark witty banter and scathing remarks.

“The upcoming Tao of Rodney is really good because there’s stuff where McKay is getting a lot of power and thinks he can beat Ronon,” reveals Momoa. “I’m like ‘Oh yeah? Want to take me on?’ And he’s like ‘Um no.’ It is still very much him eating all the time and me making fat jokes about him, McKay saying I’m not smart enough or I am his big friend with few syllables. He’s been calling me Caveman too and I call him fat ass. He’ll poke jokes at me or I will poke them at him but there’s a mutual respect. When it comes down to it, he’s saved my life and I’ve saved his. I am the Pitt Bull on the show and I can tear anyone apart. If McKay and me are bickering, I would chop somebody’s head off to save him.”

As the muscles on the series, Ronon’s special talent to intimidate, threaten, and kick some serious Wraith butt makes him better suited as a fighter rather than a peacemaker. Unfortunately, such roles can sometimes be limiting to an actor by not providing enough depth and development.

“Well, that is the character and the way he is,” defends Momoa. “You can’t expect him to get real emotional. That’s hard to write for. That is why in Sateda, there is a lot I don’t say but am suffering through. [Robert] Cooper and a lot of the crew guys were coming up and going ‘Wow! That was amazing!’ I don’t necessarily have to say anthing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not acting. As long as there are good things to chew on and you don’t have to ramble off all this mumbo jumbo like McKay. I would never want to say all theat sci fi garbage or Beckett with his doctor terms. I speak through my actions and the way I hold myself. I’m not the way Ronon is in real life so it is still fun to play but it is an an ensemble cast and they write for everyone.”

Luckily, Stargate: Atlantis has no intention of pigeonholing anyone and the talented writing staff has been shattering any preconceived notions by sprinkling juicy nuggets throughout season three for Ronon. The humorous Irresistible was such a case. With Atlantis somehow enthralled by a man named Lucius Lavin, Momoa was thrilled to see his tough guy alterego crack a smile.

“That was great, man,” he enthuses. “The night before, I was talking with my fiance, was a little intoxicated, and she’s making me laugh. I would go ‘Hhon! Hhon! Hhon!’ and it sounds like a motor. I couldn’t stop laughing. It was one of those giggles and the next day, I had to shoot this scene where I’m laughing and we’ve never heard Ronon laugh at all. I thought it would be great to be this big dumb animal and be, ‘‘Hhon! Hhon! Hhon!’. He just has this big, funny, annoying laugh. Irresistible was fun because I got to laugh and be goofy.”

Momoa also appreciated the series shifting from the Wraith-heavy adventures to something more light hearted.

“That is what is great about the show; we don’t take ourselves too seriously,” he admits. “The most serious character on the show is me. In that respect, Joe Flanigan plays the lead so great. He’s this unsung hero. I love the way everyone acts on the show and that it has that comedy element to it.”

However it was the recent Ronon-centric Sateda which truly excited Momoa. Once again, Ronon encounters the Wraith, returns to his home world, exposes his tragic past and vulnerable side while dealing with a dangerous present day threat.

“I had to do so much in Runner and this year, Sateda just blows it all away,” exclaims Momoa. “They finally gave me something to act with. Being an actor, I want dialogue. My guy doesn’t say much, but when he does… Sateda was an amazing episode and worth everything. We shot it as the third episode, it aired as the fourth, and it was like ‘Oh man! Now there’s not going to be anything! The rest of the season is going to suck!’ but it has been really good!”

According to Momoa, Sateda was probably the series’ most ambitious and time consuming production to date.

“Sateda was unreal,” he acknowledges. “I usually do four or five days per episode and if it is every day, it is with the whole group and I have little lines here and there. Sateda was a 12-day shoot when we normally shoot in seven. It was the biggest budget I think we’ve ever had and the most stunts and explosions. We’ve never had that many locations. I was exhausted. We basically shot a full-on movie in 12 days on a movie schedule.”

The experience was further heightened when Executive Producer Robert Copper stepped in to direct the episode.

“Robert was fantastic to work with,” praises Momoa. “I hadn’t talked to much with him before that. He’s a very quiet guy and I never go up to the office unless there is a serious problem. I came with my ideas and when I first met him, they were having a little meeting so I went in and gave him the hugest hug. I had to prove to him that I could act. He was there every scene, if I needed the set to be quiet, he would make sure they were. He gave me my time. Not to float his boat but he is definitely one of the top directors I’ve worked with on the show, let alone my career.”

Not exactly a big talker, Ronon’s right hook or his weapon shoved in your face speaks louder than words. Thankfully, outside of Stargate: Atlantis, Momoa kept in great shape on Baywatch Hawaii and North Shore. Neither series were as physical taxing as playing Ronon yet the gung ho actor immediately embraced that warrior spirit.

“When I was doing Baywatch Hawaii, my cousin was a big toe in surfing and now he’s a full-on stunt coordinator so I’ve done a lot of water stuff that has been pretty heavy in big waves,” says Momoa. “That was the only thing I knew. I had never really been in any fights and my manager is Japanese so I wanted to work with a stick. I basically did that for a bit and watched movies before I got the role. I watched tons of samurai and action movies, studying people’s body movements which is what actors do. I was finding my own way, incorporating them into the role, and listening to Bam Bam who is just a talented artist and can come up with a fight like that [snaps fingers]. We work well together because he’s not, ‘No, do it this way!’ He takes into account what you made for your character and how your body moves.”

For Momoa, that included laying off a previous injury which flared up early.

“I have bad knees, so grappling and going low are very hard for me,” he notes. “Runner just got me because we didn’t have the lighter guns so it was five-plus pounds and it was hammering on my right knee. At the end of the day, you soak in the bath, have some wine, pop some Advil, and you’ll be fine. But we established Ronon isn’t really a kicker and more of a head butt, punch kind of guy. The studio likes it and it is working well. Sateda did rip me apart because I had armor on too.”

Before the SG-1 spin-off geared up, most of the actors reportedly signed a five-year contract. Yet when asked whether he could imagine himself in the series for the long haul, Momoa momentarily pauses.

“Tough call. I don’t know if I would want to play Ronon for five years. Playing a character for four years is a little much for me so I’d like to move on. Ultimately, I’d like to be in movies. It’s kind of up in the air. This was a fantastic role and I’ve never played anything like it but not to expand or try other things would be selling myself short.”

Naturally, Momoa isn’t necessarily vying for those adrenaline charged parts.

“Originally, I did not want to be an action star,” he confirms. “I felt it was a trap I’d get into and it would come easy for me. I’m a pretty coordinated cat. I don’t want to be an action star because I don’t want to limit myself to anything.”

In the meantime, Momoa couldn’t be happier on Stargate: Atlantis. However, with only a handful of episodes to finish, he isn’t prepared to speculate on where Ronon is heading. Yet after adding his two cents on his imposing, dreadlocked character last year, the 27-year-old is hoping to fulfill a growing ambition on the series.

“I’d really like to do a story and have a credit for that,” says Momoa. “If I stay on the show longer, I’d love to do a director’s attachment where you sit down and go through the whole thing with him in post-production. I’d eventually love to be behind the camera, going through the dailies, editing, and enhancing what has been shot. I’d love to do that. Hopefully that may be possible next season.”

#jason momoa aquaman #jasonmomoa #ronon dex #aquaman #stargate atlantis

[empressofrizalia]

Mahou Sensei MSPA-tan! Chapter 1: Welcome to Alterra Academy!

[For you folks out there who are still thirsty for MSPA Reader content after the end of Friendsim. Hope you don’t mind the AU.]

You fuss about with your robes as you stand on your spot in the front row along with probably a hundred other students in the Grand Auditorium of Skaia Universal Institute of Thaumaturgy, or SUIT for short.  Thaumaturgy, in lay man’s terms, is a fancy-schmancy word for the study of ‘majyyk’.  Yup, that’s right.  Majyyk is a thing on Planet Earth, or at least in this iteration of Earth.  They are are not to be confused with ‘magic’, which is completely fake and only good for performing at lame children’s parties.  There are a lot of schools all over that are devoted to imparting the arcane, miraculous, and once forbidden knowledge to children everywhere.  You are one of those children.

The sound of crisp purposeful footsteps on a stone floor catches your and your classmates’ attention.  You look up the stage to see Headmaster Wiseman walking along the stage and onto the podium set at the middle while the school faculty stand on either side of him a few feet away.  Supposedly, it would be proper to describe the appearance of any important character that comes along in a story, though in this case, there is just no point in wasting words and energy.  The geezer was basically Gandalf from Lord of the Rings.  Of course, that is to say, he looked so much like Gandalf that he might as well be Gandalf.  All majyyk school headmasters were Gandalf.

The Hall fall silent in anticipation as Headmaster Gan—er, Wiseman fondly regards everyone.

“Today marks the end of yet another era,” he said in his old wizened voice.  “Congratulations, batch of 2612 graduates! You have all done well these past seven years.”

You smile, feeling proud of yourself.  All those years of hard studying led to this glorious moment.  Soon, you’ll be well on your way to become a Grandmaster Mage, the highest position of honor all wizards/witches/mages/whatever aspire to gain.  Not bad for a kid like you who’s just starting on the chapters of puberty while everyone else around you had already finished.

“However,” the Headmaster continues, “Graduation doesn’t mean an end to learning.”  All the graduates, including yourself, gave him puzzled looks.  What does he mean by that?

“Your real training into becoming civilized members of society, begins now.  Once I call your name, step up and receive your diploma.”  Your batchmates get called one by one.  As your last name is somewhere near the end of the alphabet, it would be a while before you get your turn.  Sooner or later, the sound of names being called turn into a dull monotonous droning in your ears.  Your eyelids begin to feel heavy.

“MSPA Reader…”  Your head lolled to the side as drowsiness slowly takes over you.

“MSPA Reader?” A jab at your side startles you awake.  You look to the side where the jab came from and you made eye contact with a batchmate who tells you to get your ass up on stage already.  Realization hits you like an empty bottle to the head and you hurry up to the front with your face flushed from embarrassment.  The rest of the event goes on without a hitch.

As with nearly everything else in a majyyk school, a graduate’s diploma is more than just a simple fancy roll of paper saying you’ve accomplished some grueling years of hunching down with your nose buried in a dusty old tome or waving a stick around.  In the majyyk world, a graduate’s diploma isn’t only a mark of achievement, but also an aid for deciding the new full fledged mage next step towards their future.  You unroll the parchment to take that first look upon your destiny.  The words appear with a flash the minute it was spread wide open.

"ALIEN TEACHER"

Eh?

EEEEEEEEEEEH?!

This has got to be a mistake! You need to have a word with the Headmaster right away!

“A teacher, eh? For aliens?” said Headmaster Wiseman, taking a sip of his earl gray tea.  “Well, if that’s what it says in your diploma, then that’s the end of the matter.  You must train hard in order to become a great mage.”

There has to be some kind of misunderstanding! Don’t real teachers, majyykal or otherwise, need some kind of license to be able to teach at any respectable educational facility? Plus, you’re only thirteen! And what is this about aliens?!

“Now calm down. There’s no reason for you to fret,” said the Headmaster.  “The principal of the school you’ll be assigned to is a friend of mine.  She’ll get you up to speed in no time.  Just do you best and you’ll be fine.”

Okay…

“Good. Now get out of my office.”

A few days later, you’re dressed up in your best suit with a handful of your belongings stuffed in a single suitcase and on board a plane going from the Big Island of Hawaii to a place called the Alterra Islands.  From what you’ve heard from whispers and read and watched from the internet (mages here aren’t as averse to modern science and technology), Alterra was a chain of man-made islands smack dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  It was made to help foster relations between the humans of planet Earth and the aliens of planet Alternia.  Yes, aliens… You have found that they’re also a thing on Earth… and the universe.  Apparently more than a decade ago, the Alternians—or trolls as they called themselves—first arrived to Earth as refugees fleeing from the civil war raging on their homeworld.  They were sick, hurting, and desperate from their long journey.  Their leader, a male troll named the Signless, was the one to initiate first contact between them and the humans.  He was willing to trade their tech and ships in exchange for food and the care of the well-being of other trolls with him.  With the help of a renowned wealthy polymath, the trolls were slowly acclimating to life on earth, though it wasn’t without its own set of problems.  To make a long story short, people can be dicks.

The flight from Hawaii to Alterra didn’t take long.  After a couple of hours, you disembark the plane and went on to look for your guide who was mentioned to be waiting for you at the airport.  You look around and see an adult male troll with nubby horns and red eyes dressed in a similar respectable fashion as you though the had a gray vest rather than a jacket with a candy red tie and had the sleeves of his dress shirt folded to his elbows.  He carried a sign with your name on it.  That must be him.  You walk over and introduce yourself.

“So you’re the new teacher? I gotta say, I didn’t think you’d be so young,” he said.  He seemed like such an amicable fellow.  You admit that you were scared of him at first since you've never spoken to a troll before.

He gives a friendly chuckle.  “Don’t worry about it.  Once you get settled, you’ll be spending a lot of your time talking to trolls.  You’ll get used to it in no time.  By the way, I’m Kankri Vantas.  I teach Social Studies at the academy.  You may have also heard of me as the Signless around the time of the first contact.”  You nod as you stare at him in awe.  He became quite the celebrity after the first contact, an icon for peaceful relations between human and trollkind.  You have no idea why he was called ‘Signless’, but you decided not to ponder about it too much.  You never thought he’d be the one guiding you of all people.

“Anyway, shall we go? The principal of the school you’ll be teaching in is expecting you.”

The two of you leave the airport with him taking the lead.  Mr. Vantas takes you to a cab that had been standing in wait.  He takes the seat next to the human driver while you get settled on the backseat.  Once you leave the airport grounds, he begins to give you a little basic information.

Alterra is a little chain of four main islands that serve as the home base for the troll residents as well as their embassy on Earth.  The islands each host a division of Alterra Academy.  The middle school division where you’ll be working is built on Isle-2 where you are currently on.  On average, there are about seventy-thousand students earn their education on Alterra, ranging from kindergarten to university levels.  Most of the students are young trolls who hatched on Earth.  There are human students as well who are usually the children of the humans who worked on the Islands.  Each island also has their own facilities for food and utility production, waste management, justice system, and a local economy—pretty much everything that can qualify Alterra as its own little sovereign nation.  Though international trading was limited to a whole line of products that suited the needs of their fellow trolls living on other nations.  The construction of the islands was commissioned solely by a billionaire explorer named Jake Harley, who you remember to also be the main sponsor for SUIT.  Could it be that he’s also a mage like you?

You looked out the window as Mr. Vantas babbled on.  You marveled at the lush greenery that was teeming with strange wildlife.  Some resembled Earth animals, some seemed more like mythical creatures, the rest were downright strange.  Mr. Vantas explains to you that those creatures were the lusii that were smuggled from Alternia.  Your eyes nearly bug out upon hearing that as you spot one of larger creatures snap its jaws on a smaller one and proceed to tear it apart.  These creatures were supposed to care for children?! Was Mr. Vantas raised by one of them?

“Yes, it has been that way since the beginning.  Adult trolls aren’t best suited to care for young… with a few rare exceptions…”  He went on to explain about trolls with jade blood who along with taking care of the Mother Grub who lays the eggs for the troll species, care for newly-hatched trolls or grubs to prepare them for their trials.  And the fact that he was raised by one since grubhood despite the fact that he should have been culled instead due to his mutant blood color.  You turn your attention back up front to see the somber expression in his eyes through the rear-view mirror.  You have learned about the different castes trolls have according to their blood color a few days before your departure via web search.  It was quite strange, but the cruel hierarchy built on it was anything but pleasant.  No wonder Mr. Vantas and his followers went to rebel.

“Oh, sorry. I got a bit carried away. Am I bumming you out?” He asked, snapping from his reverie.  You tell him that it’s fine.  It’s okay to be sad every now and then.

A little while later you spot a bunch of tall fancy buildings coming up in the distance.  Your ride gets closer until it stops by large metal gate bearing a shield emblem bearing a spirograph between a pair of stylized wings with a banner underneath bearing the words: Alterra Academy in Times New Roman capitals.  You get off the taxi and stared at the school in wonder as Mr. Vantas addressed the security guards who opened the gates to let you in.  Is this really a school? The structure of the buildings remind you of a scenic European town, though the roads were void of any vehicle save for a few cable cars.  Teenagers, both troll and human, walked around in gray and black uniforms heading for the same direction up north.  You get a lot of stares while your guide gets a lot of smiles and greetings.  After a moment, Mr. Vantas hails a cable car for the both of you.

“In case you were wondering, this is the student town,” he says after sitting down next to you.  “This is where the student dormitories, shops, and recreational facilities are.  The school building is further forward.”

The ride is peaceful for the most part as the cable car moved at a steady pace, but then a little later, you notice a hoard of students coming in running and rushing.  Some were riding on skates and skateboards, taking the back rail of the cable car to tag along.  Others were driving automobiles despite being definitely underage.  Some were riding on the backs of what you guessed were their lusii.  And there were some who are even flying! Had you been an average Joe, that last part would really surprise you.  It’s a good thing you’re a mage.  Anything is possible with the power of majyyk! You’ve thought of using it to send yourself to the straight to the principal’s office, but alas, teleportation only works if you have a clear picture of your destination, which you don’t.

Your cable car is soon stuffed with more students to near bursting.  What the hell is happening?

Your answer came in the form of a public announcement: “To all students: this is the Guidance Committee,” says a woman’s voice with a New Jersey accent.  “This week is Zero Late Attendances Week, and it’s only ten minutes before the bell.  Let’s hurry it up!” Oh, that’s why.  “Any students late this week will be issued yellow cards! Please try to arrive with plenty of time to spare!”

You could hear Mr. Vantas laughing.  “Haha! I love Zero Late Week.  It gets so lively!”

That’s great and all, but shouldn’t you hurry up too? It wouldn’t look good on you as a teacher to be late to your first class.

“It’s alright, Mx. Reader.  As a teacher, you’re allowed to be late for ten minutes at the very least.  Any later, and not only does your class get canceled, you’ll get a mark on your record.  Do it enough times, and you’ll get slapped on with a hefty fine.  We can't have our educators and role models slacking off and leaving a bad impression on our dear students now, don't we.  But you seem like a punctual sort, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

That’s nice.  Ten minutes was enough time to run and buy a breakfast sandwich or a tall coffee before getting to class when running late for any reason.  Cooking isn’t one of your strong suits.

A minute later, you feel a tickling sensation in your nose.  You try hard to fight the urge to sneeze, for it’s simply impolite to blow your nose around company.

AACHOO!!

You fail miserably.  So miserably that with an uncontrolled burst of majyyk, you somehow manage to create a draft strong enough to not only flip the skirts of the surrounding female students all at once, but also make the cable car jump an inch off the rail it was on.  The girls blab to each other in slight panic while others berate the boy passengers, accusing them of being perverts for peeking at their undergarments.  Mr. Vantas turns to look out the window with a blush on his cheeks.

“Bless you?” he says, sounding quite unsure of what had just transpired.  You thank him and apologize as you pull out a handkerchief to wipe the snot dribbling down your nose.

The Principal’s Office is quite spacious.  The floors and the ornamental window frames where made of polished wood.  The decor approach was rather minimal—just a desk, a chair, a coffee table, a red two-person suede couch, a few paintings depicting famous comedians along the walls, and a couple of bookshelves full of books (mostly about baking, practical japery, and mystery novels) and knick-knacks.  Mr. Vantas had left you alone so he can attend to his other duties.

“Why, if it isn’t our new teacher, hoo hoo!” the principal of Alterra Academy, a jolly elderly woman named Jane Egbert according to the nameplate on her desk.  “Welcome to Alterra.”

You give a polite bow.  It’s nice to meet you.

“Headmaster Wiseman has told me about you.  Graduating at only thirteen? You’re quite the prodigy.”  You blush at her flattery.  Shucks, ma’am.  You don’t have to go through that.

“Hoo hoo! Now there’s no need to be so modest.  Wiseman tells me your diploma told you to be a teacher for aliens for your post-grad training, is it not? Then you’ve been given quite the task.”

You agree.  It was truly odd that a kid like you would be assigned such a grown-up job.  Though everyone in the room understands that there was absolutely nothing that can be done about it.

“I’m not going to lie, Mx. Reader, this job will probably be difficult.”  Principal Egbert’s voice took a slight serious tone.  “If it’s too hard for you, you’ll have to return home.  And there’ll be no second chances.  Are you prepared to accept that?”

This was it.  There’s no turning back. You’ve gone through a lot, and spent a lot just to get the ticket to fly to this place. The kid side of you thinks that it’ll be too much to handle and it's better to just go back home, but the budding adult side of you screams at you to not back down of the first real challenge life has thrown at you.  You want to be the greatest mage in the world, do you? Then you might as well swallow your kiddy pride, stand up straight, clench your asscheeks, and say, “I’ll do it!”

“Bravo! Then it’s settled.”  Principal Egbert clapped her hands, happy at your answer.  “But first and foremost, you must gain some practical experience.  Let’s make it from today to March.”

Of course!

“We’ll begin today. Let me just page the Staff Guidance Officer to get you started.”  She pushes a button on the telephone at a corner of her desk and calls for a Ms. Porrim Maryam to come to the Principal’s Office.  You sat down on the couch as you wait.  A couple of minutes later, the door opens and someone steps in.

It was another troll, a lady troll to be exact.  Her horns are much longer and pointier than Mr. Vantas’ with one of them being hooked.  Her short cropped hair is styled neatly to accentuate her narrow face and perfect cheekbones.  Like him, she’s dressed in a professional yet stylish manner with her white blouse, jade green maxi skirt, and black high heels.

“Are you in need of assistance, principal?” she asks in a soft kind voice and makes note of your presence. “And who might you be? A new student, perhaps?”

“I’m fine, Ms. Maryam,” the principal replies.  “That child, however, is actually a new teacher here at the academy.”

Ms. Maryam covers her mouth with a dainty manicured hand in mild surprise.  “Really? But you’re so young.”  If you had a penny for every time someone commented about your age, you'd have three pennies.  Maybe more in the near future, but for now you have to settle with three.

You explain your situation to Ms. Maryam who relaxes a bit.  “I see.  Can’t say I still approve, but if that’s what has been decided and it can help you in some way, then I won’t object.  Though if there’s something you don’t understand, please feel free to consult me.”  You nod.  You’re going to need all the help you can get.

“Hoo hoo!” Principal Egbert chuckles. “Now that everything’s said and done, you may take this class roster,” she hands over a booklet to you.  “Your assigned homeroom is Class 413.  Ms. Maryam can show you the way.”  Ms. Maryam’s jade eyes seem to widen in astonishment at the mention of Class 413.  The principal just gives her a knowing look in return.  You can’t help but wonder if there was something no one is telling you, or are willing to tell you.  You take a moment to wonder if taking this teaching gig was really a good idea.  You then catch yourself and shake off the terrible quitter thoughts creeping into your mind.  You can do this.  You’ve already agreed you can do this.

Your mind was still preoccupied by the thoughts of Class 413 as you and Ms. Maryam walked within the silent halls of the school, passing classroom after classroom.  Each one of them had glass pane windows so you could see a typical class setting that often consists of mixed troll and human students being taught by either a troll or human teacher.

Ms. Maryam seemed wary the minute Principal Crocker brought them up.  Even as she walked next to you, her posture seemed somewhat rigid and there was a furrow on her brow.

You decided to just get on with it and ask her what Class 413 was like.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry.  I suppose you deserve to know at the very least since you’ll be serving as their homeroom teacher.”  She hesitates for a bit.  “Class 413 is… a tad problematic.”

Problematic? That could mean a lot of things, most of which aren’t very good.  Is she saying that you got stuck with a class full of delinquents?

“No, not per se,” Ms. Maryam says.  She then stops walking, so do you. Is there something wrong?

She swivels her head around, possibly looking for other presences in the hall.  Then she turned back to look straight into your eyes.  There was an serious look on them you didn’t think you’d see on someone with a motherly temperament.  “Listen closely,” she says.  “What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential.  No one else but the founder, the principal and a select few members of the staff and faculty, including myself, know of this.  Not even Earth’s mainstream media knows anything.  I’m going to tell you this since you’re going to be in charge of Class 413 for however long you’re here.  But I ask that you promise to keep a tight lip on this subject.  You do not, under any circumstances, reveal any of this to anyone.  Do you understand?”

You say yes.  Boy, this was intense.  First day on the job and you’re already getting wrapped up in some kind of weird conspiracy.

Ms. Maryam gives you a warm smile.  “I know I could trust you,” she says.  “Alright, here it is.  Around a perigee, or month before your arrival, a second Alternian spaceship crashed on this planet.  Unlike the one our group escaped in, this one was much smaller, possibly a minor cruiser.  It landed into the ocean not far from the islands.  As far as the rest of this world is concerned, it was just a huge meteor.  But for those who remember life on Alternia, we quickly realized what it truly was, and we immediately scrambled to retrieve it before it sank further into the deep depths.  What we found after we forcibly opened it, shocked us.”  She took a deep breath.  She seems shaken about the subject, even a while after the incident.

“Children,” she continued.  “We found children.  They looked to be about to be six sweeps, or thirteen years old at the very least.”

Wow.  That’s just terrible! You’re so shocked by this news that you can’t think of anything to describe what you’re really feeling right now other than shock.  Those kids weren’t any older than you were and they somehow managed to escape their planet and into outer space all alone?

“To think that a group of children would go so far to flee from Alternia by themselves.  It tells me—us—that things at the homeworld aren’t getting any better.  Perhaps it’s getting worse.  I’m not sure,” a somber Ms. Maryam says.  “We took them in and decided that it would be best for them to try and acclimate to life here.  From the way things look, they’re probably going to spend the rest of their lives on this planet.  However, these wrigglers were hatched from Alternia, and they don’t take well to being in close proximity as an adult troll.  Not even my Kankri could win them over.  Frankly, I don’t blame them.  Alternian adult trolls tend to be dangerous toward youngsters.”

You don’t know much about what Alternia was like, but from what you’re hearing in conjunction with what you’ve heard from Mr. Vantas and read from the internet, it sounded like a place that made Hell look like paradise resort in comparison.  No offense.

“None taken. You’re right, actually. It’s why we fled in the first place.”

You suggest that if troll teachers aren't able to help those kids, why not try human teachers?

“We have already tried that as well.  But humans aren’t well versed to Alternian social norms and cues.  All attempts on successful rapport ended in disaster… for the humans.  At this point, we’re at our wit’s end, but our founder constantly reminded us to never lose hope.  He firmly believes that these wrigglers could be rehabilitated.  Personally, I and a few others think so too.”

Ms. Maryam looks at you thoughtfully.  “You know, I’m starting to think that perhaps your assignment as a teacher here may be more than a mere coincidence.  Yes, I see now.  Where the adults have failed, you might succeed.  Given your relatable age, they’d probably be more willing to let their guard down and communicate with you.”  Oh, cool.  This might turn out to be easier than you thought.  “But don’t get too comfortable.  If you’re not careful, they’d walk all over you once given the opportunity.  I suggest that you watch your back around them.”  Welp, there go the last vestige of confidence you have left.

You both resume your walk, your hand tight around the class roster.  You look up to see the numbers on the classrooms gradually climb up.  Class 409… 410… 411… 412…

“Here we are.”  You almost bump into Ms. Maryam when she stops in front of a classroom near the end of the hall.  A sneak peek through the window shows you a room full of troll kids talking to each other, playing around, or just off doing their own thing.  You’re not sure if there are any humans mixed in as you couldn’t see even a hint of peach, brown, or black in the sea of gray skin and candy corn horns.  A troll boy with a pair of horns that oddly resembled flashlights takes notice of you and gives a flirty wink.  You back away and draw closer to Ms. Maryam.

You take a moment to open your class roster and get a glimpse of your prospective students.  You count a total of forty kids.  That’s forty troll kids from the hellplanet Alternia.  Forty troll kids who Ms. Maryam says might hurt either your body and ego (or both) should you allow it in any way.  It must have taken a lot pedial put-downs to get them to sit still for their one-on-one photo-op to make this roster.  Not all of them looked very happy.

But you don’t know, a fair lot of them also seem kind of nice.  Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Make sure to remember their names and faces quickly, okay?” Ms. Maryam reminds you.  You swallow a lump in your throat as you stood in front of the door, hands shaking.  Can you really do this? Can you really teach so many alien kids like this? You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and reach for the knob of the wooden door.  It’s now or never...

EXTRA

ALTERRA ACADEMY FACULTY & STAFF DOSSIER

Name: MSPA Reader

Age: 13 years

Occupation: Aspiring Grandmaster Mage, Alterra Academy newbie teacher

Notes:

-Shaped like a friend

-Junior majyyk user

-Protect them

~oOo~

Name: Kankri “The Signless” Vantas

Age: 16 solar sweeps/35 years

Blood Color: Candy/Human Red

Occupation: Alternian revolutionary/religious icon, Earth troll representative/ambassador, Alterra Academy Social Studies teacher

Notes:

-Love and equality for all

-Righteous leggings under professional garb

-Shouty when angered

~oOo~

Name: Porrim “Dolorosa” Maryam

Age: 35 solar sweeps/76 years

Blood Color: Jade Green

Sign: Virgo Occupation: Signless’ guardian/mother, Academy Staff Guidance Officer, Student Guidance Councilor

Notes:

-Team Mom

-Rumored to be a Rainbow Drinker/Troll vampire

~oOo~

Name: Jane Egbert, née Crocker

Age: 80 years

Occupation: Alterra Academy Principal

Notes:

-Ex-heiress to a baking empire

-Practical japerist

-Senior Sleuth

#fanfic #hiveswap #friendsim #mspa reader #negima au #troll call #ancestors #beta guardians

[exoticarmy127]

Sunset Boys (BTS, OC) Part 2

PARTS | 01

The house was pretty.

Sunny thought that if she was being forced to stay here then at least the place she would be staying in was nice. The ride going there was equally charming with its winding sandy roads and the sight of the ocean stretching on her right in a calming blue across the horizon.

When the car finally slowed to a stop, Sunny gaped up a small hill from her window where a yellow, two-story house sat, facing the most gorgeous beach view. They climbed up the wooden steps and she smiled when she saw the cute, wooden, picket-fenced house up close.

“Welcome home.” Jun said as he opened the front door and motioned for her to go in. “Well, at least for the next few weeks.”

Sunny was too busy marveling at the place to even comment. The interior was pretty simple and felt very homey. White walls covered the inside with carved wooden paneling and a yellow birch hardwood flooring. In the foyer, there was a huge portrait hung of a man in a sailor’s uniform (Jun explained it was from the original owner of the house and just decided to keep it because removing it would ruin the whole aesthetic of the interior design), and in the living room was a bookshelf, a TV set and small coffee table in front of a comfy two-seater couch. A balcony double-door stood at the opposite side with sheer white drapes dancing in the wind against it, letting in the scent of fresh air and saltwater.

“I usually do my work in my study,” Jun pointed at the door at the opposite end of the hall. Sunny knew her father was a writer and nodded as he pointed to his office. “So, that’s where you’ll usually find me. Other than that room, you’re free to go about the house. Bringing friends over is okay but no parties—”

“Dad.” Sunny chuckled, stopping him. Her mother warned her that he hadn’t had much parenting experience and that she should take it easy on him. “It’s okay. I know, and I don’t really ‘party’.” She smiled at the look of relief that washed over his face. “Can I borrow some books, though?” She glanced at the shelf beside her.

Jun’s eyes twinkled at the mention of books. “You... like to read as well?”

Sunny nodded. She suddenly felt a little shy, since her love from reading was basically fostered by him. Not particular by him but the books he wrote. When she was younger, she believed that if she read his books, she would feel closer to him; that she would at least get to know her father and maybe understand the reason why he left them in the first place. As the thought surfaced, Sunny realized that the latter was partly the reason she agreed to live here for the summer…

“Yeah...I... I read your books. They were really great.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it but her father’s eyes seemed to water beneath his glasses. A couple of seconds passed before he cleared his throat; averting his gaze and removing his glasses to wipe it against his sleeve.  

“Oh, that’s...” he let out a shaky breath, smiling. “That’s wonderful, Sunny. Really wonderful.”

An awkward silence settled between them once more so, Sunny let her eyes wander across the room, her gaze settling on a desk right beside the doorway leading to the dining room where several photo frames stood. Her gaze softened when she spotted a familiar wedding photo.

The doorbell sounded all of a sudden and Jun excused himself to get it, leaving Sunny to check out the photos. She smiled upon seeing a shot of her mother and she from when Sunny was probably ten years old. They were smiling brightly, her mother’s arms wrapped against her little waist as she leaned her chin on her shoulder. There was another where her mother was carrying her on her arm, standing at the base of a hill with the yellow house just behind them. As she surveyed the frames, Sunny realized that all of the pictures where of them: her father, mother and she. No one else. The fact made her heart warm and she felt her initial discomfort disappearing, uncoiling in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, hello there.”

Sunny spun around at the unfamiliar voice, surprised to see an equally unfamiliar boy in a sleeveless shirt and shorts, carrying a big box in his arms.

“Uh…hi.” She mumbled, a little mesmerized by his smile. She never thought anything could look so bright.

“You must be Sunny.” He said as he passed her, moving towards the kitchen to her left. Sunny pressed her lips and followed him, watching him move around the room swiftly and with ease like he lived there all his life. He placed the goods from the box and into their respective cabinets, placing chilled items in the refrigerator, arranging the fruits in a bowl on the table, and even filling up the water dispenser.

“Thanks, Hoseok. I really appreciate you delivering on short notice.” Jun walked in with a couple of plastic bags and placed them on the dining room table. Whatever was in those bags smelled amazing… like grilled squid and butter-sautéed shrimp.

“No problem, Mr. White. Always happy to help.”

Sunny bit her lip to prevent from smiling. She bet Hoseok was named employee of the month several times with that million-dollar smile.

“Oh! This is my daughter, Sunny.”

Hoseok’s gaze turned towards her, then reached out his hand to shake. “Hoseok Jung. But you can call me Hobi.”

“Hobi?” She asked with a smile as she took his hand. They were slightly calloused, but so very warm.

“My friends call me that. Actually, almost everyone on the island do.” He chuckled. “Are you staying for long?”

“For the remaining of the summer. If she likes it here, she might go to Seafare in the fall.” Jun answered for her, the mention of the school making Sunny wince a little. She wasn’t even sure about staying.

“Oh, that’s where I go!” Hoseok—Hobi— grinned.  “If ever you need someone to show you around, I’ll be happy to do that.”

Sunny smiled at the offer, unsure how she already felt so comfortable around him even when they had just met.

“Uh, cool. Thanks.”

“Oh and hey, it’s Friday today and there’s usually a band playing at Seb’s. It’s around eight. You should come!” Hobi invited then glanced at Jun with a polite smile. “If you don’t have plans already that is. And of course, you’re invited too, Mr. White!”

Jun chuckled. “I think I’m a little too old to be joining you kids on a Friday night.” He glanced at Sunny with a chuckle. “But you should go, honey. Great way to get to know everyone. Most of the kids your age hang-out there.”

“Awesome!” Hobi looked back at her. “Hope to see you later then, yeah?” Sunny only smiled. “I better get going. I have another delivery.”

They bid their goodbyes and Sunny watched him from the balcony; getting into a rusty red truck and driving away, leaving smoke and dust behind.

“Hoseok Jung.” Jun said behind her, making her turn at the fond tone in his voice. “He’s a good kid. He’s one of the first people I met on the island...well, it was actually his mother and he was just ten, then. I practically watched him grow up.”

A certain heaviness fell upon Sunny’s chest; almost melancholic but mixed with annoyance. She would never admit it out loud, but she felt a little jealous at the fact that her father had watched Hobi grow, someone who wasn’t even his family, while he let himself be away from his only daughter for years.

“Um. Yeah… I’m going to go up to rest up a bit.” She turned from him and made her way inside when Jun called:

“Oh? Don’t you want to eat first? There’s some shrimp. I know you love those.”

She did. But just because he knew that, didn’t mean he would easily be forgiven for the other things he missed.

“Not hungry.” There was a pause and Sunny ignored how Jun’s expression fell.

��Oh, okay. Well your room’s upstairs. First door on the right.”

“Thanks.” She said and left without another word nor a glance at her father.

“How’s the island, sweetheart?” Her mother, Hanna, asked. Sunny had called her the moment she got settled in her room. She was lying in her canopy bed with the balcony doors open to let the cool summer winds in.

“It’s great. Really pretty.”

“Did you make new friends already?”

“I was barely here for two hours, mom.” Sunny chuckled as she toyed with a loose thread on her cardigan. “But I did meet someone… a Hobi.”

“You met a hobbit?”

“No!” She laughed. “His name is Hobi, but he’s real name’s Hoseok. Hobi’s just his nickname.”

“Nickname basis already? See? You did make a new friend!”

“I guess.” She snorted then remembered the young blue-eyed captain at the port. “I got to chat with the boat’s captain a while ago too. It was weird…” she suddenly thought back to when the boy had waved and spoken to the water but said instead: “He looked way too young to be manning a ship, in my opinion.”

“And that’s girl language for: he’s really cute?”

“Eh.” She shrugged, confirming nor denying it. Jungkook was cute. That was until he started talking to the water. That just made him strange…and every girl knew that the cute strange ones were the ones you had to watch out for.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hanna chuckled. “I miss you already.”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “Then why did you send me off here?”

“Sweetheart, you know why.”

She doesn’t really. But Sunny was good at pretending to understand. She spent years doing it that it was almost too easy letting the lie slip from her lips.

“I know. It’s just…awkward around him.”

“I know, love. But trust me, you need this right now.”

“Need this? Why?” She asked but she was just met by silence on the other line. “Mom?”

“Everything will make sense soon, Sunny. I promise.”

If there was one thing Sunny hated, it was being kept in the dark. She wasn’t sure why her mother was speaking in riddles or why her father had suddenly wanted to take her in for the summer after many years of being away. After leaving them—leaving her—without an explanation.

“What are you keeping from me?” She asked, getting to the point and not bothering to hide the frustration in her tone. She had enough of secrets. For once, she just wanted a straight and honest answer.

There was a voice in the background, a call from one of Hanna’s colleagues in the firm, she supposed. Hanna sighed and Sunny just knew her honest and straight answer would have to wait yet again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Sunny replied flatly before hanging up and lying down the pillows with a huff. She rubbed her forehead and willed herself to relax; to not stress about the previous conversation. It was summertime and she should be having fun under the sun. But she just felt trapped in the dark, somehow; knee-deep in secrets and reasons she wanted to make sense of but nobody was giving her any clues or straight answers.

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, until her breathing slowed in a calm rhythm, finally letting sleep take over her.

A couple of hours later, Sunny woke up to a pink sky and the sun hanging low in the horizon. She gawked at the sight from her balcony, seeing the sun, a bright orange shade, looking like it was taking a dip in the waters. She looked down at her watch to check the time, and remembered Hobi’s invitation earlier that day.

Better than staying here, she thought and proceeded to put on a simple dress and flip flops, deciding to take Hobi’s offer on going to Seb’s.

Before she left for the island, her mother had reminded her to ‘have fun’. For someone who worked for a law firm and was currently raising a teenager, many would find it a weird request for a mother to actually encourage her child to go out and party. But it was only because Sunny was unlike most kids her age. She would rather stay in on a Friday night, choosing Netflix and chill over house parties.  

But Sunny knew her mother was right. She should meet new people and get to know the island, at least. It would be good to know some faces.

The house was quiet when she climbed down to the first floor. The balcony doors were shut and the drapes tied up, showing a view of the sky that had now turned dark through the glass, and the vast sea looking like an endless void. Turning towards the opposite hall, Sunny made her way to the room where she supposed her father would be.

She knocked once upon arriving at the study and heard shuffles before the door swung open, revealing Jun with his glasses askew and hair disheveled like he had ran his fingers through them several times in exasperation.

“Sunny.” His eyes widened slightly but stepped aside to let her through. “Come in—”

“No need.” She said, smiling politely, eyes glancing over his shoulder and glimpsing papers stacked messily on his work table. “I just came to say that I’ll be heading to Seb’s.”

Jun blinked once, twice then nodded as the realization hit him. “Oh! Yes, of course. Hobi’s invite. Yes… would you like me to take you?”

“No, it’s okay. Although, directions would be nice.”

Jun looked a little sad that she had refused but nodded anyway and gave her directions. “It’s just down the road by the wharf, a 10-minute walk. There’s a sign. You won’t miss it.”

“Okay, thanks.” She began to turn away when Jun suddenly called:

“Sunny?”

She looked over her shoulder, questioning. “Yes?”

Jun paused, like he was calculating his words. And Sunny observed his expression, catching an apprehensive and worrisome look in his eyes. “Just... not too late, okay? And be careful.”

Sunny didn’t even plan on staying out too long but she understood her father’s worry. Every parent did it. Even her mom, who often told her to go out, ended up texting her by the hour to check up on her.

“I won’t. I uh...” she held up her phone, hoping it would assure him. “I’ll have this on me.”

Jun smiled, looking relieved and waved goodbye as she turned to leave.

The night sky was much prettier on the island. Sunny found herself gazing at the horizon as she walked the sandy path towards the wharf, letting the wind blow through her dark locks. It was still warm but not too hot that she would sweat and the night winds were already making an entrance, pulling down the temperature little by little. She feared she might need a jacket going home.

At the end of the road, she spotted Seb’s on top of the pier’s bridge. It was a neon sign in big, bold letters, casting blue and red shadows across the darkening pier. Her father was right: she couldn’t have missed it. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there just staring when a male’s voice entered her ears.

“If you’re looking for good food, I would suggest giving the diner on the other side of the beach a visit instead.”

Sunny spun, jumping slightly in surprise. She was welcomed by the sight of a man, leaning against the wooden railing by the stairs that should lead up to the wharf. He was pale as moonlight, blonde hair so light it looked almost white. He wore black from head to toe, sporting combat boots and a black suit jacket that was definitely too hot to wear in this weather.

“Sorry. Did I scare you?” He tilted his head, a smirk ghosting his lips.

“No, just surprised.” Sunny said nonchalantly.

“You’re new.”

“And you would know how?”

“I’ve been in this island for a while. Trust me, I would know.”

“How long exactly?”

His stare was grim but Sunny thought he didn’t have the most expressive face to begin with.

“Long enough.”

“There you are!”

Both their gazes followed the voice, revealing a beautiful woman in a long peach dress; the fabric flimsy and pooled at her feet. She stepped down the stairs—gracefully, the way a princess would descend a flight of stairs, and was instantly at the man’s side, hooking her arm on his and leaning close. At their proximity, Sunny could see how pretty she was: with clear, pale skin, long black hair and a friendly smile. Sunny glanced at the man again and caught him looking down at the beautiful woman with an adoring gaze, a smile sneaking against his lips.

They must be together, Sunny thought.

“You can’t just keep disappearing all of a sudden.” She hissed at him and pinched his bicep, while the man just smiled wider, more amused than threatened.

The girl suddenly glanced at me, smiling. “Oh, hello.” She glanced at the man again. “Who’s this?”

Sunny was about to answer and introduce herself when to her surprise, the man beat her to it.

“Sunny. Sunny White.” He said and Sunny looked at him, bewildered. She couldn’t remember having told him her name earlier.

“White?” The girl’s eyebrows raised. “Any relations to Mr. White who lives at the yellow house down the road?”

“My dad.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly. “Interesting. I never knew he had a daughter.”

“Well, we don’t see each other much.” As the words left her mouth, Sunny felt a slight remorse. A heavy feeling settled on her chest; a sadness she never intended to feel but surfaced unwillingly. When she looked up, the girl was no longer smiling and had an almost pitying look on her face.

Was I really that transparent?

“I’m Suran, by the way.” She said as she reached out her hand. Sunny took it and shivered. Her hand was cold.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Well. We...hope to see you around.” She smiled just as a ringing pierced through the night air. She looked down at her pocket and retrieved an iPhone, looking down at the screen with a sigh. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” She glanced at the man beside him and unhooked her arm from his. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Once she was gone, the man only gave Sunny a long, contemplating look before nodding once in farewell and turning away to follow Suran.

“Hey!” She called out before she could stop herself. The man turned, looking over his shoulder with his hands in his pockets as he gave her an inquisitive gaze.

“Yes?”

She huffed a breath, sizing up the man for a second before finally saying, “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

The man smirked at that before turning away again. Before he could walk away, however, Sunny spoke once more, adamant on her intention.

“That’s a little bit unfair, isn’t it?”

The man paused for a second and Sunny was going to let it go, thinking perhaps it wasn’t even worth it when he replied:

“It’s Yoongi.” And then he walked away, leaving Sunny still wondering how on earth he knew her name.

To be continued

And the plot thickens. haha do you want more?

- Kaye Allen

#bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #BTS #Hoseok scenarios #Jungkook scenarios #Yoongi scenarios #Jimin scenarios #Suga scenarios #Taehyung scenarios #Namjoon scenarios #Jin scenarios #J-Hope scenarios #RM scenarios #Networkbangtan #kpop scenarios

[what-i-call-men]

Treason is a bitch

Chapter 4

The next day was like heaven for you. Hux was confined to the med bay for a day of healing and you got to run the bridge by yourself. It was easier then Hux made it look. Always stressing and pulling at his hair when you simply just told people to report anything they found out of the ordinary. It was mostly just monitoring.

You went the whole day without any big problems. Kylo even came to join you for a little bit, agreeing that everything was so much more calm with Hux out of the way. You loved the freedom, yet a small part of you missed the uptight ginger and how he bossed everyone around. It added a sense of drama and pettiness to your otherwise boring life.

Once all the bridge members retired to their quarters for the night you found yourself lingering on the bridge. You had stopped into your quarters for a short while to change out of your stiff first order uniform into your slightly less stiff but still somewhat uncomfortable sleep wear.

Wandering towards the front of the bridge and sitting down on a ledge near a window, you looked out to the stars surrounding the ship. Today felt as if you really were lacking excitement. You didn't realize that you actually looked forward to making fun of Hux and annoying the ever living crap out of him by assigning him stupid nicknames every single day.

Your train of thought and longing for excitement came to a halt as the doors to the bridge opened. You turned to see the one person you hated so passionately yet longed to see every day. “I was just checking in to make sure you hadn’t completely ruined my bridge.” Hux said as he walked up to you. He was also in his on sleepwear which was identical to your own, but he had something that looked like light hair or fur dusted onto his own and his normally gelled back hair was messy and fallen to the side.

“Contrary to popular belief Armie, your job is much easier than you make it look,” you teased him, “I could’ve left you behind to die after getting shot and taken this over for good.” He moved to sit on the ledge with you, looking out to the stars, his lanky legs making it awkward for him to sit so low to the ground. He had probably 6 inches on your height, which by your best guess was all in his legs.

“Why didn’t you then?” He paused, causing you to look at him and away from the stars. “If you truly hate me so much then you should’ve just left me.”

You picked at your fingers, drawing your attention away from his striking blue eyes filled with question. “Leaving you could’ve been considered treason and being arrested for treason is a bitch,” You joked, yet it didn’t cause him to laugh. “Who else would I give stupid nicknames to, A? Everyone here respects me too much to be annoyed by my nicknames.”

You finally looked at him, deciding to change the topic before he could question you further. “How is your arm feeling?” You asked as you glanced over the bandage wrapping his upper arm. Slowly, you realized he had more than just a bandage on his arms. Some old looking scars and burns, not self- inflicted but you assumed they were from fighting to something.

“It’s fine,” Hux cut in quickly. “Why are you all of a sudden being civil with me?” Man, that was the question. Honestly, why were you being civil with him? Pausing for a moment, you opened your mouth to speak before your brain completely finished thinking.

“I guess since we have to get married and stupid stuff like that, we might as well try to get along,” your words rolled off your tongue, yet it had caught you off guard completely. “It’d be nice to be friends with someone other than my brother.” You said quietly. You didn’t normally call Kylo your brother nor your friend, yet it felt like he was to you. It was just the title that could put you and him off.

“That’s how you see Kylo? Like a brother? That explains why Snoke wouldn’t want you two to marry.” Hux said and you could swear he smiled. “Honestly, I’m scared to get married to you… Not just because of Snoke or how much you hate me.” Under his breath, he admitted.

“Why? Because you’ll have to share your living quarters and your… Cat?” You asked as you reached forward and gently picked a piece of fur off his shirt. He grinned at the fur of his cat and shook his head and let out a small breath, watching as you dropped the fur onto the ground.

“No, it’s not that. I’m scared of embarrassing myself at the wedding. If we get married we have to dance and I’ve never had the luxury of learning to slow dance.” Hux joked causing a small smile to form on both of your faces.

“Really? I learned how when I was younger and more when I was on T-948. Surprisingly, Ben-... er Kylo knows more than I do.” You thought fondly of him as Hux looked at you questioningly, not hearing Kylo’s real name before. “The people on the planet like to dance when they’re happy and throw many parties that I was invited to. I can teach you.” You said and moved to stand up. You loved dancing when the time called for it. The party’s on T-948 were all so elegant, everyone danced and you honestly loved them all.

Hux raised an eyebrow at you and hesitated. “Quickly, before I change my mind and go back to hating you.” You said and shook your hand a little. He took it and you helped him up, tugging his body closer to yours.

“Assuming that our dance will be a slow one,” You took his arms and set his left hand onto your lower back, taking the right one into your left. “Your one hand will go onto my waist right there and the other is in mine, here.” You said and rested your other hand around the back of his neck.

You moved closer to him, bodies just barely touching. “Now you just sorta sway like this.” You started saying and he waited a second before moving with you. “And we’re going to step and turn like this.” You said turning slowly as you two swayed, beginning to turn slowly.

If any of your workers would have heard that you and Hux were slow dancing in the bridge, all of them would have denied it. Yet, here it was happening. You were looking up at the ginger and him down to you. You both were grinning like idiots as you hummed softly; a song you had heard on T-948 that was slow and one of your favorites that you had heard.

As you moved closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. “A, I want you to know this isn’t going to change anything between us during work. You and I still have to bicker and be annoyed by each other.” You said softly.

“Oh so this isn’t you trying to suck up to me and get more work to do?” He laughed and looked at you as you laughed.

“If it was, would you be upset?” Retaliating, you smirked at him. He shook his head as he grinned. “Armie you have a great smile; I think you should smile more.” You said softly.

“Maybe for you, but I still need to be intimidating.” He muttered and leaned down, glancing to your lips and back to your eyes.

“I don’t think you’re intimidating. I think you’re rather charming.” You mumbled as he moved closer to you, your bodies being pulled against each other.

You closed your eyes, gently pushing his head closer to yours. Half a second before your lips connected you closed your eyes and made the final move, pushing yourself up on you your tiptoes. Your lips connected... and maybe it wasn’t the most romantic, standing in your uniform pajamas in the middle of the night cycle, swaying back and forth to no music on the floor of the bridge, yet it was the most romantic thing you ever experienced.

Pulling away after a few seconds, you kept your eyes closed. “Armitage… would you mind walking me back to my quarters?” You asked softly. “It’s getting late and I wouldn’t want to be a bad partner tomorrow and fall asleep on the job.” You whispered against the small bit of skin showing around his neck. He nodded the slightest bit and gently pulled back to take your hand so he could guide you to the door.

Willingly you followed him to your room through the halls. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly as you drowsily yawned as you punched in the code to your room. “Dream of me.” He said as you smiled and walked through the now open blaster doors. You turned to him and leaned up, kissing his cheek then turning to walk into your room.

That night of sleep you learned more about the General then you ever knew, he willingly let his guard down to your own prying mind, to him it was the ultimate form of trust.

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