#the thing that pissed me off most is that there’s usually a nice planet shot with a normandy fly in to make a header from

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF ATTICAN TRAVERSE: KROGAN TEAM

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Grunt With: Urdnot Wrex, Dr. Mordin Solus, Primarch Adrien Victus and The Rachni Queen I don't need luck- I have ammo. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[harrysweasleys]

a dream is a wish // f.w

Summary: for @pit-and-the-pen’s writing event! 

Reader can’t stand Fred Weasley, but what happens when a dream changes that?

Prompts: “do you have to be that painfully beautiful?” x “well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?”

Warnings: injury, maybe like one swear word?

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: this came out much later than i intended but ah! here it is! enjoy :) 

——

It was safe to say you were not a fan of Fred Weasley.

Never have been, and most likely never will be. He was always loud, boisterous, arrogant, annoying, and most of all, found pleasure in disrupting the educational system any chance he could get. I mean, who does that, right?

Whether it be causing distractions with his equally-arrogant twin during class, or setting fireworks and other shenanigans loose in the hallways, you wanted to try and avoid both of them as much as possible. 

But, it was Fred that you disliked more. He was the louder one, the one who knew exactly how to get under your skin and piss you off in all the wrong ways. The one that despite how much your friends thought him hilarious and charming, you’d never be able to get on the same page with. What was charming about someone who chose to disrespect all rules and live a carefree lifestyle?

That was not for you.

You were glad, on this day, that you could escape the confining castle walls and the hustle and bustle of the school on the weekend and make off to Hogsmeade with your pals, the cool autumn air a refreshing awakening as soon as you stepped outside. The leaves were changing colours and collecting in piles on the ground, the skies were gloomy and cloudy, and somehow, the smell of cinnamon was always in the air in the small Wizarding village.

“Can we head into Honeydukes’s afterwards?” your fellow Gryffindor, Megan, turned to ask as you guys entered the Three Broomsticks, the tip of her nose looking pink and her cheeks pale. It was rather cold for November.

“Sure thing,” you nodded, smiling in comfort at the familiar cozy atmosphere of the dingy pub. Students all around were crowded around in bundles, drinking hot butterbeer. You couldn’t wait to have one yourself.

Megan led you to the table where Ginny was sitting, a large cup of hot cocoa in her hands as she waved you guys over.

“Been waiting forever,” she grinned, “You guys go order, I’ll save your seats.”

You turned around and headed back towards the bar with Megan, the two of you catching the bartender’s attention and ordering yourselves each a nice hot butterbeer. You hadn’t felt so cold outside, but now that you were in the warmth, you could feel your fingers begin to burn as they thawed.

After a few moments wait, you grabbed the butterbeer mug between your already warm fingers and began to walk back to the table. You had to scooch around other tables and chairs, but eventually, you spotted Ginny’s red hair once more in the same table by the window.

Unfortunately, though, you spotted two other heads of red hair as well. Fred and George were crouched over their younger sister, a large Zonko’s bag on the table as they showed off their latest purchases.

“Bloody fantastic,” you groaned, causing Megan to chuckle as the two of you arrived at the table.

“Well, afternoon, ladies,” Fred grinned, taking his eyes off of his products to look at the two of you, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Is it, though?” you rolled your eyes, sitting down and placing your mug on the table, “This is a school outing. There are students everywhere.”

Fred let out a laugh, “Well, not everyone decides to participate in such festivities.”

You let out a loud sigh and frowned, looking down to your drink to distract yourself from rebutting his comment. George had run off to go see Lee and another group of Gryffindors, so at least that was one down. If only Fred could leave as well.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you felt Megan kick your leg under the table and so you shot her a look, asking her what was up.

“Well, guess I’ve best be off,” Fred said before she could reply to your glare, “Have a lovely afternoon.” As he passed by you, he placed his hand atop your head, “Especially you.”

“Don’t touch me,” you pulled your head out from under his hand, furrowing your eyebrows and mustering up your best scowl. 

“Ah, intimidating,” Fred smirked, “I’m shaking in my bloody shoes.” Ginny and Megan stifled their laughter but you could hear them anyways. They were hardly being subtle. 

“Get out of here, Weasley,” you turned way from him and faced your butterbeer once again, trying not to let him get to you. You had to fight a blush at Ginny and Megan’s laughter as Fred walked away, his chuckle fading into the loudness of the pub.

“Anyways,” Ginny grinned, pulling her hand away from her mouth, “Let’s change the subject before Y/N explodes.”

You snapped your head up to face her, your cheeks becoming rather warm, “I’m not going to explode, thank you very much. I just can’t stand your prat brothers.”

Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulder and leaned forwards on the table, resting against her elbows, “You do a terrific job of hiding it.”

“Sorry, Gin,” you gave her a sheepish grin, “Tell them to stop being assholes. But I can try and be civil.”

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and her and Megan exchanged a look. You ignored it, knowing they were probably thinking of something that you didn’t even want to know about, and took a long sip of butterbeer, letting the soothing, warm liquid calm you.

After sharing a nice long chat, Ginny having downed two whole hot cocoas, the three of you walked over to Honeyduke’s. The sun was gone and a thick layer of clouds covered the sky.

You really hoped it wouldn’t rain. You were chilly enough as it is. The last thing you wanted was to also be soaking wet.

Ginny held the door open as you and Megan climbed in afterwards, the warmth from the store immediately making a difference.

Megan took off to check out the latest line of sweets, her head disappearing within the busy store. Students were everywhere — eating, chatting, filling up bags of candies for long classes.

You noticed you had also lost Ginny. Where she had gone off to, you had no idea. But you took advantage of the fact that she was gone and made your way to the nearest shelf. It was incredibly tall and stacked with loads of different types of —

“Chocolate, a good choice,” a smooth voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and spin around, ready to knock over whoever had stepped close enough to speak in your ear.

You frowned as you faced Fred’s grinning figure.

“Oh, it’s you,” you rolled your eyes and turned back around, “I’d like to shop in peace. Bye bye.”

To your dismay, Fred pretended not to hear you and came to stand by your side, “As a resident expert on anything sweet — like myself — I recommend these guys.”

Fred reached up and grabbed a chocolate frog, placing it in your hand. You stared down at it, eyebrow cocked. You heard these were quite nice, honestly, but that didn’t mean you wanted to accept one from Fred.

“Why should I trust your opinion?” you glanced back up at him, a blank look on your face. 

“Because,” he replied, grabbing another one for himself, “I know my stuff.”

You glared at him before walking away, the chocolate frog still in your hand. You couldn’t reach up to put it back and there was no way in hell you’d ask Fred for help. So, to keep your pride, you’d just buy it.

“I’m just taking this,” you finally arrived at the cash, placing the single chocolate frog down in front of the young cashier.

“And this one,” Fred was somehow still behind you, placing his own chocolate frog down next to yours, “On me.”

“Oh, charming,” you sassed, turning to face him with your arms crossed, “I can afford it myself, you know. I don’t need your help.”

Fred grinned at you as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, paying for the two chocolate frogs, “I know you don’t. I’m just being sweet.”

You ignored the wink he gave you, grabbing your chocolate frog off of the counter and placing it in your coat pocket. The cold outdoor air would prevent it from melting, so you figured it was safe there.

“Well, stop being sweet,” you smiled sarcastically, re-adjusting your scarf and beginning to walk away from him. You heard him call your name, but luckily for you, Ginny and Megan found you before he could. They both had a bag each — how they had managed to each buy their own stash of candies in the short amount of time you had found one chocolate frog, you’ll never know.

“Ready to go, ladies?” Megan asked, grabbing a lolly out of her bag and unwrapping it, sticking it into her mouth as she led the three of you back into the fresh November air.

You sighed as you stepped outside, shoving your hand into your pocket, feeling the chocolate frog box sitting there. You absentmindedly fiddled with it, not even noticing you were doing so.

This would make a lovely midnight snack.

——

You know that saying; when you have a romantic dream about someone, you can’t see them the same way anymore?

Well, you usually didn’t believe that. You thought people just got too attached to their subconscious and wanted to feel things that weren’t there.

You especially didn’t want to believe it when you woke up that morning, last night’s dream crystal clear in your head. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were with anyone else — the idea of cuddling and kissing any other person on the planet would have been fine.

But no, no. Your dream decided to pair you up with the one person you didn’t want.

Fred goddamn Weasley.

It was probably only because you ate the chocolate frog he bought you. So, due to that, he was in your mind. That’s the only reasonable explanation. There was no other reason for such a dream to occur.

You hopped of bed, shaking your head every few minutes to rid yourself of the disgusting images from your head, and rushed down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, Ginny and Megan still sound asleep in their four poster beds. They’d never find out you just dreamt of yourself in a relationship with Ginny’s older brother. They’d never let you live it down.

The Great Hall was silent as you walked in, the candles lit and the tables rather empty. You spotted a few familiar faces at the Gryffindor table, but chose you’d prefer to sit alone and stew in solemn silence.

Why had your mind decided to pair you up with Fred? Why?

As if the Devil himself was playing a game, Fred, George and Lee made their appearance in the Hall doorway with loud laughter. You groaned, letting your hair fall into your face as you poured yourself a cup of tea, wishing more than anything that they wouldn’t spot you.

“Mornin’, Y/N!” Lee sat across from you, a big smile on his face. You couldn’t muster the same expression, your lips curved downwards into a scowl. Of course they’d come sit with you. Everyone else at the Gryffindor table was either a first or second year. Clearly, the universe was testing you.

“Hi, Lee,” you gave a forced smile, taking a sip of your tea and keeping your eyes away from the twins that sat on either side of him.

Although you were fine with George sitting across from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Fred. Whether it was due to your dislike of him or the fact that you just had a dream where you had been in love with him, you couldn’t tell. But your heartbeat was starting to quicken — and you were not liking it.

“Awfully silent this morning,” Fred smirked, resting his elbows on the table.

You stood up abruptly, gulping down the last bit of tea in your mug, “Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh — you wound me,” he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you bothered by me?”

“Well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?” you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, “My morning was going fine until I saw you. Time for me to leave.”

George and Lee snickered as Fred’s smile faltered, his eyes glued to you as you scurried quickly out of the Great Hall, wishing more than anything that Fred didn’t get you as huffed and flustered as he did.

Damn him.

You couldn’t stand him. Him and his bright hair. Him and his freckled cheeks. Him and his warm eyes.

Yep, the dream didn’t change anything.

��—

You were rather glad the sunshine continued to peak throughout the day — especially as you walked down to the Quidditch pitch. Playing in rain and snow was fun, sure, but there was nothing like playing on a clear, fresh day.

“Glad the weather is nice,” Ginny said from next to you as if she were reading your mind, “Should make finding the Snitch easier.”

You grinned, “Always glad when the sun’s out.”

She chuckled and opened the tent flap, letting you head in before her. The rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet which you were thankful for. It would give you time to get changed and mentally prepare before the rowdiness began. You loved most of the team to bits, but they could be quite loud. Especially the one person on the team that you didn’t like.

You seized your Quidditch robes and promptly changed into them, stepping out of the private room and immediately slouching your shoulders.

Your peace and quiet hadn’t lasted long. Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Harry and Ginny were huddled together, laughing loudly as they each began to prepare for the game.

“Oh, Y/N, we’re going over today’s plan!” Angelina waved you over, motioning for you to join. You did as the captain said, standing close to Ginny and as far from the grinning twins as you could.

“Now, this one here,” Angelina pointed to a badly drawn diagram on a crumpled piece of parchment, “Is called Bollocks, and it’s when—,”

“Sorry,” George snickered, lifting his hand to cut her off, “You named a play Bollocks?”

“Problem?” Angelina placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, challenging him, “It was one of Wood’s old plays and might I add, it always worked brilliantly.”

You rolled your eyes at the immature reaction from the twins, wishing they’d pipe down so you could actually focus.

Fred was next to speak, “Course it was Ollie. Lad always had such wonderful names for everything.”

“Excuse me,” you found yourself speaking up, not even sure where your voice came from, “Can you stop being immature for three seconds so we can listen to Angie and maybe win this game?”

Narrowing his eyes at you, Fred scoffed, “And what exactly is it that’s set you off today? Always something, isn’t there?”

You blinked rapidly, “What?”

“You’ve always got something to say,” he continued, “Bit annoying, really.”

The tent was silent, the team stepping back slightly as if trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire. You felt your blood being to boil. Fred had never actually snapped back at you before — and for some reason, you genuinely disliked it.

“I—” your voice trailed off as you realized you didn’t even know what to say. You almost felt bad. Which was rare. You never really felt bad for telling Fred off. He usually always deserved it. Why did you feel that way this time?

“Anyways,” Angelina took her place once more, trying to cut a knife through the palpable awkwardness that was now floating around the tent. 

You were still looking at Fred, who was now facing away, his jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed. Never had you seen him this put off.

Angelina continued to explain the game plan, but you were too consumed with unwanted guilt to pay attention to every word. Why had this argument left you with such a bitter feeling? You weren’t normally left feeling sour after any sort of encounter with Fred. Was it because he actually looked upset? Was it because you felt bad? Did it have anything to do with your stupid dream?

No, no. Can’t be the dream. It was just a dream.

She finished up her speech and you took your place behind Alicia, grabbing your broom and ready to make an entrance onto the pitch. But, after your standoff with Fred, all excitement that you previously had was gone. If anything, you would much rather run back to the castle and hide away in your dorm room right about now.

“You alright?” Ginny leaned over, “He’s not actually mad, y’know? Just loses his temper sometimes.”

“I feel bad,” you whispered back, your grip on the broom tightening, “I’ll apologize later.”

Ginny smiled at you, not able to say much more as the lot of you walked out onto the field and came face to face with your opponent. The loud cheers from the crowd helped lift your spirits slightly, but you couldn’t help sneaking another peak at Fred. He was laughing at something Angelina had said, all traces of his previous anger gone.

Maybe Ginny was right, perhaps he wasn’t angry. You felt you needed to apologize anyways, but hopefully it would be forgotten and things could just go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

The whistle blew to signal the beginning of the match, causing you to kick off the ground and take off, ready to bring to life your game plan with your fellow Chasers. You pushed past your bad feelings and focused solely on the match ahead, causing Gryffindor to take an early lead.

Ten minutes in and you were up thirty to zero, two of those goals scored by yours truly. You celebrated both with the rest of the team team, noticing, however, how Fred didn’t come to join both times. He seemed rather thrilled when Alicia scored, though.

Why was this bothering you?

You shook your head and continued the game. Another ten minutes in and Angelina put another one in, leaving you guys up forty to nothing.

You were ready to execute another play — Bollocks, specifically — when you heard your name being shouted.

“Look out!” Ginny’s eyes were wide as she called out to you.

You gave her a puzzled look, ready to turn around and see what she was pointing at, but you didn’t have the chance to do so.

The Bludger knocked into your arm, causing you to completely lose balance and topple off of your broom. Unbearable pain spread throughout your body, the point of contact on your arm throbbing violently as the world around you spun out of focus. The entire audience gasped as you began to plummet towards the ground.

Sixty feet? Seventy, maybe?

You could hear people shouting your name but you couldn’t open your eyes, bracing yourself for impact. Your head felt heavy, your heart skipping beats.

You tried to squint your eyes open, but all you could see was the blue of the sky and something orange and red flash by.

That was the last thing you saw before your vision went dark.

——

The Hospital Wing at night was usually deserted. The moonlight would shine through the windows onto the empty beds and Madam Pomfrey would retire to her room early. But not tonight.

Tonight, they were all gathered around you.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” Megan asked, seated by your side and holding your hand tightly in hers, “It was really scary to see you fall.”

“I’m fine, Meg,” you replied with a low chuckle, your voice coarse from having been asleep — or passed out — for a few hours, “I don’t even remember hitting the ground.”

“That’s because you didn’t hit the ground,” Ginny sat down on the other side of the bed, arms crossed and a light smirk on her lips, “You got saved before you made impact.” She looked tired, but you were incredibly glad she was here.

“She’s right,” Megan piped up, now wearing the same smirk, “Madam Pomfrey say you passed out due to the Bludger impact and the speed in which you feel. Hitting the ground had nothing to do with it because you didn’t hit the ground.”

You looked between the two, your eyebrows furrowed and your mind not fully wrapping around their words. You had to have hit the ground, right?

“How did I not hit the ground?” you coughed slightly as you spoke, reaching over to the small table next to you and grabbing your glass of water, taking a small sip to hopefully soothe your throat.

“Fred caught you,” Ginny replied tentatively.

You spat the water back out, spraying the bedspread and probably Megan and Ginny’s faces as well, “I’m sorry — what?”

Megan answered, wiping at her eye, “Yep. He caught you right as you passed out.”

You stated at them, your eyes feeling as if they were as wide as saucers. There was no way Fred saved you, was there? Was he the flash of red and orange you had seen?

“Why’d he do that?” you asked with interest, placing your glass of water back down to avoid spraying anyone else with your shocked spitting.

Ginny was about to speak, but the doors to the Hospital Wing opened and she muttered a sly, “Ask him yourself.”

You looked over, and sure enough, Fred was walking in. Accompanied by the rest of the team, yes, but your eyes went to him and only him. Clearly, he could sense your stare, as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck once arriving at the foot of your bed.

“You caught me?” you asked, ignoring whatever it was that Angelina had just asked you.

Fred’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he shrugged, “Yeah. But it’s not a big deal.”

Angelina pursed her lips from next to you, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. The group all shared a look and decided to leave the two of you be, slowly slipping out of the Hospital Wing.

You noticed, yes, but were too busy saying, “Thank you.”

Fred cupped his ear and leaned forwards, a hint of a smirk on his lips as all traces of awkwardness seemed to dissipate, “Sorry, did you just thank me? Blimey, must be the end of times.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes and dropping your head back down onto the pillow, “Just accept my thanking and be on your way.”

“I actually brought you something,” he lifted his finger, reaching into the tiny pocket on his chest, pulling out a boxed chocolate frog, “Here. For you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms, “I don’t trust it. It’s coming from you.”

“I promise, I didn’t do anything to it. And the other one I gave you was fine, wasn’t it?” he smiled, walking over to the side of the bed to sit on the chair, still holding out the small box. His smile was genuine — but he still had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fine,” you snatched it from him, “I’ll trust you just this once. Because I’m hungry..”

“I got it from Honeydukes yesterday,” he said, leaning back in the chair and lifting his legs, resting his feet atop your bed. You glared at them as you popped the chocolate into your mouth, letting the sweetness soothe you.

“See?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow, “You can trust me.”

You looked over at him, taking in his relaxed, causal state and the bright look in his eyes. You had always seen him looking as if he were hiding a dragon in his trousers — you couldn’t remember a time you’d seen him so casual.

His red striped shirt brought out the warm colours on his face. He looked effortlessly charming. It was annoying, really.

“I guess I can,” you smiled back, no hint of hostility in your voice, “Thank you.”

He took his feet off of your bed and pretended to bow, “You are infinitely welcome.” You chuckled, shaking your head and turning away from him, continuing to suck on the candy. It was changing flavours the longer it was in your mouth; it was beginning to taste like lemon.

“I can bring you some more tomorrow,” he grinned, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets, “I need to meet up with George. Do you have a candy preference?”

You blinked up at him, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

He shrugged before nodding, “Might as well. Gotta come see my favorite grouch.”

“Oh, shove off,” you scoffed, dropping your head. For some reason, him saying he was coming to see you tomorrow sent your heart into a jolt. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you glanced back up at him, the same thing happened. You suddenly felt awfully giddy.

“What kind of candy do you like?” he asked again, giving you a more serious look, “It’s the least I could do for not knocking the Bludger fast enough.”

You placed a finger to your chin and tapped, pondering over his question, “I like chocolate. But you already know that.”

He nodded curtly, taking a dramatic bow, “Chocolate it is.” You couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering your mouth and tossing your head back. Fred chuckled too, beginning to make his way towards the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he gave you a little wave, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, you git,” you replied with a grin, laughing slightly as you watched his lips curve upwards before he stepped outside of the Hospital Wing, closing the door quietly behind him.

Your smile fell as he left, bringing up the blanket to wrap around you, suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the room. Apart from Madam Pomfrey — who was reading a rather large book on the other side of the room. The silence was unnerving and you decided to just sleep it off.

You shut your eyes and let yourself fall into a deep, deep sleep.

——

“You’re joking!” you said through a mouthful of chocolate, your eyes wide.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Not joking.”

“How could you do that? You traumatized poor Ron for life,” you said, finally swallowing the chocolate in your mouth so you could breathe through your laughter. 

Fred shrugged, “He deserved it.”

You shot him a look, “He was six. I hardly believe he deserved it.” Popping another bit of chocolate frog into your mouth, you raised your eyebrows as if challenging him.

He let out a low chuckle before taking a bite of his own chocolate frog. True to his word, Fred had shown up that evening with a bag of Honeyduke’s sweets, splitting them into piles between the two of you. Madam Pomfrey was not exactly overjoyed by his appearance — considering his appearance came with noise and food — but she told him he was allowed in for two hours.

You were being discharged tomorrow, anyways. There was no use moping and sulking about with only one day left here. Classes would resume and things would go back to normal.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he pointed to his own nose as he spoke. You flushed, quickly raising your hand to try and wipe it off.

“You missed,” he smirked, sitting up and leaning forwards, reaching his hand out to touch your nose. As he made contact, you cheeks became incredibly warm. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you looked up into his warm eyes, you couldn’t help it. He was gazing down at you, fingers trailing from your nose down to your jaw before he retracted his hand.

You let out a small cough, purposefully ruining the moment, “What are you looking at?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s just — do you have to be so painfully beautiful?”

Although you were neither eating, nor drinking, you felt yourself choking on air. You averted your eyes away from him, looking at the ground for a good moment as your head wrapped around what he just said.

“Right,” you scoffed, cheeks burning, “I think you’re the one who hit your head.”

He let out an awkward chuckle as he leaned back in his chair, “Deny the compliment all you want. Doesn’t make it any less true, y’know.”

Why was Fred making you feel like this? Obnoxious, loud, arrogant, cocky Fred Weasley. Cute, charming, funny — no.

You couldn’t think of him that way. You had practically sworn to yourself that you’d never end up liking him. You couldn’t just change your morals now. Who does that?

“Thanks,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers under the blanket. You didn’t know what to say, you could barely muster the word ‘thanks’ in the first place.

It was odd. Just yesterday, you had snapped at him for being childish. For making a joke. But now, only a day later, you were here. Fighting back a grin and a blush at his compliment as he smirked over, clearly pleased by your reaction as he bit into another sweet.

Considering Fred hadn’t seemed to be your biggest fan either, you wondered why he suddenly felt open enough, confident enough, to compliment you so casually. What had changed? Why were the two of you so relaxed around each other?

Too swarmed with your own confusing thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the two hours fly by. Fred left not long after, a smile on his face as he left his pile of candies behind for you.

Candies. That’s what was to blame. The sugar. That’s why your heart was violently beating against your ribcage, why your mind was fuzzy, why you had the urge to ask Fred to stay.

The candies were to blame. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

It had to be the candies.

——

The next few days went by in a blur. You were feeling back to normal, which you were awfully thankful for. Madam Pomfrey had fixed you up in a jiffy and sent you on you way after two days in the Wing being monitored closely under her watchful eye. She wasn’t impressed with how many chocolate frogs you had managed to eat, but she was glad you were healed and ready to take on the world again.

Ginny and Megan were glad to have you back — girls night just wasn’t the same without you, they said. And you were glad to see them again too. Although it was only two nights away, you had missed their company.

However, as glad as you were to no longer be confined to your tiny single bed, you felt as if you were missing something. You knew deep down you were missing Fred’s presence —even though you tried to deny it to yourself. He had been nice company while you were being healed and you kind of wished you could get some more alone time with him.

You had seen him around, sure. He was always there during meals and you’d come across him in the common room. Each time he’d send a smile your way and if you were lucky, he’d strike up a quick conversation after asking how you were feeling.

As much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself looking for him when he wasn’t around. You found yourself looking over anytime someone entered the room, hoping it would be him. You’d scan the hallways looking for his bright red hair —

“Looking for me?” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Rather ironic, you thought as you looked up into Fred’s eyes, his head peeking over yours as you sat down for dinner.

“You wish,” you scoffed, fighting a blush that would give away the fact that yes, indeed, you were thinking of him. He didn’t need to know that, though. Would only boost his huge ego and no one wanted that.

“I always wish that,” he smirked as he sat down to your right. Oh, how you wished Fred was a lot less charming than he was. Damn him.

You reached across and grabbed some food, piling it onto your plate without another word. You could feel Fred’s eyes staring at you, your whole body felt like it was burning under his eyes.

“Stop staring,” you turned to face him with your eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” he raised his hands, “Hard not to.”

You wanted to retaliate, but your voice was lost under Lee and Ginny giggling across from you. When had they even come in? Were they here the whole time? And why wasn’t George with Fred?

“Young love,” Lee clasped his hands and sighed, looking over to Ginny, “When will these two realize their feelings, Ginerva?”

Ginny batted her eyelashes in an equally dramatic manner, “Oh, I don’t know, Lee. Maybe they just need a push.”

Both you and Fred were glaring daggers at them. You hoped the stare you were giving Ginny would cause her to drop the subject, but clearly, it only egged her on. She sent you a wink, laughing as un-subtly as possible.

“Oi, no one asked for the two of you to pipe in,” Fred shot a look at Lee, also hoping to silencing his friend, his cheeks tinted with pink.

You looked away from Ginny, picking at your plate, embarrassed by the obvious attempt to get you and Fred to talk. Would you two even be compatible? 

Would the two of you be a good couple?

“I think we would,” Fred grinned, nudging you in the side.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed, “We would what?”

“You asked if we would be a good couple,” his grin was taunting, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“Did I — Melin, did I ask that aloud?” you asked, horrified and humiliated. There was no fighting the blush on your cheeks now. Oh, how you wished you could climb into a hole and completely disappear. 

“You did,” Fred scooted closer to you, “And might I add, it was rather cute. We would make an excellent couple, Y/N. You already love telling me off.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, completely and utterly shocked that your mouth had the audacity to voice your thoughts without your permission. Why? Why did this have to happen to you?

Fred, noticing that you weren’t going to speak, decided to take initiative, “Well, since that’s all in the open, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend? As a date.”

You looked up to him, the blush now gone as your face lost colour, completely caught off guard. Fred was blunt, yes, but you didn’t think he’d actually ask you out. You figured this weird thing going on between you two was just due both of you feeling guilty? Was this even real?

Did you ever think you’d want to go on a date with Fred Weasley? Bloody hell, no. But now, did you want to go on a date with him? Of course you did. 

“I’d love to,” you replied quietly, not even sure you had said the words.

Fred’s beaming smile alerted you that he had heard you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you close to him, but you were too starstruck by the idea of going on a date with him to retaliate.

He was warm, comforting, and you really did enjoy it.

“Go team,” Ginny grinned, fist-bumping an equally pleased looking Lee.

Fred leaned over with a wide smile and whispered in your ear, “Remember when you hated me?”

You scoffed, pulling away as a smile played at your lips, “Shove off, you git.”

—

taglist

@grierpilots

@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

@msmimimerton

@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

@thoseofgreatambition

@theweasleysredhair

@haphazardhufflepuff

@almostweepingbanana

@ickle-ronniekins

@iprobablyshipit91

@wand3ringr0s3

@susceptible-but-siriusexual

[celestial-ringleader]

https://celestial-ringleader.tumblr.com/post/658246663116341248/mushroom-cookie-bears-send-me-a-character-and

Remy & Pietro??

@lucifers-favorite-child Buckle in y’all because this is gonna be a long one

Remy LeBeau:

favorite thing about them: So. Many. Things. I can’t decide on one so I’m just gonna list off my top three:

- His entire aesthetic is just so cool to me?? I love the idea of his character, just him being a thief (and an heir to an entire Guild on top of it) but I also like how he’s often seen as siren-like with how he can pull people in and smooth-talk his way out of almost anything. Also his eyes are so fucking cool idc what anyone else says. The black with red sclera is just so awesome.

- His powerset, omg people seriously underestimate what he’s capable of. Some think his power is just throwing explosive cards when it’s so much more than that. Like do you have any idea how useful it could be to manipulate energy?? He could literally make a moving object stop because he can just sap out the kinetic energy within it. On top of that he made a missile explode in Excalibur which I think was an interesting way of using his powers.  Also his goddamn reflexes are broken as all fuck, like he can sense a bullet coming even before anyone else notices it and dodge it perfectly. And if he’s quick enough he can hit it back at the person who shot at him. It’s fucking insane. And let’s not forget that in an alternate universe he was able to kill the Dark Phoenix and destroy his whole planet in a fit of his powers overloading. So.

- This is gonna be cheesy, but I love the way he talks. I like how no matter how much time has passed, he hasn’t changed how he speaks and is proud of it. Besides, his accent is just,,,so good.

least favorite thing about them: Aside from the moments where he’s characterized and portrayed poorly, I can’t think of anything.

favorite line: “I ain’t a thief, or an assassin. I’m an X-Man and I’m never comin’ back.” He said that to Belladonna in X-Men: The Animated Series and it stuck with me so much.

But also the line “You need ta get a life. Seriously.” is so good too. Just ANXF in general had a lot of good lines.

brOTP: Oh boy I have so many so I’m listing them off:

-Remy & Ororo Monroe

-Remy & Laura Kinney

-Remy & Anna-Marie (and before I get people asking, I personally don’t ship them romantically. Not saying no one else should, it’s just a personal preference.)

And some bonus crack brOTPs:

-Remy & Neena Thurman

-Remy & Felicia Hardy

OTP: There’s a lot here too,,,

-Remy/Pietro Maximoff (obviously)

-Remy/Fantomex

-Remy/Johnny Storm (this is more of a crack pairing, but I blame rping on discord for this)

-Remy/Kurt Wagner

-Remy/Warren Worthington III

nOTP: Honestly Remy is so shippable with a lot of people so I don’t really care all that much. Like,,sometimes I like people exploring him in toxic relationships (like with Sabertooth or Mister Sinister) so I really don’t care skjvbdkj

random headcanon: I like to headcanon that Remy has ADHD, which mostly shows itself through him having special interests, stimming, and having a bad case of RSD (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria) because of past trauma associated with him being abandoned by those close to him. Also I like to imagine he uses playing cards to stim and his special interest is science fiction and space operas. Let him be a nerd.

Also he’s an Omega Level mutant. There I said it.

unpopular opinion: Okay, nobody get out the pitchforks and torches, but I don’t like this common headcanon that he’s a himbo and a narcissist. Usually a himbo is described as a character who is dumb while also being kind and beefy, but Remy just doesn’t tick all those boxes in my opinion. He’s incredibly clever and learns quickly, but he also doesn’t waste his time with knowledge that won’t help him. Like maybe he can’t do basic calculus but he understands how to get a lock to break based on it’s materials. Also because he was a physics teacher and I’d buy that he understands physics very well, especially since energy is such a big part of physics. So to me, he isn’t a himbo, he’s just a decent man. And as for the narcissism thing, he just doesn’t fit into the personality of someone with NPD. In fact, most of the time he talks down about himself and thinks himself less worthy....the exact opposite of a narcissist. Sometimes he’s just full of himself because he loves himself for once and that’s perfectly okay to me.  

song i associate with them: “Blood on my Name” by The Brother’s Bright, it has a southern gothic feel and it fits well into his backstory. Also “Poker Face” because why not. And also “Addict” by SilviaHound (yes it’s a Hazbin Hotel song but the vibes fit him so well)

favorite picture of them: I have,,,way too many I like. But these ones are just so good.

Also this one because it genuinely made me laugh

okay and now onto pietro

Pietro Maximoff:

favorite thing about them: There’s so much I love about Pietro so I’ll just list it off again ajkdbvkj

- His powers are actually really fucking cool. Like people think he can just run fast but forget that running fast is just one thing he can do. He can literally vibrate himself fast enough to go through walls, he has been shown to have some control over metal like Erik, he ran faster than the speed of sound (and possibly light), and he can leg press over 2,000 pounds. Also his superhero name is just so good, not even being ironic, the name Quicksilver is so badass.

- I love his relationship with Wanda, like sometimes it’s written really bad but other times it’s the cutest thing ever. Like he feels so protective over Wanda because of the environment they were raised in, but at the same time he learns when to let go of his own insecurities and let Wanda be her own person. Like,,their sibling dynamic is one of my favorites.

- His entire backstory is so tragic and I love it. He always feels like he isn’t good enough and tries to be as good as he can despite it all, but he’s also unabashedly pissed off about the circumstance he’s in. Like Pietro has every right to be bitter and I love seeing him call people out on their bullshit (especially in Quicksilver: No Surrender when he calls out people for marketing and appropriating Romani culture) 

least favorite thing about them: ...I literally can’t think of anything akjdbvkj

favorite line: Oops it’s all gamquick

Remy: Are you being difficult on purpose?

Pietro: What other reason is there to be difficult?

And also-

Pietro: Well, that’s a step up from a blow-up doll, isn’t it?

Remy: Did anyone ask you?

(Yes these are both from ANXF)

brOTP:

-Pietro & Wanda

-Pietro & Lorna Dane

-Pietro & Clint Barton (not MCU)

OTP: Okay I really only have two but I’m gonna gush about gamquick for a minute-

-Pietro/Remy LeBeau: I don’t even know where to begin with these two, I guess to start out with they both just look so good next to one another. They also bounce off one another banter-wise very well and while neither of them take bullshit from anyone, they still don’t mind messing with one another because it’s strictly playful. Also both their backstories are similar and lends itself to them finding solace in one another, they both recognize each other’s pain and will try their best to alleviate it as best as they can. They both understand what it feels like to be abandoned and abused and would never inflict that on each other, they both came from poverty and find it hard to fit into the “normal world”, but also Pietro usually never shows his softer side to anyone, but with Remy he’d make the exception because Remy wouldn’t hurt him like that. It’s also cute to explore them being able to settle down and get away from the superhero life for a while, but also them being a battle couple is A++

There’s just so much to say about them ajbdvkj

-Pietro/Namor Mckenzie: This became one of my favorite Pietro ships mostly because of @imperiuswrecked​ but also because apparently they were gonna be a couple in House of M?? Like that sounds so good to read about! Like Pietro is more carefree than Namor in some instances and it would be nice to see Namor relax a little bit more around Pietro. But also because I love imagining them being That royal couple and it’s so good.

nOTP: Pietro/Crystal. Just no. That ship is a garbage fire and it should’ve burned out ages ago.

random headcanon: Pietro has darker roots because his hair used to be the same color as Wanda’s before his powers manifested themselves. Also I like to headcanon/draw Pietro with darker skin.

unpopular opinion: Sometimes Pietro is seen as being misogynistic towards Wanda and I hate that interpretation of him. He’s protective over her, but he still allows her to make decisions on her own. Also people need to stop blaming Pietro for the events of House of M. For the love of god stop that shit.

song i associate with them: “Dollhouse” by Melanie Martinez

favorite picture of them: Need I say more? Pietro carrying his Cajun bf goes without saying

This was a lot of fun to write out and there’s so much more I can say but for now I’ll leave it here ajdbvkj

Ask Meme

[out-of-jams]

Space Trash || teaser || jhs

↠ Space Trash ↞ “I mean, we escaped from prison, accidentally stole this super important data drive, and now we’re about to try and take on one of the biggest, baddest douche bags in the entire universe. We gotta at least come up with a name to call ourselves so they have something to put on our tombstones.” Hoseok glanced around at each and every one of your faces slowly, smile beaming in an attempt to rally the troops.

“How about ‘The Guardians of the Galaxy’,” Jimin offered with his bright, lavender hued eyes trained to the metal ceiling of the Milano in thought. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“That’s a little too ostentatious for this circus of clowns. We’re more like space trash than galaxy guardians,” you scoffed. A moment of brief silence passed where all that could be heard was the gentle, constant thrumming of the ship as it drifted in space. “Oh, no.”

“I kinda like it,” Jungkook voiced and scratched his tattooed neck, accompanied by the agreeing murmurs of everyone else and an ‘I am V!’ from V.

Hoseok beamed. “Space Trash, it is!” 

“No!”

pairing: Hoseok x Reader

word count: TBD. possibly 20-30k holy space balls this will take me forever omfg

release date: TBD

warnings/genre: guardians of the galaxy!au. S2E2EL2L. violence. comedy. i swear this isn’t pure crack. angst. space au. they’re all criminals. pilot/thief/why am i here/don’t make me stab you!Reader. (HIIC) head idiot in charge!Hoseok. i eat nails for breakfast but can’t tie my own shoes!Jungkook. pink skinned sassy weapons master techie genius beautiful superior to all others (”who is letting that narcissistic asshole write his own descriptions?”)!Jimin. is that a fucking talking tree!Taehyung. explicit language. one shot. rated M for badassMotherfuckers.

He was staring and you were starting to get more annoyed than you usually were on any day that ended in a ‘y.’  

It was obvious, seeing as how he refused to even blink. You’d think that someone would know better than to do it so conspicuously. Especially in a place such as the Kyln, otherwise known as the dreaded bowels of the galaxy’s most inescapable prison. Only criminals of the highest degree were ever dragged there by the galaxy’s military police: The Nova Corps. Murderers, intergalactic thieves, underground warlords, whoever ran up enough of a bounty that a Headhunter would want to cash them in for credits, you name it.

You fell into two of those categories, though, you supposed, rather three. A repercussion of too many stolen ships from when you’d jump from planet to planet in search of something besides the next place you’d put your sticky fingers. A kleptomaniac, your parents had called you. But you’d needed something to keep yourself busy and out of the house when their fighting had gotten to be too much.

Until that led you to packing your bags in the dead of night and stealing your retired dad’s old, busted down, single passenger ship that you’d oh-so-painstakingly repaired over the years. One jump through The Universal Neural Teleportation Network (UNTN) later and you were finally free. Of the yelling, of the constant comparison to your dead brother who’d done more with his life than you could ever hope to accomplish.

(But no matter how far you ran, the stench of cigarettes and booze and the metallic haze of blood from a busted nose or swollen lip or blackened eye would never wash out of your system.)

Fast forward to three months ago when you’d stolen a ship from a guy who was angry enough and rich enough to hire a whole squad of Headhunters to bring you down. It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t known he was apart of the Government Counsel on the frosty planet of Contraxia, seeing as how it was mostly inhabited by sexbots, and the man had been a pink skinned Krylorian.

Though, sending ten men after one woman was a bit of an overkill, if you had any say about it. But no one asked your opinion on the Kyln unless they wanted to know which way you preferred to have your insides carved up. You kept to yourself mostly. Not that you weren’t personable, you just had no interest making friends with serial killers. Or murderers. Or serial killers who killed murderers. Or murderers who killed serial killers who killed murderers, because there were about five of them wandering around somewhere.

Which was exactly why you were two seconds away from slamming your metal lunch tray so hard into that leering douche bag’s face that he woke up in another galaxy. He was sitting across the mess hall, with its jumbled chaos of shouting yellow skinned, hairless Aakons, and Courgs stuffing their muzzled, dog like faces with the slop they called food, and the rest of the gaggle of fear-mongering A-holes spilling out of their cells.

He was easy to spot solely for the fact that he was sitting at the bottom half of a table by himself like the seats around him were vacated because he had bad body odor. The piss yellow, tank-top-like shirt and matching pants combo weren’t well worn enough to signify that he’d been stuck in that hellhole for a while. If the blatant staring didn’t give him away as a newbie, that certainly would have. You couldn’t see the color of the stripes on his pants from where you sat, so the classification of whatever crime he’d committed to get in there was a mystery.

The sudden squinting of his — what looked to be from the distance you sat at — muddy brown eyes had a glare sparking to life on your face. He looked human with his obnoxiously sharp jawline and tanned skin and heart shaped lips, but there were a lot of species out there who only appeared to be so.

Whatever the reason for his gawking, he must have found what he was looking for because he stood up away from his full tray of food and picked his way across the room towards you. A fight wasn’t on your itinerary for the day, but you’d gladly shove your metal spork through his eyehole if he tried anything funny.

Or if the thing about him having B.O. rang true. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a prick who smelled like a box of musty socks that mated with a sewer grate and popped out a sharp-nosed baby.

Your fingers tightened around your spork as he approached like he had all the time in the world, and a pair of Courg’s hadn’t descended on his untouched food tray four steps behind him like they hadn’t eaten in days. Even though they had just licked their own clean. Your eyes flickered down to the green stitching threaded through the left upper thigh of his pants.

Treason, your mind supplied. Crimes against more than one governing agency on more than one planet. Possibly in more than one galaxy. 

The definition of treason ranged far and wide, from assassinating a planet’s leader, to selling trade secrets, to figureheading a revolution. Or something else just as equally detrimental.

The moment he made it to your once peaceful corner, he immediately sat down on the stool soldered into the table without asking for an invitation. At least he didn’t smell. 

“Hey there, beautiful. Come here often?”

You were about to say to hell with it and stab him anyway. “What,” was spat out through gritted teeth.

“You.” His voice was low, pitched with a grating vocal fry like he’d just woken up and the first things he’d chosen to spew from his pink hued mouth was that. Leaning forward, he braced his folded hands on the cold, metal table and two tiny, twin dimples peaked out from the corners of his lips when he grinned. “Come here. Often? Beautiful.” 

“Oh, is that what got you landed in here?”

Your response must have caught him off guard since his eyebrows pinched together in confusion and it took him a moment to formulate words. “Pardon?”

“Idiocy,” you supplied him with an answer. “You. In here. Because dumb?”

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

ah yes 1.6, so much attempted boundary setting, so little success... it’s mini make up scenes this time around :D

1.6

Weller had been in a bad mood all day; starting from a sleepless night at the office, before moving onto having his objectivity questioned by both Mayfair and Jane. And then there was the fact that he'd tried to compensate for getting called out by being hard on Jane, which had just made him feel shittier about everything. Even stopping the bad guys and blowing up a truck with a perfect grenade toss hadn't improved his disposition, the way it normally would of.

He knew why, of course. It had been eating at him since she said it. But Weller was loath to face what had to be done, despite being sure it was the right thing to do.

Jane was heading towards the elevator, so it was his last chance of the day to talk to her. But Kurt remained nervously irritable, not yet entirely sure he was going to go through with it.

What if she said yes, and told him he was too close? He'd have to accept it of course, though it would be like a dagger to the heart. Still, Weller knew that he had to offer, as much as he didn't want to.

He remembered back to earlier that day, when she had asked about his objectivity. It had struck him so hard, even though everyone else had already been loudly saying the same thing. Because it was Jane, of course. He had told her that he didn't want to make things any harder on her than they already were. So if he didn't want to be a liar then he had to act right then.

So Kurt forced himself to approach, pressing the elevator button and trying to push back the anxiety in his gut. For a moment he paused and considered chickening out, but in the end his personal honour code demanded that he follow through with it.

"Do you want a new lead agent?" he asked, blurting the question out quickly so it didn't get jammed up in his throat.

His heart froze as Jane gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"On your case," he explained.

"Back in the surveillance van you said… that I wasn't objective."

Weller pushed himself to continue, even though he didn't really want to say the next words.

"So I can step down," he said, unable to control the little shake in his voice.

"And Mayfair can assign you a new lead agent."

He felt like his life was hanging on her reply, even though that was very overdramatic. Yet, one little word right then could take her out of his life again, possibly forever.

When Jane eventually affirmed what he believed – that he was exactly the right man for the job, because of his dedication to her case – Weller's shoulders relaxed for the first time that day. He was sure no other agent would do better and, as long as she felt that way too, it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

Kurt was so relieved that he pushed it too far again right away; offering to drive Jane home even though her detail was there to do exactly that. He tried to tell himself he wasn't disappointed when she pulled back and reminded him of the line they were trying to set.

But even that, the way she bit her lip and her shy 'better not'. It killed him.

She was an asset and the girl he'd spent his life trying to find. She had come to him with his name tattooed on her back and yet she wasn't his. It wouldn't be appropriate to act on the feelings she evoked in him, no matter how strongly he felt the connection between them, how much she blew his mind.

He'd been an ass to her all day, and still she hadn't jumped at the chance to get rid of him.

The elevator ride was quiet at first. Weller figured that Jane had already ended the conversation by rejecting his offer of a ride home, yet he still liked just being in the same space as her. It was pathetic, he knew. But true.

About halfway through the ride, Jane turned to him, wearing a serious expression.

"I really am sorry. I definitely don't want anyone else."

How was he supposed to take that?

Weller told his heart to settle down and hoped to hell that his brain would come up with something appropriate to say.

"I'm sorry too, Jane," he spat out, still trying to think though the fluttering in his chest.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on you today. None of that was your fault."

She offered him a hopeful smile that lit the green tint in her eyes, just as the elevator arrived at its destination.

"Thanks," she replied.

"And I meant it about coming for a drink sometime."

Jane ducked her head, her expression turning timid again.

"I don't know," she murmured, as they stepped out onto the parking level.

"It might feel awkward to start. But once Patterson gets going on the shots, she'll make sure you're having a good time."

Her face brightened a little at his words and Kurt struggled to keep his hands to himself, despite having spent an entire day trying to establish a more solid professional boundary.

"Maybe. Thanks for the offer." Jane said, flashing him one more smile before getting into the SUV with her detail.

Weller stood there as the vehicle drove away, his heart still in the same turmoil it had been in all day. It seemed like everyone was harping on him to pull back from her but he wasn't even sure it was possible. His usual rock solid emotional walls had come crashing down and he couldn't rebuild them with the onslaught of her presence.

He had told her that he was working on being objective. He just hadn't mentioned that he already knew he was destined to fail.

###

It was another quiet night alone, with only a head full of questions to keep her company.

Jane sat on the couch with the TV on but turned down so low that it was inaudible. She wondered how Ana was doing, alone in her apartment, with her matching security detail out front.

Her own life had been so action packed during the days and her first few nights had been so full of turmoil and self-questioning that Jane had only recently begun to register her loneliness. It had been a slow realization that everyone else had partners and friends and a life outside of work. Whereas she had just her doubts to keep her company.

Jane briefly wondered what it would be like to have a normal life; the freedom to just head out the door and meet a friend. Even the thought of having real friends seemed like a stretch when she was trying to connect with teenaged hackers.

She cringed a bit thinking about being told off by Weller twice for the same thing, then pushing him away after the truth had slipped out about her loneliness. He'd even asked if she wanted him off the case, which had made her stomach drop out from under her. The thought of losing Weller when she had nothing else to hold onto was terrifying and not at all what she wanted, despite battling with him for most of the day.

He had never been objective about her and most of her really liked that. Despite the pressure she sometimes felt because of it, or the way he'd treated her that day. Weller was possibly the only person on the planet that cared about her, even if their relationship was intense and undefinable.

Jane sighed, realizing that her head was stuck on Kurt again. She looked at the TV for a minute, trying to turn her thoughts in a different direction. She'd love to be able to just go out for a walk on her own, without a team of FBI agents following her. But that was a thought for another day, not something helpful to entertain at the moment.

Her phone rang just then, jolting her out of her head. Jane reached for it in surprise and saw that it was Weller, so she figured that something case related had occurred.

"Hi," she said, picking up the call. "Did something happen?"

"No," Weller replied. "Sorry I didn't mean to worry you. I was just out walking and I thought about what you said earlier."

"About being alone."

He sounded… off. Which made her chest constrict as he paused and waited for her to respond.

Jane wanted to ask if he was okay but didn't know what she would do if he wasn't. In the end she was quiet for too long and Weller must have gotten anxious because he started to apologize again.

"Sorry, right. You need some space. I shouldn't have called," he mumbled.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

It was the same thing he'd said to her the previous night, after she'd held his hand to her heart and told him that he was her starting point. Then tomorrow had come and he'd been cold to her all day. She didn't want that to happen again.

"No, wait. Don't hang up," Jane replied hurriedly.

"Why are you out walking at this time?"

Weller exhaled audibly.

"It's a long story," he said. "I needed some air."

"Which is what made me think, you can't even go out and get a breath on your own."

Part of her was pissed off, that he was only just understanding that even after she spelled it out for him earlier. But it was nice to be talking to Kurt and she didn't want to make more distance between them. So Jane took a tone somewhere in the middle, more teasing than upset.

"Oh, so you're just figuring that out now," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

"Yeah," Weller sighed. "I guess I haven't been seeing everything you're going through, outside of the cases."

Jane wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want his sympathy and yet it did feel good, for her hurts to be acknowledged.

"Anyways, I was walking and I thought maybe you wanted to talk. Not about the case. But so you don't feel so alone."

It was a sweet gesture, if possibly somewhere past the boundary lines they'd been trying to set. But no one else was going to call to talk to her, and she definitely didn't mind being on the phone with Kurt.

"Yeah. I'd like that," Jane said.

"So… what do people talk about on the phone anyways?"

Weller laughed, and she could hear him relax at her question.

"Honestly, I don't talk on the phone much. Especially now with Sarah and Sawyer living at my place. Back when we did call, it was mostly just catching up on what's happened in our lives."

"Well. You're pretty caught up in everything that I know about my life," Jane replied.

"So, it's going to have to be up to you. Tell me what you like to do when you're not working."

She could feel Weller frowning at the idea of not working, but then he laughed again, a little shyly this time. It was a comforting sound, and Jane felt herself smiling in response as Kurt ummed and uhhed a few times before he re-found his voice.

Then, hesitantly at first, Weller started telling her about hot summer evenings at the ballpark, drinking beer and cheering on his team. Which quickly turned into a full fledged conversation about baseball in general and ending up blowing Jane's mind when she was told how much money professional players could make for being good at hitting a ball with a bat.

She asked about his own history as a ballplayer then, which drew a few more embarrassed chuckles from Weller before he opened up about falling in love with the sport as a boy by spending long nights at the local ball field, throwing pitches until his arm was dead tired.

After awhile Jane realized how easy it was to talk to Weller when things weren't loaded with expectation and tension. Despite the way things had been between them that day, it seemed strangely natural to be on the phone with him, laughing at his description of teenage Kurt's athletic prowess.

By the time he was back at his apartment, Weller had given her a full rundown of his military school sports career and Jane was a bit sleepy from being cozy on the couch and listening to Kurt rumble on about baseball. She grinned lazily as she heard Weller opening the door to his building, still telling her about strikeouts and home runs. It was as relaxed as she'd ever been, in her remembered life.

"Are you still awake? I can't believe I just bored you with baseball for so long."

Kurt's voice startled Jane out of her thoughts and back into the conversation.

"Actually, that was really nice," she said. "Thank you."

Weller laughed self-consciously, but she could still hear the smile in his voice.

"Watch out or next time I'll tell you about my failed basketball career," he joked.

"But you're right, that was nice. Thanks for putting up with me."

She heard his worry slip through in his parting words and was startled back into reality. Where he'd offered to recuse himself from the case and they were trying to draw a line between them. Talking on the phone for such a long time hadn't exactly helped that process, yet it had felt so right.

"I wouldn't want anyone else to explain baseball to me," Jane said with a little laugh.

"Goodnight Weller."

"Goodnight Jane," he replied. "See you in the morning."

Jane ended the call with a grin on her face and a warm buzz in her chest. She didn't have much, not even a life to call her own. But at least she still had Weller, despite being at odds with him all day.

[themanip]

alternate routes

SYNOPSIS — how do you go throughout life? well, you find someone you like. get to know them. start dating. break up a few times, get back together. get married. have some kids. die old. typical. fucking in a back room of an awards show, not once, but twice as complete strangers, was definitely not how most relationships start out.

PAIRING — taehyung x metzi (oc) WARNINGS — descriptions of cheating, fliphones, mentions of getting laid, really bad intros tbh, the introvert line being introverts, and girls who are rlly bad at timing, an asshole named ryan, cursing WORD COUNT — just over 3.1k AUTHOR’S NOTE — hi! i am so fucking bad at writing the first chapter or two, i promise if you can bear the beginning of this story, it gets better. i have two and a half chapters written so far but i am writing super often! once a few more chapters get published i will create a masterlist. please enjoy and if you have any comments or recs don’t hesitate to let me know!! :)))

𝟏: 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐄 

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖 ⇥ The universe known to man is a labyrinth—an irregular maze, a passage that cannot be routed—and to understand that took more than an average mind. The matter was far too complicated than any obsolete man to comprehend on a whim. Millenia passed before galaxies were formed, planets were created, all unbeknownst to the stars bursting just miles apart.

From early amphibians, to the ice age, to cavemen, evolution has made great strides in every species. Humans in the past were variants called homosapiens, and most likely came from chimpanzees. Great strides like this were something to be proud of, you'd think.

When Metzi Ludovic realized that birds can fly with natural evolution, while humans had to industrialize it (thanks to the Wright brothers) she was pretty distraught. As an imaginative and critical eight-year old, fifteen years later, not much had changed. Currently, she was pondering over the fact that humans are one of the few species with opposable thumbs.

Majority of animals had not yet evolutionized to create opposable thumbs. While frantic over this, she also imagined her beautiful Pomeranian, with thumbs popping out of his paws. Her thoughts were quickly subdued, thanks to her coherent thoughts making an appearance. As cool as it would be, all other animals would devour humans if they gained that ability.

Is that the only reason humans are all mighty? They can industrialize and aim properly due to their adaptations, so that they somehow became top of the food chain?

Thankfully, she was redacted from her thoughts as her manager, Emmy, let out a distressed sigh. "Wren, we cannot change your outfit again. You look beautiful," At this point, looking at Wren, she knew that she would look good. Somehow, she couldn't convince herself.

"Wren, we can switch. I don't hate green, so you can take blue if you want it. I really don't mind," Metzi smiled softly, and she knew it was the right thing to offer as Wren's face lit up, a few tears being wiped away. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just do me a favor and loosen the ties on that, please. I have had way too many tacos yesterday to fit into it with the strings that tight," a small laugh left her mouth, and as she laid on the comfortable sofa. It was plush, but somehow offered no lumbar support. Who the hell makes a couch so soft, yet so unbearable for convenience of naps?

Selfish, she thought.

This dressing room was beautiful, so you'd think they'd have enough funds to make a decent couch. She could enjoy the aesthetics of the room, anyways. A luxurious baby pink covered the walls, and was bordered by pristine white. Plush gray carpet was under her feet, and was stain free. With Malorie in here, that probably wouldn't last long.

She was over by the double mirrors, applying powder over her face. She was so beautiful, Metzi couldn't fathom why she insisted on so much makeup. The same could be said about herself, so she kept her somewhat inner misogynistic comments at bay. She was pretty quiet, but something was off. She wasn't usually this quiet, so Metzi shot her a text.

She was very personal, and barely talked about what bothered her. Occasionally, Metzi would get her to open up, which she could physically see the relief on her face as she broke down. A brief, but to the point was written out on Metzi's phone.

you don't seem okay. wanna talk about it? Read 2:33 PM

The three dots popped up, and Metzi's attention was quickly brought to Vida, who sat down next to her, letting out a sigh. "How much longer until Olive gets here? I'm so close to taking a nap," Vida quickly put her hair into a makeshift ponytail, and leaned back, closing her eyes.

"It's only two, so I imagine not for a good hour or so, a nap sounds kind of nice," Wren commented, stood in the other corner of the room, with Emmy helped her undo the straps of her outfit. Her green silk top complimented her skin perfectly, but Metzi knew it was too late to convince her.

"Well, I'm out, wake me up when she gets here," Vida quickly blurts, and her head is now comfortably laying on the arm of the sofa. "I'll get up, I have to go to the bathroom anyways," Metzi commented, sighing before getting up.

Silence followed, and the blonde decided to take a look at her phone. A text was sent back on Malorie's behalf, and she widened her eyes momentarily. Standing still, she turned back to look at her. A face of guilt was evident, and she tried her best to hold her breath.

i have something to tell you, i'm not supposed to. i just feel so bad knowing while you don't i really shouldn't have said anything forget it

meet me in the bathroom

Read 2:37PM

Metzi's mind was in a whirlwind, and she couldn't think of anything she'd be referring to. Of course, it was useless, because clearly she wasn't meant to know about it. She hurried out of the room, the last thing she heard was Wren complaining once more about her outfit.

The hallways were empty, mostly because they'd came so early, and Metzi took her time reaching the bathroom. It was communal, so she really hoped that nobody else was here yet. The awards were meant to start in a few hours, and considering they had three faces to paint with makeup, early was a necessity.

"I hope you won't be mad at me," A small, timid voice aired behind her. The blonde turned around, and clutched her phone in fear. "I'm not, please tell me what's going on,"

As Malorie opened her phone, Metzi tapped her foot anxiously.

God, she really had to piss.

The brunette looked up at her, and showed her a photo.

"What is that?"

"That, was Ryan. On Saturday."

Ryan was her boyfriend of six years. An anxious cramping formed in her stomach at the mixture of his name and the tone of Malorie's voice. The photo she was now staring at made her want to vomit. Her stomach was now doing somersaults.

In the photo, it was indeed Ryan, in Metzi's own bed, with a mop of curly red hair under him. Most was covered by the sheets, but it was enough to come to the correct conclusion. He was clearly enjoying it too, judging by his face. Upon further inspection, she noticed something odd.

Grabbing the phone out of Malorie's hand, she zoomed in. On her nightstand, where a picture of the two usually sat, was now face down. While he fucked another woman in her bed, he turned her face down.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she took a deep breath in.

What happened Saturday? She was home mostly all day, so when did he have time to do this?

"What—how did you get this?"

"I came to give you your present, and I heard something. Y'know since you gave me keys? I figured it was okay to come in, and your bedroom door was open. I knew Ryan would try to make me the liar, so I took a picture. He told me that if I told you," Malorie pursed her lips, "well he threatened to do something pretty fucked up."

"Holy fuck," Metzi whispered, "I just—I had no fucking clue. This entire time, and who knows how long he's been fucking her?"

One lonesome tear fell down her cheek. In anger or sadness, Malorie didn't know.

Opening her phone, she opened Ryan's contact. "Hey," Malorie whispered, her voice now soft. "If he tells you anything about me, promise you won't believe him?"

"Of course, you come first. Always."

She debated on whether or not to call him, but instead opted on a text.

I hope you enjoyed fucking merida, we're done. get your things out of my house by tomorrow. delete my number.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and a smile adorned her face. Her bladder problems now the least of her concerns, she started back for the dressing room. Emmy now sat at the vanity, on her phone, and Vida and Wren were basically cuddling.

Surprised at the sudden intrustion, all eyes landed on the pair standing in the doorway.

"Ryan cheated on me, so now we're all single." Metzi gave nobody the chance to respond, as if anyone could think of what to say, and took a deep breath in.

"I haven't been fucked in months, and now I know why. So, I'm gonna get laid tonight, feel free to join me."

All seven of them had their faces beat to perfection, their outfits tailored and steamed of any wrinkles. They looked absolutely impeccable, as if the world around them kissed their feet. Hell, some reporters actually acted like that.

The members of BTS were now known worldwide, and it seemed that they were sought after by nearly everyone. Each member was so unique—so captivating in every aspect. Personalities somehow intertwine perfectly, yet polar opposites sometimes.

Proud but humble men, they basked in the warmth of positive attention. All eyes were on them for now, and they proudly understood it. As they walked on the red carpet of the music event, Yoongi and Jungkook both hated what they would be forced to do in mere minutes. As self-declared introverts, social interactions were about to start, and they honestly would rather sit in the corner and get this over with.

They would meet a few smaller artists, an occasional household name, (which they would fawn over for the rest of the night) and then be on their way. It would probably be in a few news articles, and some artists would insist on pictures, and they would be spread around within minutes. It was the same routine, and almost every time they would speak as little as possible, save for Namjoon, and would discuss it later. Hollywood was English dominated, and they despised it.

"Right now we only have to meet one group, and then we're okay for a few hours," Namjoon spoke quietly and quickly, and they piled off of the red carpet into a building. The hallways were scary, dark and empty, but a light above them quickly lit up.

To their surprise, the hallway was beautiful. The walls were an navy blue, white accents on top and bottom. Numerous gold paintings and records lined the walls, and it seemed to go on forever.

"Who is it we're supposed to be meeting? This hallway is a bit sketchy," Jimin perked up, and Namjoon chuckled. "WB,"

"Who is that?"

"I can't remember what their name stands for, but they sing that one song," Namjoon goes on to hum the tune to a familiar song that got pretty big, and all of the members start singing along. Of course, the lyrics are completely off and the tune is absolutely horrid, but they all recognize it vaguely.  

All numbly following Namjoon, he was taking rough instructions from their manager to get there. This was not how it usually happened, but he had said something urgent came up. He had told Namjoon how to get there, and he knew that they were smart enough to make it without breaking a couple ligaments.

"Group? I thought it was one singer," Jin commented, and Taehyung nodded in agreement. "I would have never thought it was more than one. Are they American?"

"I guess we're going to find out," he snickered, and they all stopped at the corner. The door was slightly creaked open, and soft laughter could be heard. It was feminine, soft. It sounded like pure happiness was inside that door.

To double check, Namjoon eyed the sign on the door.

A large, black WB was written so even the partially blind could read. It was odd, the only dressing room out of probably at least a hundred, was all the way back, alone. They had no time to question it before Jin took a few strides forward, and boasted his English abilites.

"Come on-uh, guys."

The rest of them burst into laughter, and Namjoon quickly followed suit, knowing Jin would not be the prime candidate for introductions. He would simply utter a few English words, turn to Namjoon for help, and in panic, make a really bad play on words in Korean.

Timidly, Namjoon's knuckles rapped on the already-open door, accidentally pushing it further open a bit. "Come in!"

They were met with three girls stuffing their faces with chocolate cake, and another laying on the floor, fiddling with a.. flip-phone?

Jin grimaced at the reminder, glad it wasn't pink.

All eyes awkwardly met at the realization, and two of the three muffling down cake choked a bit. "Emmy, I thought you said 5:30?" Malorie was the one to ask, but none of the boys knew that.

"It is 5:30,"

The cake was swallowed within seconds, the flip-phone was now laying on the table, untouched. Four girls scrambled up simultaneously, and watched as the rest of the men piled in. An awkward stout of silence followed, and this so called Emmy, rose and met the boys first.

She had a firm grip, and introduced herself as their manager. The situation was humorous to say the least, these girls who could pass off as teenagers, were standing in single file in shame. The first was a beautiful girl with a large afro, and she kept a tight smile. She did not know who they were, nor did she really care. She introduced herself as Wren.

Next, was a taller woman, who seemed a hint older, with large winged eyeliner. She was Vida. Jin's first instinct was that she reminded him of him, she was definitely the oldest. Then, a smaller girl with a thick smile and soft curls was next. Soft hands, gentle grip. Her name was Malorie.

The last, was a young woman with blonde hair. Realistically, she didn't have any defining features besides her hair, she was the average American-looking girl. She introduced herself as Metzi, and to their surprise, bowed.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," Emmy let out a soft chuckle, and Namjoon nodded tightly. "Are you performing tonight?" It was Malorie who had asked, a soft question. "Yes, actually,"

"I heard you are as well," Namjoon replied, hoping to end the small talk quickly. "Yes we are! I'm surprised you've heard of us, I mean we're not huge."

She wasn't lying, but they definitely weren't small, either. Sixth biggest girlgroup of all time by album sales just behind TLC. Thirtieth on the most followed Spotify artist. Their debut album was certified Gold in six countries. Humble was the key to success, though.

"I'm not sure how big they are in the States, but aren't they pretty well known in Korea?" Yoongi spoke, but of course he wasn't talking to the girls, he was talking to his bandmates. He also spoke in Korean, which is why he nearly had a heart attack when a very feminine voice responded in Korean as well.

"We're big in Korea? I knew we were pretty well known in Japan, but I never really knew about that," It was the blonde one, Metzi. All seven members were in shock, the way she spoke it so effortlessly. If she didn't look the way she did, she could pass off as Native Korean by language alone.

"I know South Korea is very conservative and insistent upon how they operate things, and we're probably the farthest thing from it. I just was under the impression that we didn't fit the mold to do well there," Metzi continued talking, and Wren, Vida and Malorie had absolutely no clue what was going on or being discussed.

Had this been in Spanish, all the girls could have participated. Metzi just insisted on learning Korean, though.

They didn't seem too bothered, though, instead more humored.

"She's been waiting to use that one, huh?" Vida whispered, laughing lightly. "You're not wrong, Korea is known to be very conservative, however, that doesn't mean you have to fit stereotypes to break Korea or any other Asian country for that matter," Namjoon spoke in English this time, and finally the other three girls got a whiff of the conversation.

"We are the farthest thing from ideal boy-groups in America, and we broke it for the most part. Obviously a lot of it is due to our fan base, but point still stands." Seokjin broke in, the conversation now half Korean, half English.

"Good to know," Metzi said softly, a grin on her face.

"How did you learn Korean?" Taehyung spoke up in curiousity, and crinkled his eyes. "I started learning a few years ago before we kind of blew up, and when we visited Korea a few times, I just picked it up a bit. Still a lot I don't know, but I can speak pretty fluently now."

Taehyung nodded in understanding, silently applauding her ability to simply pick up on a language. He doesn't think he will ever gain fluency in English, no matter how hard he'd try. It was a lot harder than he imagined it to be.

"I'm gonna be honest, from media portrayals you guys are made out to be asshats, but you seem pretty down to Earth. Nice to know the fame doesn't get to your head, you know?"

Now it was Wren speaking, and a few snickers sounded from Jungkook and Jimin's mouth. "Asshat," Jimin repeated softly, and they broke into more laughter.

"We appreciate that, thank you. Ignore them," Hoseok spoke this time, a large smile adorning his face. "We will watch your performance tonight, and cheer you on."

"Ditto," Metzi responded in English this time, and Hobi's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Same to you," she clarified in Korean, and he nodded.

They said their goodbyes, and Metzi told all the girls to bow. Namjoon and Vida had a brief talk, and it was no time before BTS and WB were now separate, discussing the events that had just taken place.

The talk of the night was the mysterious blonde girl who spoke fluent Korean. 

taglist: @princessoftheroad​ <3

[realisaonum]

book meme

thank you, jen @det395​ !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series? 

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it. 

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut 

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius​ @mouth-rainboy​ @iwonderifthatisart​ @phereinnike​ @magnificentmoose​ @wambsgangs​ @moriarteaparty​ and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf? 

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend. 

[nicad13]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by: @retro-jupiter Aw, thanks!

Name: NiCad. She’s an unabashed self-insert Transformers character I wrote like, 25 years ago. Unlike most self-inserts, she’s clumsy, nerdy, non-charismatic, and had no romantic relationship in the story she appeared in.

Fandoms: Currently Mandalorian, but I started writing fanfic with Transformers back in 1996! I have a huge re-write of my old stuff I’ve been working on for years but haven’t touched since Mando grabbed me. I’ll circle back to it eventually.

Two-shot: I think my only one is Turning the Corner – an exploration of Din’s younger years, his not-so-enjoyable time with Xi’an, and the possible reasons he was able to get out of that situation.

Most popular multi-chapter: Crossroads. Post-season 1, Din runs in to a Jedi survivor of Order 66. The kid takes a liking to her. Din learns that armor isn’t the only thing that can protect them. Angst, adventure, intrigue, and found family shenanigans ensue.

Actual worst part of writing: I used to think it was the demons in my head that wouldn’t shut up about the stories they want to tell. Usually it was exhilarating, but sometimes it was annoying when I’d get distracted from work & other real-life things that needed my attention. Now I realize it’s when the demons get half-way through the story and then go silent. WHERE DID YOU GO WE HAVE UNFINISHED BUSINESS. I can coax them back out when I have long, uninterrupted stretches of time, but I don’t seem to get those very often.

How you choose your titles: I usually go for a few words that I think will grab the most attention and are still descriptive of the story. For the Crossroads chapter titles, I stuck with the format of that Mandalorian had for the episode titles: “The [Noun].” The exception was the last episode, which was simply “Redemption,” so I did the same with the last chapter: “Home.”

Do you outline: Not usually. My one-shots usually come in one short, intense burst, downloaded directly from the brain demons, so they don’t require one. For long, multi-chapter ones where I’m jumping around and not writing linearly, I’ll set up a timeline after a while so I have something quick to refer to and remind myself of what happens when. This (hopefully) keeps me from referring to things that haven’t happened yet by mistake, and also keeps things like X happened a few weeks ago during chapter 1, a few months ago during chapter 2, six months ago in chapter 3, etc. One thing I do try to be good about is getting to the computer as soon as I can when a snippet hits me so I can write it down. I don’t worry about where exactly in the story it should go – I just stick it in a file called “scraps” to start with just to preserve the idea. Sometimes it’ll live there for a while before I pluck it out and transplant it to its home in the story, sometimes it gets re-homed almost immediately. A few sit there and never find their way in, but maybe inspire different versions of themselves.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: I have some dim visions of Grogu as Mand’alore, leading the planet through centuries of peace and prosperity.

Callouts @ me: I’m not sure what this is asking, but a couple other answers I’ve seen seem to be philosophy about fanfic. So uh… write for yourself, primarily. Write to satisfy the voice in your head that won’t shut up until you record its words. If you want to write well, seek out advice from those who also write well, and be ready to learn from them. If you’re writing only to gain popularity, you’re writing for the wrong reason and will only be disappointed.

Best writing traits: I’d say I’m best at angst and other emotional darkness. I grew up consuming Stephen King at an inappropriately young age, and I think it shows. His memoir, On Writing, also has nice bits of writing advice. The two bits that struck me the most are 1 – write the first draft with the door closed (don’t think about what others will think about it), and 2 – adverbs are not your friend (i.e., “He placed the Darksaber on the table with great care” instead of “He carefully placed the Darksaber on the table”).

Spicy tangential opinion: I have some… complex opinions about reader-insert fics that I’m not sure I’m able to outline without pissing people off. Like, I have no moral objection to them and they make lots of folks happy and that’s fine. Some of them work reallywell when they focus on the reader’s emotions and experiences. In the context of Mandalorian fanfic, that can serve to make Din even more mysterious – using a restricted POV is a great tool to get us in on the challenge of figuring out such a walled-off and inaccessible character. The ones that violate that and go second-person omniscient POV – that somehow the reader knows everything that others think of them and everything that’s going on just… confuse me. I can kinda forgive it in the current era of a deadly airborne infectious disease pandemic when dating IRL has come to a screeching halt, so I understand the need to substitute for that. Otherwise, go third-person POV and develop the original character.

The one social objection I have to reader-insert fics is when they come at the cost of strong female characters, particularly characters of color, LGBTQ+, neurodivergent, people with disabilities, or otherwise under-represented folks. Reader-inserts are designed to be as generic as possible so that anyone can slip their skins on and off, and they read like a lot of lost opportunities when it comes to representation. And forget about passing the Bechdel test if you don’t even have a name for your own character. We need to challenge ourselves and (gasp) have two women characters who have names and who talk to each other about something other than men and babies. I can count the number of Mandalorian fanfic authors I’ve read that pass this on one hand. (I know there are more, but y’all can take a decent guess about the ratio.) We can do better.

No pressure tagging: Oh, I'm so bad at this and I have no idea who's already done it. Here goes nothing. @hauntedfalcon @bethagain @fanfoolishness

[smegdwarf]

But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer x Reader) - Chapter 12

Warnings: nightmares and panic attacks but mostly fluff as usual ...oh and the usual implied stuff 👀

Summary: Basically giving Rimmer the love he deserves.

You were suddenly back in the medi bay only it was much darker this time as everything rattled around you, the ship shaking from an extortionately loud clap of thunder ...a little odd given you were in the middle of deep space miles away from any kind of asteroid or planet. You could feel the same searing heat in your hands that Rimmer’s burnt out bee gave you before only to look down and see his light bee in shattered pieces in your hands. You tried to scream, speak ...anything but all that came was silence, you could feel your throat closing, almost as if someone was behind you with their hands around your neck, what felt like your heartbeat rang through your ears as it threatened to jump out of your chest ...wholly impossible being a hologram. Gripped by the terror and sheer panic you tried once more to scream or make some kind of noise to alert the others but once again nothing, your body completely paralyzed as you tried desperately to move, a faint whisper in the back of your mind telling you he was gone and there was nothing you could do about it as you finally let out a loud cry.

It was then your eyes shot open, gasping for air as you managed to get your body under control. Thank god it was a nightmare you thought as you turned to see Rimmer peacefully sleeping beside you, he was ok, he was as alive as can be. You gently brushed back his hair from his forehead before placing a kiss. It took every ounce of your hard light not to throw yourself on top of him and blubber like a baby. As you turned over to try and go back to sleep his arm slowly snuck round you, pulling you into him.

“You had a nightmare” Rimmer mumbled in your ear “You’re alright”

He was barely awake as he tried to calm you down, you jolting awake must’ve have stirred him a little.

“Your light bee was shattered, you were gone” You sniffed, trying not to cry as you told him what happened.

“I’m fine” He smiled as he gently turned you to lay on your back so you could see him “Absolutely fine”

“But your light bee” You mumbled as you reached out to hold his face in your hands.

“I’m fine” He said again, placing a soft kiss to the palm of your hand.

“But...” You stared up at him as he placed a finger to your lips.

“I’m tickety boo ...peachy even” He chuckled as you cracked a soft quiet laugh at what everyone would call a ‘rimmerism’, after all he was the only one to use the phrase  ‘ticketyboo and peachy’ in the entire universe.

“You’re weird you know that?” You smirked as you brushed his hair back out of his face.

“Well you must be even weirder if you’re with me?” Rimmer grinned.

“Well played!” You let your thumb softly graze his cheek as he leant in to kiss you ...the moment abruptly ruined by an alarm blaring from your watch on the side, the two of you looking at each other for what to do next.

“Every bloody time!” Rimmer grumbled “Do we need to go? I’m sure they can handle it?”

“Are you sure you want leave whatever is going on in their hands?” You raised your eyebrow at him, you knew the other three were more than capable of dealing with whatever it was but Rimmer felt otherwise.

“God fine” Rimmer pretended to sulk as he got up.

With a quick snap of the fingers and a somewhat short journey to Starbug you were eventually reunited with the others.

“Hey lads whats going on?” You asked “Look who’s back?”

It was then you noticed that Cat looked as if he was about to lose his breakfast as he and the two others refused to make eye contact.

“Oh we know he’s back” Lister smirked, eyes glued to the console in front of him.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you and Rimmer looked at each other.

“Maybe Mr Cat would like to explain?” Kryten looked over at the feline who looked like he was going to barf any second.

“I’m good thanks” Cat groaned.

“Well someone needs to explain?” You demanded as Rimmer looked at you, his eyes widened as it dawned on him.

“Cat could smell that he was back” Lister explained, sarcasm in his voice.

“What do you... oh crap” You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Remind me to get him a couple of corks for Christmas” Rimmer grumbled, you had both forgotten Cats super sonic sense of smell, the sense of smell that had caught whiff of the pheromones created by the previous night you and Rimmer had shared together.

“Well that and the noise” Lister cleared his throat still refusing to look at either of you.

“Yeah well you can blame...” before you could finish that sentence Rimmer’s hand was over your mouth.

“Ignore her!” Rimmer blushed as you licked the palm of his hand to get him to remove it from your face, wiping it on his trouser leg with a grumble “argh”

“Oh bite me ...we’ve done worse than that” You smirked at Rimmer as the other three shuddered awkwardly in their seats, Rimmer mimicking you as he sat down, the two of you behaving like kids on a playground.

“Alright you can stop now” Lister grumbled, tutting and sighing as you sat on Rimmer’s lap, with the pure intention to piss everyone off that little bit more “I swear to god, you better not get up to any funny business in here when it’s your watch ...and it definitely better not be in my seat”

“Ha uh oh” You sniggered as Rimmer buried his face in your shoulder “We may already be guilty there Dave”

“ARGH GOD” Lister shouted, bolting out of his chair.

“Calm down we only kissed” You were enjoying winding Lister up far too much.

“Not to worry sir, I’ll disinfect your chair in just a moment” Kryten turned to look at you “Ma’am could I have a word?”

“Look Krytes we were just messing around, we didn’t mean any harm” You rambled as you walked out of the cockpit assuming Kryten was going to tell you off until you noticed him walk over to the table in the middle of Starbugs stern and pick up something “Krytes?”

“Remember Miss Kochanski’s missing holo disc?” Kryten replied.

“Of course, my gimboid of a boyfriend flushed it into deep space?” You smiled as Kryten sighed “Sorry, go on”

“Well I checked the personality files like I said and I managed to create a new disc” Kryten held out the box in his hands.

“Kryten you rubber headed angel!” You exclaimed as you grabbed his face, pulling him down to kiss the top of his head, had it been possible he would have definitely been blushing “Would you keep it safe for me? Definitely don’t tell Arnold!”

“Of course ma’am” Kryten cracked a smile “Now if you don’t mind I have a chair to disinfect”

Things were returning to normal, Rimmer was back and winding the others up with your help while the boys were bickering like usual. The balance of the ship had been restored ...well almost.

After spending the morning checking out a derelict you had all finally returned to the dwarf, the mornings escapade had been forgotten as you and Lister stood in the boys quarters throwing a pair of balled up socks to each other across the room, socks that belonged to Rimmer as you refused to even be in the same vicinity as Listers.

“Sorry about this morning” You smiled as you threw the socks over to Lister “I know we can be quite irritating”

“Well he can be yeah” Lister smiled as he caught them and prepared to throw them back “but it’s alright I’m used to it at this point”

“I’ll give you that one” You replied catching them and quickly throwing them back again.

“Anyway annoying as you two can be, I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you” Lister looked down at the floor “I nor anyone else is going to take that away from either of you ...no matter how annoying”

It was nice to have a deep and meaningful conversation with Lister, it was also nice to hear him talk so kindly about Arnold considering most times he wanted to punch him in the face.

“And anyway how is he supposed to keep me sane without you around to keep him sane” Lister grinned throwing the socks back over.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it” You laughed a little.

“After everything he’s been through, he deserves someone like you in his life” Lister stopped what he was doing “I don’t know anyone else who would’ve sat with his light bee for a month and waited till he came back”

“Yeah ...yeah me neither” You felt an overwhelming sense of dread roll over you, tightness in your throat much like in your nightmare only this was real and you were awake.

“Y/N? You alright?” You could only just hear Lister as everything in the room blurred together as your breathing became quick and short “RIMMER?”

At first it seemed the mention of Rimmer’s light bee was the trigger but as Listers face began to transform into your worst nightmare, it was clear the whole incident with Rimmer’s bee had awoken something you had buried deep down a long long time ago back when you were still human.

“RIMMER!!” Lister shouted again as your hands turned to fists, your legs slowly taking steps towards him almost as if you had no control over your body.

“What’s going on?” You could hear Rimmer behind you trying to catch his breath from pelting across the corridor.

“YOU ARSEHOLE!” You shouted towards Lister with a cry.

“Ok what did you do?” Rimmer glared at Lister as he threw his hands up.

“Nothing I swear, we were just talking” Lister was starting to panic as you edged closer.

“You mentioned my light bee didn’t you?” Rimmer looked at Lister with seriousness.

“You had no right to treat me the way you did” You growled you fist tightening.

“Wait hang on?” Rimmer looked at you confused, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t Lister you were yelling at.

“Y/N?” Lister called out as your fist began to raise.

“SHUT UP!” You shouted, your fist now level with Listers face and itching to make contact.

“Y/N you’re having a panic attack, you’re hallucinating!” Rimmer tried to talk to you but ultimately failed.

“If you do this you’ll regret it” Lister tried to stay calm in hopes you’d back down.

“Try me!” Your voice shaky as you went to swing, stopped by Rimmer snapping your arm down and wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to restrain you “Let me go!”

“Lister go get Kryten!” Rimmer commanded as Lister dashed out of the room while you were still thrashing around in Rimmer’s arms.

“LET GO OF ME!” You cried, Rimmer’s grip around you ultimately tightening as you tried harder to escape, the force of both of you fighting against each other knocking you to the floor, his arms still firmly around you as you finally gave in, your vision slowly returning to normal as you looked up at Rimmer before sobbing into his chest.

“You’re alright, it’s over” Rimmer spoke softly in your ear as he rocked you gently in his arms while you continued to sob.

“Is everything ok? Mr Lister said...” Kryten stopped in the doorway with Lister not far behind as he saw the two of you in a heap on the floor as Rimmer tried to soothe you.

“Panic attack!” Rimmer mouthed to the droid as he nodded “How are you feeling?”

“Awful” Your voice almost non existent as you cried, your breathing suddenly speeding again as you sat up properly “Oh god”

“Deep breaths” Rimmer spoke calmly as he gently rubbed soothing circles on your back, despite sounding calm he was desperately trying to hold back his own panic from seeing you in so much distress “Kryten?”

“Yes sir” Kryten nodded as he walked over to the two of you, Rimmer softly moving your hair from your neck as Kryten injected you “Just a little something to help you calm down Miss Y/N”

“Hey what’s wrong lady bud?” Cat appeared, genuinely concerned as he walked in on the events.

“Come on Cat, let’s give Y/N some space yeah?” Lister suggested as he tried to walk him away.

“Is Y/N gonna be ok?” It shocked everyone that Cat was actually worried about someone besides himself “What happened?”

“She’ll be fine Cat, go with Lister, he’ll explain” Rimmer smiled despite his own anxiety bubbling away inside him.

“Suggest you get Miss Y/N to her quarters, let her rest for a bit?” Kryten spoke softly as to not alarm you as you remained nestled against Rimmer.

“Thank you Kryten” Rimmer replied as he stood up, Kryten holding your shoulders so you didn’t fall.

“Let’s get you up ma’am” Kryten smiled sweetly as both he and Rimmer helped you up.

“Can you walk?” Rimmer looked at you, his eyes glassy as if he had been trying not to cry the entire time, holding your arms as you swayed a little before falling into him as he caught you “You know what I’ll carry you instead”

“I’m sorry” You mumbled as you began to cry again, this time more out of confusion as your body fought against the sedative Kryten had given you.

“Darling you don’t need to apologize ” Rimmer smiled sweetly, suddenly feeling your feet leave the floor as he picked you up “Let’s get you to bed”

As Rimmer put you down gently on the bed, startled by the cold sheets beneath you, you gave up the fight against the sedative in your system slowly letting it take you, your body almost feeling like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“Get some rest!” Rimmer spoke quietly as he leant down to place a kiss to your forehead, smiling as you were already out like a light and at peace. Gently throwing a blanket over you as you snuggled yourself up in it before he sat down to read, keeping a close eye on you “Holly?”

“Yes Arnold?” Hollys voice replied.

“Did you ever do any background checks on Y/N?” Rimmer kept his voice low as to not disturb you even though Lister playing his guitar wouldn’t have woke you up in that moment.

[aloha-solar]

The Spaces Between the Stars: Three

Rating: M

AO3 link here

It was soothing to see that this project was like the Lazarus Project. Of course, the guidelines and steps this time were simpler but the two’s commonalities made Miranda feel more confident as she worked. It made her feel even more confident that she didn’t have a doctor glancing over her shoulders every five minutes, second-guessing every decision she made. No, for the most part Miranda worked in complete privacy, only calling in assistance when Shepard needed surgery.

For the most part. The doctors stayed away, but the visitors certainly didn’t.

Some of Jack’s students had already been discharged, but at least half of them still needed to remain in the hospital for further treatment. As a result, Jack took to sticking her head round after she visited her students.

“Jack, you do realize that I’m actually trying to work here?” Miranda said one evening. It had been two weeks since Hackett hired her, and she felt pleased with the progress Shepard made. The burns were mostly superficial, and while Miranda felt certain they would leave some scarring, it wouldn’t be debilitating. The wound on the left side of Shepard’s torso still needed regular dressing, but it hadn’t showed any signs of infection or major damage. Her lung puncture was healing nicely as well, and they’d been able to switch her to an oxygen mask instead of full intubation. The only problem seemed to be her brain…

Jack shrugged, offering Miranda a paper cup of tea from the canteen. “Yeah, I know. But I’m currently out of commission until the kids are all back on their feet, so what else am I supposed to do?” She took a slurp of her energy drink. Miranda rolled her eyes.

“You can learn other skills,” Miranda said. “And I know most of those tattoos are self-inflicted. You could open a tattoo parlor in the meantime.” Jack laughed before downing the rest of her drink in two seconds flat.

“Why? Want to be my first customer, princess?” Jack said. “How about a nice Cerberus symbol on your—”

“Maybe you’re good at something else,” Miranda said quickly. Jack laughed again before punching Miranda on the shoulder. Miranda shot her a quick smile before turning her attention back to her datapad. Jack walked over to the window to Shepard’s hospital room.

“She’s doing as well as she can, considering the circumstances,” Miranda said, not turning around and answering the question that was playing in Jack’s mind.

“She wasn’t this bad when you guys dug her up, right?” Jack asked. Miranda glanced over at Jack. Jack was still looking through the window, but she’d crumpled her can in her hand and ruptured it. Miranda turned off her datapad and then stood next to her.

"When we got her, we couldn’t tell if she was a man or a woman,” Miranda said. “A lot of her gear was infused onto her body, and—”

“So she’s not as fucked up,” Jack said flatly.

“No,” Miranda said. “She’s not.” She wondered if she should something nice for Jack—perhaps give her a shoulder pat or a hand squeeze—when Jack suddenly stepped away.

“Gotta go see the kids one more time before visiting hours are up,” Jack said. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Miranda saw that Jack’s jaw was slightly more rigid than usual. Her voice sounded thicker as well. “See you around, princess.”

“Jack—” Miranda began but Jack had already walked down the hallway and turned the corner. Miranda sighed, before taking a sip of her tea and heading back into Shepard’s room.

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

There were lots of visitors to Shepard’s room in that month. Miranda never saw Kasumi in-person, but there would be little hints that she’d stopped by whenever Miranda left the room: once there was a teddy bear stuck at the end of Shepard’s bed; another time, an abstract painting hanging on the wall that said, “Get well soon, Shep!” When Miranda scanned it with an omni-tool, she saw that it was an elcor creation, a piece that had been declared stolen just before the war began. Miranda considered calling the police, but instead ended up taking the painting home to her apartment. Shepard would probably get a laugh out of it, she decided, before they handed it in.

Zaeed came once, carrying a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Miranda chuckled when she saw him. “I didn’t think you were the romantic type, Zaeed,” Miranda said as the two of them shook hands. “And I don’t think Shepard’s ready to eat solid foods yet.”

"I couldn’t damn well smuggle her in a gun now, could I?” Zaeed said. “Figured it was the next best thing. These are damn good chocolates, and the wine’s from 2122.”

“How do you know the chocolates are damn good?” Miranda said.

“Because I had to try a couple to make sure they weren’t poisoned!” Zaeed said. He handed Miranda the box and the bottle, before taking the seat next to Shepard’s bed. He put his arms behind his head and crossed his legs.

“How did you even get these anyway?” Miranda asked, putting the bottle down on the floor next to Zaeed and plucking a raspberry cream chocolate from the box. “You were on the Citadel, weren’t you?”

“Not all of the Citadel was destroyed,” Zaeed said. “Most of the Outer Wards did get pretty fucked over, and there were apparently a couple of attacks on the Presidium, but most people fled to the Inner Wards when the Reapers decided to bloody drag us across the galaxy. And that isn’t bloody alien swill: that is pure Earth chocolate. Speaking of which, the marzipan ones are pretty good. Toss me one, will you?”

“I thought we were supposed to be saving these,” Miranda said, but she obliged.

“There’s a good girl,” Zaeed said, popping the chocolate in his mouth. He nodded at Shepard. “How’s my favourite commander doing? She all right?”

“As all right as she can be, Zaeed,” Miranda said. She closed the lid on the chocolate box and put it on the floor too.

“She’ll get up eventually,” Zaeed said. “When I got shot in the head, doctors thought I was done for. Said I’d be in a coma for the rest of my life. Shows how much those bastards know.” He chuckled. “Rage ain’t just an anesthetic, it’s a hell of a stimulant.”

“I don’t think rage is going to help,” Miranda said.

“You don’t think she’s not gonna be pissed that the Reapers nearly destroyed Earth and every fucking planet in the galaxy? Nah. She’s gonna be pissed when she wakes up,” Zaeed said. “Now if you need a merc to help discharge her early, then I might be available..."

Garrus and Tali were still off the grid, which left Miranda thoroughly unsurprised. All the Normandy crew would be banging down the hospital door if they were still on Earth, and none of the alien crew would even dream of going off-world until they saw Shepard wake up. She hoped that wherever they were, they’d be back on Earth by the time Shepard woke up. It stung, but they’d been with Shepard since the beginning. And as much as Shepard cared for Miranda, it would be stupid to assume that Shepard wouldn’t be disappointed when she only saw Miranda, and none of the rest of her crew.

Jacob and Grunt were off-world too, but at least Miranda had spoken to Jacob. She didn’t expect anything from Grunt—the krogan quickly dispatched themselves the second the last Reaper fell—but Jacob was stationed on a ship near the ruins of the Arcturus Station, part of a team that was supposed to rebuild it

“But you don’t know how to build anything, Jacob,” Miranda said, two days after Zaeed visited. “How are you supposed to help rebuild an entire space station?”

“By not being part of the building team,” Jacob answered. The connection was full of static, but Miranda could still here Jacob's voice above it. “I’m there to help guard the workers, prevent any attacks and fights from outsiders.”

“Ah, Jacob. And here I thought you left your merc days behind you,” Miranda said.

“I’m still serving as a member of the Alliance,” Jacob countered. “Plus they want to make Arcturus a military outpost this time, instead of being a hybrid between a base and civilian housing. They’re going to heavily reinforce it and everything.”

“What else could be out there besides the Reapers?”

“No idea,” Jacob said. “But…doesn’t it make you feel better at night knowing that we have a major base against outside attacks?”

“I suppose,” Miranda said, knowing that pointing out Arcturus Station's quick destruction during the Reaper invasion would not be a good idea. “But I’ve got to run, Jacob. Shepard isn’t going to make a full recovery without me. Tell Brynn I said hello and that I hope everything’s going well with the baby.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Miranda,” Jacob said, laughing. “And Brynn…Brynn will be fine. Let me know when Shepard wakes up. Maybe I’ll treat us all to a few drinks. Just like old times.” Miranda smiled wanly before she disconnected. She liked Jacob—he was a good soldier, and she knew that if she spent more time with him, he’d be a good friend—but their lives were taking different routes. He seemed intent on forgetting about the Normandy and his time spent on it. She, on the other hand, had grown fond of some of the crew members. But then again, did she really have a choice in that fondness? Miranda didn’t suppose she did. Before the Normandy, the only other person she cared about was Oriana. Now…well. It felt odd, and it was more than a little distracting, but she liked those unexpected visits from her former crew-mates. She hadn’t realized how much she missed them.

The last person to visit was Samara. She came in late one night, exactly a month after Miranda started working on Shepard. After Miranda spoke to Jacob, she found herself in the hospital nearly twenty-four-seven, scanning Shepard’s body this way and that, trying to find some explanation as to why Shepard wasn’t waking up. Her abdomen wound had started closing up, her lung puncture was nearly healed, and her scars had faded, so it couldn’t have been from body trauma. The brain scans showed no major damage. No, the implants were the issue. They hadn’t failed: they were still working, keeping Shepard’s heart beating and her lungs full of oxygen. But they weren’t behaving properly either: if they were, Shepard would have been awake the second most of her major injuries were treated.

So Miranda slaved away in Shepard’s hospital room, running every test under the sun and still coming up empty-handed. She couldn’t even ask the doctors for help: they were her implants, her creation, and if she asked the medical staff for help, they wouldn’t have a clue as to how they could help. It all left Miranda tired and frustrated…and scared.

"Is that going to be it then, Shepard?” Miranda said the night Samara arrived, throwing her hands up in the air. She’d run another round of tests, trying to see if electro-shock therapy could get Shepard up, but still nothing. It was a long shot, anyway—electro-shock therapy stopped being used at all, even for mental illnesses, at some point in the 2080s—but after hitting every single wall in the maze, Miranda was fast running out of ideas. “Are you just going to lie there for the rest of your life?”

“That would be very unlike Shepard to do so,” Samara said, and Miranda jumped and turned around. “My apologies, Miranda. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Samara,” Miranda said, putting the paperwork away and turning the lights up in the room ever so slightly. “But what are you doing here? Visitor’s hours ended a while ago.”

“I had thought you had left already,” Samara said. “I don’t know Earth time that well, but I believe twelve o’clock at night is rather late for humans.”

“Not just here in the hospital,” Miranda said. “But here on Earth. I thought you’d have returned to Thessia by now.”

“I thought so as well,” Samara said, crossing her hands behind her back and walking slowly towards Shepard’s bed. “But it seems that the relay damage has delayed my leave. And after I heard that Shepard was the one who set off the Crucible, I felt that I needed to see that she was all right.”

“I see,” Miranda said.

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Samara said.

“What question?”

“Why you’re still here instead of resting,” Samara said. “When I received the message about Shepard from Kasumi, I wanted to see her as soon as I was able. Kasumi said that you usually went home at eleven o’clock.”

“That’s what I usually do,” Miranda said, making a mental note to check the room to make sure Kasumi hadn’t cloaked herself without Miranda’s knowledge, “but…it’s funny, but as Shepard’s injuries have healed, I haven’t been as home as often as I should.”

“I see,” Samara said. Miranda felt her insides squirm. As much as she respected Samara, there was something about her that made Miranda nervous. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Samara could kill Miranda for breaking asari law without any consequences, or perhaps it was because Samara’s eyes were so piercingly, unnaturally blue, almost the exact shade of her skin. Miranda wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to find out.

“You’ve done an excellent job with her,” Samara continued, gazing at Shepard. “I believe Shepard would be pleased to know that her friend is taking such care of her.”

“I’ve had practice,” Miranda said simply.

“Shepard mentioned you being the one who brought her back to life,” Samara said. “I imagine this project is easier for you.”

“It would be even easier if Shepard actually woke up,” Miranda said. She started pacing, twisting her fingers. Samara’s eyes followed her, but she stayed by the bed.

“It’s…” Miranda began, but then trailed off. How could she describe it? It wasn’t a coma, but it couldn’t be sleep either. A vegetative state? Was that what Shepard was going to be? Alive, but only by the loosest definition of the word?

“She’s not…I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Miranda finally got out. “She didn’t score terribly on the Glasgow scale, but she didn’t score well either. But the doctors ran so many scans on her that they were able to rule out any sort of brain damage. It must be the implants that are the issue, but I don’t know what’s the matter with them.

“I’m the one who designed the implants, so why don’t I know what’s wrong? They want me to bring Shepard back again, but what if the first time was a fluke? What if she’s supposed to stay dead this time? I know I’m doing everything right, but the implants were supposed to wake her up the second her injuries started healing!” Miranda kept burbling on, coming up with different theories—had Wilson interfered during the Lazarus Project? Did the Illusive Man have some part in this? Did the Alliance?—when suddenly, Samara grabbed Miranda’s hands. Miranda stopped mid-sentence, finding herself face-to-face with Samara’s piercing eyes.

“Tell me, Miranda, when was the last time you slept?” Samara prodded. There was something almost motherly and tender in her tone that nearly made Miranda cry. Samara killed hundreds, if not thousands of people for the sake of preserving ancient justice, but Miranda had forgotten that Samara had been a mother before all of that.

“Do you want the last time I actually slept, or the last time I slept well?” Miranda asked. Samara gave her a sad little smile.

“Both,” she replied.

“Then I’m fairly certain you won’t like the answer for either of them.”

“Then perhaps you should get some rest,” Samara replied. “You’ll only injure yourself if you keep working like this.”

“I would,” Miranda said, letting go of Samara’s hands and stepping away. “But I can’t rest until I know Shepard will be all right.”

“You mean until she wakes up,” Samara said. She took a step closer to Miranda, closing the distance that Miranda created. “Tell me, Miranda: did you work yourself this hard when you were rebuilding Shepard?” Miranda paused. Truth be told, she had worked herself that hard in the beginning. She overworked herself in the three months before Shepard woke up as well, but she had no choice that time: she couldn’t risk Wilson waking her up again and nearly killing her. But those months in-between, when it was clear Shepard was healing and stable, she finally let herself relax. How could she not? Shepard would have been fine: the implants were placed and working well. But this was different: the implants were working, but as if they were at minimal power.

“If you’re worried about doctors interfering, you have no need to,” Samara said. “I will watch over Shepard until you return.”

“But what if something happens when I’m not here?” Miranda asked, looking down at Shepard. She looked peaceful, her black hair fanned out on her pillow, her breathing even and regular, but she kept thinking about the implants. What if they failed the second she stepped out of the hospital? If she didn’t get back quickly enough, there would be no chance of saving Shepard. All her hard work would be for nothing.

“You cannot keep thinking of the possibilities that something will go wrong,” Samara said. “Something could have gone wrong this past month, yet Shepard has remained stable. She is no danger if you step away for one night.”

“But what if it does?” Miranda said. “I know it’s stupid that I can’t trust my own handiwork, but—“

“Miranda,” Samara said. She placed her hand over Miranda’s again and rubbed her thumb over Miranda’s knuckles. “You have let yourself become overtired and over-paranoid. Once you have rested, you will be able to think clearly. Besides,” Samara said with another small smile, “even genetically-engineered humans need to get some sleep.” Miranda stepped away again and gave one last worrying look at Shepard. She took a deep breath.

“You promise to let me know in case anything bad happens?” Miranda asked. She hated how high and pleading her voice sounded—almost childlike—but she knew that Samara wasn’t going to let Miranda stay.

“You have my promise,” Samara said, walking to the chair and sitting on it in the lotus position. “Now go. Shepard will be safe under my watch.” Samara closed her eyes and lit up the dim room with her biotics. Miranda gave one last look at both of them before slowly walking out.

As she walked down the hallway and outside into the cool London air, it occurred to Miranda that for the first time in a month, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She inhaled sharply, taking in the smell of rain on concrete and the sharp scent of the takeaway places around her, before hailing a taxi to take her back to her apartment. She’d scarcely been in it since Hackett gave her the job.

She barely made it onto the couch before collapsing on the lopsided cushions and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She didn’t wake up until evening the next day. Bleary-eyed, Miranda stretched and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. The clock said six twenty-three. Miranda groaned. She ran her fingers through her hair and popped a few peppermints in her mouth before sprinting out of her apartment and back to the hospital.

She didn’t know why she rushed back. Shepard was still unconscious, her various monitors providing a beeping harmony in the background. Samara, by the looks of it, hadn’t moved either, still in the same position and chair she’d been in when Miranda left. Samara opened her eyes when she heard the door open.

“You should have phoned me when I didn’t turn up this morning,” Miranda said, running her omni-tool over Shepard’s body and checking all her vitals.

“I felt no need to,” Samara said. “Nothing about Shepard’s condition changed while you were away, and you needed the rest.” Miranda sighed. Samara was right on both counts.

Well, nearly right.

“Her implants are becoming more active,” Miranda said. She turned around to face Samara. “If they’re becoming more active, it means that they’re getting ready for when she’s conscious again.”

“I see,” Samara said. “Then the rest turned out to be good after all?”

"I…yes, that’s right,” Miranda said, turning around and facing her. “I suppose that running all those tests might have interfered with the implants.”

“Perhaps,” Samara said. “Or you two needed to spend some time apart.”

“A doctor and a patient spending time apart?” Miranda said. She crossed her arms as a smile tugged at her mouth.

“I remember my daughters fighting with each other about such trivial things,” Samara said. “I often needed to separate them before they would apologize to each other.”

Miranda chuckled. “I see,” she said. Samara nodded at her.

“I should take my leave now, Miranda,” Samara said. She gave her a pat on the shoulder before walking to the door. “I hope I see you again before I return to Thessia.”

"Same to you,” Miranda said. “And maybe I should tell Kasumi to send you in whenever I need to take a break.” A small smile flickered across Samara’s lips.

“Yes, that would be an excellent idea,” Samara said. “I will await her message. But in the meantime…good-bye, Miranda.” Miranda gave Samara a nod and watched the door close behind her. She turned back around to Shepard, pulling out her omni-tool to check her vitals again. As she walked over to Shepard’s head, she saw her eyelids begin to flutter and she let out a sharp breath.

Miranda’s jaw dropped.

[thatrandomcatoverthere]

She devil part 4

Summary: Tony and Bruce look deeper into the effects and power the she devil has. Y/n also starts going stir crazy during her recovery making a very unlikely friend. Bucky experiences jealousy and doesn’t know how to handle it. 

Blood. So much blood. My first kill that wasn’t from a sniper rifle. I froze up, it was quick of course I never wanted anyone to suffer. Seeing the damage up close was different though, she actually saw the life leave the man laying in front of her. Maybe that was the problem, she didn’t see him as a body but as a man. A father possibly, a son of some old woman. That was the day she vowed she would never kill up close without more research. Without making sure she knew the person had truly done wrong. To know for a fact it wasn’t a person but instead a monster.  

I could hear a monitor beeping beside me in sync with my heartbeat. The lights were bright as I opened my eyes slowly, attempting to regain my senses. Carefully sitting up, even as painful as it was, i took notice of my surroundings. 

The medical room. The memories came flooding back. Rushing out of the building with Steve and Bucky. Taking out guards left and right. The sound of a gun, the bullet piercing my shoulder. Then everything went black. 

Then I saw a certain brunette slouched over his chair with his head laying on the bed next to my legs. He was asleep, he looked so peaceful. His bed head covering his face slightly, he looked so calm. The sound of the metal arm whirring and him taking a deep inhale alerted me he woke up. His eyes cracked open and before I knew it he was standing next to me. 

“You're awake! Bruce she’s awake! Do you need anything? Water? Are you hungry?” He suddenly berated me with questions. 

“Buck I'm ok, water does sound nice though please.” I said as Bruce stepped into the room. “Y/n I’m so happy you're awake, How are you feeling?” DR.banner started as he checked my vitals. Bucky left to get some water before rushing back in. 

“I feel like I've been shot a few times, but other than that I'll be ok thank you. Uhm, how long was I out?” I asked and took the glass from the brunette and took a sip. 

“A week.” 

All the water in my mouth was suddenly all over me, “WHAT? A full week?” 

After some explaining from the two, Dr.Banner cleared me to roam the house. With the exception that I absolutely can not work out, go on missions, or leave the house without someone else with me. 

Everyone turned and looked at me when I walked into the common room. This must attention at once made me nervous as I gave a little side wave and said hey. Nat spoke first after her shock of seeing me and not Bucky, “Y/n/n I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. How’s the shoulder?” 

“Bruce said it should be fully healed soon, maybe another week or two.” Bucky walked in and sat down beside me on the sofa. Sam, Tony, Thor, and Clint all said their hellos and wished me luck on healing and being on house arrest. I was reading a book and listening to everyone talk when Steve walked in and said there was a mission debrief in 20 minutes. 

Before he walked out he spotted me, “Y/n I see you’re up and doing better, well at least awake. It’s good to see you, you don’t need to come to this meeting by the way. Bruce said you’re out of commission until that shoulder heals. Oh. and do not ever scare me and Bucky like that again, I thought we lost you after you went all devil and fainted.” 

“What is he talking about?” I glanced at Bucky. 

“I’ll explain later, let’s just say you were pissed when you got shot. I’ll never be getting in your way when you’re mad.” Then he got up and followed the others out of the room. 

I frowned and tried to continue reading before a certain god of mischief walked into the room. He sat on the recliner across the room, “Hello Loki.” He just hummed a response as he summoned a book. So much for conversation when the others are gone. 

The team left on a mission late that night, Bucky said they'd be gone for at least 3 days. Great, I have to be home alone and bored with the most boring person, god thing ever. How he got the title god of mischief I'll never figure out because he rarely does anything but read. 

The next morning i was laying over the sofa staring at the sofa when Loki walked in. “What’s your deal? Is staring at nothing a form of entertainment on this planet?” He said stopping in the doorframe with a look of confusion. 

“No actually. It’s something I do when I finish my book at the same time as being out on house arrest alone with the person that barely talks to me.” I stated matter of factly. He rolled his eyes at me and I got an idea, “You strike me as the type of person to play chess. Let’s play chess, I'll kick your ass in it.” 

“Oh my goddddddddddd. It’s like you just KNOW what my next move is.” The score is currently 15 to 0. 

“Maybe I do.” I rolled my eyes at him. Damn god. 

“Whatever. I’m going to go put honey in the vents to mess with Clint when he gets back.” This caught the mans attention, “You’re welcome to join me and show me why you of all people got your title.”

We may have gone overboard with the pranks. Loki did anything that was too vigorous for me with my healing shoulder, but now I know what he’s actually capable of. We were chuckling to ourselves putting a flour trap above Steves door when we heard the elevator ding. Shit the came back sooner than we thought. Loki made quick work finishing up the setup. I innocently met up with the team Loki going straight to the common room. 

“Hey Buck! You’re home early!” I gave a false sense of innocence. He gave me a hug carefully, “Yea, it wasn’t nearly as hard as we thought it would be. Hope the god of books didn’t bore you too bad.” 

“Nah I actually convinced him to play chess with me, he beat me more than I'll ever admit.” For a second it almost looked like Bucky got upset. Shrugging it off I said the rest of my hellos before everyone split off to get cleaned up. Cap decided food was more of a priority first, so he went to the kitchen. 

Bucky was the first one to come into the living room, me and Loki were playing chess again. It felt kind of nice to talk to more people on the team. I actually started to feel more accepted. Bucky looked at the board and told me to make a different move than I was going to. As I was making my move, all three of us heard a yell that sounded very close to Steve’s voice. 

Then he walked in, covered from head to toe in flour. He was pissed. “Which one of you did it. Actually I know the answer.” He looked at Loki. 

“Sorry Captain, wrong guess. It was her idea.” He smirked at me. 

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

The mission went faster than usual, which meant I got to see Y/n sooner. 

I didn't expect her to actually befriend Loki during my absence. Not like it bothered me. At all. Totally unbothered. 

I mean I gotta admit it was really funny seeing Steve walk in covered in flour. Then seeing Nat walk in fuming, her red hair was now a dark blue. Y/n lost it in a laughing fit, this was first time I've ever seen her so open. After she hung out with Loki. 

OK maybe I am a little jealous, how could I not be? She hung out with him for two days and suddenly she’s actually laughing and talking more. Over the course of the day multiple other incidents happened. 

First was Steves flour bath. Then Natasha unknowingly dyed her hair, Y/n assured her it was temporary and would wash out easily. Then Tony was called Sugar Daddy by Jarvis and everyone lost it. I found out the salt was replaced with sugar while making food, let’s just say steak seasoned with sugar does not taste good. No one could even do anything yet because she was still healing. 

When everyone thought we found all the “pleasant surprises” around the compound and we were sitting in the common room. Then Y/n gets a phone call from Clint, “Hey Clint, we live in the same house why didn’t you just come into the living room?” 

“Why of all things did you use honey. You could’ve used anything and you chose honey. I thoughts we were friends man, it’s in my hair.” 

Taglist: @capandbuckylvr

[jehaatiade]

:,) a humble ask for hc’s for Din, Ezra, and Javier admitting they love you in an angsty situation :,)

This took me hours but it came together so well! Thank you for the wonderful prompt!

Din:

he has mixed feelings about taking you along on bounties. you’re the rare combination of a talented bounty hunter and a person who’s never tried to cheat him.

but on the other hand… the possibility of coming back from a hunt without you makes something deep in his chest ache.

you make him laugh. you like him, but you’ve never pushed him to take off his helmet. you make the Razor Crest and the flight time between planets seem more alive.

he’s kissed you. more than once. but only as a Mandalorian, the cold beskar of his helmet against your forehead. he doesn’t know if you understand what that means.

the two of you are on a nameless dump of a moon where the grey salt flats are studded with wreckage from a space battle, tracking a pirate with a hefty bounty on his head, when it happens.

you get a single glimpse of the pirate before there’s a hail of blaster bolts headed in your direction. you both take cover, and the Mando uses terse field signs to lay out his plan: you go right and flush him out. i’ll go left and take him down.

the plan does not come together nicely. in fact, the plan does not come together at all.

the mark is harder to scare than you expected, and by the time you’re in range to force him out from behind his cover, you’re close enough that he can grab you.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly. you haven’t been in a choke-hold with a blaster to your head since you were sixteen and stupid.

“Let her go,” the Mando says. despite the anger in his tone, his voice is even and his aim doesn’t waver. you’ve admired that rifle since the first time you saw it: the faint iridescence of its prongs, the elegant curve of its stock, the meticulous modifications to its forestock. you’ve never had it pointed at you before.

“Of course, my friend,” the pirate says. “Because I have survived this long by being incredibly foolish. No, she is coming with me. If you ask nicely, I may even leave her in one piece once I reach my ship. If you try to interfere…”

he makes a nonchalant who knows? gesture, and for a second the barrel of his blaster isn’t pressed against your head.

you haven’t been sixteen and stupid for a long time. the heel of your boot comes down on his instep with as much force as you can muster, and when his hold weakens, you drive your elbow back into his nose.

the pirate crumples into a groaning heap at your feet. the Mando lowers his rifle. you make a show of dusting off your hands, because no one has ever accused you of lacking a sense of drama.

it looks like the Mando wants to say something - you can see it in his posture - but he doesn’t, so you fill the silence. “Don’t tell me you were worried, Mando,” you tease. “Like you’d miss me bouncing around the Crest’s cargo hold making a mess every time we go somewhere. You just love having me around.” 

you’re not expecting him to reply, so you take the binders off your belt and bend to cuff the pirate. when you straighten, the Mando is right next to you.

“Yes,” he says. “I was worried. Yes, I would miss you. Yes. I love you.”

for once, you’re speechless, so you just watch your smile grow in the reflection of his visor. then you lean just a little bit forward, closing the gap and pressing your forehead to his.

(and then the pirate at your feet snickers, and you kick him in the ribs.)

Ezra:

taking this job has been one of your worst decisions to date. and of course, you did it because Ezra talked you into it.

“An absolutely unprecedented adventure, little bird!” he’d said. “A moon still molten from the fires of creation, spitting up gems like a baby with a colic? The harvest will be unparalleled; with the right gear, we will stroll through the lava fields collecting Niobe’s roses as easily as if we were berry-picking.”

it is, of course, not that easy.

calling the Red Moon molten is not an affectation; its broken crust oozes lava like a slow-clotting cut. you’re here for rhodoniobium, beautiful silver blooms that appear on the surface of the lava flows. it isn’t difficult to use the nets and poles to retrieve Niobe’s roses. what’s hard is staying alive while you do it. miners die in ugly ways every single day, and they’re rarely mourned.

liquid water is a thing of fantasy down here, for the most part, and everyone is forced to return to the base camp at Kīpuka when they run out. that’s where the two or you are headed when you get separated.

you’ve been examining plutonic rock formations since you arrived, looking for evidence of pegmatite mineral inclusions: rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other beryl gems. sure, they don’t sell for as much as Niobe’s roses, but you’ve never been able to resist sparklies. 

Ezra usually indulges you, but in this case, he’s been looking forward to a bath for two weeks. so when you stop to chip a sample from a smooth dome of granite, he keeps walking. you don’t think anything of it, figuring you’ll catch up to him, until a sharp “Shit!” comes through over the comm.

“Are you all right?” you ask, quickly starting to pack up your tools.

“Hardly the finest way to introduce oneself, taking pot-shots at innocent passersby,” Ezra says, his voice fuzzy with distance. “If you have had your entertainment, I would be much gratified to be permitted to pass.”

you abandon your tools and set out after him at a run as a much younger man says “This is our gorge, and if you want to pass through to Kīpuka, then you’re going to have to pay our toll.”

“I am always enthusiastic to participate in the civil preservation of infrastructure, have no doubt,” Ezra assures the men who you suspect are holding him under rails. “My partner is a ways behind, and she is carrying our meager pickings. You’ll allow me to contact her and request her presence?”

a grunt of agreement, and a short pause, before Ezra’s voice comes through more clearly on your private channel. “May I assume you’ve been listening, little bird?”

“Yeah,” you pant. your lungs are starting to burn, and you’d be tempted to throw off your heavy insulating gear if you didn’t know that the average air temperature around here is high enough to bake bread. “How many?”

“Four. Alas, more than I feel confident dispatching alone.”

“Almost there. I’ll come in over the ridge. Be ready to draw.”

“I always am.” there’s a pause, and at first you think he’s finished. then your comm crackles again. “If this goes wrong, little bird-”

“Don’t,” you say, because it feels like bad luck.

“I love you. Most ardently. If I die here, then I die happy to have known you.”

the only thing you can say is “Damn it, Ezra.” because you can’t wipe the tears from your eyes, and that’s going to make shooting these bastards just that little bit more difficult. he laughs softly, and clicks back to the public channel.

Ezra chats away with the bandits, distracting them with that awful anecdote about the channelrats while you close the last small distance to the ridge above the gorge. you crawl to the edge, thrower rifle cradled in your arms, and take a sniper’s position.

“I’m almost there,” you say over the public channel. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course, little bird.” You can’t see Ezra’s smile, but you can hear it in his voice. He’s ready.

it goes very quickly, as most gunfights do: you push a stone over the edge to start a small rockslide, the bandits turn toward the noise, and you shoot the two men lounging in the shade while Ezra shoots the two standing in front of him.

“Ezra? You know what?” you ask once the bodies have hit the ground.

“What?”

“In spite of the fact that you have damned awful timing, I love you, too.”

Javi:

as Javier yells at you, you wonder idly if Murphy can hear you upstairs. “You could’ve been killed!”

“Just because you couldn’t have made it out of there, doesn’t mean I couldn’t!”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he hisses, stepping closer.

you shove him back. “It mean you strut around Colombia flashing your badge and shooting sicarios like that’s what you get paid for! You’ve got Kiki Camarena keeping you safe. You know what I’ve got? A fucking press pass! If my cover’s blown, I get auctioned to the highest bidder and tortured to death!”

“Which is exactly why you should know better than to go sniffing around Escobar’s planes!”

“I don’t tell you how to do your goddamned job, Javi! Don’t you try and tell me how to do mine!”

Javi snarls and digs the packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, tossing it carelessly on the couch once he extracts one.

“You’re upset because I could’ve died?” you ask derisively as he lights his cigarette. “Let me tell you something. You, breaking in guns drawn because you think you’re rescuing me, are a lot more likely to get me killed than any mistake I could make.”

“Shut up,” he growls. he won’t look at you as you move closer.

“What is your problem? If this is still about those papers on the guerrillas-”

he shakes his head and turns away. you fucking hate it when he does this, pulling away from an argument rather than just fighting it through to the end.

“Then what?” you demand. if he’s going to disengage, then maybe you need to hit the right buttons to make him change his mind. “Don’t tell me you’re pissed off because you’ve finally realized I really am a better operator than you-”

“Because I love you!”

Javi’s outburst startles you, and you take a step back without thinking about it. he sighs, the tense lines of his shoulders going lax, and turns to face you again.

“Because I love you,” he says more softly. “Because I don’t know what to do without you any more, and that scares me more than any narco son of a bitch. Because I can’t even imagine what I would do if you were killed. Just the thought makes me feel sick.”

“Javi…” you whisper.

he shakes his head to stop you. “You want to know why, every time you come here, I ask you how your articles are doing? It’s because I have this-” he huffs out a helpless laugh. “- idiotic, ridiculous fantasy that one day, you’ll do so well that you’ll leave the agency and actually be a journalist for a living. And you’ll come and live with me, and I won’t have to wonder if you’re dead every time you go longer than a week between calling me.”

“Javi,” you say again. when you take the cigarette from his loose grasp to put it down in the ashtray, he raises his hand to rub his knuckles against his eyes. “You’re right. Part of your fantasy is ridiculous.”

“Only part, huh?” he doesn’t quite manage to make his sarcastic smile look sincere.

“Yeah. The part where you don’t seem to realize that all you have to do is ask.” you cup the strong angle of his jaw and lean in, almost nose to nose. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Why would you want to stay with me?” he asks. “I’m an asshole. I work too much. I’d just make you sick of me.”

“Because I love you,” you say, and kiss him.

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 71 Rundown!

Code Geass: Lelouch establishes the Black Knights floating iceburg country complete with representatives and shit and somehow no one on the team monitoring Lelouch notices he disappears right when Zero is exiled, like yeah half of them are in Lelouch’s pocket anyway but you’d think him just yeeting himself out of the country would be difficult to hide from the oversight committee. Anyway Brittania being Brittania is going to have a political wedding with the Chinese Disturbingly Loli Empress and their literal oldest Prince, like they couldn’t even pick a slightly younger prince to make this less creepy, it’s literally the First Prince who’s like 40, I’m sure Charles has fucked more recently and they have a younger prince but no we have to really hammer home how creepy this is. So yeah now that Lelouch’s new band is under the Chinese banner, having them make peace with Brittania and sell them out would be bad so Lelouch decides to crash the celebration and… challenge Schnizel to Chess, because reasons. And both of them just proceed to completely ignore the rules of Chess for shit that’s thematically appropriate before Nina tries to stab Zero and Schnizel says he has all he needs about who Zero really is. Also Milly’s here and I feel bad for her because all of her friends are several degrees down the sanity cliff now and she’s just there trying to hold their cliché student council group together while wondering if she really will have to marry Lloyd or not because it’s been a year and they threw together this Chinese marriage in like two days so who knows anymore. Anyway Xingke crashes the wedding because of his adorable backstory with the Empress and Lelouch crashes Xingke’s crashing of the wedding by literally appearing out of nowhere which is pretty good for a guy as shitty at athletics as Lelouch and also Jeremiah is on a chair in a desert and this is important or something.

Inuyasha: So we start the Panther Deva filler arc and it’s pretty good honestly, we have an array of Captain Planet Panthers to fight with elemental powers of varying strength to give Koga, Miroku, Sango and Sesshomaru something to do so it’s not just the Inuyasha Wind Scar Power Hour and we have some good foreshadowing/fluff of Inuyasha eating steak in the modern era and fucking around with Kagome’s cat and pissing it off which is a good thematic throughline about how petty cats are and the whole thing has this sunset coloring and it’s really pretty. Anyway Kagome gets captured, you know how it goes, Koga’s pissed because Inuyasha is always letting Kagome get captured and he has a fucking point, bitch is captured more than Princess Peach at this point. But turns out the Panther Demons run behind a barrier and too bad for them Inuyasha just got a new anti-barrier sword to try out.

Yu Yu Hakusho: So Suzaku’s kind of broken, he can dispel his clones to heal himself which apparently gives him all of his energy back because he went from exhausted to just being able to re-do the clones again and start blasting Yusuke so he heals and rests indefinitely as long as one of the clones is alive that’s fucking insane. Anyway apparently despite just healing, Suzaku got his guidance system damaged by Yusuke’s first attack and his aim has been getting progressively worse so he just has to sit there with stormtrooper aim winging Yusuke now and then to torture the poor guy despite going Super Saiyan last time Yusuke only had one shot in him but now he does the whole Life Chakra deal and gives his life for one more even Super Saiyan-yer burst and Shotguns Suzaku’s clones into dust and somehow transmits energy to Keiko through the tv to protect her. It’s pretty convenient that Yusuke learned an AOE attack right before fighting someone that needs all of their clones to be killed at the same time to stay down but yeah, arc over, pretty fun, Yusuke pulled so much power out of his ass he literally dies but some spirit mouth to mouth with Kuwabara saves him with surprisingly little consequences for either of them while Hiei says he’d never drag himself down to save anyone and I’m sure that won’t come back to haunt him. Also Yusuke FINALLY tells Keiko he’s a Spirit Detective given this is like the third time she’s been held hostage by a demon she probably should’ve figured this out sooner.

Fate Zero: Caster’s sitting there talking about how Saber is his waifu and like dude Saber is EVERYONE’s waifu but apparently it’s not actually Saber he’s after but a Saberface so he’s not wrong but he’s also not right. So yeah, he orders more child murders which knowing this guy there isn’t a situation that calls for less child murders. Also Lancer’s teacher asshole dude is cheating by using two E-Tanks for his servant after being all ‘haha old magician families are just better lol’ he has to use two dudes to make his servant fight and still got rolled by Iskandar. Also Kiritgusu bombs the fuck out of his building which given this takes place in 1994 is probably in very poor taste. Also Kirei meets Kiritsugu’s battle maid and shit goes down but everyone’s like “Okay Caster’s more insane than usual so we should probably take care of that” and Gilgamesh claims he’s gonna teach Kirei about pleasure while shirtlessly drinking wine so there’s that.

Konosuba: So Dio-voice Dullahan is back and he’s pissed because Megumin keeps getting off to destroying his home. Though through a combination of luck, Darkness being a meatshield, Aqua’s absurd water/holy power and Kazuma’s dumb luck along with Megumin blowing up the henchmen, everyone plays a role in defeating him in the most ridiculous manner possible. Despite not actually getting any money from it, it’s nice to see the group come together and actually accomplish something in their own way. Makes me think maybe this series won’t just be dicking around about nothing forever, which is fun don’t get me wrong but I don’t think I could stand 52 episodes of one note character jokes with absolutely no progression.

Sailor Moon Crystal: Tuxedo Mask blows the load on the whole Silver Crystal deal to the whole town so now everybody knows about it and can keep an eye out for it. So despite Tuxedo Mask being nothing but helpful Luna assumes he still may be bad and has the power to brainwash a whole town despite his only notable skills thusfar have been standing on telephone poles like Itachi Uchiha and cheerleading. Anyway Luna takes everyone to Zordon’s Morphing Control Center under the aracade which you think would’ve come up by now and reveals she’s a moon cat which you think also would’ve come up by now. Luna’s really just been “We gotta do the thing cause I say so” this entire time. Anyway they wreck the tv broadcast and kick the King’s ass but we have a Disc One Final Boss as Queen Beryl shows up and uses her Conqueror’s Haki to knock out the other Guardians without touching them while Usagi has an existential crisis about her crush maybe being problematic. They give motivational speeches to each other, basically Usagi telling him that they both have to try harder despite feeling powerless and them immediately wilting and saying she’s hopless so he can have a turn giving her a speech and then she gets surprised when he knows she’s Sailor Moon despite literally just telling him she’s the leader and has to help everyone and shit. Anyway, you know how this goes by now, Ancient Moon Laser Beams, bad guys fall, Queen retreats and Usagi wakes up in Mamoru’s apartment ready to reenact Fifty Shades of Moon. Hey an actual fucking cliffhanger for once, that’s kinda neat.

Durarara!!:  Mikado’s plan finally comes together and he meets with Ms. Yagiri while Celty confronts the girl with her head who says her name is also Celty. We get Mikado’s backstory about basically creating Reddit to make The Dollars a Stand Alone Complex, a gang that doesn’t actually exist outside of the rumors of its existence, man this kid’s been watching too much GitS. Still despite it going predictably awful with guys doing shitty things in their name by some miracle some of Mikado’s wide-eyed optimism gets through and his belief in the good of humanity makes the Dollars a gang that’s good at its core. And now they use that good to outnumber the Yagiri goons and let Mikado get away while Celty jumps off a roof on her bike and has a mental breakdown which people seem to hear for some reason. Also Seiji broke out and is using his yandere energy to hunt down Mikado.

[sadlysinn]

Gin Joints (aka Taking Song Lyrics Too Literally)

Ship: Petekey (with mention of Freard)

Word Count: 1671

Warnings: Alcohol/Drinking, mention of drugs

Notes: Teenagery Petekey (mostly) Fluff

Summary: A nice date night to the junkyard hangout where hilarity ensues. Gerard may be the most well known of the Junkyard Teens, but Pete definitely prefers Mikey.

The maybe abandoned junkyard had become a popular spot for the small group of punk teens that cut a hole in the fence. If anyone worked there, they probably would have noticed the excess of cigarette butts and cheap bottles of alcohol (some empty, some not) marking the entrance and strewn about the makeshift paths that led to wherever you needed them to go. This place had been the scene of more than a few parties and impromptu concerts along with fights and surprisingly secluded date nights. 

Gerard was a kind of icon in the group. He knew it as much as anyone else and whatever he said, went. Only once had someone went against his word and that was why he was holding the fence back for Frank. He led Frank by the waist to the collection of post crashed cars, just starting to feel the pills they took before going to the junkyard. They sat on the hood of a car that had probably been cherished by someone until the entire back half had been removed in something that Frank would most definitely qualify as "rad." They smoked cigarettes and watched the sun go down, then made out and counted the stars and planets and whatever celestial bodies they could see. "Hey, Frank?" He mumbled through the pills and thick night air. "You're cute."

"That's pretty gay."

And of course, as Mikey recollected the story from the week before that his brother had confided in him like juicy gossip at a sleepover, Pete was already planning an outing. He didn't tell Mikey his plan until they were out of the door and in Pete's car, and for good reason. Mikey objected almost as soon as Pete finished telling him. "What if someone's there?" He bit his lip, only taking brief glances at Pete.

"What are they going to do, beat you up?" Pete cocked an eyebrow in Mikey's direction, almost carelessly looking away from the road. "No. They won't. Because they know your brother will kick their ass or at least send somebody to do it for him."

"But..." Mikey sifted through many bleak outlooks for another answer. "What if Gerard is there? Or somebody that works there?" The fidgeting had progressed from lip biting to shifting in the seat every couple of seconds.

"Nobody works there, Mikes. It's been closed since forever pretty much. As for Gerard? He'd never lay a hand on you." Pete placed a hand on Mikey's thigh, just gently enough to comfort him and just high enough to make him blush. Pete noticed his mouth move to open and stopped the thought before he could say it. "He won't hurt me either because that would upset you and he just has a policy against hurting and/or upsetting his brother. I mean, I don't blame him, I wouldn't want to be in the same house with someone I pissed off."

Mikey nodded. He was beginning to have a hard time finding more reasons to be scared because Pete seemed to be made of rational answers to his problems, which took the edge off quite nicely. He let himself look around and nearly calmed down. They were almost there. Either something would happen or it wouldn't, and there was nothing Mikey or anyone else could do about it.

They got to and in the junkyard with no problems, as Pete had said they would. Pete had parked the car at the back of the fence near the entrance, but not near enough to break bottles and get a flat tire. Pete grabbed a couple bottles from his trunk (gin, cheap beer, and a bottle of the less-than-alcoholic root beer) and put them in his bag along with a slightly tattered picnic blanket.

"Now if I'm not mistaken," Pete started as he hefted the messenger bag over his shoulder and held open the fence, "There's this one place I found this one time that could be pretty cool." He glanced at Mikey, noticing the unease creeping back into him and reached back to grab his hand. Pete laced their fingers together. "It's fine. It's nice. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise."

"Pete..." Mikey said hesitantly, "Don't make-..."

"I promise." He reaffirmed Mikey, squeezing his hand gently.

Sooner rather than later they were at this spot. A wall of refrigerators stacked heftily to one side. Scrap metal stood precariously in piles nearby. In the middle, there was a wide open space, a large pentagram etched into the dirt. Mikey raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What? It's for protection."

Pete's complete and utter seriousness at the statement caused Mikey to crack a small smile. "Shut up. That's the only protection you're going to need." Pete pouted a little for show and Mikey shook his head, the smile still there.

Once they were settled on the ground with the blanket sprawled open, Pete cracked open a root beer and handed it off to Mikey before opening his own bottle of beer. "I don't see why you like that shit." Mikey made a face and continued, "It’s like... a bread beverage."

"I love that that is your concern. Not that it's illegal. That it's bread in a different state of matter."

"Fuck off. Just because I'm quiet doesn't make me some goody-two-shoes or whatever." Pete smirked a little as if to challenge Mikey. "I'm not! I've done things. I hang out here." He realised that it didn't sound like he had "done things" but he couldn't think of anything particularly badass that he had done off the top of his head.

Pete chuckled a little and they sat in silence, continuing to drink as Mikey desperately searched his memory for something that was worth telling, something that Pete might have heard about.

"Hey! Yeah. I got in that fight. Like a month ago. With the big guy." Mikey puffed out his chest and brought his arms down like Macho Man Randy Savage, mimicking "the big guy," who was broad shouldered, thicker than a Snicker, and about 6' 4." Mikey was almost sure Pete had heard about that happening, but was slightly hoping that whoever had told him had spared Pete the gory details of what went down.

Of course, they hadn't. "Right, right. I remember. The fight where he got so drunk he could barely stand, took a swing at you because he thought you were flirting with his girlfriend, and missed you so badly that he tripped over his own feet and broke his nose." Mikey's, now flush, face deepened with each detail Pete mentioned, but he attempted to save face.

"Yeah. I broke his nose."

Pete threw his head back and laughed. He put one hand back on the blanket beside him and held his beer steady in the air with the other. "Oh god. Mikey..." He tried to talk between fits of laughter. "Mikey. You are... You're the funniest person I've ever met."  He caught his breath and put an arm around Mikey.

"That's sad then. I am definitely not the funniest person I've ever met. By a long shot." He rested his head on Pete's shoulder, finishing off his first bottle of the root beer. "Can I have another?" He discarded the bottle and took a new one from Pete after it was open.

The boys drank and cracked jokes between each other. They got closer by the minute. At four beers in, Pete leaned in towards Mikey, who graced him only with a quick peck. "Not with the bread juice." Pete pouted and Mikey laced his arm around him. "Don't pout about it." Mikey nestled his face into the crook of Pete's neck.

A little bit later and Pete had finished off another bottle, reaching into the messenger bag once more. He pulled out the Captain Morgan and twisted off the cap. He offered it to Mikey. "Youth before beauty." Mikey rolled his eyes, but Pete had a goofy smile on his face. Nevertheless, Mikey took the bottle and swallowed some of the rum, making a face and shaking his head slightly.

He handed it back to Pete and the pair got through half the bottle in the next half an hour. With Mikey's inhibitions lowered and Pete's moderately the same as they usually were, within minutes Pete was on his knees straddling Mikey's lap. Mikey's hands rested lightly on Pete's lower back, their lips locked.

Pete hungrily kissed Mikey. His hands traveled from the back of Mikey's neck into his hair, lacing his fingers into the greasy mop. Mikey, knowing vaguely where this was going, moved a hand to Pete's chest, not yet pushing him back though. When Pete's grip on Mikey's hair got tighter, Mikey let out a small noise of warning.

Pete backed off, detaching himself from Mikey. "What?" He kissed his shoulder to the base of his neck.

"Pete, I know what you're doing," Mikey said, just sober enough to have cohesive thoughts on the matter, "You're going to bite me again and it's going to leave a big mark and then I'll have to wear a coat in the middle of summer." Mikey frowned in a sort of childish way, Pete chuckling a little.

Once again Pete kissed the base of Mikey's neck, nosing under his chin. "I didn't hear you complaining last time." Mikey felt Pete's smirk against his skin and brought his bottom lip between his teeth. "But... If you really don't want me to." Pete backed off, leaning back on his hands and looked Mikey over. "Fuck, you're hot."

The drunken red of Mikey's nose shifted towards his cheeks and he smiled a little, bashfully. "No, you." Pete smiled too and glanced at the ground.

"I'm really glad I met you."

"I'm glad I met you, too. Even though you're an idiot."

The stars lit up in the sky and the full moon sent a gentle glow over Pete and Mikey. They stayed under the dark sky until the sun rose above the horizon again.

[thiswasinevitableid]

7 with indruck?

7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”. I went SFW

“Dude! You can’t go in there! Hey, wait, dude, hold on!”

Jake’s voice jars Indrid from staring miserably at his computer screen. But it does nothing to prepare him for the stack of papers that slams into his desk. 

“Where the fuck do you get off man?” 

Staring him down is a man with dark hair, mis-matched eyes, a scar down his right cheek, and an extremely pissed-off expression. Indrid recognizes him instantly, both from T.V and his last assignment.

“Mr. Newton?” 

“Yeah, that’s me, the guy you been draggin through the goddam mud!” 

“I-”

“Where are you even gettin this stuff? Substance abuse, bad break-ups, the split between me and my team, who the fuck told you that bullshit?”

“I am not going to reveal my sources.”

“Oh now you get some fuckin ethics?”

“I was just reporting what people told me. I was assigned to round up the press around you now that you’re relaunching your show, and this is what I got. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

“Upsets me?” Mr. Newton plants his hands on the desk, leaning into Indrid’s space, “buddy, I ain’t even on the same planet as upset right now. I’m actually feelin pretty damn calm, because I know who the fuck is to blame.”

“It’s not my fault” Inrid snaps back, “I got assigned it at random, so if you have issues kindly take them up with Woodbridge.”

“Sir, if you insist on raising a fuss in my office-”

“This him?” Mr. Newton points to Woodbridge as the editor appears from his office. 

“Yes.” Indrid glares at Woodbridge through his glasses; he told him these kind of stories would lead to trouble, and it wasn’t even his usual beat.

He braces for Mr. Newton continuing to escalate, but instead the stocky man takes a deep breath , holding his hands up apologetically.

“Look, I’m real sorry, shouldn’t have come in guns blazin like that, and I know you fellas gotta make a livin same as anyone but this kind of stuff-” he whacks the papers into Indrid’s lap, “y’all gotta remember there’s a human on the other end of it.”

“That’s a very fair point, Mr. Newton-” Woodbridge gestures towards the door.

“A human with a damn good lawyer.”

“Mr.Newton, free speech”

“Protects you from the government, not from the Duck. I don’t mind the break-up nonsense, that happened plenty during the first show. Leo, Minerva, and I have been through every relationship configuration known to man, accordin to papers like yours. But the shit about me drinkin? That could damage my career. So could the reasons your ‘sources’ gave for why the show ended. You tellin me you’d hire a fella who apparently yelled at his co-hosts day in and day out and ‘couldn't hack’ bein’ outdoors?” This last question he directs at Indrid, who shakes his head. 

“Mr. Newton, retracting the story would look very bad for us. However, we’d be more than willing to publish your side of the story.”

“Close, but my word ain’t enough to counter those claims about me bein’ incompetent. I’m goin’ on a month and a half tour to location scout and shoot the first two episodes. I want one of your writers to come with. Specifically, I want him.” He points to Indrid.

“Wait, why me? I’m not a travel writer, and I have a photography assignment due next week.”

“Because you’re the one who caused this mess, slim.”

Indrid starts to protest when Woodbridge turns to with a smirk.

“Start transferring your assignments, Indrid; you’re going on a roadtrip.”

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

Indrid grumbles to himself as he waits on the curb with his bag. Duck, as Mr. Newton has said to call him, told him to pack only one bag, and to bring his camera (“saw your shots when I was researchin you; you might like shootin out on the road”).

A motorcycle pulls up to the curb as he checks the time on this phone. He doesn’t give the vehicle a second look until the rider speaks to him.

“Glad you’re on time.” The helmet comes off, revealing Duck looking much calmer than the last time he saw him, “let’s get your gear on the bike and get goin’.”

Indrid stares at him in disbelief, “were you at any point going to warm me that I’d be doing this whole trip on a death machine?”

“Didn’t think I had to. Figured you knew this was how I traveled now, given all your, uh, thorough research.” Duck fixes him with a shit-eating grin as he straps his bag onto the bike, then hands him a helmet.

Indrid groans, jams the helmet on and awkwardly climbs onto the back of the bike.

“Gonna have to hang onto me, slim.” Duck’s voice crackles through his helmet, “don’t worry, I ain’t gonna bite you, even if I still kinda feel like it.”

“How encouraging.” He loops his arms around the T.V star, winces as the bike pulls out into traffic. There’s a laugh as he tightens his grip in fear, Duck’s body suddenly the only safe thing in the world. 

They zoom onto the freeway, and promptly come to a dead stop in traffic.

“Truly invigorating.” Indrid mutters. 

“Ain’t gonna be much fun until we’re outta the city. And I ain’t about to go zippin’ between lanes to cut ahead; great way to get us both killed.”

As they inch along, Indrid starting to sweat from the heat of the pavement, Duck asks, “did you ever watch the show?”

“Is there anyone who didn’t? Wild World was on every day. I’m fairly certain it’s still all Animal Planet plays some days.”

“Yeah but, uh, did you actually watch it on purpose?” 

“I did, now and then. I found Minerva’s tendency to try more extreme forms of exploration stressful, but I generally enjoyed what I saw. I’m not surprised you’re the one who picked the show back up; you were always oddly compelling on camera, and it was clear it was a passion project for you.”

“Yeah, it really was. Is. Feels weird to be doin’ it without them. Can’t blame ‘em for havin’ their own lives and goals though. Leo was ready to retire after the Gila Monster incident, and Minerva’s wanted to run an adventure bootcamp for years.”

“You know, if you hurry and explain everything in the next ten minutes, you can just pull off there and drop me at the edge of town.”

A chuckle, “Nice try, Indrid. You ain’t gettin outta roughin’ it that easy.”

“It was worth a try. Alaska was the last episode run, right?”

Duck’s posture shifts so subtly that, were he not holding him, Indrid wouldn’t have noticed it. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was. Nothin’ like gettin attacked by a wolf and takin a bunch of rabies shots to the gut to put you off filmin’.” 

“It really was a wolf? Everything I read said-”

“I’d misidentified what attacked us? Yeah, I know. American wolves never really go after humans, that’s why we were so fuckin’ screwed when this one did. Poor fella. He was sick. We coulda proved what happened except I told Leo to destroy the footage and we had a knock down, drag out fight over it until he did.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want my pain, Minerva’s pain, and the wolf’s pain to become some goddamn viral sensation!” Duck snaps. 

Indrid decides to drop it, feels Duck sag in the drivers seat. In spite of dragging him out into the wilderness, Indrid doesn’t bear Duck any bad feeling. And he doesn’t like seeing him sad. 

“I, ah, I always liked the episodes where you showcased moths and butterflies. Moths are my favorite creatures, they’re so varied but so overlooked.”

Nothing but the traffic around them, then, “I once saw a Luna Moth bigger’n my hand. Didn’t get it on camera but damn was it a stunner.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Now there’s a story…”

By the time Duck finishes the cars are finally moving, and Duck changes them into the lane leading towards the exit for a single lane, county highway. 

“Fuckin’ finally. Alright Indrid, hold tight.”

What follows is simultaneously the most thrilling and most terrifying four hours of Indrid’s life as Duck speeds down the road, win whipping around them and the world going by in a blur that’s much more alarming when not behind metal and glass. They find a rest stop, where Indrid shotguns an entire bag of skittles under Duck’s amused gaze, and get back on the road for an only slightly less terrifying four hours more. 

They stop for the night at a KOA (“you’re lucky, slim, I got us a cabin to ease you into things”). Whereupon Indrid is treated to the sight of Duck stripping off his road gear, back muscular and sporting several scars.

“How are you likin’ life on the road?” Duck asks, not turning but starting to undo his pants. Indrid doesn’t look away until he’s down to his boxers.

“You know, it’s growing on me.”

They make their first shooting destination the next afternoon, setting up camp in a mostly-empty campground before hiking off into the woods. Duck shoots B-roll while Indrid photographs, the pair working in near total silence before meeting up with their contact near a jumble of boulders.

“Nice to see you again, Thacker.” Duck shakes the man’s hand, and gets a pat on the back.

“Good to you too, sport. Who’s the new fella?”

“My biographer.”  Duck deadpans.

Duck spends the rest of the day filming as Thacker helps him find nest and burrows and creatures to shoot and narrate over. In spite of the show being done on a single camera, Duck is compelling as always when he talks about the natural world. 

Indrid just wishes he’d sprung for better hiking boots.

“Ooof.” He mutters, face down on his sleeping bag.

“Not surprised, we did about ten miles all told today.”

“I repeat. Oof.”

A kind, sympathetic laugh, “C’mon, you’ll feel better after some dinner.”

Later that night, as he’s climbing into his sleeping bag, Duck pokes his head into the tent.

“Psst, Indrid, come look.” 

Indrid follows him out, kneels by a clump of flowers when he waves him down. 

“See, look, riiight there” Duck points, “it’s a Hummingbird Moth.”

Indrid gasps, delighted, and watches the pollinator flit from blossom to blossom. Duck sits beside him, answering his questions when he asks them, until it’s too dark for either of them to see.

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

Duck never thought he’d have a travel companion again. Not after Alaska, not after the attack and what came in the nights to follow. 

He certainly never assumed the wiry, silvery haired writer who’d nearl fucked everything up would turn out to be that person. But Indrid, for all his initial skepticism, has become an excellent partner. He’s easy going, eccentric enough that Duck’s own quirks don’t phase him, quiet;y awkward, and a damn good photographer. The fact his alienly handsome face has become a bit windburnt and his pale hair a little longer only adds to his charm.

Christ, Duck wants to rip those red glasses off and kiss him until he’s breathless. 

Currently, he’s missing the feeling of long arms around his waist, as he left Indrid back with a family whose jeep had run out of gas. They’re in one of the long, monotonous stretches of desert highway where passersby are few and cell phone service is unreliable, so Duck volunteered to ride ahead to the next gas station and bring some back. As the Jeep comes into view, he sees the family waving. Indrid is leaning against the car, smiling as if Duck is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

That settles it; when they make Santa Fe, he’s calling The Weekly Rounds and asking Woodbridge to extend Indrid’s assignment. And if the old man refuses, well, Animal Planet is thrilled to have him back, and made it clear they’d be happy to pay for an additional camera man.

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

This time they’re the only ones in the campground, and Indrid suspects it might technically be closed. Indrid could do this forever. He wants to stay like this, with Duck, day in and day out, have their evenings be like this. Duck makes a fire, keeping it small to be safe, and the evening progresses like normal, the two of them swapping stories and munching on the dinner they whipped up from leftovers from the last gas station. Then the moon rises, two days from full, and Duck doubles over with a groan. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Indrid moves to help him, but Duck raises his hand to stop him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, ‘Drid, fuck, I thought I had another day, thought we could make it somewhere I could keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? Duck, please, you’re hurt, I can call for help, just hold on.”

“No” Duck snarls, still hunched over, “you ain’t callin anyone. What you’re gonna do is run, far and as fast as you can, away from me. Find a tree, find a cave, flag down a car if you can find one. Go, please, fuck.” He falls off the stump he’s sitting on, and in spite of his instructions Indrid tries to help him up.

“Go!” It’s a growl now, and when Duck looks up at him his face is changing shape. Duck drags himself away from the fire, into the shadows, and Indrid turns, starting to run. There’s howl of pain and he stops. He can’t leave Duck like this. He won’t.

Resolute, he turns back to the camp and immediately regrets his decisions. Whatever is in the shadows isn’t human, not anymore. It’s growling low and labored, as it rises onto two feet and howls. 

“Oh fuck me.” Indrid doesn’t dare turn his back, tries to slowly creep away and trips on a stray piece of firewood. The monster lowers to all fours, padding into the firelight across from him. It’s fur is dark and shaggy, it’s hands sport claws and when it opens it’s mouth to grin at him it’s teeth glitter like rows of knives. 

He has to keep the fire between him and it, even if he has to spend his night running in some Scooby-Doo style circle around the fire pit. It’s his only chance.

In one, large leap, the werewolf clears the fire and lands in front of him, front paws bracketing his body when he tries to crawl back.

“Told you to run, slim.” 

“I, I can’t.”

“Didn’t think you were stubborn to the point of dyin’.” 

“Y-you told me not to run from predators, and I c-cannot drive the bike. And, and I didn’t, I couldn’t leave you.”

“Ain’t that sweet.” Duck grins again, “but why do you think I told Leo and Minerva I wasn’t safe to be around no more? Because a werewolf don’t know friend from foe.”

“That’s, that’s a lie. Y-you clearly know me, you know your past, you’re not some mindless killer ahgod.” He whimpers as a muzzle finds the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply before sending hot, hungry breath across his skin. 

“Mmmmm, you smell good, sugar.”

“You’re not going to eat me.” Indrid says, eyes shut.

“You seem real sure about that.” Another snuffle, tongue dragging along his throat.

“You’re not because you are still Duck, just very large and covered with fur and with a mouth full of unnecessarily sharp teeth, and even though you seem convinced you’ve become bloodthirsty you are still you.” It comes out in a rush and he holds his breath as a clawed hand cups the back of his head. Duck tugs his head back, nosing along his exposed neck. He stares at the stares, praying they’re not the last thing he sees. 

“I could rip your goddamn throat out.” Duck says matter-of-factly. 

“Do you want to?” He whispers, hands coming up instinctively to protect his vital organs.

A long growl, and then Duck’s face blots out the night sky, “No. I don’t.”

“Ohthankgoodness.”

Duck rumbles out a laugh, “that’s puttin it mildly, slim. No one ever stuck around long enough to see what I’d do because I always hid myself or they had the goddamn good sense to run when I said too. Always assumed as soon as I was all the way changed, I’d wanna hurt people, even if they were people I loved.” He plucks Indrid’s glasses off, setting them carefully on the picnic table before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear he hadn’t realized was there.

“What do you want to do instead?”

“In general, or to you?” 

“Both?” Indrid is puzzled by his phrasing. 

“Kinda amped up, like I wanna go for a run. Transformin’ basically releases a shit ton of adrenaline so your body just doesn’t collapse from the pain. But as far as you’re concerned…” the muzzle his back, snuffling at his face and chest, “dunno, mostly just wanna keep you close. Protect you. Some part of the wolf-brain is kinda just screamin ‘mine’ over and over again.”

“Oh. Ah. That’s, that’s good.” It’s also painfully arousing, but he’s not quite ready to admit that aloud yet.

“Probably helps that you’re wearing my shirt, since it means my scent is all over you already.”

“You let me borrow it AHHEY, gahthattickles” Indrid cackles as licks and nuzzles his face.

“Aww, didn’t know you were ticklish, sugar.” Duck grabs him, begins mercilessly rubbing his face on any exposed skin he can find.

“I’m not you are just very AHhehe hairy!” In retaliation Indrid reaches between them and scritches his fingers against Ducks chest and belly.

ThwupThwup

They both look at Duck’s tail with surprise. Indrid rubs his belly again.

ThwupThwup

“Didn’t know it did that. I mean, guess makes sense on account of bein’ kinda canine, but I guess I ain’t ever been really happy when I been like this before.”

“Should I keep doing that?”

“Fuck yeah. Hold on, here.” Duck adjusts so he’s on his back with Indrid more or less on top of him. Indrid resumes petting him, Duck making little happy whines as he does.

“Damn, that feels good sugar, ooh right.” 

“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s a pet name.”

“I, uh, fuck, um, fuck, I didn’t, meant to say, uh, fuck.” A deep breath as Indrid sits up to meet his eyes, “I’m real fuckin into you, ‘Drid. I, I didn’t wanna say nothin until we were somewhere you could bail out easily if you needed to. But I ain’t felt this way about anyone in years.”

“Is that wolf-you talking or you-you talking?” Indrid asks, toying with a patch of fur.

“Both. I wanna be with you, and wanna keep travelin with you as my partner, as my, uh, my boyfriend. As my mate. Okay, that last bit was definitely the wolf talking.”

“I...I would like that as well, Duck. I didn’t know how to say it, I was afraid that what happened with your friends meant you didn’t want to be close to anyone. Including me.”

Duck sighs, “I wish I’d known then what we figured out tonight. Maybe things woulda ended a little better between us three. I just, I couldn’t face the idea of bein’ out on a shoot with ‘em and havin this exact thing happen.”

“I must admit, the lack of a full moon is rather confusing.”

“It ain’t just the full moon. It’s a few days after and before too, and I thought I had one more before it hit. Plan was to sneak out of the hotel in Santa Fe and hole myself up in a cave somewhere.”

Indrid strokes his cheek, the fur a little coarser there, “That was what attacked you three, I take it.”

“Uh huh. We were trackin it, thinkin’ it was some kind of huge predator we might be able to film.  It jumped Minerva first, but she’s a tough one, managed to hold her own and only got scratched up. I pulled it off her and it bit me. I, uh, I shot it point blank while it was doin’ that. Turned into a man as it fell in the dirt. Leo and Minerva said I did what I had to but I...well, let’s just say I still see that fellas face a lot in my dreams.”

“No wonder you wanted the footage destroyed.” Indrid murmurs.

Duck nods, waves one hand in front of his face, “damn skeeters, c’mon, let’s get in the tent.”

The tent is a tight fit, but Indrid couldn’t be happier. He crawls onto Duck’s chest, nestling against his fur with a sigh. 

“Now if you have bad dreams when you’re like this, you have someone to to hold.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “Thanks, sugar.”

Indrid falls asleep atop a giant wolfman, and wakes up to the morning sun and much smaller, human man sprawled beneath him, who he wakes with a flurry of kisses. 

They make Santa Fe by noon, riding in feeling freer then either of them has in a long time. When they ride out the next morning, Indrid has a new job and Duck has a new cameraman. But all either can think about at the moment is his new boyfriend, and the future spreading out ahead of them beneath the rising sun. 

[marvels-writings]

Livewire (2)

Part 1

Request: Hey:) I absolutely love this blog. Your imagines are entertaining to read. Can I request a Carol x R? Endgame/post endgame (hate/love) scenario: Everyone is trying to deal w/ their grief, Carol always seems to target R when lashing out/or acting cocky/arrogant. R remains infuriatingly calm & ignores her or responds in genuinely friendly manner but says things that fluster/get under Carol's skin. After they win, Carol eventually realizes that while R drives her crazy, she is crazy about her ;)

Extra: Hey! regarding the Carol x R request in which Carol lashes out at the R a lot during Endgame events, just want to add: R-when being yelled/screamed at responds in a polite/friendly manner, their response either leaves others speechless/makes them want to scream in rage/frustration, not because their response was insulting, but because it was said in that calm friendly manner= basically this person does not feel provoked/threatened in the slightest by the other person's anger or rage lol.

A/N: this part was mainly inspired from a prompt that I read on pinterest maybe a year ago and it popped into my head yesterday so it inspired this entire part. I promise I’ll get back to the request soon. 

“Someone’s pissed off.” you commented from your spot on the couch as Carol came in, completely drenched in sweat as she swatted hair out of her eyes. 

“My hair got in my face and it’s just so much of a hassle.” She groaned, plopping down next to you on the couch. After the incident with her blasting you a few days back, she was mostly quieter and actively trying to be better. You noticed, and appreciated it a lot. 

“I can cut it if you want.” You offered, Carol looked as if you’d just offered her a planet. 

“You know how to cut hair?” Carol asked, crossing her legs and facing you, you pulled your book down and looked at her, nodding. 

“I did a bit of work experience at a salon before life got weirder.” You answered, Carol opened her mouth to ask you but you cut her off. “Take a shower first, you’re making the ship smell like a sweaty gym.”

Carol rolled her eyes and got up, smacking your good arm lightly for the comment, you giggled but got back to your book. 

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“Cut it.” Carol groaned, sitting on the couch in front of you with her hair dried after 20 minutes with the blow drier, you’ve never seen it poofier, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious, please?” 

“Since you’re asking so nicely.” You commented, and got up to get the scissors from the kitchen and a large cloth from your bedroom. 

You put the cloth around her neck and told her to sit on one of the stools near the dining table, she complied, sitting in a relaxed pose as she skimmed the book you had been reading. It was one of your favorites as a teenager, Titan by Ben Bova.

“You know this is actual bullshit right?” She asked, the book still on her lap as she read and you came back with everything you needed, including a small comb. You even switched on a bluetooth speaker you’d gotten from Earth and let your favorite music play on it. 

“Then why are you reading it.” You reached to take it away but Carol pulled it away from your grasp. 

“I don’t have anything else to do.” Carol answered, you rolled your eyes, pondering how to cut it. 

“How short do you want it cut?” You asked, Carol raised both her hands, pulling lightly at her hair until she showed you she wanted it cut so it was only about 3-4 inches long. “That short?”

“It’s too much of a hassle.” Carol complained, reading your book. 

“Alright stop whining, you’re gonna be reading for some time.” You replied, starting with trimming her hair first. 

For about 20 minutes or so, Carol was able to ignore the feeling of your hands in her hair and your soft humming as you cut her hair. When you started to get closer to her scalp, it got harder to ignore. You’d finished trimming the top so it didn’t get in your way of cutting the sides. 

“Um, do you have a razor or a trimmer of some sort?” You asked, leaning away and hoping she did. 

“Should I?” Carol asked, absorbed in your book, finally able to focus on the words without your hands in her hair. 

“It would make my life a lot easier.” You muttered, sighing and trimming the last few ends of the top of her head before gently brushing it away from the back. 

Carol’s breath hitched when she felt your fingers gently comb your hair, she bit her lip and tried to keep focusing on the book. You took your hands away and squatted on Carol’s side, causing her to let go of her lip instantly, making sure you didn’t notice. 

“Don’t move.” You said softly, focused on cutting her hair. 

You put the comb right beside her head, capturing all of the hair longer than about a centimeter, then going to cut it off, trying not to touch Carol directly. For the most part it was working, but sometimes, your hand accidentally grazed her head or touched it directly while holding the comb, causing Carol to fluster a bit. 

Soon enough, that side was done, you moved so you could cut the other side, doing the same procedure but a little neater, and touching Carol a bit less. You noticed Carol flipping the pages much slower than before and smiled a little before moving to the back of her head. 

“This is gonna be a bit more tricky.” You muttered, dragging over another chair so you could sit. 

You sighed and leaned forwards so you could see better, practically breathing on Carol’s neck. Carol clenched and unclenched her jaw when she felt your breath tickling her neck, she suppressed a shudder and flipped the page. 

You did the same procedure as you did on the sides but on the back of her head, your breath on her neck as you barely touched her head. She could practically feel your voice as you hummed to the song that was playing. Carol’s jaw was clenched almost the entire time, your breath on her neck flustering her more than ever. You were just a friend to her, a really attractive friend who she practically lived with.

Finally, the back of her head was done, you pulled away, admiring your work before noticing half of the strands were still uneven. 

“Almost done.” You commented, deciding to keep sitting while cutting the rest of her head. 

This time, you gave up on using the comb and used your hands instead, deciding it was simpler. You gently put your hand on the back of her head, using it to even out the hair. Carol’s breath hitched and jaw clenched again when she felt your hands in her hair. 

The next 10 minutes were pure torture for Carol, you noticed she hadn’t flipped a single page ever since you’d started using your hands instead of thecomb. 

You shrugged, continuing to cut her hair, you couldn’t help but start singing when one of your favorites came on. Carol felt your voice and warm breath on her neck whenever you sang, her skin hypersensitive whenever you touched her, she stopped counting the amount of times she had taken a deep breath to try to calm herself. 

Finally finished, and completely oblivious, you kneeled in front of Carol, trying to make sure the sides were even. You reached out with both hands and gently pulled on the hair on the sides, making sure it was even. 

“Wha, what are you doing?” Carol asked softly, completely flustered as her jaw clenched again. 

“Making sure it’s even,” You replied, repeating the motion on the sides of her head before going to the top. “Go back to my ‘bullshit’ book you’ve been reading for the past hour.” 

Carol glanced at the clock, you were right, it had been an hour since you were making her impossibly flustered. You repeatedly ran your hands through her hair trying to make sure it was even. 

You found one strand that wasn’t even And held it out on top of Carol’s head, almost like a unicorn horn. You smirked when you saw Carol get flustered but still hurried up with cutting her hair. 

Finally satisfied with the work you did, you smiled, Carol looked amazing with the haircut, stunning actually. Still squatting in front of her, you started running your hands through it, trying to style it. 

“Now what are you doing?” Carol muttered, trying to focus on the book, your warm hands running through her hair making it harder than ever. 

“There.” You said, leaning back with a happy smile as you looked at her, the haircut looked great. You lifted up the mirror you had gotten and flipped it around to show her. 

“Wow, this is really good,” Carol commented, running her own hands through it, it felt so light. She put the book on the side table and cocked her head to the side, measuring it. “Don’t you think it’s too short?”

“It looks perfect.” you answered, getting to your feet and untying the cloth as Carol got to her feet. Carol finally got enough courage and got over her blush and pecked you on the cheek before going to change. 

“Thank you.” She said before heading off to change, hips swaying more than usual. 

“Of, of course.” you stuttered, wondering if the gesture was friendly gesture or something else. 

‘I've been pretending all my shots are blown

Cover my heart up never let it show’ 

Music played gently in the background as you cleaned up, overthinking everything that Carol just did, wondering if it meant something more.

Tag list:  @capcarolsdanver​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @5aftermidnight​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

Part 3

Part 4