#I don’t ship it but I don’t think y’all are grasping at straws no more XD

[moltengoldveins]

molten, having never seen the Hobbit films: ehh. I read the Hobbit a thousand times when I was a child (really not an exaggeration, thrice a week for at least three years and once a week or so for another like… four?) think I’d know if there was actually anything to the whole Bilbo and Thorin ship. I think this is the internet Internetting again. Molten, three films and an Absurd Quantity of Blatant Staring later: …. Alright. So. I still don’t think this is canon. However.… there is very little someone can do to explain That without… Like. That’s… a lot of Unnecessary Looking. At Each Other. Like. Please. There are children present (gestures vaguely at the Li brothers) could you not do that in public like that.

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 6 (Elriel)

LAST PART!! Thank you for reading this far and for all the love/comments. I honestly didn’t know Elriel was this popular which is why I hadn’t written much before now. Any particular ships y’all want next?

______________________________________________________________

~Elain~

Hearing the bell to the shop door clink, she walks out of the storage room and calls out, “We’re closed!” 

“Hi, Elain.”

Elain stops dead in her tracts, because she recognizes that voice. And the woman it belongs to. 

It’s the woman from Azriel’s apartment... the one he loves. 

“Um, hi.”

“I’m Mor. Azriel asked me to come talk to you.” 

“I don’t see why,” she responds drily. 

The woman shakes her head, ruffling the golden curls hanging around her perfect face. “Because everything he told you was true.”

Elain sighs and reaches to grab her keys. “Listen, I’m sure you’re nice, but you don’t need to lie for him.”

“I’m not lying. I went to his place a few weeks ago, but nothing happened. I kissed him in the hall because I knew you’d be watching. All of it was my idea.”

Hope starts to blossom, but she stomps on it with a steel-toed boot. “I don’t really believe you. No offense.”

She smiles, and the pain in her chest gets worse at how pretty it is. “He was right. You’re adorably sweet.”

Elain blushes, and Mor laughs. “Anyway. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. He’s my best friend, but it’s never been romantic between us. I mean, we faked a relationship in high school before I came out, but-.”

Before I came out.

Wait. 

“You’re gay?” Elain practically explodes. 

She tilts her head. “Azriel said he told you that.”

“I didn’t believe him! I thought he was just covering his ass. Oh, gods, he was telling the truth? You’re... but that would mean...”

Mor raises a perfectly groomed brow. “I’ve never had sex with him. The thought makes me kind of nauseous, actually. I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Grasping straws at this point, she says quietly, “But... but I saw you kiss each other. It didn’t look fake.”

“Like I said, we fake-dated for four years so my parents wouldn’t catch onto the fact that I was dating a girl.” She laughs. “We got good at faking it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Elain says honestly. 

Mor smiles kindly. “He also wanted me to tell you that he didn’t laugh because you kissed him. He laughed at my very happy reaction to the news. And he did say he wants you to love him before things go further, but he was joking about tricking you into it.”

The flowers around her blur as she realizes that everything she’d been worried about was a misunderstanding. 

She’d thought he’d been making fun of her and only pursuing her because she was unavailable. That he’d laughed about her wanting him, that he hadn’t wanted her back.

She’s spent two weeks being miserable, and it was all because she didn’t just tell him what he “did.”

And the way she’d treated him...

“Azriel... I’ve never seen him like he is with you. When he first told me about you, he couldn’t stop smiling. He doesn’t love easily, so I knew you had to be special.”

Closing her eyes, she thinks about all the awful things she said and called him. 

Special.

Gods. 

“Elain, you’ve really changed him. I don’t know how it happened so fast, but... before you, he’d never mentioned a girl to me. He loves you.”

“Not after what I said,” she whispers back, everything coming back to her in a rush. 

“Oh, honey, you’re wrong about that.” Mor comes around the counter and wraps her arms around Elain gently. “He knows you didn’t mean any of it. And he feels awful for messing with you in the first place. He just wants you to believe him.”

“I do,” she says honestly. “It all just sounded...”

“Like the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard? Yeah, I figured. So did he. That’s why he asked me to come.”

Elain wiped her eyes, surprised to see they were damp. “I’m glad you did. It was nice meeting you, even under the circumstances.”

“It was nice meeting you, too, Elain. Azriel’s lucky to have you in his life. And you’ll see me again. We’re going to be good friends, I think.”

She laughs but nodded. “Okay.”

“He told me not to ask, but I have to know... did you really throw up when you saw him this week?”

Elain’s nose wrinkles as she remembers the only time she’d seen him. He was outside the tattoo shop and had paused and looked at her with such unguarded hope and raw emotion she couldn’t take it. “Of course I didn’t throw up. I just didn’t want to cry in from of him.”

“Oh my gods that’s so much better. Um, you might want to tell him that.” Mor smiles and gives her shoulder a playful shove. “Now go tell him I did my job and to stop blowing up my phone.”

Laughing, Elain nods and watches as she leaves, then starts to clean up and close the shop. She feels better than she has since... since she kissed him. 

After rushing through her routine, she looks at the flowers around her and gets an idea. 

She’s grinning as she locks up and rushes home, making the walk in record time and running up the stairs to their floor.

Like the lady she is, she bangs on his door impatiently, not wanting to waste another second being so damn stupid. 

It swings open, revealing him in all his dark t-shirt and jean glory. Her heart starts beating harder just at the sight of him, and she has to clear her throat as she holds up two of the same flowers he bought earlier and says, “You forgot these.”

Azriel smiles, a full, big, beautiful smile that practically forces her to grin back. “I don’t know how. Most expensive flowers I’ve ever bought.”

“The only flowers you’ve ever bought, you mean.”

He shrugs as if to say same difference. 

“You talked to Mor?”

Elain nods. 

“And you... you believe me now?”

Another nod. 

“I’m forgiven?”

She shakes her head at that, but before he can start worrying, she intervenes. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Azriel,” she whispers, sliding her hand in his. “But I did. I’m... I’m so sorry for everything I said. And for the way I treated you. I should’ve just talked to you. I was just hurt and embarrassed and... I don’t know.”

Heartbroken.

He takes the flowers with a little grimace, and she laughs. “You didn’t do anything wrong, either. You thought... gods, I don’t even want to know what you thought I was doing. I’m happy you stood up for yourself.”

His hazel eyes track down her frame to their linked hands, and before he can say or do anything else, she tells him what she’s been dying to for weeks. 

“I broke up with Lucien.”

He continues looking at their hands, but there’s a soft smile on his face, so she continues. “The day after... everything happened. I think we’d both known for a while it was over, I knew then I didn’t love him.”

His eyes meet hers, making it difficult to say the words she wants to. “I knew I couldn’t really love him if I kissed you like that. If I felt like that after just one kiss.”

“Elain.”

“And even though I couldn’t stand to think about you at the time, I couldn’t stop. I mean, any girl would if they had someone practically demand that they give them their heart,” she jokes, and his lips twitch. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts him off. 

“But you don’t need to demand or eve ask for my heart, Azriel,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Because it’s yours. It’s been yours ever since I saw you on that roof.”

She laughs at herself and shakes her head. “I tried to not give it to you, but...”

Taking his hand, she places it on her chest, right where it should’ve been this whole time. “It’s yours.”

He’s perfectly still as he stands like that, hand on her chest, breath mingling with hers. 

But then his trademark little smirk finally appears as he looks down at her and says, “Glad to see you finally stopped lying to yourself.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Azriel just laughs, the sound so light and happy, curls his fingers to grab the front of her dress, and pulls her inside his apartment. “I’ve never been in here,” she remarks, looking around. 

She doesn’t get much time to, because he uses a hand on her chin to raise her face to his. “I’ll give you a tour later.”

Elain breathes a sigh of relief as his lips meet hers, immediately winding her arms around his neck. She hears the door close and a splat she assumes is the flowers hitting the floor, but she doesn’t even care. 

Just like the first time, he kisses her slowly and purposefully, making her go on her tiptoes to get more. 

His hands go to her hips and lift, and then she’s being put on a counter top. Azriel stands between her thighs, pulling her flush against him. 

“This is the kitchen,” he mutters as he tugs on her earlobe with his teeth, making her moan.

“It’s hideous,” she breathes, eyes still pressed shut. He smiles against her skin and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

His hair is silky soft between her fingers, arms strong around her. This right here is heaven; she’s sure of it. Being kissed by this man is heaven.

“Say my name,” he murmurs, running a thumb over her lower lip. 

Leaning forward, she drags her lips across his jaw, down his throat. “Azriel.”

A hand in her hair pulls her head back, and then he kisses her again, and it’s a little more desperate and raw. 

His palms scrape across the top of her thighs, gently pushing the hem of her dress u[ until the lace of her underwear peaks out. Eyes dark, he looks down, then huffs a laugh. 

She grins, too. They’re completely lace, but they have small, white spots that are designed to look like daisies all over them. 

“You just might make me like flowers after all,” he says, dragging his tongue over his lower lip in a way that makes Elain almost pass out. 

His arms wrap around her again, tighter this time, and hold her hostage against him as he kisses down her neck and across her chest. She’s squirming and trying desperately to move, to do something, but his arms are steel around her. 

She gasps as he sucks on the spot directly under her ear, and he takes that as the cue to scoop her up. Clinging to him, she keeps kissing him, even as he walks across his apartment and into his bedroom. 

Thank the gods, she thinks as her back meets a mattress. Pulling on his shirt until he’s on top of her, heavy weight pressing her down, she moves her hips against his.

It’s the sweetest torture, and she doesn’t want it to ever end.  

He apparently agrees, because even though she’s panting and desperate for more, he continues to just kiss her. 

Elain reaches for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts up enough for her to pull it off. 

Scars, tattoos, tan skin. 

Beautiful. 

Her lips meet his collarbone, goosebumps forming on his skin. But then he’s turning her face up and her mouth becomes occupied by his. 

“I want to kiss you forever,” he tells her, nibbling on her lower lip. 

“Okay,” she agrees, pulling him back down to her. 

It’s a wonderful eternity before he reaches around her for the zipper of her dress, slowly tugging it down. Then he leans up on his knees between her legs and puts his hands on her calves. 

So slowly she squirms, he traces his hands up her legs, taking the soft fabric of her dress with them, until she’s in nothing but her underwear and bra. 

Bracing himself on his elbows, he leans to press a kiss against the smooth skin of her stomach. He drags his lips over to her hip and kisses there, too. Then he makes a path up to the middle of her chest. 

There’s a little rose bow on her bra, and he tugs on it with his teeth. “Fucking flowers.”

Elain laughs, even as rough, perfect hands go to her back and unhook her bra. When it joins the pile of clothes on the floor, his mouth meets her skin, and she moans. 

“You drive me crazy,” he growls, kissing the tip of her breast. 

Even though she can’t hardly think straight, she says, “You drive me crazy, too.”

“Oh, I’m about to.” He smiles up at her, then pulls her nipple in his mouth, hand going to the other. 

Well, at least he warned her. 

Elain makes an ungodly amount of sound as he teases her, and she’s pretty sure none of what she says makes sense, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

Her body’s coming alive under him, and she’s never felt so... worshiped. 

“Azriel,” she groans, and his dark eyes open to meet hers. 

The sight of him looking at her, mouth still on her skin, makes her whimper. “I can’t take this. Please.”

He releases her with a small pop, pressing one last kiss to her breast as he murmurs something about her ruining his fun. 

She doesn’t care. 

She needs him, and she needs him now. 

Tattooed fingers slip in the waistband of her underwear, and he watches her intently as he drags them down. “I think I’m going to frame these.”

Elain blushes, and he smiles. “I like making you blush.”

“Well, you’re exceptionally good at it,” she grumbles, embarrassed. 

His hands go to the buckle of his jeans, and she watches with unguided interest, even as he says, “I’ve wondered for weeks how much you’ll blush when I fuck you.”

Cheeks bright red, she says, “That’s filthy.”

He toes his boots off, then his jeans hit the floor. “Baby girl, you have no idea.”

“Gods above, please tell me I’m about to,” she begs, way past protecting her dignity. 

Azriel rolls his eyes but crawls back up the bed, settling in between her thighs. “Say my name.”

She smiles. “Azriel.”

He pushes into her slowly, and she gasps against his shoulder as he keeps going and going. Then he draws perfectly still above her, letting her adjust. 

Or maybe letting himself adjust, because he makes a strangled-sounding noise and mutters, “Fucking gods above, Elain.”

Then he starts to move, and she’s inclined to repeat that sentiment because fucking gods above. 

He’s moving so slowly her eyes start to cross, but she can’t bring herself to care because it’s similar to the way he kisses her. Slow and sensual and deep enough to drive her insane.

But it’s also the fact that he’s taking the time to get to know her body and what she likes. And he’s a very studious man. 

A hand on her thigh encourages her to wrap herself around him, and she kisses him everywhere she can reach. His lips, his jaw, his shoulders. 

Brow knitted in concentration, he moves his hips in a deep circle against hers, and she moans. 

His mouth trails back down to her chest, and she clings to him as her body trembles underneath him. 

“Azriel.”

The grip on her hip tightens a little, but he refuses to give in and speed up, and she realizes with a jolt why he’s so determined to draw this out. 

He isn’t trying to fuck her; he’s making love to her. 

That thought, coupled with the way he feels against her, becomes too much, and she pants, “Azriel, I’m going to-”

His mouth covers her just as she finds release, swallowing the sounds she can’t hold in. 

But he doesn’t stop. 

No, he chooses that exact moment to finally increase his pace. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, gripping his shoulders and praying her heart doesn’t stop completely. She feels like she’s coming apart at the seams with pleasure, and she can’t hold herself together. “Gods, Azriel.”

His hips are rough against hers, hands fisted in the sheet next to her head, jaw clenched tight. 

If she still had a working brain, she’d be embarrassed by how loud she’s being. But she doesn’t, and she isn’t. 

His name falls from her lips again, and Azriel makes a low sound that only adds fuel to the fire. 

Her nails are digging into his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he continues to pound against her. One hand is braced by her head, the other still gripping her hip, and he lifts her almost completely off the bed, not even breaking his rhythm. 

Elain groans, and it gets louder as he sucks on the soft skin between her neck and throat.

But it that, or anything else he’s doing to her body, that that finally pushes her over the edge again. 

It’s him looking down at her, heart in his eyes, and saying, “Elain.”

She comes with a cry, and this time he follows her, hands gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. She gets a front-row seat to the show, and it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. 

He curses in a low, broken voice that makes her toes curl, and his muscles go tight under her hands as he stills. Their breath mingles together, both of them panting like crazy. 

Eventually he relaxes between her thighs, putting his head on her chest, and she wraps her arms around him. 

For some reason, she can’t help but laugh as she runs her hands slowly through his hair. 

He peeks up at her, brows raised. “Why are you... giggling?”

Elain can’t even answer him, because she’s laughing harder now. 

His hands clamp over her shoulders and shake her gently as he smiles down at her. “What?”

Finally getting herself under control, she says, “I’m really glad the apartment next to us is empty.”

Azriel grins, then a laugh bubbles out of him, too. “Me, too.”

~Azriel~

Until tonight, the happiest time of my life was when Cassian, Rhys, and I got wasted off our asses, got lost in the middle of a national park, and spent four days doing stupid shit to try and figure out where the hell we were. 

I realize now how dumb that was. 

Because four fun days with my friends has absolutely nothing on having Elain Archeron sleep in my arms. 

Moonlight turns her skin milky and smooth and casts her hair in shadows as I run my fingers through it. She sighs happily, breath heating my chest. 

She’s passed out, head in the crook of my shoulder, leg thrown over my waist. 

And I’ve never been so content with being unable to sleep. 

Honestly, with her next to me, I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again. Why the hell would I, when I could watch her instead? 

I trace the curve of her lips, and they twitch under my touch in a way that makes me grin. 

I’m completely wrapped around her finger, and I couldn’t care less. 

Because if every night’s like tonight... the thought makes me insanely happy. 

She’s mine, and I’m hers, and right here in this moment, everything’s perfect. 

Elain must feel me staring at her, because her eyes peek open a moment later, brown and sleepy and beautiful. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I kiss her brow. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

The hand resting on my chest starts exploring, and she murmurs, “But I’m awake now.”

She kisses my peck, and then the leg draped over me settles next to my hip, and she’s braced above me. She grins and raises a brow when my hips press into hers, but what did she expect? She’s naked. And beautiful. 

“I hope you know, I’m going to bring you flowers every single day,” Elain informs me as she hovers above me in a way that makes my jaw clench.

Fuck. 

What’d she say?

Flowers. 

“Okay,” I say in a shallow voice, brain focused on her and the teasing little movements of her hips. “I love flowers.”

“Liar.” 

I smile, and she mimics the expression. Brushing her hair behind her ear, I tell her, “You look beautiful today, Elain.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughs. And then she sinks down, and we don’t talk for the rest of the night. 

____________________________________________________________

I didn’t edit the last part of this whoops. Thank you again for reading and feel free to drop new requests/questions in the box. 

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @elrielllll @januarystears @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @wineywitch202 @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @poisonous00 @welcometothespeaknowworldtour

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟻)

Chapter 5: The Bigger Picture

A/N: WOW! Y’all are so sweet and amazing <3 Here is Chapter 5. Tension is building, kinda. This is so s l o w burn that it’s hurting me. I kinda want this to be about more than just a romance tho? Especially in the beginning, but I am working on the other chapters, and where it is heading, I promise! Bare with me haha! Also I have no clue if those maps exist or if that’s even a thing. I’m just making it up, but it could be right haha. 

I practically dragged JJ through the front door of the Chateau. “What’s all this about Y/N” JJ finally asked as you both walked through the kitchen. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, fiddling on the keyring, finding the small golden key. I held it up to JJ, rattling the other keys, a smile plastered to my face. “A key? How exactly is that supposed to help us Y/N?” I rolled my eyes in response. I turned to the door, just on the side of the living room. 

My dad’s office. 

As long as I could remember, I was never allowed in there for extended periods of time. I would wander in some late nights when he left the door cracked, or to bring him a glass of water and a snack. I could see him now thinking back, hunched over the desk, glasses low on his nose, pen in one hand, the other holding the map that he was marking up. 

“Ah. Y/N. Taking care of your old man, making sure I stay alive I see” and he would chuckle, but I didn’t. I left, and days later her disappeared, he was killed all because of that stupid shipwreck, just like my brother. 

I rummaged through a few things, pulling binders down and looking through the first few pages. JJ looked over at me, honestly worried. I mean if I was watching someone else in my position I probably would be too. I know I probably looked crazy, I was grasping at short, short straws. It was all because I was not ready to give up on my brother just yet. I found the binder labeled “Ship maps”. I pulled it out and handed it to JJ. Okay, maybe this was a little far-fetched, but it was something. 

JJ took it carefully out of my hand. He hesitantly looked at me before looking down at the map, slowly unfolding it. I started to tap my fingers against the table. My nerves were on edge as JJ looked between the map he was unfolding and me. His hand reached down to cover mine that was tapping at an annoyingly fast pace. I bit my lip as he looked over the map. 

He furrowed his brows and looked up at me. “What am I looking at exactly?” He questioned. I laid the map out on the table. I couldn’t blame him, if my dad had not been into this stuff I wouldn’t know what was happening either. 

“Okay so here,” I pointed to one of the lines that were on the page, and traced it down the coast of North Carolina, to where it landed in a port in Charleston, “is the route that the ship was recorded to talk, based off of the sonar and the GPS in it. Ya know, the kinda thing that the bigger, hauling, cargo ships have? For the long trips?” I finished looking for the key. 

JJ slowly nodded his head looking at me. He could tell I might be on to something, he just was not quite sure yet. I flipped up the side of the map, just the first panel, and it showed an elaborate excel table, filled with numbers and symbols. “Here” I pointed to one of the highlighted symbols along the path that I previously traced, “Is…” I took my other hand to skim the table to the side, trying to find the matching color and symbol. “Ah. Here.” I tapped the symbol in the table, JJ leaned closer to me making my breath hitch involuntarily, we were so close, we were touching, practically no space between us. “See here it says that this ship reached 35.1146° N, 75.9810° W, on Saturday, May 14th, 2007, at…” I followed the line with my finger, 16:45” I finished my rant. 

“Okay.” JJ breathed out, his brows still knitted close together. I could see the worry in his eyes. At this moment I could not see it, but he thought I might have been going crazy, things are starting to get to me.”Y/N, this is great, but I don’t know what this has to do with John B.” He sighed. “But I'm not gonna lie, a girl who knows her way around the ocean, the commanding voyage out to sea, boss babe style, kinda hot Y/N” JJ joked, trying to lighten the mood and his worry, then he realized how close we were, but he didn’t move. 

I let out a laugh. It felt natural, which was nice. “I'm being serious JJ,” I said, still laughing and pushing his shoulder back. 

“Whatever you say,” He paused. “Princess.” I rolled my eyes looking back over the map. “What does all this mean though? How is this map, from before we knew what the Merchant was, going to help us find John B?” 

“Ah, you have to think bigger JJ. You see if we can get the coordinates of the Phantom’s last signals, where it was found, or where it could have been between last night and when they pulled it up, we can cross-reference that, with any boats that may have come through. If we can somehow get a map from any of those larger companies, maybe the ferries, hell we might even be able to get it off the internet. We can see if any boats came around then start from there?” I said, but it sounded like a question. “I know that it’s barely anything, but it’s something JJ!’ I continued rambling. “If the ships picked up JB and Sarah, pulled them on board, then  maybe…” I didn’t know how to finish the thought. I looked up from the scattered maps to JJ. 

JJ stared blankly at the maps then up at me. He both put his hand on the sides of my face and just looked at me. He probably thought I was crazy, that I was losing my mind. “You’re a genius Y/N” He then placed a quick dramatic kiss on the top of my forehead. “Seriously, I never would have even thought to look into any of that.” He stepped back. I was slightly taken about by his actions had we always been this touchy with one another when John B was around. “So where the hell do we start Nancy Drew?” JJ said, rubbing his hands together making me laugh. 

“The ferry would be a good place?” I said shrugging my shoulders. “But I haven't exactly thought that far ahead” I laughed a little, and saw a smile still on JJ’s face.

“Then we’ll start at the ferry’s office!”  JJ said moving out of the office. I looked up and around the room. At all the research that my father did. All the books that line the walls, the maps hung up, all of it. I wanted to get rid of it. My skin felt hot and I could feel it turning red. I gripped the table tightly, hoping the anger would pass. A picture frame on the wall caught my attention. I lifted it from the hook it was sitting on. In the frame was a picture of the Royal Merchant, labeled and matted. Stuck on the outside of the glass, covering the lower corner of the Merchant was a picture of the three of us, John B, my dad, and I. It was taken a few summers ago by our neighbor, we had come back from a long day out on the boat fishing. I felt tears start to form in my eyes. My back was facing the door so I didn’t see JJ enter the room. He came up behind me, putting his hands on either of my shoulders. He looked down at the photos in my hands. 

I reached one hand up to wipe a stray tear. I was so sick of crying. “I can’t believe that a shipwreck from the 1800s made me lose two of the most important people in my life.” 

“I know” JJ spun me around to look at him. “You have a plan,” He said smiling

“We’ve got a plan” I corrected him. “Actually, before we head out on this chase, do you think you could help me with something?” I said softly. 

“Anything,” JJ replied. The worried look still in his eyes.  

“Can you help me clean up here?” I looked around at the mess, from when I got here, and the mess that I had just made. “I don’t know, I just want to clean it up, lock the door, and not think about it for a while,” I said, starting to fold-up maps. 

“Of course.” JJ smiled starting to close up binders and arrange them on the shelf. “If  you were going to use me as a maid Routledge, you could have at least bought me one of those cute costumes?” 

I pretended to gag. “JJ that is an image that I did not need in my head.” 

“You may not have needed it, but I bet you’re enjoying it.” He winked in my direction. I felt the blush creeping back onto my face. 

“In your dreams J,” I said with a laugh. 

CH 6

Tagged; @nikki082489 @lovelymaybankk @dolanfivsosxox @alexa-playafricabytoto @downbytheouterbanks @heyhargrove​ @kayln021 @readysteadygo23   @im-a-stranger-thing @imagines-and-preferences1216

If you wanna be tagged comment or message me:) 

[that-sw-writer]

3 for Kylo please because I love torturing myself 💖💕💘💗💞

PART TWO

I too love torturing myself, and also all of you apparently...

3: “Wake up, please wake up!”

Word count: 1654

Warnings: angst, torture, blood, implied character death - this is DARK

Notes: I could potentially do a part two of this sooo lmk if y’all want that

Come back to me I

Kylo hadn't slept in days.  Specifically he hadn't slept since he last held you in his arms - when he knew you were safe, safe because you were with him.

You were more than capable of looking after yourself, he knew that, but the one time your team had fallen into a trap he hadn't been there.  Hadn't been there to protect you, which was his job.

When you led a division of stormtroopers to investigate a distress beacon, it had been a trap set by a group of credit-hungry pirates.  It was clearly a well planned assault, they killed your entire team and took you hostage.  The pirates had been anticipating a high ranking member of the First Order to respond to the beacon, but the Supreme Leader's wife?  It was better than they ever could have planned it.

Kylo had been working tirelessly to track you down, and being forced to watch new holovids every day of you, beaten and bloodied, was only adding fuel to the fire.  The pirates had demanded a huge sum of credits, and the First Order dutifully paid it.  Money was money, but your life was priceless to him.  However, it didn't end there, clearly knowing how valuable their leverage was the pirates weren't letting up, they were coming back with new demands every day - including weapons, ships and complete amnesty from any crimes committed in future.

The First Order knew that these requests could not possibly be fulfilled, they would be supplying their own demise.  Kylo and his Knights had taken it upon themselves to track down your trail, but every lead was painfully running dry.

Another two rotations passed and another holovid surfaced.

"Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, you are now one standard planetary rotation away from the deadline to meet our demands.  You will supply us, or you will watch your wife die, and her blood will be on your hands."  The pirate's face was always covered, so effectively that it couldn't even be distinguished what species he was.

The holocamera turned to face you, and Kylo's hands had immediately balled into fists.  You were suspended from the ceiling by your wrists, just as you had been in every other video.  You couldn't even physically lift your own head, to an outsider you could have easily been mistaken for already being dead.  When the pirate moved over and yanked your head back by your hair, a few gasps rang through the otherwise silent conference room where the Supreme Council was gathered to watch the holovid.

There was so much blood staining your face that your features were barely visible.  A small blade was pressed to the side of your waist, the tip of it cutting through your already tattered clothes and meeting your skin.  A short cry left your lips as the blade sliced at your skin painfully slowly to add to your torture.  Blood soon began to ooze out of the wound, and your voice quickly cut out, your throat too dry to make any more noise.

When the blade was retracted and your hair released, your body went limp and the masked pirate moved to stand in front of you.

"It's your choice Supreme Leader, this is your last warning."  And with those words, the feed cut out.

Everyone remained silent, one could hear a pin drop it was so tense.  Nobody knew what to say.

Kylo broke the silence with an almighty roar leaving his throat, his Saber immediately whirring to life so he could slash at the walls.

Once he had successfully demolished the conference room he turned off his Lightsaber and faced his council, his breathing laboured.

"Find her!"  He bellowed, "We will not be beaten by a group of pirates.  We rule the galaxy, we cannot, and will not lose!"  He yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice so overcome with emotion that it cracked slightly.

"W-we're doing everything we can Sir!"  One general spoke up, and she immediately regretted it when Kylo used the force to throw her against the ceiling.

"Do more!"  He ordered, storming out of the room, furious.

Really he was angry at himself more than anyone, he had let this happen... the pirate said your blood would be on his hands, and Kylo believed it.

Hours passed, and there was still no news.  He had been pacing around the bridge, searching every crevice of the galaxy for you.  Eventually a breakthrough came.  It was a lead based on very loose evidence, but at this point Kylo would grasp at any and every straw in the hope of finding you.

The transmission signal from the holovid had been bounced to hundreds of relays in order to hide its origin, but professional slicers had finally tracked it down... or at least they hoped they had.

Buried deep in the outer rim was the planet Bor.  It was essentially an industrial wasteland, but the perfect place for pirates to operate since it wasn't on the First Order's radar - until now at least.

"Gather my Knights."  Kylo barked as he stormed off the bridge towards the hanger.  He didn't have a second to waste, if you were there he was going to find you.

When he landed on the planet's surface he immediately began tracking you, following the signal which the slicers had isolated.

The Knights were silently marching behind their master, and when he raised his hand they all stopped in unison in front of a durasteel structure, large enough to encompass at least ten rooms.

"This is it."  He muttered, throwing the signal tracker to the ground.  "She's here."  The Force was was buzzing all around him, although you weren't Force sensitive Kylo still recognised your energy anywhere.

"Take no prisoners, save her at any cost."  He ordered, and the Knights all nodded in compliance.

Kylo's Saber roared to life, and he clutched it at his side as they slowly moved around the building.  The only light was the red glow from the unstable blade, and the place was eerily silent.  No signs of life.

With a manoeuvre of his hand he permitted the Knights to split up and begin searching, which they did.

You were there, Kylo knew you were.  But the lack of security was putting him on edge.  His fears were only interrupted when he heard the voice of one of his Knights.

"Master Ren, in here!"

Kylo ran as fast as he could to the source of the voice, and when he burst through the malfunctioning blast doors he heart hit the floor.

There was nobody else, just you.  Nobody for him to tear limb from limb for daring to lay a hand on his wife.

"Find them."  He ordered his Knights in a low tone, and they hustled out of the room to look for any trace of the perpetrators.

The cowards had ran.  They ran and left you there, beaten, and on the brink of death.

Kylo's heart was racing as he approached you.  You hadn't acknowledged anyone since they had entered the room, and he was fearing the worst.

"My love."  He mumbled as he placed his hand ever so gently against the side of your face to try and get a reaction from you.

Your skin was cold to the touch, and the blood coating your skin was dry.

Kylo swung his Saber above your head to slice the chains binding your wrists, before throwing the hilt aside in favour of catching your body as it fell limp to the ground, lowering you down to lay across his lap.

"Y/N..."  His voice was hoarse, a lump forming in his throat.

Tears were beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes, this couldn't be it, it just couldn't be.

He looked at your body, your clothes stained with grime and blood.  He could see your wounds, there were so many of them that his blood was boiling just thinking about the animals who did this to you.

The cut by your waist that he had witnessed them inflict upon you via holovid just hours ago was clotting, but there was still fresh blood there - it hadn't been long.  He had seen you alive in that holovid, he refused to believe that he had gotten here too late.

"Come back to me."  He begged, holding your body to his chest, "Please come back to me."

"Kylo-"  He heard the smallest noise, and he retracted enough to see your face.

"Y/N!"  Relief washed through his tone, as he held your body on his knees.

"I-I..."  You strained, your E/C eyes struggling to stay open to finally look at his face.  You knew he would come for you, it had been the only thing keeping you going every day.

"Don't strain yourself, we'll get you help."  He reassured you before calling to the Knights to bring a stretcher.

"I love you-"  You hoarsely told him, your voice barely audible.  You were malnourished, your throat so dry it hurt to talk.  "D-don't blame yourself."  You finally managed to squeeze the words out.

As he processed your words, panic took over his face again.  You were saying goodbye.

"No, Y/N, no!"  He panicked, placing his hands on either side of your face.

He looked at your eyes slowly flutter closed, those beautiful eyes.  He remembered seeing them on the day of your wedding, how you had spent all day smiling at him and reminding him just how much he meant to you.  Now he feared it was the last time he would ever see them.

You were slipping away, he could feel it, "No!"  He cried out again, tears freely falling down his cheeks as he desperately held your face, "Wake up, please wake up!"

Even with cuts, bruises and blood staining your face, your skin devoid of all colour and malnourished - you were still his wife, his Empress, his one and only love.

"Help is on its way my love, please just hold on."  He whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

All he could do is hold you, hold you as close as he could and sob.

He wasn't ready to let you go, he needed to save you... somehow.

He couldn't say goodbye.

[chameleonwritess]

Sanders Asides Spoilers Ahead

Okay, I do a big post about each episode most of the time, now, so here it is.

First up, congratulations Prinxiety shippers y’all got your JUICE for the first time in honestly quite a while. Roman and Virgil haven’t directly interacted in a long time so it was super nice to see how much they’ve developed when working together compared to back at the start.

Moving on to Roman because I’m a Roman stan first, a human second, what did you expect?

First up: I don’t know why I thought there wouldn’t be angst- it’s Roman and he’s potentially the character with the MOST issues right now. Still, just the small comment about adding the mistake to his long list brought me right back to last episode. He really does just think that everything he does is a mistake and Patton and Janus (as much as I love them) did NOTHING to convince him otherwise last episode. It was really nice to see Virgil take his side, actually. I thought Virgil would be more likely to take the other side because of their history so it’s so nice to see them moving on.

Still, Roman is clearly not very good mentally. From last episode, that was to be expected (ITIWYH) and also from Remus’s appearance and even before that, the conflicts he was having with Logan. The scene where he was looking into the mirror brought me straight back to the Funhouse Mirror comment in DWIT and I desperately wanted to give him a hug. Whilst the narrative seems to be focussing on Janus’s role in Thomas’s life at the moment, I really hope the story takes the time to focus on Roman’s insecurities and self worth (or, y’know, have him snap and become a dark side because I live for Roman angst).

Now, onto Janus. I think the reason this asides episode is so integral to the main narrative is because of the comment Virgil made regarding Thomas’s life being surrounded by lies. Janus, after being pushed out by Thomas for so long, has been put at the very centre of Thomas’s life and Thomas is forcing Janus to take control too much, if what Virgil suggests is true. I’m interested to see how this story plays out, especially considering Roman’s hostility towards Janus. Even Virgil didn’t seem too against him this episode, making me think some time has passed in canon. Virgil is really maturing, too, which is good to see.

I should probably talk about Virgil. After all, he made a really brave sacrifice and it reminded me of Roman’s speech at the end of Accepting Anxiety. Virgil was willing to work with Roman upon seeing how hurt he was. PLUS he noticed that Roman was hurting and whilst it isn’t my number one romantic ship for Sanders Sides, I absolutely adore them platonically and they did have some very sweet romantic-leaning moments this episode. 

THE EYESHADOW!! Virgil’s eyeshadow changes according to his mood! (rip Thomas, even more changes to make for filming) but I absolutely love the possibilities of how this could be used as a narrative feature in the future.

Final thing because I’m Logince trash and I miss Logan: Nico looked a bit like Logan and Roman spotted him first, immediately hitting the ‘cute person’ alarm soooooo (I’m grasping at straws but I mAKE A POINT)

Sorry if you read all of this. I’m basically just dumping my thoughts rather than proposing new theories. The art was brilliant, though, and I loved the video a lot. Thomas and his team did an excellent job, as always!!

[janiedean]

hello dearest (not) anon, excuse me if I don’t reply to you directly but as I want to block each single one of you I’ll keep the original so I can lovingly delete it after I’m finished. :)

now, I was this tempted to just delete or troll you, but as y’all have honestly seemed to not realize that you’ve gone overboard and that I didn’t want to get further involved with this dumb shipwar but you’re basically making me go like

so fine, whatever, I’ll address this one because it has all the single dumbest arguments we could have and I kind of want it for safekeeping, so.

point one: starting an ask with you freaks and then complain we don’t complain about jaime calling brienne ugly makes me wonder if you actually re-read your asks before you send them or if you even bother to make sure they’re internally coherent, because sorry but you’re basically saying this entire fandom is made of **freaks** which last I know was not a compliment to anyone’s aesthetic, so you already don’t have ground to stand on;

point two: stupid is actually a universally degrading word when referred to a specific person and used to undermine their intelligence, especially if continuously repeated. now, in *itself* it’s not damning - an argument can be stupid, a discussion can be stupid (I mean I’ve seen people savagely arguing over who had to wash the dishes, that’s a stupid reason to argue with anyone), a law can be stupid (all of italian bureaucracy is definitely a challenge for anyone for one), of course it’s all about how it’s used. for one, if used ironically and not meaning it, as in ‘my stupid son charging against dragons’, it’s not damning either, because wow, wait a moment, every single person who says that also knows that jaime is doing that out of ptsd fight instinct and that there’s nothing funny about it, but as we are people outside the narrative who love the character, we don’t mean it in a demeaning way. obviously charging at a dragon is suicidal, and it’s exactly what he’d have done (probably also in book canon I’ll give them that), but we all know why he did it, and btw dork is nowhere near on the same level as the stupidest lannister, it can be meant positively as well and tbh it’s used way more positively than that - I mean, there’s dorks in love and idiots in love as ao3 tags, no one uses them to insult the people in the ship they’re writing about now, do they? however, the whole thing about ‘the stupidest lannister’ is completely different because it implies cersei, someone jaime trusts implicitly and who’s his sister and, to him, also his lover and his other half - going by your own/their own definition - continuously demeaning his intelligence. now, I don’t think you quite realize how emotional abuse works or how that works, but let me tell you: if people you are that close with or have a fundamental impact in your upbringing (your parents, your siblings, your first teachers etc.) tell you that all the time, you end up believing that. and what comes with it? if you think you’re more stupid then them, then it means that their decisions will be better than yours because you’re too dumb to take them properly and they’re not, and you won’t even start to wonder that maybe they’re wrong and you’re right, and it’s an exceedingly common thing that happens between abusers and their victims, ie convincing them that they’re not smart enough to know what’s good for themselves, and so coming from cersei who also doesn’t want jaime to put two and two together and realize he’s a different person from her and actually, worse, doesn’t even consider the possibility that he might actually not be a different person from her, it’s straight up emotional abuse of the ugliest kind and it has nothing to do with *fans of the character* calling him a dork over his utter lack of smoothness when hitting on people, because we know why he doesn’t know how to hit on people. other than that, in the show they made jaime canonically dyslexic. now, if you even don’t get that calling someone stupid for thirty years will do a great fucking lot of damage to them (I mean, I’ve been told I was snobbish for three years by a teacher I didn’t even particularly admire in my formative years and I still have to finish unpacking the consequence of that shit, I can’t imagine being constantly demeaned by your relatives or people you trust implicitly) I doubt you’ll realize the fucking wrongness depths of the implication that the only lannister with a canon in-show learning disability is *the stupidest lannister* especially when there’s still the stigma about dyslexic people being dumb because *they can’t read* when that’s not true at all and they just need different ways of approaching a text and then they’re good to go and it has nothing to do with how smart or no they aren’t, but I’m going to tell you: it’s ableist as hell, falls under harmful stereotypes about dyslexic people that tv shows should go against, not reinforce and it has really disgusting connotations, so excuse me if I am pressed about it and other people are pressed about it and your opinion belongs in the trash and I really hope you’re not a teacher not are planning to become one;

point three: now we go at how you don’t get at all how those two work and how brienne’s character is structured, but here, let me explain you: a) jaime calls her ugly when they meet and after he loses the hand he only calls her ugly in his head and/or to her face when he’s irritated or she has misunderstood his intentions or he feels hurt by the fact that she misunderstood his intentions (when he gives her oathkeeper in the books), and in the show he stopped mid S3. on the other side, she calls him an oathbreaker and all the worst things she can call him - if you missed it, they insult each other and they start their relationship thinking the worst of the other person, and even with that he spends the entire first chapter of his in asos checking her out but you didn’t notice that I suppose; b) jaime does not call her ugly at all after he punches ronnet connington and in the show again he hasn’t since mid s3, and given that they were supposed to start as enemies and she insulted him right back, I won’t be here being pressed about them trading insults when the entire point of the story is that they stop insulting each other after they get to know each other and get closer to each other, or have you missed that too? c) the fact that he calls her ugly is actually narratively important because let me explain you something that you don’t know because you obv. haven’t read brienne’s chapters: most of the time she remembers being hurt by other men when it comes to her feelings, it’s when she found out they lied to her about her looks. she got her first trauma related to her looks when her septa told her that people who called her pretty were lying, and she got hurt during the bet with hyle and so on because those people were courting her and telling her nice things and then they were all planning on screwing her literally and metaphorically, so if someone went to brienne and told her ‘oh hey you look hot as hell let’s bang!!’, she wouldn’t believe them. let me guarantee you, she wouldn’t. the fact that jaime did not compliment her at all if not going all the way around to do it about her fighting prowess and maskerading it as insults means that he never lied to her about her looks or about anything, and the fact that then he changes and genuinely respects her and trusts in her and gives her THE THING SHE’S WANTED MOST IN HER LIFE ie a sword and a knightly quest and someone actually believing she could be a knight and carry out her vows instead of thinking she was a joke weights a lot more than any insult he might have thrown at her in the past and actually, she can trust him to not make fun of her/she can know for sure he’s not joking exactly because he never had a problem with calling her ugly (which she knows she is according to westeros beauty standards in the beginning) nor to tell her mean things when he thought them, and so since he never lied to her before and she can see that he changed, she has no reason to think he could or would lie to her after, and considering that most of her trauma is tied to having been lied to in that sense... sorry but no, it doesn’t bother me at all because if it’s an enemies to lovers kind of trope I really don’t think I’d expect him to gift her flowers at their first meeting. I mean, *enemies* to *lovers* implies that at the beginning they don’t like each other, or did you forget that words have meanings? also, hairy is not an insult. I suppose that for people who insult other people about the peach fuzz mustache most women have it would be an insult, but let me tell you: it’s not. and given that I’ve seen posts over posts about how it’s an expression of feminism to not shave I really think you haven’t even checked that discourse lately - personally I don’t care for it but like, having body hair is not automatically a crime nor a reason why you’re unattractive. get lost. and like, excuse me if insults traded by people who didn’t know each other and that they both outgrew when they did know each other are nowhere near on the same level of making someone think they’re too fucking stupid to take their own decisions and always have to follow someone else’s lead, and excuse me if I’m way more than mildly worried that anyone in this fandom would look at that stupidest lannister bullshit and actually don’t feel horrified at it.

now, honestly, can y’all just stop with this grasping at straws which happens to also be ableist as hell while pretending to give a fuck about brienne as a character - because you don’t, it’s obvious from how you don’t understand her issues at all - and keep to your own lane or what? because honestly, it’s obvious no one has ever called you ugly in your life and that you never had to deal with anyone demeaning your intelligence because you were most likely too busy demeaning other people’s, but you’ve been at this bullshit since 2013.

didn’t you get bored?\

[thanksjro]

Polyhex Wars, Book 2 Part 1: Optimus? Oh, You Mean Super Space Christ!

We thankfully get a resolution to that cliffhanger ending from Book 1 right off the bat. Turns out this place is just swarming with Decepticons, who are tending to those nuclear-powered, planet-moving rocket thrusters we heard about back before Red Alert and his team got sent out to almost die.

There’s less than thirty Autobots in Hound’s party, so obviously waging an attack wouldn’t go so hot. They’ll have to get in touch with Optimus. Of course, some of our Autobot friends aren’t feeling terribly reasonable at present.

This is the kind of behavior that makes Optimus wish everyone would just get killed in the space-holocaust. Also, Getaway’s whole role for this story has been “quietly polite and somewhat dull voice of reason.” Such a removal from the character he would end up being.

And before anyone caught in the problematic fave thirst-trap asks, no, he’s not hot in the Marvel comics. He has a face, and as everyone knows, giving characters not intended to have faces faces makes everything worse.

First Aid still can’t seem to pick a spot to exist in, and he’s currently helping the other ‘bots who reentered the stratosphere back to their feet.

The boys have landed in the Rust Pools of Polyhex, and are starting to feel the day, as it were. Still, there’s no time to rest, because they’ve got to find Hound and his crew, and contact Optimus about these rocket thrusters.

The thrusters that he already knows about.

But first let’s check on that flaming wreck off in the distance, the one that Starscream ought to be laying in the middle of.

They take one glance at it, write him off as dead, and then immediately are punished for their sloppy detective work. Leave it to Nightbeat, fellas.

The scene description here is good, even if the dialogue is a bizarre mix between baby’s first screamo band and a synergy seminar.

Back with Optimus, the ship he created with his mind and some fairy dust just entered warp space. He briefs his troops, explaining the situation in Polyhex and how shit will most likely go down once they hit Cybertron.

You can admit to using TFWiki, Optimus. No judgement here, we all do it.

After the briefing, Ratchet and Optimus have a private chat.

No fucking shit, duderoni.

Neither of them seem to be able to figure out just why this is all happening to Optimus, only that it is. Optimus seems to think that there’s something deeper, darker to this, and I can’t help but agree, considering all this started happening right aft he got back from an extended stay in a place with shag carpeting made out of the dead.

Back over with Hound, the Decepticons have decided it’s time to shoot the ceiling, because they know the Autobots are here. A frag grenade pops in to play, and Punch takes one for the team, throwing himself over the bomb and saving his friends. Hound doesn’t take this well, but his righteous indignation is upstaged by Ammo, who uses his obscenely large selection of weaponry to blast a hole in the ceiling for them to escape through.

They pour through the hole, likely singing Ammo’s praises as they do, until the last guy notices that Punch isn’t actually dead.

Well hot dang, wonder who that could be?

Meanwhile, Red Alert and company are running themselves ragged trying to get the hickiddy heck away from Starscream, who is just so unbelievably hot and bothered for murder it’s honestly a little concerning.

Red Alert tries shooting him a few times, but that doesn’t really phase the guy who’s already on fire. Slapdash rushes him, probably because he’s a violent panicker, and is immediately thrown like an empty soda can off into the distance. Starscream’s body has taken the opportunity to start exploding, and Hot Spot starts shooting to take pieces off with a gun. People are still trying to reason with Starscream, as if that were ever an option in this scenario, but he’s so incredibly down for killing everything in sight he’s straight-up lost the ability to hear and rationalize. He rips the gun out of Hot Spot’s hand and pistol-whips him in the face so hard his jaw comes off and his eyes burst into flames. Don’t ask me how exactly that happened, because I couldn’t tell you, but it’s pretty sick.

Red Alert decides that it’s time to retreat back to the Rust Pools, then clocks Starscream in the face before booking it.

Hound and friends are currently climbing an elevator shaft, because we haven’t hit our vent quota for this story yet. They’re doing this in the dark, wary of detection from the enemy. Getaway seems to be beginning to wear thin on this whole “Hound’s in charge” thing, not really appearing to believe that they’ll be reaching the end of this situation without any more issues.

Then the elevator starts up.

Man, don’t you just hate it when the asshole has a point?

Red Alert orders his team to jump into the pools, grasping at straws at this point, as Starscream continues to tear ass to get to them. There’s a rumor that some forgotten base is at the bottom of one of these pools, and that’s about as far as planning’s gone. Luckily any and all rumors in fiction turn out to be true in at least some capacity, and they all fall through the ceiling after a few well-placed blaster shots.

They hole up in an air lock, and after a bit of pontificating, Red Alert makes them aware of just where they’ve ended up- Emirate Xaaron’s old hangout.

Hot Spot is dying, by the way. Just throwing that out there. He’s dying while Red Alert does this.

Once they get through the air lock, they can get to a teleport that will take them to the Primus chamber, where they can get the medical attention they so desperately need. They better get moving though, because Starscream’s started banging on the door, and absolutely nothing has stopped him so far, so what’s a little steel going to do?

Hound’s reached the top of the elevator shaft, but he’s towards the front of the line, so that still doesn’t bode terribly well for the guys behind him, especially since the elevator’s catching up. In a fit of desperation, he blasts a door open and more or less starts throwing his buddies through it to safety. The last one in the line is Multibot.

Yeah, Multibot doesn’t make it. He gets crushed between the elevator and the ceiling of the shaft, exploding on impact. So much for that corpse he had tucked away for safekeeping. The elevator doors open, and we get a look at someone we haven’t seen Roberts take on just yet.

That is a positively MASSIVE elevator.

Starscream seems to have forgotten his original plan here- y’know, the only constant in his life i.e. killing Megatron- and is doing his absolute best to tear through the airlock door and get at these Autobots. Red Alert’s two seconds from having a conniption as Transit tries to work the teleport and get them out of there. Problem- the darn’s thing’s busted. Not enough to be totally useless, but they can’t program in where they want to go. They’re at the mercy of whatever the last coordinates were.

They end up in the catacombs. Fun fact about the catacombs- they’re really, really, REALLY big. They could walk around basically forever and never get anywhere useful. At this point, y’all should just go back to bed and call this day a bust.

Luckily, they actually aren’t terribly far from their creator god’s chamber, and they all enter to find the eternally sleeping face of Primus. Then he starts moving.

And lo, whoev'r is deem'd w'rthy shalt ascend to the vore throne to ruleth all of Cyb'rtron, f'rev'r and ev'r.  Amen.

Looks like someone’s already been crowned king of vore, though, because, as it turns out, Megatron’s already sitting on that throne.

Which… makes sense, if you know enough about the Marvel comics.

Back over with Hound, it looks like it’s his turn to friggin’ snap, as our sweet, compassionate boy boils over into full hateful bastard-mode. He still doesn’t kill anyone though; it’s made very clear that he’s still maintaining that one personal rule. What do you want to bet that Courier’s going to make him toss that little caveat right out the window once he’s found out?

Shockwave’s surprised to see the Autobots doing so well despite being outnumbered and outgunned. Knowing when to call it quits, he orders a retreat to regroup under the mindful wing of Mama Megatron. He’s about the only one who gets away, the others tied up and at the PG-rated mercy of the Autobots.

There’s one guy who’s had his legs torn off and been bashed in the head bad enough to cause a stutter, who begs for his life. Hound, ever compassionate, orders he be treated for his wounds and then tied to the others. Fistfight has other ideas.

Oof, looks like we just got upgraded to a PG-13!

I mean, he’s a Decepticon Action Master partner accessory parading around as an Autobot here for some reason. This is sort of something you should have seen coming.

Hound pushes Fightfight down on the ground and gives him a stern warning to not try anything like that again, otherwise he’s going to tell Optimus, and then you’re gonna be in so much trouble! I worry that Hound perhaps doesn’t quite understand that administering punishment is part of the whole leader thing, and that in for for it to be effective, you need to actually use it as opposed to just threatening someone with it.

The Autobots get moving again, with Hound making a comment to Blaster to keep an eye on Fistfight.

It’s been a minute since we’ve checked in on Optimus, so let’s see what he’s up to. His magic mind ship has just reentered regular space, and they’re going to reach Cybertron in just a little while. Once they land, they’ll go find the rest of the Autobots in Polyhex and then take this whole Decepticon operation down.

Hot Rod makes a cameo, but there’s no time to indulge in whatever he’s trying to tell Optimus, because the ship is suddenly shot in the butt and starts crashing towards the surface of the planet. Optimus takes the opportunity to pull a Skywarp with his new powers, disappearing in a beam of light like it’s the friggin’ space-Rapture. He winds up outside the ship, floating above the planet, and mind-slaps the turrets that had been causing the ship so much trouble.

Red Alert’s day just keeps getting worse; Hot Spot’s still dying, Slapdash might actually be going insane, Megatron’s here, and they’re all being strapped into electric chairs. Where did the electric chairs come from? Why are they in the Primal chamber? What purpose do they serve here? Not a clue, but maybe we’ll get to it next time.

Meanwhile, Hound’s not feeling too fantastic himself. One of his guy’s just murdered someone in cold blood, they’ve lost a third of their party, and there’s a traitor in their midst.

At least Optimus is having a good day, I guess.

[theadoptedhale]

so, i’ve had vincent for a bunch of years. he started as an experiment in 2015, i watched teen wolf and i saw peter suffer and i just decided that fuck you writers, seriously - he needs someone to pick him up, someone to love him unconditionally, because nobody on the show ever will. (there’s the fact im petopher trash, but shhht, that’s a different kind of ship.) anyway, i spent a good month telling myself i didn’t need another teen wolf muse (i had chris and derek at the time) while thinking about how that twin i would never make a blog for could be like.. and then i let him have a test run on a side blog. 

back then the fandom was still really active and i ended up feeling so fckn welcome and loved on despite being a twin oc, it was crazy. so i moved him to a main blog. and the idea of an exiled and erased twin developed into so much more. the hours upon hours i spent writing him, perfecting him - the way he speaks or thinks, the way he acts and what he likes and doesn’t like, how he reacts to challenges and changes. he’s no longer just a “twin oc” like he was at first - he’s become so much more. he’s become his own person and my soft wolf child. he’s gone through the group verse phase that took over tumblr in 2015, he’s survived me getting attached to abusive muns and even taking a break. he just keeps coming back stronger.

now y’all probs wonder why on earth i’m blabbering at you. i’ve reached an amount of followers i never thought i would on an OC. those usually stagnate at around 100-170 for me, but vince has made it a lot further and as of earlier today, he’s passed 300 followers. so what i’m doing now is a thank you to those who held out a helping hand when i was grasping for straws. 

this is where i get mushy and soft and rambly, so have a cut. 

@hereticdefied -- i should probs ramble on about you over on crowley, but vince and rowena have something i really didn’t expect when we decided to let them bump into each other on a road in the middle of nowhere. she’d probs not admit it and he wouldn’t bring it up, but she’d pack to him and he would die for her without hesitating even for a second. i mean he would also kill for her, but so would crowley, lol. 

@enduringalpha -- we’re in the same time zone. ahem, no that’s not why you’re on here. i saw daniel and i immediately knew i wanted to get to know you both. it took me a good week to say hi, but damn if it wasn’t worth it. you’re so nice ok. i love writing our wolf boys together and i love that for a chance vince doesn’t feel like a monster in a ship. he can let go and he feels safe and it just makes me so happy i get all giddy when i see you in the activity and then you plaster our dash in stephen amell which is like, fantastic. ur fab and i don’t regret a thing. 

@mxleshxven -- words, man. what are words? we got 2 super unique things going and like, we only “recently” started, but shit i’m trash for you and your muses. i lay awake at night imagining eldrick finding out about vince and like, vince expects him to rage and yell and walk away, but instead he just sits there and for the next hour he questions vince on all things werewolf. then there’s vince and thomas, who keeps vince away from all the tom hill crap and the cameras, but some day when he has a live show, he lets his eyes roam the audience and he finds vince sitting there (maybe even with a tom hill shirt which he got off the internet or something) and yes, i’m trash for you. you’re also incredibly nice and easy to talk to and caring and ahhh. 

@ofxiron/ @xsurvivedthecage -- samuel. you are the most precious person on this website and i somehow feel super duper protective of you (already) so you better get used to that. cause i’ll go kick butts if anybody types at you funny *grumble huffs* but also ironwolf is life, okay? we just started it, it’s barely a thing yet, but i would kill for them. i’m so giddy and excited and can’t wait for more. i love love love the idea of sam with a supernatural creature and a werewolf only makes it more feelsy bc of the “heart” ep and i’m drowning in feels when thinking about it and yes, vince is ready for some hugssss. 

@pieceintheirgxmes -- you’ve been with me since before my break even and we’re still writing our wolves and like, vince is so happy to find pack, you got no idea. we don’t spam-reply daily but we’re making progress in the story and i always look forward to your next reply. nico is precious and needs to be protected at all costs. and luka.. mrrrrrr. vince would give him his alpha powers in an instant if he could, just cause. and they only met. xD

@canonbcys -- nobody has ever drowned (in the best of ways) me in memes like you do and i love it. i’ll be honest, i’m always wary of multi muse blogs with more than like 10 muses? i’ve had some really crappy experiences in the past, so while i’m super open to giving ppl a shot there’s a little voice saying “hmmmmmmmmmmm” while i do. (lol, yeah i hear voices sometimes xD) anyway. you’re amazing. each of your muses (and i’ve gotten a taste of a bunch) are different, unique and ..y’know true to their character. they don’t speak the same, act the same, sound the same, etc. i love love love all of those i’ve interacted with and i’m sure i will/would also love the rest. 

@theking-blackheart-muses, @aeternitasintricatae & @thcbcautifullifc -- i haven’t had the chance (i’m slow and bad at communicating) to properly get to know you guys, but know that i’m a fan. i wanna (and will, watch me!) write more with you guys, cause damn. all the love to you three. all. the. love.

this goes to you, but also everybody reading this - everybody who decided that hey, that muse looks kinda cool, i’m gonna follow. thank you for having followed, thank you for giving us a chance and eventually (for now) deciding to stay. thank you. 

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: i have recently been advised that i should use the “citrus scale” so... Lemon (eventually)

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.” 

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

    Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

    And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

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

Chapter 5

    Leonard slammed a fist on his desk and ran the other hand down his face, ending the comm. He couldn’t take much more of this. If someone didn’t find Jim soon he was going to have some kind of nervous break down, in fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had one already.

    He decided to take himself up on that drink and left his office, not even giving a wave to anyone at the nurse’s station as he stalked past. He was on his way to his room when that old saying popped violently into his head, playing over and over again, “you don’t know what you got till it’s gone,” and hell if that weren’t true.

    He’d known Jim Kirk since the day he sat next to him on the shuttle in Riverside, and he’d be the last to admit that there had been something between them right from the get go, but now he wished he had. He’d spent years trying to convince himself that what he felt for the kid wasn’t anything more then friendship, but after a few close calls he started to realize that maybe he couldn’t keep up that charade for much longer. Now Jim was missing, and every emotion that he had tried for all those years to push down and ignore, because ain’t no way the kid would have feelings for a grumpy old man like him, came quickly flooding back to him, pushing him into a sort of self destructive spiral.

    It started slow. The first few nights Jim was missing he had spent them locked up in his room, trying to quell the frequent panic attacks that were suddenly plaguing him. Thoughts and visions filled his head of Jim dying in so many different ways. Jim floating in space, mangled in the shuttle crash, by infection, by dehydration or starvation… alone. The thoughts quickened his heart and tightened his chest, but no matter what he did he couldn’t vanquish the thought of Jim dying alone and without knowing what he should have told him years ago.

    He had hoped that throwing himself fully into the rescue efforts for Jim and the cadets would maybe help deter these thoughts, but it only made them worse. Each day he would join Spock, Nyota, and a few other members of their crew in mapping out different routes and possible locations. Only, when Leonard started seeing for himself what kinds of planets Jim could have landed on, he was sure one of his panic attacks would turn into a heart attack. As he stood motionless and silent in the ready room off the bridge, looking at pictures and listening to Spock talk about different planets along the shuttles possible routes, “volcanic planet,” “made up of 87.65% water,” “host to a race of hostile inhabitants,” and more, Leonard could hardly contain his very high, and quickly rising, level of anxiety.

    He managed to hide it fairly well during these meetings with Jim's rescue crew. Holding the emotions inside and saving his attacks for when he was in the privacy of his own room, alone, where he could drown his fears in a glass of bourbon. And that’s where it quickly went down hill, and fast. What started off as his usual one or two glasses a night, turned into three, then four, and eventually he found that even the entire bottle couldn’t stop the scenes from running through his mind.

    Now, eighteen days into searching for Jim and again coming up empty handed, he found himself sitting on his couch, having already emptied bottle number one, and half way through bottle number two. And even that didn’t seem to be enough tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Lieutenants log, Stardate 2264.96. It has been eighteen days and still no sign of the captain or our missing cadets. I have sent out alerts in all areas of the quadrant in all native languages as well as several foreign ones, and still no one has reported seeing our missing shuttle or crew members...”

    Nyota sighed, running a hand down her face. She had been on the bridge for she didn’t know how long, composing alerts and translating them into as many languages as she knew in an attempt to find Jim, or at the very least have someone come forward with some information that could lead them in the right direction. At this point they were grasping at straws and practically guessing when it came to searching planets. They might as well have closed their eyes and thrown a dart at a map. They had no idea where the shuttle had even gone, and no one in this entire quadrant seemed to know either.

    She ended her comm and turned back to the screen where she was working on her latest translation. The bridge had been quiet all shift, everyone solely focused on finding their missing captain and crew.

    She heard the rush of air as the turbo lift doors opened and closed, and heard the footsteps as they walked steadily across the bridge and stopped behind her. Though she didn’t turn around and instead continued her work.

    A gentle hand touched her shoulder, an attempt to gain her attention. “Lieutenant,” the steady voice of their acting captain broke through the silence, “have you been here for both shifts?”

    She turned to face Spock, realizing now that the bridge crew behind him were not the faces her usual shift crew. Quickly turning back to her screen and looking at the time she sighed and slumped back in her chair, “Yeah, I guess I have.”

    Spock leaned over her slightly, looking at the screen, “Are you sending out another alert about the captain and the cadets?”

    “Yes.”

    “How many have you sent out?”

    “Not including the thirteen native languages of this quadrant…” she thought for a moment, “this will be the eighth.”

    “What language?”

    “This one’s in Klingon.”

    “May I?” She gestured to the screen and pushed her chair to the side so Spock could better view the message. He leaned fully forwards and began reading the text, “Attention Klingon citizens in the Omarian quadrant. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your help. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

    When he finished reading the passage, he backed away and turned to her, hands folded behind his back, “Do you think the Klingons would help us if they did hold information pertinent to the captain’s rescue?”

    She shrugged, “It’s worth a shot at this point. So far everything else has been a bust.”

    “You do have a point, Lieutenant.” She nodded in response and Spock watched as her head slowly began to fall into her chest. He placed his hand on her shoulder again, jolting her from her half asleep state, “Come, Lieutenant, you must rest. If any information is discovered I will contact you immediately.”

    “No,” she said as she stood from the chair and Spock began gently guiding her towards the lift, “Spock, I have a few more languages I wanted to translate that message into. Just-”

    “Nyota,” he stopped her with a hard look, “we will be no help to Jim, the missing cadets, or the rest of the crew if we are not well rested. Get some rest and we can continue the translations tomorrow.”

    “Yeah,” she nodded, getting into the lift, “you're right. I’ll be here tomorrow morning to continue the translations.”

    Spock gave a nod as the doors closed and she ordered the lift to her deck. In seconds the lift doors opened again and she slowly made way to her room. She was just about there when a familiar blonde head of hair came towards her from down the hall.

    “Christine, what are you doing up so late?”

    “Emergency surgery on one of the engineering crew,” she huffed a breath and rubbed her already red eyes, “I was actually already off shift and in bed when M’benga called me in to help.”

    “Doesn’t doctor McCoy usually take the reigns on these kinds of things?” She quirked a brow and crossed her arms, “At the very least he's usually present during the surgery.”

    “That’s just the thing,” she shrugged, “no ones been able to get him on comms. He left the sickbay around noon without telling anyone and no ones heard from him all day.”

    “That’s odd.”

    Christine rubbed a hand up her arm, shifting slightly closer to whisper to Nyota, “I'm worried about him, Ny,” she stepped back, not sure if she should disclose this next bit of information to a lieutenant, but she needed to tell someone and she didn’t think that someone should be Spock, considering his track record with Leonard, “I keep finding empty bottles of alcohol all over his office, he's leaving shift early, I don’t think he's done a surgery or even an exam on anyone in weeks, he won’t talk to anyone, spends most of his time in his office gaping at those maps. I know this all has to do with Jim going missing, and believe me we are all feeling the loss right now, but I'm afraid he's spiralling into something he won’t be able to pull himself out of and soon it might… it might get really bad if someone doesn’t pull him out.”

    “You’re right,” she nodded, “what's his room number? I’ll check on him.”

    Christine pulled up the padd in her hand and tapped away for a second before looking back to Nyota, “Room, 226.”

    “Ok, I'm on my way,” she turned to head back to the lift before calling out, “I’ll comm you when I’ve got him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Nyota arrived at room 226, the room of her good friend Doctor Leonard McCoy. She knocked and waited, looking around the deserted hallway. It was long past midnight and the ship was eerily quite as she waited. When she heard no answer or rousing from the other side she knocked again, this time shouting, “Leonard, I know you’re in there, please let me in. I know this change in you is because of Jim but we can talk it out, just open the door. People are worried about you.”

    Still no one answered and she would admit that she was starting to get worried too. She took another look around the halls, making sure she was still alone, before quickly hacking into the lock pad beside Len’s door and breaking in.

    She entered to the room in complete darkness. She closed the door behind her and called out for Len but again there was no answer. She ordered the computer to turn the lights on and gasped when she was finally able to see. And what she was met with was a room full of countless empty bottles, a passed out doctor on the floor in front of the couch, and a bottle of half empty bourbon slowly leaking in his hand.

    She ran over to him, turning him over and taking his face in her hands shaking him gently, “Leonard, wake up!”

    When all she got in response was a groan and a still unconscious Leonard, she grabbed her comm and called Christine.

    “Uhora!” Christine’s voice came through the comm, “Did you talk to Leonard?”

    “Not exactly,” she grunted as she hauled the limp doctor off the floor and slung his arm over her shoulder, “meet me back in sickbay, find an empty room and prep a bed for me. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

    Before anything else could be said she ended the call and began dragging Leonard across the room and slowly down the hall. He was no help to her at all, only grunting in protest at the upright position and occasionally shuffling his feet and throwing them both off balance. And after what seemed like a life time they finally made it to the lift that would take them to Christine.

    When she had first laid eyes on Leonard lying lifeless on the floor, her first thought was to call Spock. He was after all, their acting captain in Jim's stead, but when rethinking that strategy she decided against it. Spock and the doctor did not have the best past and she could only imagine the fight that would ensue when Spock found out that his chief medical officer had nearly drank himself into a coma. And with Jim being gone and tensions already on the rise, she was sure it would most likely end in a blood bath. Instead she decided it best to keep this incident quiet and leave Len in the trustworthy hands of nurse Chapel.

    When the lift door opened Christine was already there waiting for them, eyes blowing wide upon seeing the limp state of Leonard hanging off uhora’s shoulder. She quickly ran inside the lift taking up Len’s other side and lead them all to the room she had prepped in the far back of the sick bay.

    They landed Leonard on the bed and shaded the windows before closing the door, leaving the three alone.

    “What happened?!” Christine instantly began scanning Leonard, checking all vitals while waiting for an explanation.

    Uhora sighed, running a hand through her hair before answering, “Jim still missing has clearly put a strain on all of us in many different ways. I found him passed out in his room surrounded by empty bourbon bottles. I can’t even begin to guess how many bottles he drank before he passed out.”

    Chapel ran a scanner over him, eyes on her padd. “He’s lucky you found him and not someone else.”

    “Those were my thoughts exactly,” she nodded, “I thought about calling Spock for help but I thought maybe it would be best to keep this quiet.”

    “You’re probably right.” She pulled the scanner away, placing it back in her pocket and put the padd on the bedside table before turning to Uhora, “He’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t fix with a few good hypos.”

    Uhora smirked, crossing her arms and standing, “I’ll be back in the morning to talk to him when he’s more himself, so don’t let him leave this room until I get here.” Chapel nodded, “And you should get some sleep too, Christine. Don’t let this fool keep you up all night.”

    “I will. Good night, Nyota.”

    “Good night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

    For the first time in a long time Leonard woke up to a blinding headache. His eyes were so heavy and sore they didn’t even want to open, and sitting up was definitely not going to happen right now.

    He ran a shaking hand down his face trying to remember what happened. He remembered making it to his room, then soon after receiving a comm from Spock informing him that the mission had yet again been a failure, and they would have to move on to another planet to search for Jim. Next thing, he had a bottle of bourbon in his hand and the rest is a haze.

    Though he didn’t remember what happened he was sure he could put two and two together and figure it out, but how he had ended up in the sickbay would remain a mystery.

    As he rifled through his jumbled thoughts for an answer the door opened, letting in a little too much light for his over sensitive eyes, and he shot a hand up to cover them.

    “Oh, is that too bright for you?” A woman's voice hit his ears and he groaned in response, “I'm sorry, let me just open it a little more then. Or how about I do you one better. Computer, lights one hundred percent!”

    As more light flooded the room Leonard hissed and rolled onto his side, which was a horrible idea as he felt his stomach lurch with the motion. Though he was far too stubborn to blow his stomach contents, and also not willing to stand to run to the bathroom, and forced himself to get over the sudden wave of nausea.

    He let out one more groan as his stomach screamed at him, along with his liver, and he slit his eyes open just enough to see a familiar figure standing before him, arms crossed. “Uhora. What are you doing here? And why am I here?”

    “You don’t remember?” She spat, walking closer to him, “I had to drag your dumb ass here after I found you passed out on your floor last night! I had to pull Chapel out of her room after she already worked a double and assisted on an emergency surgery because you were nowhere to be found, just so she could save your sorry hide from dying of alcohol poisoning!”

    Yep, it was just as he had suspected. He clutched his stomach as another wave of nausea hit him and he looked up at her, “Look, Uhora, I-”

    She raised a hand to stop him, “I don’t even want to hear your lame excuse Leonard. I had every intention of coming in here this morning and being as sympathetic as I could, but I couldn’t do it. I know your situation is slightly different then the rest of us, but you're not the only one who’s effected by Jim's absence!”

    His brows furrowed and he pulled himself up in the bed to sit up slightly, “What do you mean my situation is different?”

    She met his confused eyes with ones filled with pity. “Leonard, I know how you feel about Jim, I think everyone knows.”

    “How I feel about him?”

    She moved to sit on the edge of the bed facing him, all sternness replaced with the sympathy she spoke of before as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “The two of you were made for each other. I’ve seen the way you look at him, and how he looks at you, I’ve seen the way you act around each other and I know it’s more then merely friendship between you. But Leonard, you have got to pull yourself together. Jim is out there somewhere, along with fourteen other cadets who all need our help. No doubt when we find them they are going to need their chief medical officer in top condition to patch them up, and Jim is surely going to need his Bones just the same way.” He laid his head heavily back on the bed, letting it all sink in as she continued, “If you love him as much as I know you do, you'll sober up and get ready for when we do find him. And when he does get back, you should probably do something about that unspoken bond between the two of you. If this is anything to learn from, it’s that our lives are too dangerous and unpredictable to wait until it’s too late.”

    She gave his arm a pat and left him alone to wallow in her words. He sighed, thinking over what she had said and decided that as always, Uhora was right… about everything.

    He rolled to his side again and searched the room for his comm finding it on top of his shoes beside the bed. He grabbed it and rolled to his back, holding the comm in front of his face, before taking a deep breath and speaking as calmly as he could. “CMO’s log, stardate 2264.97. It’s… it’s day nineteen now in our search for the captain, and I won’t lie… I am struggling with his absence. After some much needed words of wisdom from Lieutenant Uhora I’ve come to realize some things, or rather finally come to fully accept them. All I’ve got to say is we better find you soon, Jim, and we better find you alive, cuz I’ve got a lot to say to you kid… a whole hell of a lot.”

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

A/N: A very Leonard heavy chapter XD And I hope y’all are still enjoying this despite the horrible things I do to our boys, but I promise there are some good times ahead! As always let me know if you would like to be tagged, and thanks for reading <3 Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @weresilver-in-space @medicatemedrmccoy @reading-in-moonlight @resistance-is-futile81 @0dannyphantom0 @haveyouseenmymind @jimboy-mccoy @flaminglupine

[kingkadence]

Aaa I had someone ask me the same question and I realized after reading people's posts that being 'anti' about a ship is different than just not liking a ship, 'anti' means you think its morally reprehensible or something and 'antis' are known for judging and attacking people over ships. I was using the anti label up until about a month ago but dropped it as soon as I figured that out. I guess the term for just not liking a ship is notp?

Here! Is basic guide to not liking a ship (all my opinions based on what I’ve read, y’all r free to think what you’d like)

Lvl 1 - “disliking a ship”

You see content for a ship, might make you uncomfortable or put you in a bad mood. Maybe you don’t have a particular reason, you may just not be fond of it. Or hey! Maybe you just never thought of the characters seeing each other that way. Most of the time you see it, it’s new, it’s foreign, and you just never imagined them together. With this, it’s common that after a while of exposure you might even like it after a while! Or even just have a neutral opinion. Ur dislike isn’t too serious, you don’t talk about it unless someone brings it up, you’ll scroll, you mind ya own.

Lvl 2 - notp

You see it and it makes you… hhhh internally. If someone posts this you might scroll or even go as far as muting posts or unfollowing. The ship described in one word for u is just “No.” for whatever reason it may be. It might be because you don’t like the character the other is paired with, you might think that the fan base behind the ship is gross, you might just hate both character but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows. Your resentment goes deep, and if you see someone post this kind of stuff, you will surely avoid it. You’ll go on a rant on how much you hate it if someone brings it up, not one that’s offensive, you’re just passionate with the hate you have for this ship. You might make bash edits or amvs of them. If a mutual posts this ship, you may grumble, you might say “I don’t ship this but the content is nice” ((heads up pls don’t do that it’s annoying and destructive to content creators))

Lvl 3 - ship hate

Definitely hitting a radical status but not there yet. It’s toxic, let’s just put it that way. You may not like the ship because it gets in the way of your otp, to you it may seemed forced in canon writing, you may even go as far as to say the ship is abusive, who knows it might be, but harassing other ppl over it,, isn’t abusive behaviour??? Lol ok. Anyway, you may have an account dedicated to how much you don’t like it, you will bring it up to people constantly to the point where others might say hey,,,, chill dude. You are VERY active in the discourse tag, you are sure to write your own opinions, very passionate, but very pushy. You may even comment on ships saying “ew gross, x ship for life!!” and you probably got into a fight in the comments at least once. You see an account post it, you block them. A mutual? You are VERY tempted to unfollow, if you haven’t already.

Lvl 4 - anti

This,,,, just oof,, you think the ship is LEGALLY an issue, very morally wrong or you just fucking hate the hell out of it bc it gets in the way of your ship and you’re grasping at straws to say why it’s toxic. (I actually was internally an anti for a while when I was like idk 14, suffered bhad from these symptoms, fun fact) you will go out of your way to voice your opinion, you will purposely message people telling them they’re disgusting calling them names, not even really justifying why it’s bad?? Telling ppl they’re fucked up……… doesn’t let ppl know why they’re fucked up but I mean go off. Anyway, you DEFINITELY have thought about running a hate account, you post other people’s art and content without crediting them, and proceed to hate on the content. Whenever the fandom is brought up you cannot CONTAIN your hatred for whatever discourse is going on. Let’s face it whatever resentment u got, it’s MUCH more chaotic than the love you have for your ship. Just down right negative all around. Explosive, unstable, if you don’t harass the people in the fandom, making them unsafe. (ie: sending gore pictures, death threats, making them and their followers WILDLY uncomfortable) you send it to the creators! You threaten the lives of people who make the show, you are disruptive, and literally have no personal boundaries, and you don’t give a shit about the writing, the plot, the developing of characters. You want your ship, or rather, you DON’T want other ships. To the point where human lives clearly don’t,,, matter to you????????? But cartoon ones do are you GOOD

(Imma do this one bc sometimes it’s okay to not like a ship!)

BONUS LVL - activist shipper

You don’t like this ship because it’s ACTUALLY hurtful and not because a ship is getting in the way (*ncest, p*dophillia, genuine abuse between these characters in canon etc) commonly antis will think they’re apart of this group, or this group will think they’re antis. Nnnno!pe! It is TOTALLY ok to dislike/hate these ships and think it’s insensitive to post things like this that may actually hurt people. I’m not gonna SAY which ships but if you’re shipping a 25 year old with a 10 year old,,,,,,,, u rlly gotta think,, about ur moral compass. ESPECIALLY if you’re sexualizing kids in your content. These people are commonly in discourse, but they voice why it’s bad, they voice their opinions RESPECTFULLY. Because AS SOON as you tell someone to die ur rlly pushing it. These people are here to educate, they’re not here to hurt. They want people to learn and grow and know what’s harmful and what’s not. They might get into an argument, nothing might change, but they’re happy knowing that they’re fighting for people who have been hurt bc of these topics and they’re not comfortable being silent about it.

-

Let me tell you, it’s ay okay to dislike and hate a ship. But don’t let it consume you, just like how you shouldn’t let ur otp consume you?? And if you see GENUINE bad happening in a fandom don’t be afraid to speak up, but be MINDFUL, RESPECTFUL, AND EMPATHETIC!! I am not on board with some of the ships ppl post but telling someone to die isn’t gonna help them learn what they’re doing is wrong. And if you don’t think you can PROPERLY TELL SOMEONE hey this content is hurtful, maybe,,,,,,, get someone else to do it,,,,,,, bc ur literally being just as harmful.

((Also while I’m on my soap box stop shipping abusive wlw/mlm JUST because they’re gay,,, that’s xtremely fetishy,, and as a gay guy I don’t approve :/))

Anyway, take this or leave this, just what I think

[laughable-lion-king-art]

So it seems to me they’re grasping at straws here. 

There’s a reason for that. If they would watch the making of TLK they would understand why the animation team chose natural vivid colors like red, yellow, or gold. 

Bullshit, occasoinally whitewashing African characters can be annoying, but I’ve seen some really pretty non African humanizations. Think I’ve even favorited them too. 

Bullshit. Shippers these days are more heterophobic. They will shout “U HOMOPHOBIC” if you don’t support their gay ship. I personally dislike Ligers in TLK universe stories because Tigers don’t exist in AFRICA. However I do like seeing Liger OCs that aren’t forced into the TLK franchise universe. I would personally like to see some Leopon Ocs more. Those are more likelier to happen. I don’t necessarily think that Cheetah x Lion hybrids can happen as genetics are too iffy in that department. 

Also bullshit. He’s probably talking about this blog. Ain’t no other TLK hate blogs out there that I know of. 

Not always. I do have an OC that’s named Magnus. That’s a Latin and Scandinavian name FYI. I’d like to hear some of y’all’s OCs that aren’t Swahili. 

He is exaggerating. I use to be annoyed with MLP referencing TLK but I’ve learned to let it slide. 

The only Satire I’ve seen comes from NostalgicChills and she does satire right. Hate art IS immature. 

Another reference to this blog. 

Bullshit. It’s the other way around. 

More bullshit. 

Wow this person is hate obsessed about TLK fandom. Apparently because we kicked WeaselBear out of the fandom for her defending her recolor Kovu rape baby OC. If WeaselBear is willing to come back and be more mature about her shipping, I’m willing to give her a second chance. It was her arrogance about her shipping and trying to cram it down our throats that pissed us off. 

[windandwater]

So you may not know this but I’m going to finish blogging about Arthur Gordon Pym if it is the last thing I do.

In case you forgot (I sure as hell had to look it up), here’s the deal with this book.

And because I know y’all don’t remember where I left off, last time! This fucking idiot got drunk and smashed a boat, decided on the basis of this experience that it was a good idea to go whaling (I know), and because his family absolutely forbid it he had to be smuggled onboard and then there was a ton of unnecessary drama over a letter. Oh, and his dog showed up. That’s pretty much it.

And now!!! Time to find out what happens next!!!

Warning: racism. Really really gross racism. Not like Melville racism, where he’s visibly trying not to be racist but still is and you’re like god dammit dude stop. Nope, this is super blatant with no apologies. Like if you’re already having trouble dealing with America’s disgusting present and would like to also confront America’s disgusting past, this is the section for you. If you would not like to do those things, feel free to skip over this and live your life.

I would like to make it clear that all that bullshit we just went through over the letter, nearly dying, I escaped from the jaws of death etc etc, was....three days. yeeeeah. wow Pym’s life is so hard you guys, no one can understand his pain.

(somewhere in the distance, Queequeg gets bored of dying and decides to get better because he has shit to to do, nakedly dives headfirst into a whale’s open mouth holding a sword to rescue Tashtego, and casually climbs on top of a floating whale carcass to slice it apart) (Pym remains oblivious)

Anyway. Augustus was trying to get him out but Pym was sleeping for most of this.

From all the calculations I can make on the subject, this must have been the slumber into which I fell just after my return from the trap with the watch, and which, consequently, must have lasted for more than three entire days and nights at the very least.

He’s like Jesus, in a way.

Also guys it’s totally explicable, there’s only one clear culprit in this scenario and you won’t believe this, it was so obvious all along

Latterly, I have had reason, both from my own experience and the assurance of others, to be acquainted with the strong soporific effects of the stench arising from old fish-oil when closely confined; and when I think of the condition of the hold in which I was imprisoned, and the long period during which the brig had been used as a whaling vessel, I am more inclined to wonder that I awoke at all, after once falling asleep, than that I should have slept uninterruptedly for the period specified above.

FISH OIL. DUH. WHY DIDN’T YOU SEE IT BEFORE, PYM???

....okay but really. What. What the fuck are you talking about. Fish oil?!?! Guys say what you want about Ishmael (and believe me, if you won’t, I will, and in fact already have. a lot.) but at least he never blamed his bullshit on fish oil. He fell asleep at the literal wheel but at least he had the decency to be like “idk man it was probably a demon or a hell metaphor weird shit happens at midnight amirite,” not....fish oil. Fish oil. ARTHUR WHY ARE YOU SO LAME.

also, if you’re having trouble sleeping, why not try sleeping in a ship’s hold that smells like fish oil??? Guaranteed uninterrupted sleep for three days! Like Jesus!

I swear to god I’m gonna get through this section.

So yeah, whatever, fish oil. Poe is utterly and unforgivably burying the lead though, because while Pym was dramatizing over a letter.....there was a fucking mutiny.

And what better way to tell us about a mutiny than in a secondhand flashback! Let’s find out what Augustus was doing while Pym was having fish-oil-induced hallucinations!

A strong hand held him on the cabin floor, with a tight grasp upon his throat; still he was able to see what was going on around him. His father was tied hand and foot, and lying along the steps of the companion-way, with his head down, and a deep wound in the forehead, from which the blood was flowing in a continued stream. He spoke not a word, and was apparently dying. Over him stood the first mate, eyeing him with an expression of fiendish derision, and deliberately searching his pockets, from which he presently drew forth a large wallet and a chronometer.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand here is where the super gross and disturbing racism begins. It only gets worse from here. First of all the cook is a black guy who engages in “the most horrible butchery,” hitting people in the head with an axe. And then there’s this guy, named Dirk Peter:

This man was the son of an Indian squaw of the tribe of Upsarokas, who live among the fastnesses of the Black Hills, near the source of the Missouri. His father was a fur-trader, I believe, or at least connected in some manner with the Indian trading-posts on Lewis river. Peter himself was one of the most ferocious-looking men I ever beheld.

.....................................

not bad enough? don’t feel nauseous yet? don’t worry! it gets worse!

His head was equally deformed, being of immense size, with an indentation on the crown (like that on the head of most negroes), and entirely bald.

........................................................

This isn’t even as bad as it gets.

But he’s nice to Augustus, he’s like you can probably help us so you can stay, and....well, that’s all I have to say about that. Let’s see what this book is gonna do to me next.

The Captain isn’t dead and he’s like “guys I will totally set you down wherever you want and not press charges just let me live” and they’re like “fuck that” and put him on a raft and put him out to sea while his son watches aaaand...yeah he’s pretty much dead. Because Poe???

god this book got so real so fast

And just when I was 100% like this is the last straw I can’t anymore I AM DONE and

....for a brief moment, so brief it hurts now to read, I had hope because

All sail was now put upon the brig, and she continued her original course to the southwest—the mutineers being bent upon some piratical expedition 

THIS IS A PIRATE BOOK SUDDENLY?!??!

(source) (I don’t watch that show and good lord it needs to die but the fandom is hilarious judge me)

IS THIS FUCKED UP? yes yes it’s super fucked up. AM I OKAY WITH ANY OF THIS? no, no I am not okay. AM I GOING TO FIND OUT HOW POE WRITES PIRATES BECAUSE THIS CAN ONLY END BADLY? HELL FUCKING YES.

But, as you will soon see, I’m not that lucky. Just once I would like a book that switches genres eight times at the speed of light to do so in my favor, but no. You’ll see what I mean.

Anyway for now, Augustus doesn’t want to tell anyone he’s got a Pym passed out in the hold, but he does try to rescue him? Only there’s a shitton of furniture over the trapdoor and the cook catches him trying to get in and ties him up. Somehow, according to Pym, this “whole affair, however, proved the ultimate means of my relief.”

NEXT TIME: FIND OUT HOW!!!

I completely forgot how all of this goes down so this will be news to me, too. We’ll find out together.

[janiedean]

some people can love Brienne, want good things for her and Jaime AND hate Cersei while also acknowledging that she is a nuanced take on internalized misogyny. Can't say the same about you. I'm not even a Lannistcest shipper that shit be gross. But damn, man. Your hypocrisies on the Braime/Reylo parallels are endless. Reylo is just as vile and abusive if not more. Maybe you cant see it through your rose-tinted glasses because your view of Cersei is limited to an obstacle in your Braime ship.

or maybe I just hate cersei because people are allowed to hate characters and it has nothing to do with feminism and y’all are grasping at straws

also like... idk in what language I have to tell you anymore but I decided I wanted to see cersei dead as soon as possible the moment she laughed about catelyn going mad during the red wedding. I’ve said it so many times I lost count. it was early in affc, at that point I didn’t even ship jb hardcore and I marathoned the books in a month, I didn’t have any clear thoughts on either character and I hadn’t even realized I related to brienne or whatever.

my pal, my friend, my comrade: my hard limit when it comes to giving a fuck about asoiaf characters is them making fun of the red wedding. I wanted c. dead the moment she did that, I wanted every single frey in adwd dead the moment they said robb looked for it, I have not given a single fuck for anyone who ever laughed about the red wedding the second they did it. my visceral dislike for cersei started right in that moment. it was about catelyn, it never was about jb.

then the fact that y’all keep on trying to make me like her or shame me for not liking her isn’t helping your cause whatsoever.

but like, if y’all are thinking I’ll feel bad for thinking that cersei is a piece of shit and for disliking a fictional character who killed people at twelve and molested her brother in the cradle not even counting the stuff with jaime you can stay pressed in the knowledge that every time I get an ask like this you’re doing the exact contrary of convincing me. shoo.

like, y’all really can’t conceive that I don’t like a fictional character who’s an abusive pos because she’s an abusive pos? wow. wouldn’t wanna be you. ;)

also wow y’all are really latching on any chance you have to go back to my dislike for cersei when we were... discussing... something completely different huh? you’re like broken records. yawn.

also: cersei is most likely a literary nuanced take on internalized misogyny. I also don’t have to like her for it or give a fuck about her. like. catelyn is a nuanced take on that and on how patriarchy hates smart women, but I don’t go tell all catelyn haters that they’re pieces of shit if they don’t like her. even when they’re actually misogynists. just stop.