#Ive been told i have quite the 'funny bone'

[ooctosquid]

Happy birthday to the punny'est guy alive. May each new year treat you kindly

[muirmarie]

mcspirk month mYEAR planning post

idk if anyone likes these (these being planning posts), but here, it feels weird to have it tucked away in my notes when my BTHB and mcspirk bingo planning posts are on here, so. anywho. you know the drill: this is just me rambling, feel free to ignore!!

the bolded are those i still don't have a plan for <3 - as per my usual these are all tos unless otherwise noted

Day 1: Forced Proximity (“this isn’t a blessing,” mccoy hisses. “one day,” the king says, “you’ll see that is it.” - the one where spock and kirk cannot get more than an arm's length away from mccoy for 30 days w/o causing him debilitating pain)

Day 2: Touch-starved (spock and kirk cuddle mccoy out of touch starvation - this is like 75% done, I just need to finish it)

Day 3: Only One Bed (established mckirk to mcspirk. um. very nsfw. by far the most nsfw i’ve ever even considered writing lmao. currently sitting at almost 12k, probably will be around 15-17k all told. i don't even know how to describe this. kirk aggressively helping spock play gay chicken with mccoy until mccoy finally believes spock wants both of them, idk.)

Day 4: Hand Holding (maybe the one where spock & kirk slowly gaslight mccoy into holding hands with them - yes the tags are spones but i am very certain kirk would be very happy to gaslight mccoy into hand-holding as well)

Day 5: [hurt comfort or against a wall (no story planned)]

Day 6: Protective McCoy (no story planned *eta - actually i think i am going to take the one elian assigned me w/o even asking me lmao, where mccoy drinks the poison meant for kirk, but don't tell him that)

Day 7: Hand Kink (the one where spock is cucked w/ hand sex lmao)

Day 8: Public Display of Affection (would you still love and/or employ me if i was a worm?)

Day 9: Spock is a Hopeless Romantic (the flirty spock one probably?)

Day 10: [Hands or a bonus (no story planned)]

Day 11: Fuck or Die (vulcan sex magic hanahaki, this is, like. I have elements of it, but it’s not nailed down yet quite how it works. it's a vulcan disease but naturally mccoy's the one who gets it.)

Day 12: Aliens Made them Do It (the plato’s stepchildren one - i've been poking at this one since. like. january lmao. it's maybe 30% done, but it's not gonna be super long, i'm just slow with it. it is. hm. not a fluffy story. the platonians decide that mccoy simply needs to learn to say yes to them. how helpful they have spock and kirk around to help underscore the point.)

Day 13: [time loop or sex in a three way body swap or a bonus (no story planned, BUT do I really wanna write another time loop fic and/or can I really handle writing another smut fic lmao. If I did do time loop tho it would be the one where Kirk refuses to leave the time loop until he can solve the no-win scenario, i just don’t know how that goes yet. The sex in a three way body swap would be the AOS mcspirkura one, probably. Or the tos spones to mcspirk one. idk idk.)]

Day 14: Tarsus IV (kirk: i always knew i’d die alone. this is....jim character study, i think? I do need to come up w/ a happy (or at least: not sad) ending for it tho. So I’m still Thinking about this one.)

Day 15: Fake Dating (the one where the royal is trying to marry mccoy in order to keep him, and spock and kirk independently decide to fake date him to save him. also sarek loves trashy romance books. background uhura/scotty.)

Day 16: Lost the Ability to Speak (bones and uhura signing in federation common sign language - yes that's vague but all i need is something to center around tbh)

Day 17: McCoy Hurt w/ Spock & Kirk Comfort (this is like 95% of what i write lmao but i don’t have a specific plot yet)

Day 18: [Jealous Bones OR Oral Fixation (no story planned but it it’s jealousy it’s not gonna be traditional jealousy, bc I’m generally not a fan of jealousy storylines (unless all parties are unaware that they’re jealous - those I find VERY funny)]

Day 19: [Kirk is Missing, Presumed Dead or a bonus - probably a bonus (no story planned)]

Day 20: Accidental Voyeurism (okay the one where mccoy wakes up and his arm is trapped underneath kirk’s head and spock’s holding that hand as he’s laying on top of kirk and making out with him. I will have to find a plot tho. a reason. a Reason. It’s not established spirk either)

Day 21: Bondage (heh established spirk discovering mccoy’s penchant for getting tied up and/or tying others up and then literally not able to shut up about their platonic friends private habits for like a solid three months. they only care platonically of course. you don’t need those other ppl to tie you up bones you’ve got us. this one’s about 10% started.)

Day 22: Mirrorverse (mirrorverse katra sharing, it’s a whole thing, this is out of my wheelhouse but i have some Ideas, but this one isn’t going to be anytime soon)

Day 23: [reunion or teasing or a bonus (no story planned) - *eta actually for teasing i could maybe do the one where spock conducts an "experiment" in a private lab where he has mccoy & kirk work on a project for him while he gets extremely handsy w/ them - he's doing a study ("study" - they're all aware this is just spock's ideal version of foreplay) about human arousal in a working environment, and they're supposed to not let him distract them*]

Day 24: Temporary Blindness (this is going to be such a long messy mccoy whump story tbh. orpheus and eurydice part two. before i can even really start it tho i have to decide on pov, because that….really affects things for this one. but i mostly know how the story goes. also not anytime soon tho, maybe not even this year)

Day 25: Praise Kink (i COULD go temporary awkward ability if i don’t want to write anything too sexy, but the planned version is, like, kirk blossoms like a bashful babe and spock is genuinely moved when it comes to praise, but mccoy turns bright red and wants them to stop? BUT they like so much the way he flushes and struggles to accept the praise that they ask him to be good for them because THEY like it, and so he’s absolutely mortified but still? allows it for them? and they of course like it because they want to make him accept it.)

Day 26: Expectations vs Reality (counseling fic! The one where spock and kirk are dating but still somehow drag mccoy to their relationship counseling.)

Day 27: Vacation Gone Awry (no story planned) (*eta actually i think i'm changing this to Voyeurism and stretching that to make it work for the spirk - they keep coming up w/ weird sex injuries until they can finally convince mccoy to come over to help them figure out what they're doing wrong....he probably needs to watch....actually maybe hands on is better....actually maybe he just needs to stay forever*)

Day 28: Awkward Spock (checking for pulse over the liver instead of the wrist because he forgets where human hearts are when jim or leonard is hurt)

Day 29: Getting Interrupted (mcspirk sexy 3d chess - that’s right they’re interrupting mccoy’s WORK lmao)

Day 30: Desperate Measures (the enemy within one that’s 80% finished where kirk’s wolf and sheep sides both have to have sex w/ mccoy while spock melds with them both, all for very important science reasons - don’t worry about it.)

Day 31: Insecurity (*eta - mccoy gets out of a LDR and is bummed, and kirk tries to cheer him up by putting his name up for the underground "sexiest starfleet officer" bracket that scotty & uhura are running, to prove to mccoy that ppl find him attractive. unfortunately it turns out the crew finds him VERY attractive, kirk is having some jealously-related revelations, spock is gonna kill jim if he has to watch mccoy get asked out one more time, and mcco is yay close to having a nervous breakdown from being turned into a sex symbol*)

Bonus 1: nightmares (look this is fucked, just trust me this is a very messy thing and it is very fucked and i have to make all my maths fit together before i write it or it will feel too flimsy and fall apart, but. kirk's trapped in a nightmare by a parasite that bleeds into the waking world (there are reasons for it) that cause physical damage to mccoy. spock melds w/ kirk to try to change the dream. this has unexpected side effects. - this one WILL be written for mcspirk month i just don't know what day i'm replacing yet.)

Bonus 2: pet names (i think i might be able to fit the kiss me/fuck me fic into this prompt but i’m not 100% sure yet - aka the one where mccoy & kirk use “kiss me” as a SFW swear for “fuck me” and “don’t make me kiss you” as a SFW swear for “fuck you” and annoy everyone around them w/ this silly in joke until one time mccoy says “kiss me” w/o thinking to spock, and spock’s just. hmm. don’t mind if i do. and kirk thinks it’s so funny he starts kissing mccoy all the time as WELL. very pre-them even realizing they want a relationship (except for spock, spock has Plans, thank you). this will be written at SOME point, it depends if i need another bonus/if it fits the prompt enough.)

Other bonuses i’d consider if i need them, but no stories planned: blindfolds, misuse of the bond, uhura helps them out.

Other vague stories i have that i could rotate until they might fit a prompt: pacific rim au, space forgetties, [number]+1 of mccoy getting kissed awake/the +1 getting kissed to shut him up, spock going through the wringer re: mccoy getting hurt (that was written spones but could easily by mcspirk), empath era katra au, post-empath spock won't stop touching mccoy, katra transfer requires a kiss, this isn’t even all of them, it genuinely is absurd how many tag spirals i’ve written like this lmaoooo /sigh 

[yume-fanfare]

mitsuba's deaths and almost deaths: my ranking!

he has died 3 times in canon, and has had some other close calls in both canon and aus, so it's ranking time! this will of course contain several spoilers under the cut!

CANON DEATHS

number 3: his severance death

this one has a LOT of potential! it had been a while since his last death! he broke into pieces right in front of kou, and just as he was having the most peaceful cutest sleep! was vanishing physically painful? who was more emotionally hurt by it, kou or mitsuba? how did it feel Falling Apart into pieces later? i need to know! but unfortunately we haven't yet gotten an actual severance chapter from their pov, only vague flashbacks. we don't even quite know what natsuhiko told kou and it's haunting me. can we go back to the kou becoming a supernatural plotline please. but anyways yeah this is why it is the worst (in terms of thematic importance and story focus) death to me. need those extra details

number 2: his first death

car accident. when he was buying potatoes. on his mom's birthday. when curry doesn't even actually need potatoes. need i say more. there's even the extra irony in the fact that kou's earring, which he so hates, says "traffic safety" in it. it's simply so perfect. it aligns so well. it's an everyday tragedy, yet it somehow is the cause behind the plot of the entire manga. has led to some of the most heartbreaking official art. like the one where baby kou is holdin g an empty uniform whose owner has vanished into a pile of flower petals. fucked up.

number 1: the death of m1tsuba

PERFECT. SHOWSTOPPING. HE DIED IN KOU'S ARMS!!!

the scene that actually got me Invested in this manga. ive watched it around three hundred times, in the anime, the manga and the musical and it can still bring me to tears. while death number 2 hangs heavier, this one ranks higher for me because it is. a cataclysm. this event seriously changed the trajectory of kou's life forever. HAS THE "this... this isn't you, mitsuba! the mitsuba i know i-is... sassy. girly. sarcastic. selfish. and... and his voice was annoying. obsessed with cameras. went emo sometimes and was only fake-nice. and... and he was my friend!" LINE AND and it cut to the shot of their first meeting as first years but with mitsuba getting up and leaving and! man. it is so good. i wouldn't change a single detail. something important to me... maybe

ALMOST DEATHS (CANON AND NON-CANON)

only the ones i remember off the top of my head and wanted to talk about sowwy

if you have not read any of the aus i mentioned you Definitely should check them out they are SO good!

honorary mention: the times he's (almost) been turned into a mokke

didn't know whether to count this one but i really like it it's so funny. his pyon pyon pink bunny era. the most mokke-coded character. i did cringe a little in that christmas event where his gift was being turned into a mokke because come on. horrors for him again? on christmas? but no one had that great of a time then so ill forgive it

number 5: his transformation into a familiar in hanako-kun of magic

he didn't die at all in this one, yes, but it's supposed to parallel his becoming a supernatural, so it's going into the ranking. it was kind of lame though 😭 ik it was public voting yadda yadda but like it only happened like that to fill aidairo's monthly quota of bad things happening to mitsuba. the alicorn concept and clothes were cute though ill give them that. can we get a colored front-facing ref

number 4: his almost-death in chapter 98

it sucked so bad. like ok. when i was reading the chapter i was not surprised by it at all. this is a horror manga so something bad Had to happen, and like hell he was actually going to die Again in that moment. and it was executed in a really cool way! kou's single page that only had a "SQUELCH" speech bubble was bone-chilling and there is almost a eurydice flavor to the whole fleeing and turning around to see the ghost of the person you love and finding that you're holding Only their hand.

but as much as ive joked about this manga inventing a new level of bury your gays, there Are some unfortunate implications to two boys having a cute date and then immediately almost-killing one off them. (this could indeed also be applied to mitsuba's death in a way too). im usually not too harsh w this stuff because even if the implications are there i have faith that this wasn't quite meant like that.

but ultimately this scene was there only for shock value to end the chapter in a cliffhanger so! not ranked very high

number 4: his afterlife as a mummy in the ghost hotel café

ok we barely have anything on his death here so it's not too high but just those four lines are so funny. guy who owns the land but is too scared to act out on it. is secretly planning on taking over the hotel. has cried when kou bit him. is his pastissier apprentice. i hope he's better at baking than mit2uba is at cooking. the idea of them having a silly afterlife baking together and chasing after each other is so funny i love them

number 3: his youkai transformation in the bakeneko ryokan hanakotei

his most recent almost-death! we don't know much about it yet but it is such a cute concept!!! he turned into a kitty youkai and now works at the hot springs! it's just like spirited away!!!! super invested on this one i want more so badly

number 2: the time he got poisoned in hanako of the opera

chef's kiss! this one is Almost perfect, if only because the number 1 spot is my favorite scene in any manga ever. mitsuba drinks poisoned peach juice and thanks to the subsequent investigation and hanako's intervention, he is able to escape from the oppressive opera environment with kou! but here is the catch: every night, natsuhiko left a glass of juice for him, and mitsuba never once drank it. what changed this time? why did he drink it? well, the one who left the juice and poisoned him was not natsuhiko, but kou. did mitsuba know? kou. poisoned mitsuba, who in this au is his Childhood Friend. to see if, by taking him out of the opera, he'd be able to help him regain his love of music. and mitsuba willingly drank the poison. probably knowingly. he trusted kou not to kill him. and then they elope. there are sooo many levels to this one i love it

number 1: chapter 48, picture perfect arc

EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR THE BEST ROMANCE EVER!!! SHOWSTOPPING!!!! BREATHTAKING!!! NO ONE DOES IT LIKE THEM!!!

it's so perfect. the way the the page where kou jumps off the building is angled and composed so that the panels themselves are falling with them too. kou's promise. the way he literally jumped off a building just to have a chance to understand mitsuba better. and then they'd work their way back to life together! it gets me every time. no one does it like them. i love them so much. <333

and that is all, thanks for sticking by!

but how about YOU guys? what is Your favorite mitsuba death? how would you change my ranking? im always up for talking about mitsuba!

[heymacy]

thank you so much for your answer! i actually didn’t expect such a in depth response— it actually made me kind of excited to rewatch the show so that i can give those seasons a try! i watched shameless as it was airing around s3 so it was really hard for me to cope with the idea of watching ian ‘moving on’ and bashing mickey without knowing he would be back etc. but i guess it should be time to face that considering who he gets married to! tho, if it’s okay, i wanted to ask more cause i love to see your take on it! for what ive gathered caleb cheated on ian with a girl saying it ‘didn’t count’, but was he also the one who told ian to try to be with a girl? cause i remember seeing something about it and it really pissed me off that ian even went and ‘tried’, considering s1 was him being very vocal about non being into girls! as for trevor, i did know about the monica ‘get over it’ clip because i always see people comparing it to how mickey has always been supportive no matter what (of course!!!) and also how trevor kind of forced himself on ian. i wanted to know what’s your opinion on those relationships of his, especially trevor cause it seems like it’s been the most controversial one as he spent two seasons around him. it’s funny in a way because the writers didn’t want mickey back but they still made every love interests ian had to be ‘wrong’ and showing everything that mickey would never do! also, this is out of pettiness mostly but considering all those seasons are about his bipolar disorder, does ian ever say that to his partners as a way to break up? or can i have a little of happiness thinking he just really wanted to protect who matters the most *cough* mickey *cough*. again, thank you for taking your time answering my question, i loved reading it!

hello again! more under the cut bc i'm quite chatty :)

first of all, yes, the "it doesn't count" + trying to have sex with a girl thing is true, and it honestly never felt very in-character for me. it was definitely A Choice on behalf of the writers. in fact, he gargles with mouthwash afterwards (or maybe it's vodka, i can't remember) and says "i think i have PTSD", which (of course) is meant to be humorous, but i do think it was a very jarring and confusing experience for him.

ohhhhhhh boy. the trevor of it all. well, let's begin by saying that there's a lot of controversy surrounding trevor. there are some really rancid anti-trevor takes that i don't agree with, primarily the ones rooted in transphobia, which i think is disgusting and abhorrent. i think people are generally either very anti-trevor or pretty neutral on him. i don't think anyone out there is singing his praises, or at least i've never heard a take like that in the time i've been in the fandom. as for me & my opinion, i think he is an incredibly frustrating, pretentious, self-serving character and he irritates me deeply. i think that while he could have been a good friend to ian, he fucked things up by trying to be his boyfriend. they were incompatible from the start and i honestly don't know why they started anything in the first place. like i know why, i just don't understand it. they had no spark. they had no connection. their only commonalities were that they were 1) both gay and 2) into advocating for homeless + at-risk youth. and that's like, it. they had friendly coworker energy, not electric, bone-shattering chemistry. my rating? 0/10 stars. i was very happy when he was written off and ian was left to sort his shit out on his own, unencumbered by a dissatisfying, toxic relationship.

and caleb.......ugh. fucking caleb! i'm surprised he doesn't get vertigo from riding such a high horse. he treated ian like an accessory and consistently put him in uncomfortable situations for no reason other than his own pleasure and/or to manipulate other people. the ONLY good thing he did was lead ian down the EMT path, and that is it. otherwise he was quite literally the worst. imagine cheating on someone and then being like "actually, this is a you issue." alexa, define "cold-blooded" 🙄

to answer your question, ian never credits his bipolar disorder when ending things with any other partner, no. trevor ended because ian ran off with mickey and lied to him about it/cheated on him (though they did spend another season in each other's lives in a really strange capacity, which was an interesting choice by the writers) and caleb ended because he cheated on ian. caleb was a clean break whereas trevor was super messy and drawn-out. but no, he doesn't talk about wanting to protect them from his disorder during their breakups. he tells them both about it early on, is transparent about it, and expresses his concerns about it being a lot to handle, but it isn't credited as the reason for the breakups, no.

i think when it comes to ian protecting mickey from his disorder, it's important for us to view things through an ian-centric lens. why did he do what he did? was it solely to protect mickey, or was it coming from a place of insecurity? a place where he felt like a burden? a place where he felt hopeless and aimless and scared? post-episode and post-diagnosis, it's very common to fall into what i like to call The Pit, which is essentially a shallow bed of self-loathing and the desire to self-isolate away from everyone and everything. we see a lot of that in the end of s5 and the beginning of s6. he's made himself very small, is afraid to do nearly anything for fear of further destruction, and feels incredibly trapped and frightened by his circumstances. all of these factors contribute to his behaviors and choices, including (but not limited to) breaking up with mickey. did he end things because he didn't want mickey to spend his life coping with the realities of loving someone with this disorder? yes. but he did what he did because he was scared. and i think it's really important we make that distinction when talking about and analyzing that storyline.

as always, if there's anything you want to talk about or if you have any other questions you are always welcome in my inbox! i hope you're having a lovely day 💛

[thegeminisage]

ok i actually did forget to do my amiibo earlier but i'm doing them now and I GOT! THE FIERCE DIETY SWORD! what am i gonna do there's not enough room in my HOUSE for this........

im finally at the tingle islands and like...they added in the sound of wood creaking in the wind when you walk over these long narrow rickety bridges...thats so FUCKING GOOD was that there in botw???

kinda disappointed nothing else is here tho. no monsters or anything i saw like 2 guys

ok, i temporarily left the island to receive assistance with my KOROK SEEDS!!! that i couldn't get. thank you to CATHERINE<3 for helping me solve not one but TWO block puzzles that were defeating me

first one below hateno and second one over in that little area under zoras domain. so normal. like 3 turns of a block. i couldn't get them. tetris champion title revoked

and ALSO credit to cathy for finding a tiny alcove that i could not see from my bike. i flew all over that fucking place but it was so small i just missed it from the air. thats 3 seeds i never would have gotten w/o her. but also i told her how to do the cork puzzle

the thing is like none of this is online yet right...so it's just like, in 1986, when there was no internet and everybody played the original nes game. like you'd just trade the hints and tips yourself in the schoolyard or some shit, like if you knew where one thing was and your friend knew where the other thing was. we are literally partying like it's 1986. #problemsolving old skool vintage style. quite literally taking the series back to its rooots in every single way as intended

back to my islands...there is a chasm here which for some reason surprised me. like ofc there is lol

today's other tiny tragedy is: when my game first started i picked up this magic ruby rod from some enemy...i don't even remember how i got it, but i know it was nearly at the start of the game, bc i was finding korok seeds in central hyrule with it

and anyway i ONLY used it to start fires. and it's lasted me 135 hours but Now...badly damaged. i'm gonna be sad when it breaks

i can't keep it in my house. no room as we've established.

the weather here is so funny. there's a thunderstorm at the top of the islands, ONLY the very top. when i dip even slightly lower it turns into just cloudiness

well. chasm time.

ugh i dont see ANY lightroots...

ok, i checked my map (cheating!) and there are no lightroots in these little...holes. i'm on my own. i did see what treasure is here tho (cap of the wind!!) so i'm pressing forward >:(

(toon link is my only amiibo card that does not work lol)

i hate it here <3 the tunnels representing the bridges are so steep and narrow...

just had a horrifying thought. this place is suspiciously empty so i checked the map for gloom spawn. guess what i'm gonna have to go through to get my chest.

I DON'T WANNA

i'm gonna. god i wish i hadn't looked. every time i check for them i regret it

well. this is it.

i'll just. run up to the chest and open it and then fast travel out. i can do that. unless i have to fight phantom ganon for the chest...AUGH

i'm saving my game.

WOWWOWOW the only light in this entire system of holes is this cheerfully lit chest!! if i hadn't Known.........

in and out in and out i can do it i can do it oh fuck

OH FUCK THEY SPAWNED RIGHT WHEN I WAS ALMOST THERE I OPENED THE CHEST I GOT THE THING BUT AS SOON AS I HIT THE BUTTON

THEY'RE GONNA GET ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i LLLLITERALLY. fast traveled out. Fuck That

these are horrible islands. im never comign back

oh my god ive been putting gibdo bones on all ym swords bc of the high fusion power but they break after ONE HIT.......lame

ulria grotto my old foe...i fucking hate it here. i ALWAYS get lost or stuck and have to Climb

actually i have to go to bed now anyway so this is a problem for future me!!

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 21:

You were nervous, practically fainting under the pressure as you pulled open the hospital’s front door. The trip to Jaku was fairly easy, only a brief 45 minutes, and in that time you hadn’t managed to calm yourself at all.

You stomach was rolling with nerves- twisting and turning and making you feel so very sick. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to convince yourself to lower your expectations. There was nothing for you to be worried about, here! You hadn’t lied! Or hid anything, or pretended like you were a good person when you maybe weren’t. 

Bakugou did that. He did that and he was the reason your eyes were still puffy and why your head still ached. He had things to apologize for- not you.

So why did it feel like all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and forget everything and just be happy?

The longer you sat with it, the more you thought you understood. Even if he was bad, even if he did bad things, he was still your soulmate. He was still the other half of you and you were selfish- so, so selfish and you couldn’t make yourself give that up. Couldn’t ever possibly make a strong enough argument for abandoning him. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to admit it. It was why you were even at the hospital after all.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Hi,” You greeted, hoping your smile seemed genuine to the receptionist. “Bakugou Katsuki, please, room 427.”

She just looked at you funny, tapping at the device in her ear. “Yeah, I got another girl down here asking for Dynamite? Where’s security?”

You heart began seizing, lungs stuttering with panic as she continued to stare you down. After a long fifteen seconds she spoke again.

“Well, isn’t it your lucky day. Apparently, he wants to see you. What a surprise.” She announced un-enthusiastically, handing you a slip of paper. “Take the stairs to the left, all the way up to level 4, and then follow the instructions on the paper.” 

You just nodded in a daze, holding the paper in your shaking fingers and moving towards the stairs. Suddenly, you were even more nervous than before. You pushed open the stair doors, and realized this moment felt bigger than you. Bigger than anything in your entire life. Every singular event and decision had brought you here and the only thing you could do was stare dumbly at the stairs in front of you.

No. You knocked a closed fist gently against your forehead. I’m fine. I’m been waiting forever for this shit. It’s just stupid Bakugou.

You took one step, pulling your shaky legs along with two hands on the guardrail. Another step, only pull. Another step another pull. You were conquering the stairs, and this moment, gaining momentum before you knew it. With feet moving unbidden and sure and careful and climbing, you rise, steps taking you higher and higher until you hit the 4th floor. It’s a maze of hallways from there, a strange puzzle of paintings that all look the same and tiles that are two shades too dark and doctors and people rushing past and shoving, but your feet are steady, one after the other, fast, fast, faster, and you don’t falter. You don’t falter and you walk down another hallway, look at your paper, take a left, walk a little further, look at your paper, take a right, walk further and faster and further and farther, past room 423, past room 424, past room 425, past room 426, turn another corner, rush past a man wheezing in a wheelchair, skid to a stop- room 427. 

You heart hammers in your chest- beating against your ribcage and threatening to burst through your too-thin skin. Your breath shudders, fingers shaking as you push the door- push it open, and wider, and widest, and open.

His face is the very first thing you see. It’s all you can see. All the machines and the hospital bed, all the bandages and the IV’s stuck into his skin- they all fade away. There’s just him and his blonde hair and the way his shoulder’s slope and the defined musculature of his arms. He is real and breathing and solid, and so, so, beautiful. Bakugou’s every breath seems to arrest you, keep you in place and strung tight like a live-wire, electricity running trails of fire through every vein- and his eyes.

His eyes that are darker, deeper, duller- less like raging volcanoes, and more like delicate rubies. They’re red. Red like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and startling and surprising, but it’s not an angry red. Not a violent red. You decide then that Bakugou is a soft, dignified red- he’s hot wax cooling over a sealed envelope, like a slowly healing cut just beginning to fade. 

Something in you slots into place. You feel it in your mind, in your bones, in your chest. You’re not itchy anymore, you’re not searching. There is no puzzle left to solve and your finally have all the pieces to your soul; no longer aching anymore for something you knew you should’ve always had. Your skin is finally yours- no longer loose and ill-fitting and stretched thin saving room for someone you hadn’t met yet. You felt right- finally. Settled for the first time in your entire life, like somehow, you’d always knew you’d end up standing exactly where you were.

You think Bakguou must feel it too. He nods something almost imperceptible, but his face softens. He looks so sure- so confident as he looks at you. Like he always expected you to be exactly who you were. Like some part of him too always somehow knew this was going to happen.

You’re tearing up before you can help it, rushing into the room and to his bedside.  

“What are ya fuckin’ cryin’ for, idiot?” Bakugou huffs, but his voice comes out strained; buried under thick, barely-restrained emotion. “Nothin’ new left to cry about now, stop it.”

“I can’t,” You’re wiping at tears with your sleeve. “After all this time- my whole life- It’s just- you’re- you’re you. ”

“Course I fuckin’ am.” He says. Bakugou then clears his throat, voice becoming much softer. “Always was to you.” 

“I-I know. But it’s just- you’re real.” 

He can’t say it back, you can see it in his pinched face and blushing cheeks, but Bakugou nods. You know he feels the same. 

“It’s- I- I just didn’t think I’d ever be here,” You start, sinking easily into the chair next to his bed. “And after everything I jus-”

“I’m sorry!” His voice interrupts the relative quiet, cutting through like a knife. He nearly screamed his words, and when you look over at him Bakugou won’t meet your eyes. He’s studying the hospital blankets beneath his fingers, folding and clenching them between fingers gone white from the pressure. “I- I mean that. More than fuckin’ anything.” 

“I know.” You say.

The room goes quiet again, and any of the calming completeness you had felt earlier seemed to be fading. Suddenly it’s not just the feeling of finding your soulmate running through you, but the feeling of finding Bakugou. Bakugou who is sitting in front of you, injured and weaker than Dynamite and he doesn’t look like someone who could hurt anything or anyone but then you remember that video- that scream, those eyes. 

“Just- fuckin’ say it already. I can see your face, idiot.” Bakugou’s voice is authoritative but not pushy. Inquisitive but not demanding. “It’s- I know your holding back, so just fuckin’ quit it already, alright?.”

“It’s- I just need to know. You said, on the phone, that it wasn’t you, in the video.” You close your eyes. If you look at him any longer you think you’ll lose your nerve. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

“I-” You watch as his face falls, eyebrows pulling together. Then he’s turning red, wringing his fingers together and casting his eyes toward your shoes instead of your face. “Can ya- can I- I just have to think. Give me a second. I have to make sure I get the fuckin’ words right.” 

You nod. Bakugou seems to leave you for a moment, eyes un-focusing and fingers twitching minutely. He suddenly looks up, meeting your eyes.

“It’s- I shouldn’ta said that shit. It was- I did that. Me.” He admits, words tight and strained like they’re hard for him to speak. He’s got a hand pressed to his mouth, head turned sharply to face the window. He refuses to meet your eyes once more. “But- I’m not- I’m tryin’ not to fuckin’ be like that anymore! I’m workin’ on it or whatever. Since then! E-ever since then.” 

“Okay.” You nod. “What happened to the person? In the video?”

Your question seems to upset him, and he throws his hand harshly against the bed. Bakugou breathes- eyebrows pinched together tightly until his shoulders aren’t held together so tensely anymore.

“I told you. I didn’t- everybody always talks about that fuckin’ stupid-ass video but it was only the camera!” He grits his teeth suddenly, sharply inhaling and exhaling until his jaw relaxes once more. His eyes still remain screwed shut. “I meant that. What I said on the phone. The fuckin’ person was fine! Wasn’t fuckin’ hurt. J-just scared.” 

You want to believe him. More than anything you want to believe him, but those eyes you saw were hard to forget. They almost seemed like they belonged to someone else- like they couldn’t possibly have belonged to the same guy who’d called you sunshine and helped you with your anxiety and cleared his schedule every night at exactly 7:00 PM. The Bakugou you had come to know was so far removed from the man in the video- the scary, feral, thoughtless man who seemed to attack someone without just cause.

You closed your eyes for a moment, bringing your hands together in your lap. He said he was trying- he made it very clear that was true with his careful breathing and the way he asked for time to think about his words first. The Bakugou sitting in front of you was not the same man in the video. His eyes weren’t violent erupting volcanoes anymore- they were slowly crystallizing gemstones. Precious, valuable things still slowly changing into something new.

“Okay.” You nod. “I believe you.”

Bakugou cracks open his eyes slowly, looking intensely at you. Something anxious in his eyes melts away, relief filling his features and settling in the barely-there curve of his smile. His shoulders relax and he takes a deep breath and a crackle, a pop and-

“Did you? Was that-” You point at his palms. “Was that your quirk?”

“No! Fuck no, why would you even fuckin’ say that- obviously not, because my quirk is fuckin’ cool not some shitty, embarrassing, tiny-”

“Bakugou.” You interrupt sternly, staring him down. “Honesty, remember?”  

He groans, and flushes. His hand crackles again, something small and dancing just across his palm and Bakugou races to cover it. He then wipes his hands on his hospital gown harshly, turning his entire body toward the window to cover the way he’s still blushing. It doesn’t work though. You see him all the same.

“Yes.” He admits, and he just sounds so defeated, it makes you crack a smile. “But don’t fuckin’ say anything, okay? It’s all your fuckin’ fault, damn woman! Started the first time you called me and I can’t get it to fuckin’ stop no matter what I do it’s-”

“Can I see your hand?”

“H-huh?”

“Your hand,” You reach toward him gently. “I wanna see. Give it.” 

Bakugou doesn’t look at you, just raises his arm and jabs it out toward you. The movement is stunted and awkward, like he can’t control his limbs right, and when you look at him his entire neck has started going red too. He waves his extended hand impatiently, urging you to get on with it.

Slowly, so very slowly, you poke a single finger into the smooth skin of his wrist. Just a feather-light touch. A near-weightless pressure against soft skin.

Pop.

You poke him again.

Pop.

Suddenly embarrassed, you pull both your hands to cover your eyes and blushing cheeks, and begin giggling uncontrollably.

Pop. Pop. Crackle. 

Bakugou moves so brashly that it startles you, and he’s pulling his hand back to him, and curling it into his chest. He’s using his other hand to press into the crackling one, finally smothering the sound of a last few pops sounding off. When you finally peek between your fingers, he’s somehow redder than before. 

He’s adorable and you’re laughing and you can’t stop laughing because he’s shy and embarrassed and so defenseless against you. Every part of you is warm from the top of your head to the burning tips of your toes, your smile spreading so wide that it over takes your entire face. 

“It’s-it’s not fuckin’ funny!” Bakugou shouts. “Stop goddamn laughing, you shitty fuckin’ woman! It’s a good quirk! It’s not fuckin’ funny!” 

“It is.” You agree, gasping to catch your breath. “It’s a very good quirk Bakug-.” 

“K-Katsuki!” He shouts suddenly, interrupting you entirely. He seems surprised at his own outburst, blushing again and smacking his hand against his forehead. He groans. Loudly. “It’s- I- Katsuki. That’s my name.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” You say shakily, heart beginning to race once more. “K-Katsuki, huh?”

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bakugou screams. Just howls something deep and defeated and animalistic from the bottom of his chest. It fills the room, seemingly taking up all the space, and you could’ve sworn the windows were rattling. You start laughing.

“Fuck! Oh my god! You fucking did this to me, shitty woman! You- you’re- stop fucking laughing!” Bakugou is screaming, arms gesturing wildly. “This isn’t fucking funny! Something is seriously fucking wrong with me! A-and and you don’t even fucking care! You just think it’s funny! I’m fuckin’ broken, fuckin’ suffering, and you’re laughing!”

“It’s- I’m not!” You shakily defend, barely able to complete the words. 

“See now you’re just fuckin’ lyin to me! Goddamn fuckin’ liar for a soulmate!” He’s yelling, hot air and fire and irritation seeping from his lips. “You know, it’s just my fuckin’ luck too, you know! To end up with such a fuckin’ idiot for a soulmate! Who just fuckin’ keeps laughin’ and lookin’ cute an-”

Bakugou screeches. He throws his hands down on the bed, palm up, full-on miniature explosions beginning to spout from his fingertips.

“What the fuck did you do to me? What the fuck- I-I didn’t say that! You didn’t hear anything! Would you quit fuckin’ laughing at me?” 

You just hold your palm up, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Bakugou stares at it, burning holes so intensely and brazenly, so utterly focused and enraged that it sends you into further hysterics. It takes you a good five minutes to sober up.

“It’s- I’m not. I’m not laughing at you.” You lean forward in your seat, just a little bit closer to the guardrail of the hospital bed. “You just- you make me happy ‘sall.”

Bakugou gags. Audibly. The sound rips from his chest and up his throat and contorts his face.

“Don’t just fuckin’ say that!”

“What the hell?” You ask incredulously, hands flying wildly. “You literally told me you like me over the phone! Literally yesterday! But now you’ve got a whole ass problem with me saying that you make me happy? What the fuck, angry man?!”

“It’s- I didn’t- fuck!” He shouts, voice raising to cover yours. “Stop makin’ me remember all this embarrassing shit! You’re doing this on fuckin’ purpose! I know you are, shitty woman!” 

“I wouldn’t make you remember it so much it you just fuckin’ owned up to it in the first place, you coward!” You screeched. “If you already said it, and I said I like you, then what’s the big fuckin’ deal, huh?” 

Bakugou suddenly goes quiet, his hands fidgeting with the sheets. He chuckles. “You said you like me. Again. Fuckin’ dork.”

“Oh my god! You’re fucking infuriating! No-no don’t just sit there and fucking grin at me! That’s- stop!” 

And truly, you meant it. You wanted him to stop looking at you like that, stop crinkling up his eyes, and most of all stop smiling because you didn’t think your heart could handle it. Everything about him made your blood boil, and every nerve stand straight on end- but it was good too. So warm and comforting and just funny. 

He was Bakugou and Dynamite and your Soulmate. All in one, awkward, crackling, loud fucking package. 

-//--

ee hav sum fluff ,, as a ~reward~

[atmilliways]

And if you'd like another one, Charles & Melmord - 22(drunk) !

Okie, here it is. Warnings for, let’s see... Mature rating, Questionable employer/employee relationship, references to extensive scarring, and a Pity Handjob. 

At the first opportunity after he’d been weaned off the pain medication and was no longer under quite so much surveillance, Melmord tracked down some booze and got drunk. He hadn’t found much, but after an interminable stay in the hospital, living on IVs and hospital food, it didn’t take much either and hit him a lot harder and a lot faster than he’d expected. 

How Charles knew to find him in the communal employee kitchen—one of hundreds, probably, but the closest to his new, starkly furnished room—he would never know. By that point he was already swaying in his chair and didn’t think to ask. 

“Having a, ah, little nightcap there, hm?” the man said as he took a seat directly across the table. 

“Fuck you,” Melmord muttered into his bottle. 

Charles shrugged, blank expression unchanging. “Suit yourself. But if you end up putting yourself back in urgent care with alcohol poisoning, any time off is coming directly out of your salary.”

“You don’ give a shit.” 

“Not really, no. But you’re an investment of Dethklok Inc. now, and it’s my job to protect the band’s assets.” 

Melmord took another drink, trying to forget all the stupid choices he’d made to end up here . . . up to and including everything that had happened on that rooftop. Signing that contract didn’t even make the list; by the time it came to that, his course had already been irrevocably locked in. He hadn’t bothered to read the fine print. Hell, fuck reading—on the first attempt he’d signed the bit of bare hospital tray next to it. But it was a contract drawn up by Charles Offdensen, the man who had stabbed him and thrown him off a roof mid-blowjob, and that didn’t bode well. 

He found that he didn’t much care. The booze was definitely helping with that, so he downed another mouthful. As numb as he was becoming, it still burned pleasantly on the way down. 

“Why’re you here?” he mumbled, and heard that his voice was tougher than usual from the drink and whatever emotions his body was going through that he was too drunk to feel. The disconnect reminded him of being in the hospital. 

Instead of answering, Charles just shrugged. Melmord stared at his blank face and wondered if he even fucking knew. If anyone fucking knew anything. Of course they didn’t—life was one big hustle and the universe was in charge of the game, which was always fixed. 

“Why’re you here,” Melmord mumbled again, more to himself this time. The next swig from his bottle missed his mouth and slopped down his chin, leaving him staring stupidly down and wondering how his shirt had gotten so wet. He pawed at it, then rose swaying to his feet. “I gotta . . . go laundry. Go do laundry. Only have the one shirt.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been issued a week’s worth of work shirts, Fjordslorn.”

“They ain’t mine,” Melmord spat back. His hands latched onto the back of the chair he’d just vacated—probably that chair. He didn’t know anymore. He wasn’t sure where his room was anymore or how to get back to it. All the hallways looked the same; all of Mordhaus was a fucking murder labyrinth, the innards of a beast that had swallowed him whole and now had only to sit back and digest. 

He let do of the chair and took a first wobbly step, only to stumble and fall into a very solid chest. Blinking, trying to focus, a suit and bright red tie swam into his field of vision. 

“It’s this way,” Charles said in his usual, flat, carefully removed voice. Not trying to blunt the edges of anything. (Good, Melmord thought. Maybe by falling on those edges he could kill himself for good this time, and not have to come back to all this.) The man seemed to have a knack for guiding drunkards though, because they were in his room with minimal delays or arguments in no time. 

Melmord started haphazardly undoing his shirt buttons as soon as they stepped inside, not wanting to spend another second than necessary in his wet, wasted smelling only real shirt. Charles continued holding him upright while he did so, without comment. 

But halfway through unbuttoning, a thought hit Melmord like a bolt of lightning. He paused and asked, “You wanna fuck me?”

“Not particularly,” Charles replied dryly. 

“Why not? Y’already fucked me over, why not get your rocks off too. Inn’t that my job now?” Melmord gave up on the shirt buttons and started pawing to get his own pants open. 

When he succeeded, all he got was another raised eyebrow. “You’re freeballing?”

“What can I say, I live as I died,” Melmord declared, shoving his pants down towards his ankles. It was difficult; they kept wanting to bunch up around his knees, and pulling the top of the pants down over the bunched up material wasn’t helping. He tried to stand on one foot and tug everything off, but all it did was unbalance and pitch him against Offdensen’s chest again. 

“You’ve still got your shoes on,” Charles observed with a sigh. “Just get on the bed.”

Next thing he knew, Melmord was on his bed staring up at the ceiling while his mortal enemy and boss got his shoes and pants off. Right, he thought, I did offer. Might as well get ready. He palmed himself clumsily, trying to see if his cock was too drunk to wake up. 

“Stop that,” Charles told him firmly. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Why fuck not?” Melmord rasped, incredulous. “That’s the job, isn’t it? That’s. What I said I’d do. Isn’t that in my contract?”

Charles rolled his eyes and started working on undoing the buttons of Melmord’s shirt. “I’m not in the habit of fucking people who are about thirty seconds away from being unconscious.”

“How long did it take me to fall off the roof?” Melmord shot back. He heard the whine in his voice—fuck it, he didn’t care. Of all the things he wanted, Charles fucking Offdensen definitely wasn’t one of them, but everything had felt wrong ever since he’d woken up at the hospital and wasn’t allowed booze, weed, or to look under his bandages (which he’d done anyway and ended up screaming until they’d sedated him), and the room was spinning like a broken compass, and he needed something to get the needle to settle. Even if ‘something’ ended up being a smack across the face. 

From the tightening of Charles’ mouth and the deep lines around it, that was probably a definite possibility. And then—

Charles’ hand closed around his mostly limp cock, the other pushing the now opened shirt aside as his eyes fixed on the network of scar tissue that was Melmord’s upper body. “You have five minutes.”

Melmord grunted and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at himself. Not yet. Too new. “Gimme an even seven, man, I’m not a fucking teenager.”

“If it’s an even number you want, then six,” Charles retorted with a warning squeeze, making him groan. “And you don’t finish, before then, do it on your own time.”

It was the most clinically expert handjob Melmord had ever experienced, and he already knew that he was way too fucked up to get even a weak orgasm out of this. Charles was completely in control of the situation the entire time regardless of who was getting jacked off. Melmord felt like a kite on a string, and Charles was flying him . . . except not quite. 

No, he decided hazily, it felt like he was a puppet and Charles his master, and there wasn’t one string but many. Charles pulled at them all, even the ones that made his lungs draw in and expel air, even the ones that made his muscles twitch around the metal ‘bones’ in his right shoulder and ribcage and parts of his spine. The very fact that he was alive and the very fact that he shouldn’t be were both in the puppet master’s grasp.

He kept his eyes squeezed closed, but he could feel the scars. Felt Charles’ free hand running over them, tracing, exploring the topography like a dedicated map maker. Felt drunken tears dribbling out from between his own eyelids and down the sides of his face because fuck, fuck, he’d screwed up so badly and now this was going to be the rest of his life: just another cog in the machine, with the occasional pity handjob thrown his way the same as one might toss scraps to a dog. That Charles was showing him some amount of charity here was irrelevant; it was a calculated mercy. 

Even through all that, Melmord arched his back and laughed. Despite the fact that Charles had undoubtedly won, they were still sparring. Back and forth, push pull, verbal blow for verbal blow, and now this—it was funny. 

It was like Charles didn’t know how to stop fighting, and Melmord, to his credit, at least knew the same about himself. They would continue scrapping like this forever, and that—even as his consciousness did indeed begin to fade into a deep, dark blackout—almost gave continuing to live some sort of meaning.

[howterrifying]

+molliarty: the necessity of colour: the end

This marks the final chapter of this accidental Molliarty mini-series. Thank you to those who've read, liked, reblogged, reviewed and sent me messages. You help fan the flame for us fic writers to keep going and to believe in and enjoy our work even more. I hope you've enjoyed this series just as much as I've loved writing it :) x In case anyone would like to catch up on previous chapters, here they are: Part I & II :: Part III

The Necessity of Colour: Part IV & Epilogue [also on FF.net and AO3]

It surprised Jim that there were other ways to inject thrill into his veins. No murders had taken place and no buildings had been bombed but his blood was on fire. Even as they lay together, talking like they used to on their ‘charade’ dates, the ecstasy of their afternoon still pulsated through every cell in his body.

“Would you knit me something?” Jim teased, shifting to kiss her gently on her bare shoulder. “You’d hate it,” Molly answered with a chuckle. She sat up, causing the sheets to slip away from her whilst her hair cascaded down in their place. “Why would I?” murmured Jim, utterly distracted by the vision before him. “I know you absolutely hate colour,” Molly said, “And I refuse to knit something so bland.” “But I wore those patterned shirts…” “A charade, Jim, remember?” “And you saw right through that?” “Well, I was informed beforehand. But yes, your discomfort was rather obvious,” Molly said, grinning. “You are good,” Jim said, returning her grin with a kiss on the side of her neck. “No, Jim,” Molly chuckled, before pinning him back down, “I’m better.” They laughed at the odd memory of their first real confrontation. How they had been made temporary antagonists once they had their disguises ripped from them. That was just it though, was it not? That not only had their antagonism been forced upon them, it had only been temporary. There was no way any real animosity could have lasted, not with the type of chemistry that lay bubbling beneath their skins. As they continued to kiss, both minds raced along with their pulses. The deeper they sank into each other, the more they remembered the distance they were supposed to maintain. “What do we do now?” Jim asked, relishing the view of Molly above him. Molly merely smiled and returned to plant another kiss on his mouth. It was a different kiss this time. There was no hunger or playfulness behind it. Instead, it was slow, almost contemplative, as though she were trying to memorise every sensation of the moment. “I’ll admit, it’s a little unclear,” she whispered in return. She was tempted to kiss him again, but something in her told her they had to stop. As if reading her mind, Jim sat up and leaned against the headboard whilst Molly shifted but remained straddled on his lap, facing him. “Unclear is okay,” Jim said with a smirk, reaching for her hands. “Unclear is dangerous,” said Molly, staring at their intertwined fingers. “But that’s where we live, Molly, don’t you see?” he whispered, trying to catch her gaze. Molly looked up, feeling the pull from his gaze. She could not help but smile when she saw those eyes of his resting on her. There was something so dazzling about the darkness in them and it caused a rush in her veins. “Listen,” said Jim, taking a moment to quickly kiss the top of her knuckles. “Ithought I knew everything about you, and it’s becoming apparent I don’t quite know everything. And while you seem to know quite a lot about me, I know you don’t know everything. Even your all-knowing boss…no one can be that all knowing…” “Yes, she can…” “Okay, fine, maybe she can. But who cares, Molly?” he remarked, a strange excitement growing in his voice. Molly could not tell where he was going with this and could only stare back at him with a single, raised eyebrow. “We live in the grey area, Molly, that’s where we thrive,” Jim said, smiling widely at her. “We never know what will happen, but that’s where the fun is…” He paused to pull her closer to him so he could kiss her properly again. Her hands automatically reached for his face as he drew her mouth to his. “We’ll just make it happen,” he said, running a thumb across her cheekbone, “It’s what we do.” “Sounds a bit chaotic to me,” Molly teased, feigning disbelief. “Then chaos is the colour. In all of this grey, chaos is the colour,” Jim argued, fixing his eyes on hers. “When did you get so poetic?” Molly said with a laugh. “I’ve always been poetic,” he retorted, grinning. It was nice to see the light come back into her eyes. When she had said that where they were headed was dangerous, it had been sobering for him too. There was the issue of her boss who seemed both powerful and unknown, two characteristics that would have normally frustrated the life out of this criminal mastermind. Yet, it had only disturbed him momentarily. The larger fear that struck his cold heart was the thought of never being able to delight in the presence of Molly Hooper again. Again, there was that inexplicable need for her. This time, not only did Jim decide he was all right with it, he was going to indulge it. “Life needs a bit of colour, no?” he remarked, letting his fingers outline the beautiful contour of her face. Molly shut her eyes and savoured the feel of those hands against her skin. Had her boss, in all her intelligence and near omniscience, not realise that this would happen? Or had that been her intention from the beginning? It amused Molly for a moment that perhaps in falling for Jim Moriarty she had outdone her boss and done the one thing no one had been expecting.   How was Molly to resist? He was so clever, so wickedly funny, so divinely handsome and had the most impeccable manners she could barely contain it. “I suppose life does need a bit of colour,” Molly said at last, as a smile grew. “Your wardrobe could do with some for sure.” “My wardrobe? Are you implying that we should start living together?” Jim asked, his eyes widening as his theatrics returned. The both of them collapsed into each other, laughing and sinking into each other’s embrace again. “Please, could we?” Jim whispered, softly kissing the side of her neck. Smiling against his skin, Molly returned the kiss against his temple and continued until she reached his beautiful mouth. “You really do have the most perfect manners,” Molly remarked, succumbing as she pushed him back down to bed. ++ Epilogue Molly did not remember the last time she had been here. After all, it was a bit of a journey to get there but she did not remember the room being so cold. The glass, concrete and absolute dead silence certainly added to the chill Molly felt in her bones. She sat as still as she could in her seat and faced the empty space before her, waiting. Soon, she heard soft footsteps and a figure emerged, shrouded in the only thing the figure ever wore; a plain white medical gown. “Well, Molly, love is a good look on you,” said the figure. “I have to agree,” she smirked in return. “It seems you’ve strayed completely from the brief,” continued the figure, sitting herself cross-legged in the centre of the empty space before Molly. Molly swallowed nervously. She had been dreading this meeting and now it was finally happening. “Why do you look so scared?” asked the figure with a small, playful smile. “Because you’re terrifying?” Molly replied. “Come now, Molly,” laughed the figure, “I respect you too much to punish you, you know that. I couldn’t hurt you even if it one hundred percent warranted it.” “I know,” Molly answered, “And that’s what’s even scarier.” The figure shook her head and stood up. She walked across the space so as to stand right in front of Molly. “Molly, do you know why I hired you in the first place? Why we became such good friends so fast?” asked the figure. “Because we’re both clever. Very clever.” “Precisely!” exclaimed the figure, clapping her hands together, “And your little…deviation from the operation, has inspired me with a better idea.” “It has?” “This is why I trust you, Molly. Even when you go off-course, you make things better,” the figure continued, “It’s hard to believe, I know, but I can have poor judgement on occasion.” Molly laughed at her comment, causing the figure to grin in return. Molly knew she was clever but she was nothing like her boss. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief knowing their working relationship had not been damaged. “I want to meet him,” said the figure. “Oh?” “I think he’d be a great addition, don’t you think?” the figure remarked. “I have to agree,” Molly replied with a smirk. “Besides, based on what you’ve been telling me,” the figure said, a wily smile appearing. “It’s time we had someone who really brightens up the room.” ++ When Jim received the text, his blood had run cold for a moment, his mind going immediately to Molly’s safety and wondering if it had finally been compromised. He decided to obey whatever it was this E wanted, especially if it meant keeping Molly safe. As he was ushered from one car to another and finally into a helicopter, he was surprised to see the very face he had been worrying over greet him when he finally stepped off the helicopter onto an undisclosed island. “It’s take-your-boyfriend-to-work day,” Molly teased, kissing him quickly on the cheek. “I..I don’t understand,” Jim remarked, genuinely puzzled. As they entered the massive building and made their way through what felt like a thousand different corridors, Jim found himself facing a heavy, metal door. Molly gave him another kiss on the cheek and smiled at him. “Molly, what’s going on?” he asked. Molly did not answer but merely opened the door and gestured for him to step in. Once he did, he heard the heavy clang of the door shutting behind him. The ensuing silence was deafening as he stared at the sparse room he was in. Soon, a figure shrouded in a crisp white medical gown appeared and walked towards Jim. “Mr James Moriarty,” the figure said, extending her hand. “You must be E,” Jim replied, reaching to shake her hand only to flinch slightly from how cold it felt. The figure paused, still holding onto his hand as she examined him from head to toe. When she was done, a slow smile appeared on her lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” the figure continued, releasing his hand and gesturing for him to sit on the only chair in the room. She walked over to the center of the room and planted herself down, sitting cross-legged. “Now that we’ve finally met,” she began, “Please, call me Eurus.” END

[acequidwrites]

For someone who’s spent their life frozen, heat is intoxicating. (Only, it’s not quite heat, but something more like hate. It feels good.)

Tory brings out the worst in Sam. Sam doesn't mind.

FANDOM: Cobra Kai

PAIRINGS: Samantha LaRusso & Tory Nichols (romance if you squint)

Sam is well and truly a LaRusso, which means she doesn’t get mad. It’s not that she doesn’t want to. It’s that she’s not allowed.

Sam is well and truly a LaRusso, which means from birth she’s been raised with a one-word mantra: Balance. Her childhood was her father reciting meaningless lines that she was expected to internalize: endless variations of, “Remember, Sam: if your whole life has balance, everything will be better.”

Balancing physical and mental health. Balancing her school and social life. Balancing her emotions. Don’t get angry, don’t get overwhelmed, don’t get fiery; Sam is well and truly a LaRusso, which means she is supposed to be ice.

Somewhere along the way, balance becomes stagnation, becomes repression, and Sam starts hauling around a frozen core. The thing about being ice: it comes with inevitable numbness.

She is no longer just Sam. Her name becomes worth only as much as the appellation that follows it. She is “Sam the Peacekeeper” to her family, “Sam the Prize” to the boys, “Sam the Floormat” to the people she calls friends. She doesn’t do anything about it. Not because she doesn’t want to. Because she’s not allowed.

Her subconscious hums a little tune when the red creeps into the edges of her vision. (Yasmine, I told you you shouldn’t be on your phone—we have to call the police!) A little incantation that keeps her grounded, (Sam, you shouldn’t lie. Kyler told everyone what happened at the theater) just to remind herself not to lose her temper. (“The enemy”? Do you even hear yourself? I-I don’t even know who you are anymore.) Don’t get angry, Sam, remember: your life is better with balance. Keep your cool and everything will work out exactly the way it should.

She doesn’t get upset, doesn’t get passionate, doesn’t want change, doesn’t want revenge; she doesn’t want.  

(Tory wants.

She always has. And what she wants, she takes.)

Sam has been a LaRusso her whole life; she has been ice for longer than she can remember. With seven words, she starts to thaw.

“Listen, I didn’t rob your mom, bitch.”

Seven words chip a hole right out of her center, drop a burning coal in and leave it to smolder.

She is no longer just Sam. She is “Princess,” or “LaRusso,” or “Bitch,” and with every word, Tory is driving her mad. It’s the way she shows up out of the blue, taking everything that used to be Sam’s: her best friend, her boyfriend, her self-control. Tory doesn’t give a shit about balance. Tory is hot-headed and stubborn and impulsive and everything Sam has forgotten how to be. Tory is an IV drip of gasoline driven deep into Sam’s chest, making her volatile. Combustible.

Tory knocks her down; Sam fights back. She’s not supposed to. She’s not supposed to, but there are floor burns on the heels of her hands and a fire sparking somewhere inside and she’s been skating since she was six, so she sweeps Tory’s legs in a move so very Cobra Kai it would have made her father cringe.

Tory challenges her; Sam accepts. (Except, it might be that Sam challenges Tory, after all.)  “You sure you wanna do this?” Robby asks, all sweet and noble and concerned.

And Sam snaps, “What, you don’t think I can beat her?” because he doesn’t get it. She’s not trying to prove herself. This isn’t an honor thing. There’s a heat spreading along the length of her spine, and Tory smirks at her, and this is, wholeheartedly, a spite thing. She wants to see Tory fall.

For someone who’s spent their life frozen, heat is intoxicating. (Only, it’s not quite heat, but something more like hate. It feels good.)

Fact: Sam doesn’t drink. Not much, not often.

Fact: this is a goddamn balance game and Sam isn’t about to lose.

She steels her face against the bitter taste of each swallow, crushes the Solo cup a little more forcefully every time. One. Two. Three. She starts to feel it by four, but, How you doing over there, LaRusso? And, well. She’s not about to stop.

“I could do this all day,” she says, slurring only slightly, and Tory tilts her head like she doesn’t believe it, and someone hands her a shot of vodka.

The smell throws her—sharp, like nail polish remover—and she starts to shake. Tory watches her, smug, expecting her to fall and that’s all Sam needs. She draws on a lifetime of practice to center herself, meets Tory’s eyes, and downs the shot expertly. Tory’s smirk disappears, and Sam’s just thrown a significant amount of alcohol directly onto the nascent blaze starting to spread through her body, and it feels really good.

Tory falls. The fire starts scorching Sam’s skin.

“Guess somebody couldn’t hold their liquor, huh?” and Tory’s eyes are staring unadulterated hatred, and God, she wants to feel like this all time.

She’s winning, that’s what this is. She’s striking harder. The world is spinning and her vision’s blurring, but whatever, she knows enough about winning to know you have to press the advantage when you have one.

Of course, that’s when she goes too far.

She’s drunk, and Miguel is there, and that would be the ultimate final point, wouldn’t it? Stealing Miguel away, taking him back? Showing the whole world he never loved Tory, and because Tory never really had Miguel, she never really had anything in the Valley. It would destroy her. It would destroy her. Sam kisses him.

And it feels wrong.

It feels cold.

Cold like all-too-familiar liquid lead sinking from her lips to her stomach, sapping the heat from her bones. It’s not Robby who she thinks about when she pulls away. It’s not anybody, at first. She’s just focused on the way her fingertips have suddenly stopped tingling, why her limbs feel heavier, why her thoughts are sluggish and her face feels like stone.

Robby comes next: sweet and noble and concerned, yes, but also handsome and trusting and steady and funny and what has she done?

Miguel has time to say, “We shouldn’t have…” before she thinks about Tory. (It would destroy her.) Tory, and how she doesn’t want to end it—this, whatever this is, that’s made her feel alive for the first time in years—she doesn’t want it to end. Not truly. Not permanently.

What have I done?

She doesn’t know it yet, but her regret comes too late.

(Tory hates. And when she hates, she fights.)

[wienerbarnes]

Whatever It Takes (5/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2,362

Prompt: Doctor AU

Warnings: nothing! fluffy stuff!

A/N: sorry this is late again! tee hee hopefully ill be forgiven w this chapter! i was proofreading and i honestly think this is my fav chapter :) anyways enjoy! last chapter next friday!

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Where have you been for the past two days?”

You’re greeted by Dr. Abraham and Dr. Jordan as you return to the hospital later in the afternoon. Walking into your office felt like returning home after a long trip, which, is essentially what you did. You’ve never been so exhausted in your life, you never even bothered to put your heels back on, shoes hanging from the tips of your middle and ring fingers and blazer hanging around your shoulders.

“Whatever happened to our race car driver?” You ignore Dr. Abraham’s question and plop yourself down behind your desk, a deep exhale exiting your lips as you almost drool at the thought of your bed.

“She had heatstroke, like I said. She was released this morning. Did you have fun on your vacation?” Dr. Jordan sarcastically asks.

“I was actually-“

“Don’t say you were with the Avengers.” Abraham cuts you off.

“Okay, okay. I was actually in Midtown helping some rich jerk treat his son’s sniffles. The lookalike that came was one of their security beef-heads who likes the Avengers a little too much, you happy?” You retrieve your bag from the drawer in your desk that you had left behind two days ago.

Bucky escorted both you and Dr. Curtis out of the Avengers Tower, ordering a separate private car to take Dr. Curtis to the airport while he drove you back to Brooklyn himself. The car ride was nothing too special, simple flirts and teases sent back and forth amongst one another over the light radio music. You even almost came close to holding his hand. That was a couple of hours ago.

“We have a new case actually-“ Jordan begins but you wave your hand with furrowed eyebrows.

“No, no, no.” You refuse, “We’ll start this again tomorrow.” You begin to gather you bag and tug your blazer over your shoulders again, feet still bare.

“But it’s only three P.M.-“ Jordan tries to stop you but you gather your bag and shoes once more and walk towards the door anyway.

“Goodnight!” You call out as you walk out of your office, the deep sighs of your employees fading as you get farther and farther away from your office.

The walk to the elevator feels as though it takes forever, and the elevator ride itself feels as though it takes longer. Finally walking through the lobby of the hospital, you’re extremely excited for the l-o-n-g night of sleep you’re going to get when you get to your apartment. As you near the main doors, you see a figure dressed in all black sitting on one of the benches outside the doors. As your steps slow and you get closer to the door, what you suppose is a man lifts his head to look at you and they quickly stand.

“They let you out of the ice box early?” You greet Bucky as you open the door and walk outside.

“Very funny. I’m here to take you up on your offer.” Bucky says, stepping closer to meet you halfway on the sidewalk.

“You want to quit the Avengers to work for me as my personal assistant at a shitty hospital in Brooklyn?” You ask to confirm.

“No,” Bucky chuckles, “I actually meant your offer on showing you some ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ is how you put it, I think.” Bucky clarifies, hands lifting up in air quotes.

“Oh! Um, now?” You ask, blush rising on your cheeks.

“No, you goofball, I’m trying to ask you to dinner, I wanna take you out proper.” Bucky spits out, giggles falling from his lips.

Your blush gets impossibly deeper as a shy smile grows on your face. His smile and small dimples and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes are so cute. You struggle to find a response. I mean, of course, you want to go out with him, but it’s been forever since you’ve done anything like this! I mean between going to medical school and shadowing doctors, to having your own practice for a while, to getting a job at the hospital, to working your way up to Department Head, you’ve just lost time for love over the years. What if I’m not good at sex anymore?

“Are you barefoot?” Bucky inquires after taking in your tired appearance.

You huff out a chuckle and cover your face with your one free hand. The hottest guy you’ve ever encountered wants to go out with you and you’re standing here, barefoot, and not even giving him an answer, you’re blowing this!

Bucky grabs your hand from your face and places a gentle kiss on the top of it.

“Here’s what going to happen. I’m going to drive you home like a gentleman, leave you with my number, and whenever you’re hungry, you give me a call. And I’ll be there.” Bucky reassures you.

I’m about to melt, you think. You give an affirmative nod, not being able to form proper thoughts after hearing his gentle voice soothe your nerves about his entire existence, his soft fingers rubbing small circles in your knuckles where he placed a kiss; you don’t even believe to have been so lucky to snag such a nice guy.

The both of you walk back to the car Bucky brought you in, hand in hand. Bucky lets go only to open the door for you and offer his other hand to you as you climb inside. Before he shuts the door, you hold out a hand.

“So, you’re not taking me to show me some interrogation techniques?”

Bucky can’t help but let out a scoff as he playfully pushes you the rest of the way into the car and shuts the door.

…

You wake up about sixteen hours later. Seven the next morning, to be exact. You look around your sun-lit room through your swollen and crusted eyes and realize you’re still wearing the same slacks and shirt you’ve been wearing for three days now. You let out a long sigh before pulling yourself up, muscles stretching and bones cracking the more you move your limbs.

After taking a long, hot, and well-deserved shower, you tip toe your bare feet to your kitchen.

Hmmm… cereal and a container of mushrooms. Bucky did say to give him a call if I was hungry…

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m trying to get in contact with Aldo the Apache, please?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand that reference, sweetheart.”

The giggle that comes through the phone makes you smile so big, your cheeks hurt.

“Well, soldier, you told me to give you a call if I was hungry, and my stomach’s a-growling pretty loudly this morning.”

“Be ready in twenty minutes, sugar. I’ll take you for some food and drop you off at work after.”

“Wow, hopefully I’ll have some time to thank you for your generosity in the car.”

There’s silence over the phone and you can almost hear his blush as you catch the tiny hitch in his breathing.

“Ha, ha. I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”

Your thoughts freeze over at the sound of that last pet name, and you hear the line click to an end. Good Lord, pull yourself together!

As you dress yourself for breakfast and work, your normal black slacks, plain shirt - light blue today, inspiration from a certain someone’s eyes, and heels. The more time that passes while you get ready, the more butterflies flutter around your stomach. It’s as though they’re restless; and every time you looked at the clock, the time only seemed to move slower. You try not to overthink things when the time shows that twenty-one minutes have passed, but those thoughts are quickly silenced at the sound of a gentle knock on your front door.

You gather your bags and head over to the front of your apartment, opening the door for Bucky, only to realize you two are accidentally matching. Light blue t-shirt that’s tight in all the right places, his nipples poking through in just the slightest. A black leather jacket dons his broad shoulders, the discolored creases show that he’s had it for a while. Tight black skinny jeans, you’re afraid the seams will burst around the thickness of his muscled thighs.

“Well, one of us is going to have to change.”

“Too bad I left my heels at home.” You let out a soft chuckle at his tease and push past him to close the door behind you.

“Not even gonna invite me inside, doll?” Bucky teases at you, leaning against the door frame as you lock the door.

“Sorry, the prostitute from last night was still asleep, figured I’d give them some privacy.” You wink at him before leading down the hallway.

Bucky takes you to a bakery cafe, not too far from the hospital. It’s still driving distance, but you wouldn’t mind taking an extra thirty minutes to walk if it meant spending more time with Bucky. He urges you to sit while he orders and you plop down in a small table in the back corner of the cafe. Soon, Bucky returns with two coffees, one smelling of vanilla and the other smelling of cinnamon. He takes a seat and pushes the sweeter smelling one towards you. The cup feels warm around your hands, heat spreading through your hands and arms and soaking your body to the core.

“And what makes you think I take my coffee so sweet?” You ask, teasing him but also craving the sweet, vanilla coffee on your tongue.

“You’re not fooling anyone. Well, maybe you’re fooling some people, but I see right through you; you’re sweeter than sugar and I can only imagine you drink coffee the same way.” Bucky flirts.

“Lucky guess.” You bring the coffee to your lips and, perhaps, the warmth is what makes the blush on your cheeks darker. Perhaps, it’s the way Bucky’s giving you heart eyes across the table. Probably the coffee.

“And cinnamon for you? Would’ve thought you take your coffee black, maybe a hint of whiskey or gasoline in the mix.”

“Very funny. Sugar was a luxury back in my day, and then I was fed out of an IV for seventy years after, so. I’ll have all the sugar and flavor I can get, thank you very much.” You both giggle and it warms your heart to see such an intimidating man, a soldier, have such an uncontrollable sweet tooth.

Bucky appreciates that the atmosphere remained open and carefree. He didn’t mean to be so casual about his past, and normally, throwing out how he was kept from solid foods for seven decades in casual conversation makes him and everyone involved just a bit uncomfortable. But you laughed. And that allowed him to laugh with you.

You and Bucky share your coffees, along with a multitude of donuts and muffins that he insisted on buying, and soon you’re sitting in the car having the saddest car ride of your life. Why are you so sensitive all of a sudden? You feel like a kid whose just left the toy store and now has to return home toy-less. All you want to do is be with Bucky. You want to talk to him, hold his hand, hug him, kiss him, and share all the sweets in the world with him. You’ll never admit it to him, but he makes your heart explode with fireworks, sparks flying from corner to corner.

Bucky pulls into a parking space close to the main doors of the hospital and puts the car in park.

“I, uh, hope you have a good day at work today.” He wishes quietly; you can sense that he doesn’t want you to leave, either.

“Hopefully it’s not too good, all those sick people have so many germs.” You retch.

Bucky smiles and looks up at you to find you staring at him already. You break the eye contact after a few seconds and reach down between your feet to grab you bags, undoing your seatbelt afterwards. You glance at him again to see how you’ll find it in yourself to say goodbye and you notice him looking between your eyes and your lips. Neither of you can resist as you lean into one another and your lips meet.

It’s probably the best kiss ever. For both of you. Both of your lips are soft and somewhat sticky from all of the sugar consumed, tasting of vanilla and cinnamon sweetness that has you both swooning. Bucky wants to kiss you silly everywhere. Your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your chest, your legs, wow, he could kiss you forever. He places both hands on either side of your head to bring you impossibly closer to him and you smaller hands wrap around his forearms to keep him from moving. Bucky’s tongue slowly licks at your lips to coax them open and he slips his tongue between the gap you give him. Soft and wet and slick; your tongues wrestle each other and taste every corner of the other’s mouths. You let out a soft moan and Bucky uses that a cue to pull away, but not before sucking and pulling at your bottom lip, releasing it when he meets your eyes. You bite at your own lips trying to savor the taste of him and you don’t know how you’re going to focus for the rest of the day.

“Text me when you get out later.” Bucky whispers, his breaths brushing against your lips.

“Will do.” You whisper back. You’d probably feed him a sarcastic comment of some sort but you can’t it in you to even think of anything right now.

You regrettably gather your things and exit the vehicle, not without stealing one more kiss from Bucky, though. As you walk towards the main entrance doors, a loud honk makes you jump and you whip your head around to see Bucky chuckling to himself in his car, proud to have made you flinch the way you did. You hold in your own laughs as you exaggeratedly roll your eyes and continue towards the door.

This is going to be a long day.

TAG LIST: @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @angel-fire @gagmebucky @hannie-writes-marvel @thewritingdoll @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @creppylittlemarvelgirl @spiderrpcrker @mywinterwolf @free-as-fishes @auskitty @som3thingcr3ative

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

[daenerys-targaryen-moved]

Your opinion on book Dany?

Short story short: I love her

Long story short: under the cut

(p.s a lot of this was from @rainhadaenerys​)

She is far superior than show!dany. i love book!dany so much more than I love show!dany, and that’s saying something because even then, I still adore show!dany. It has nothing to do with the performance of the character, Emilia truly did such a phenomenal and splendid job portraying Daenerys, it’s more how the tv show clearly and obviously changed her character to fit their narrative.

The show and the books are different when it comes to like... nearly everything. For Daenerys specifically, the made her cold, almost cruel. They made her irrational, they made her seem like she was teetering on the edge of madness. They removed the calm, rational, extremely intelligent and caring side of Daenerys. They started changing certain scenes for her character around season 2. I remember in 2.01 they had her say “When my dragons are grown we will take back what was stole from us, we will lay waste to our armies and burn cities to the ground. Turn us away, and we’ll burn you first.” which she literally never ever says in the books but ok. They also had Doreah BETRAY HER and then have daenerys KILL her. Which NEVER HAPPENED! Doreah died in the Red Waste, Daenerys giving her the last of the water they had and soothed her as she died.

Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on. - Daenerys I ACOK

They made her make irrational decisions, which she of course is capable of doing, she’s not perfect, but they had her male counselors around her calm her down and advise her against this and that when in the books! she is the one to tell them no to irrational plans and she’s the one to counsel them away from but whatever, men am I right? Dany doesn’t have “violent tendencies”, no more than any other characters. And the situation is quite the opposite: it’s Dany’s male advisors that keep telling her to be more violent and ruthless, and Dany is the one that controls them and holds them back. As an example, Jorah is a character that constantly tells Dany to be more dishonorable and ruthless, but Dany refuses:

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. “The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.” - Daenerys II ASOS

Daario keeps telling her to be more violent:

“Then winkle them out of their pyramids on some pretext. A wedding might serve. Why not? Promise your hand to Hizdahr and all the Great Masters will come to see you married. When they gather in the Temple of the Graces, turn us loose upon them.”

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. “Do you take me for the Butcher King?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

“You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them,” Daario went on. “Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.”

“If I knew who they were—”

“Zhak and Pahl and Merreq. Them, and all the rest. The Great Masters. Who else would it be?”

He is as bold as he is bloody. “We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

Another of her male advisors, Skahaz, also tells her to be more violent:

“If he is not the Harpy, he knows him. I can find the truth of that easy enough. Give me your leave to put Hizdahr to the question, and I will bring you a confession.”

“No,” she said. “I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

“Your Radiance—”

“No, I said.” - Daenerys V ADWD

“Every man on that list has kin within the city. Sons and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers. Let my Brazen Beasts seize them. Their lives will win you back those ships.”

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.” Dany held the parchment above a candle and watched the names go up in flame, while Skahaz glowered at her. - Daenerys V ADWD

Her sellswords want her to use her dragons, but Dany refuses:

Dany sighed. “I am sorry, Ben. I dare not loose the dragons.” - Daenerys V ADWD

And even though Tyrion and Dany haven’t met in the books, he is much more ruthless in the books than in the show:

The fact that there were any good wells at all within a day’s march of the city only went to prove that Daenerys Targaryen was still an innocent where siegecraft was concerned. She should have poisoned every well. Then all the Yunkishmen would be drinking from the river. See how long their siege lasts then. That was what his lord father would have done, Tyrion did not doubt. - Tyrion XI ADWD

She compensates her people for what they lost due to her dragons and treats them with kindness, even though her advisors suggest brutality:

“Three-and-twenty.” Dany sighed. “My dragons have developed a prodigious taste for mutton since we began to pay the shepherds for their kills. Have these claims been proven?”

“Some men have brought burnt bones.”

“Men make fires. Men cook mutton. Burnt bones prove nothing. Brown Ben says there are red wolves in the hills outside the city, and jackals and wild dogs. Must we pay good silver for every lamb that goes astray between Yunkai and the Skahazadhan?”

“No, Magnificence.” Reznak bowed. “Shall I send these rascals away, or will you want them scourged?”

Daenerys shifted on the bench. “No man should ever fear to come to me.” Some claims were false, she did not doubt, but more were genuine. […] “Pay them for the value of their animals,” she told Reznak, “but henceforth claimants must present themselves at the Temple of the Graces and swear a holy oath before the gods of Ghis.” - Daenerys I ADWD

The Shavepate had urged her to put the man to death. “At least rip out his tongue. This man’s lie could destroy us all, Magnificence.” Instead Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. “I would give Hazzea back to you if I could,” she told the father, “but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again.” - Daenerys II ADWD

Daenerys is really really funny. Like she is SO funny. I remember she asked Barristan what a ruler should have and when he answered with “Wisdom and courage.” she replied with “cheeks of steel” basically saying  her ass is sore from sitting on the bench slab for so long while seeing to her people. 

"Ser Barristan," she called, "I know what quality a king needs most." "Courage, Your Grace?" "Cheeks like iron," she teased. "All I do is sit."

(it’s even better when you remember the next day her throne room is full of pillow) She’s genuinely funny and D&D actually wouldn’t let her play Daenerys in a funny way - proving that she knows the character better than they do lmao.

She’s is also a child, she’s 13 in the books [which they couldn’t really play into since they had to age up show!dany for obvious reasons] but she’s very playful. She’s constantly laughing, joking with her girls, just being goofy in the books as well. I remember once she threw a grape at Xaro in a playful manner when he told her to stop.

She’s also very in love with Daario, who I don’t really like but whatever, but she literally fantasizes about being common folk with him and not having the weight of the world on her shoulders.

What is it?” she cried, as Irri shook her gently by the shoulder. It was the black of night outside. Something is wrong, she knew at once. “Is it Daario? What’s happened?” In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. In her dream he had been kissing her all over���her mouth, her neck, her breasts.

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again, Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, his strong hands resting on the hilts of his matched arakh and stiletto, hilts wrought of gold in the shape of naked women. The day he took his leave of her, as she was bidding him farewell, he had brushed the balls of his thumbs lightly across them, back and forth. I am jealous of a sword hilt, she had realized, of women made of gold. Sending him to the Lamb Men had been wise. She was a queen, and Daario Naharis was not the stuff of kings.

She really just wants a simple life and someone to love her, but she understands that it’s her duty and her mission to help as many people as she can.

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. "It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

She’s also so very very affectionate to those she loves and even those who she’s not even close to. She kisses and hugs like literally everyone. She kisses Barristan, she kisses Daario, she kisses Jorah, she kisses she city people, she kisses Missandei, Irri and everyone else who is around her. She shows herself through affection and small acts of kindness.

The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace.” - Daenerys IV AGOT

Distantly, as from far away, Dany heard her handmaid Jhiqui sobbing in fear, pleading that she dared not translate, that the khal would bind her and drag her behind his horse all the way up the Mother of Mountains. She put her arm around the girl. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I shall tell him.” - Daenerys V AGOT

When Doreah looked longingly at a fertility charm at a magician’s booth, Dany took that too and gave it to the handmaid, thinking that now she should find something for Irri and Jhiqui as well. - Daenerys VI AGOT

“Enough,” Daenerys said. “Prince Quentyn has crossed half the world to offer me his gift, I will not have him treated with discourtesy.” - Daenerys VII ADWD

Rhaegal roared in answer, and fire filled the pit, a spear of red and yellow. Viserion replied, his own flames gold and orange. When he flapped his wings, a cloud of grey ash filled the air. Broken chains clanked and clattered about his legs. Quentyn Martell jumped back a foot.

A crueler woman might have laughed at him, but Dany squeezed his hand and said, “They frighten me as well. There is no shame in that. My children have grown wild and angry in the dark.” - Daenerys VIII ADWD

When she returned to her rooms atop the pyramid, she found Missandei crying softly on her pallet, trying as best she could to muffle the sound of her sobs.

“Come sleep with me,” she told the little scribe. “Dawn will not come for hours yet.”

“Your Grace is kind to this one.” Missandei slipped under the sheets. “He was a good brother.”

Dany wrapped her arms about the girl. “Tell me of him.”

“He taught me how to climb a tree when we were little. He could catch fish with his hands. Once I found him sleeping in our garden with a hundred butterflies crawling over him. He looked so beautiful that morning, this one … I mean, I loved him.”

“As he loved you.” Dany stroked the girl’s hair. “Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath.”

She cares for her brother, even though he molested her, abused her and sold her.

Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“No,” Dany replied. “No.”

Jhogo understood that. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed. Irri told her, “Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect.”

[…]

“Tell them I do not wish him harmed,” Dany said. - Daenerys III AGOT

She tries to ask forgiveness for taking his horse by giving him new clothes so that he would be respected:

“New raiment. I had it made for you.” Dany smiled shyly.

He looked at her and sneered. “Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”

“Please … you’ll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought … maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki …” Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon. - Daenerys IV AGOT

“I saw His Grace this morning,” he told her. “He told me he was going to the Western Market, in search of wine.”

[…]

“Is that wise?” she asked. “He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he’s betrayed?” Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King’s Landing would pay well for her brother’s head. “You ought to have gone with him, to keep him safe. You are his sworn sword.” - Daenerys V AGOT

She is willing to give Viserys her precious dragon eggs:

Dany had not known, had not even suspected. “Then … he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother … and my true king.” - Daenerys V AGOT

And she tries to protect him again during the feast in Vaes Dothrak, even when he takes out his sword and threatens her and her unborn child:

A sense of dread closed around her heart. “Go to him,” she commanded Ser Jorah. “Stop him. Bring him here. Tell him he can have the dragon’s eggs if that is what he wants.” The knight rose swiftly to his feet. - Daenerys V AGOT“The blade … you must not,” she begged him. “Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There’s drink, food … is it the dragon’s eggs you want? You can have them, only throw away the sword.” - Daenerys V AGOT

Daenerys most certainly has dragons blood in her. Her moments of anger are out of the hurting, suffering and death of others.

“Your servants have arrested the owner of the wineshop and his daughters. They plead their ignorance and beg for mercy.” They all plead ignorance and beg for mercy.

“Give them to the Shavepate. Skahaz, keep each apart from the others and put them to the question.”

“It will be done, Your Worship. Would you have me question them sweetly, or sharply?”

“Sweetly, to begin. Hear what tales they tell and what names they give you. It may be they had no part in this.” She hesitated.

“Nine, the noble Reznak said. Who else?”

“Three freedmen, murdered in their homes,” the Shavepate said.

“A moneylender, a cobbler, and the harpist Rylona Rhee. They cut her fingers off before they killed her.”

The queen flinched. Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils.

“We have no captives but this wineseller?”

“None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon.”

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon’s mercy. “Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply.”

“It was a cruel fate, Yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.”― Daenerys ADWD

Dany even cares about her enemies. She is merciful to people that attack her:

When she told him, the boy rushed at her, but his feet tangled in his tokar and he went sprawling headlong on the purple marble. Strong Belwas was on him at once. The huge brown eunuch yanked him up one-handed and shook him like a mastiff with a rat. “Enough, Belwas,” Dany called. “Release him.” To the boy she said, “Treasure that tokar, for it saved your life. You are only a boy, so we will forget what happened here. You should do the same.” - Daenerys I ADWD

“We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom.” Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face.

Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghael’s teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him.

“Enough,” she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. “No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away.” – Daenerys III ADWD

She prompts time and time again that she has no slaves, and that those who follow are are free to leave her at any time.

“Your slave Missandei.” Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

“My servant. I have no slaves.” – Daenerys ADWD

Dany fights against slavery. As soon as she gains any power, she starts freeing slaves:

“You will be my khalasar,” she told them. “I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. […]” - Daenerys X ADWD

The first thing she does when Missandei is given to her is to set her free, and tell her that she can leave if she wishes:

"Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” - Daenerys III ASOS

And when Missandei’s brother dies, Dany comforts Missandei and offers to send her home again:

“As he loved you.” Dany stroked the girl’s hair. “Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath.” - Daenerys II ADWD

When Dany sees Astapor, she is deeply affected by the suffering of the slaves:

“Make way!” Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. “Make way for the Mother of Dragons!” But when he uncoiled the great silver-handled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. “Not in this place, blood of my blood,” she said, in his own tongue. “These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips.” - Daenerys II ASOS

He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding. “Would you like another?” asked Kraznys.

“If it please your worship.”

It was hard to pretend not to understand. Dany laid a hand on Kraznys’s arm before he could raise the whip again. “Tell the Good Master that I see how strong his Unsullied are, and how bravely they suffer pain.” - Daenerys II ASOS

And she cares even about the lives of the masters and their children:

“More will die unless the murderers are punished.” […]

“How can I punish them when I do not know who they are?” Dany demanded of him. “Tell me that, bold Skahaz.” - Daenerys I ADWD

“Magnificence,” murmured Reznak mo Reznak, “we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills.”

“They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills.”

“They are afraid for their children,” Reznak said.

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. “We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl.” - Daenerys II ADWD

Dany pushed her food about her plate. She dare not glance over to where Grazhar and Qezza stood, for fear that she might cry. The Shavepate has a harder heart than mine. They had fought about the hostages half a dozen times. “The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids,” Skahaz said, just this morning. “What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?” In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.” - Daenerys IV ADWD

“If he is not the Harpy, he knows him. I can find the truth of that easy enough. Give me your leave to put Hizdahr to the question, and I will bring you a confession.”

“No,” she said. “I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

“Your Radiance—”

“No, I said.” - Daenerys V ADWD

Dany studied the scroll. All the ruling families of Meereen were named: Hazkar, Merreq, Quazzar, Zhak, Rhazdar, Ghazeen, Pahl, even Reznak and Loraq. “What am I to do with a list of names?”

“Every man on that list has kin within the city. Sons and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers. Let my Brazen Beasts seize them. Their lives will win you back those ships.”

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.” Dany held the parchment above a candle and watched the names go up in flame, while Skahaz glowered at her. - Daenerys V ADWD

At the end of the day, in Daenerys’ core, she wants to help people who cannot help themselves. She wants to make sure what happened to her doesn’t happen to anyone else. She wants to end slavery because she knows what it feels like to be a slave and have no voice or choice in your life.

She’s constantly thinking about her people who need her.

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. - Daenerys I ACOK

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom. - Daenerys I ACOK

Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore. - Daenerys V ASOS

If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen. - Daenerys I ADWD

“Not a hole. A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.” - Daenerys III ADWD

“You spoke of help. Trade with me, then. Meereen has salt to sell, and wine …” - Daenerys

Ser Barristan remained. “Our stores are ample for the moment,” he reminded her, “and Your Grace has planted beans and grapes and wheat. Your Dothraki have harried the slavers from the hills and struck the shackles from their slaves. They are planting too, and will be bringing their crops to Meereen to market. And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.” - Daenerys V ADWD

What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children? - Daenerys VI ADWD

And even when Dany is starving and sick in the Dothraki sea, she’s still trying to return to her people to take care of them:

It was time, though. A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her. - Daenerys X ADWD

She’s willing to put her life on the line to help others. In the books when a sickness comparable to the plague hits her city, bitch goes out into the streets of Mereen and fucking BATHES the sick while Barristan and one of her Unsullied tell her repeatedly that they should leave.

Dany walked right past him. There was an old man on the ground a few feet away, moaning and staring up at the grey belly of the clouds. She knelt beside him, wrinkling her nose at the smell, and pushed back his dirty grey hair to feel his brow. “His flesh is on fire. I need water to bathe him. Seawater will serve. Marselen, will you fetch some for me? I need oil as well, for the pyre. Who will help me burn the dead?”

By the time Aggo returned with Grey Worm and fifty of the Unsullied loping behind his horse, Dany had shamed all of them into helping her. – Daenerys VI ADWD

She wants to keep her people safe.

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …” - Daenerys II ADWD

Gods, she prayed, you took Khal Drogo, who was my sun-and-stars. You took our valiant son before he drew a breath. You have had your blood of me. Help me now, I pray you. Give me the wisdom to see the path ahead and the strength to do what I must to keep my children safe. - Daenerys V ADWD

“If battle is joined, let Grey Worm show wisdom as well as valor,” Dany told him. “Spare any slave who runs or throws down his weapon. The fewer slain, the more remain to join us after.” - Daenerys IV ASOS

She refuses to turn her back on people in need.

“It shall be done, Magnificence,” said Reznak mo Reznak. “What of these Astapori?”

My children. “They are coming here for help. For succor and protection. We cannot turn our backs on them.” - Daenerys V ADWD

“Mouths on feet. And sick, you say?” Reznak wrung his hands. “Your Worship must not allow them in the city.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Brown Ben Plumm. “I’m no maester, mind you, but I know you got to keep the bad apples from the good.”

“These are not apples, Ben,” said Dany. “These are men and women, sick and hungry and afraid.” My children. - Daenerys V ADWD

Even feeding them had grown difficult. Every day she sent them what she could, but every day there were more of them and less food to give them. It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” - Daenerys VI ADWD

She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. – Daenerys VI ADWD

Many shat where they slept now, too feeble to crawl to the ditches she’d commanded them to dig. – Daenerys VI ADWD

“They are too feeble,” said Symon Stripeback.

Dany said, “More food might make them stronger.”

Symon shook his head. “Food should not be wasted on the dying, Your Worship. We do not have enough to feed the living.”

He was not wrong, she knew, but that did not make the words any easier to hear. “This is far enough,” the queen decided. “We’ll feed them here.” – Daenerys VI ADWD

Her wish for peace comes from not wanting to see bloodshed, from wanting to protect her people, and from thinking of all the people she failed to save:

Much of the talk about the table was of the matches to be fought upon the morrow. […] No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

When she sees injustice, she puts a stop to it immediately. She saves Tyrion and Penny while others simply saw them as disposable people there to die for their entertainment:

Dany was not pleased. “I forbid it.”

“Gentle queen. You do not want to disappoint your people.”

“You swore to me that the fighters would be grown men who had freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor. These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now.” - Daenerys IX ADWD

She has a wonderful military mind as well. She shows off her intelligence especially when she sacks one of the cities from the inside out, something I think they let Daario have because once again, Men. But anyways, she’s really smart and so intelligent. 

Dany cares about the lives of the Unsullied when no one else does. When Daario suggests that the Unsullied should attack the walls of Meereen under boiling oil because they feel no pain, Dany refuses, and tries to suggest a plan to avoid bloodshed.

Dany sighed. “I will not throw away Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.” - Daenerys V ASOS

“A queen must listen to all,” she reminded him. “The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.” – Daenerys I ASOS

Dany insists on not turning away from the horrors in her way, and insists on personally seeing them. When the masters of Meereen crucify the children, Dany cares about them, and insists that she must see them:

Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.” - Daenerys V ASOS

When one of her soldiers is killed by the Sons of the Harpy, Dany cares, and insists that she must see him:

“Your Grace,” said Ser Barristan Selmy, the lord commander of her Queensguard, “there is no need for you to see this.”“He died for me.” - Daenerys I ADWD

Daenerys is very self sacrificial.

Dany is someone who is constantly ready to sacrifice herself for others. She is willing to stand up for other people and take risks to protect others from the very beginning, even before she becomes queen in her own right, before she her own power.

When Drogo attacks the Lhazareen, and Dany sees the horrors of war and what Drogo is doing to take the Iron Throne for their son, Dany stands up for the Lhazareen women, stopping the rape, and earning the enmity of Drogo’s men. She risks her life by going against them (and later, after Dany keeps defying them and defying taboos, they do try to kill her):

When she was done, Drogo was frowning. “This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please.”

“It pleases me to hold them safe,” Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. “If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.” - Daenerys VII AGOT

“No,” Dany said. “I will not have her harmed.”

Qotho’s lips skinned back from his crooked brown teeth in a terrible mockery of a smile. “No? You say me no? Better you should pray that we do not stake you out beside your maegi. You did this, as much as the other.” - Daenerys VIII AGOT

When Drogo becomes sick, even though Dany is afraid, she tells herself that she would sacrifice herself for him:

“Death?” Dany wrapped her arms around herself protectively, rocked back and forth on her heels. “My death?” She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved. - Daenerys VIII AGOT

When Dany is travelling through the Red Waste with her people, she doesn’t claim any privileges, and goes hungry and thirsty with her people:

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick, yet it was her dragons she feared for. -Daenerys I ACOK

Once again, Dany puts her life in danger to help people, this time to free slaves, even though Dany is afraid (if her plan didn’t work, she and her people would have died):

If I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. She dared not remind herself how small and insignificant her following truly was, or she would lose all courage. - Daenerys III ASOS

When Dany frees the slaves in Astapor, she lets them follow her, even though they are more of a burden:

The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver’s armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst. - Daenerys IV ASOS

Even though Dany wants to sail to Westeros, Dany constantly chooses to sacrifice her goals in order to stay in Slaver’s Bay and take care of her people:

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo.

“Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.” - Daenerys VI ASOS

When Xaro offers her ships to go to Westeros, Dany refuses again:

“Enough.” Dany slapped the table. “No one will be left to die. You are all my people.” Her dreams of home and love had blinded her. “I will not abandon Meereen to the fate of Astapor. It grieves me to say so, but Westeros must wait.” - Daenerys III ADWD

Dany agrees to marry a man she hates and sacrifices her happiness for the sake of her people:

… but Daenerys Targaryen had other children, tens of thousands who had hailed her as their mother when she broke their chains. She thought of Stalwart Shield, of Missandei’s brother, of the woman Rylona Rhee, who had played the harp so beautifully. No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry. - Daenerys IV ADWD

“It is not,” she agreed, “but it is important to me that you should understand. My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.” - Daenerys IV ADWD

When Dany is offered yet another choice to go to Westeros, and this time with a powerful alliance with Dorne, Dany sacrifices this for her people and still decides to marry Hizdahr:

“It would please me if he had turned up with these fifty thousand swords he speaks of. Instead he brings two knights and a parchment. Will a parchment shield my people from the Yunkai'i? If he had come with a fleet …”

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever. “Dorne is too far away. To please this prince, I would need to abandon all my people. You should send him home.” - Daenerys VIII ADWD

And when Dany marries Hizdahr and has her wedding night with him, we see just how much she is sacrificing her happiness:

Dany flinched. “Who is there?”

“Only Missandei.” The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. “This one heard you crying.”

“Crying? I was not crying. Why would I cry? I have my peace, I have my king, I have everything a queen might wish for. You had a bad dream, that was all.” – Daenerys VIII ADWD

This willingness to self sacrifice that Dany has is tied not only to the fact that she cares about people, but also to the fact that she sees taking care of her people and protecting them as her duty as queen. We can see, in several moments, how Dany is both self-sacrificing and dutiful, and how she is constantly being self critical and reminding herself of her duties as a queen:

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”

“He was no true king,” Dany said scornfully. “He did no justice. Justice … that’s what kings are for.” - Daenerys III ASOS

Dany would gladly have sent the rest of the petitioners away … but she was still their queen, so she heard them out and did her best to give them justice. - Daenerys III ADWD

“Your Grace could not have known—”

“I am the queen. It was my place to know.” - Daenerys V ADWD

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people. - Daenerys V ADWD

“A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” - Daenerys VI ADWD

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself. - Daenerys IX ADWD

It was time, though. A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her. Drogon had bent before the whip, and so must she. She had to don her crown again and return to her ebon bench and the arms of her noble husband. - Daenerys X ADWD

So yeah. I probably forgot something but... I really truly with everything inside me love the fuck out of her. 

it’s time for a sleepover!

[kakashibestie]

tagged by my friend @hardfeelingsbylorde​ ty <33333

rules: when you get tagged, it means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know! they can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. when you’re done and if you want to, tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

i can sing!!! ive been told im a mezzo but my voice is pretty high pitched to begin with and singing deep notes is super uncomfortable to me so maybe....im not a mezzo after all! i took lessons back when i was in middle school but after that i got lazy and stopped learning sgksdfh so obviously my technique is rusty to say the least, but my singing’s still good enough to dazzle both strangers and friends alike at karaoke...

i went to england on a school trip back in 2013 (the event was called british english olympics sdfjkhfgjksdf) and whenever i look back on it i swear it was a fever dream...so. much. happened on that trip that it’s hard to pick just One Thing to share...but i think i’ll go with the russians...there was only One (1) school from russia in the entire competition and it was this gang of like five kids all super tall and funny looking and one of them was called Oleg Smirnoff (this isnt a joke that was his actual name and one of my friends back then got a crush on him sdjkghjksdhf) and once they almost got kicked out of the competition because apparently they sneaked some alcohol into the dorms without anybody knowing...we were all...middle schoolers...and i recall...mentions of an incident involving them, vodka, a bathtub and oil of some sort???????? memories from that trip become ever blurrier as i grow up but i’ll never forget how no student in my group was brave enough to ask about the bathtub incident.

i’ve only injured myself badly like three times all my life and all have been incredibly stupid and avoidable injuries. once when i was 11, i was too busy staring at the sunset to remember my car was a chrysler town and country with sliding doors and my sister just...slammed the door shut without realizing my hand was there so my thumb got crushed by it but surprisingly no bones actually broke? the second one happened in soccer practice when i was 14. i got impatient and wanted to shoot the ball to score because the net was right! there! in! front! of! me! and i didnt give a shit about the drill, my teammates started yelling at me to return the ball because that’s...what i was supposed to do but i was already speeding up to just score by myself and when i turned to kick the ball back to my teammate i accidentally tripped on it instead of just...kicking it and ended up landing on my wrist :) it cracked and there was a lump the size of a tennis ball on it by the time i got to the er....apparently it didnt recover well even though i had it in a cast for a month and now i have carpal tunnel! the third one happened when i was 18...i was leaving the bathroom at my workplace with a friend and ive always been one to walk rather Too Quickly and also quite...mindlessly sometimes. so i forgot there was a corridor i had to go through before going back to my desk and when i took the turn my whole body...especially my FACE slammed straight into one of the corridor walls. everything was black for a moment and then there was a sharp stinging pain coming from my nose. to my surprise, it wasn’t bleeding, but it was swollen n bruised for at least a week after it happened and i havent been able to breathe properly ever since....so maybe i DID break it after all.

i love quantum theory and...astrophysics in general and it’s v funny because i understand most equations and concepts and i just...love deep diving into them but i can’t explain them properly for the life of me and i also can’t do basic math :)

my banana bread is the most delicious thing ever and im v looking forward to the next time i have the chance to make it

IM TAGGING LITERALLY ANYONE WHO ACTUALLY TOOK THE TIME TO READ THROUGH THIS <3

[morganas-pendragons]

3| T.S.

I’m supposed to be writing a paper, here I am writing more for Endgame. I needed this - It’s my only way of coping. Thank you for the feedback, and enjoy!

CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS - I WILL FIGHT FOR TONY STARKS RIGHT TO BE LOVED UNTIL I AM DEAD

Tag: @robertdownyjrs

***

  “When I come back, you better be here.” His words are spoken with fervor, a desperate promise that he needs you to be able to fulfill. You are the only person in Tony Starks life who has been there since the start, the only one who stayed, and the one he vowed to spend the rest of his life with. 

You have to be there when he comes back from Titan, because he might literally call it quits if you aren’t. You have to. 

Your reply comes in a searing kiss that quite literally makes him weak in the knees. “I already told you, you idiot.” You whisper as you force yourself away from him, lips hovering over his own so closely that he almost wants to take you right then and there. “I love you too much to leave.” 

And unfortunately, he loves you too much to stay, and that is what prompts him to board the ship that will take him to Titan. 

Given what happened during the Civi War between your fiancé and Steve Rogers, you’d give anything to be with him on Titan instead of protecting the outskirts of Wakanda. Steve has vowed to look after you - whatever that means - and somehow lost track of you after the battle, completely oblivious to the fact that you decided to remain with Thor. You and Thor had grown rather close over the last 8 years and often spent time training together when he came to Earth because of the similarities with your powers. 

Your darker nights, the ones where you cried until you couldn’t anymore, were spent in the safety of Thor’s bedroom at the Avengers Compound. Steve still fulfilled his duties and checked in on you just as he had promised he would, but he never went further than that. The man knew you didn’t trust him, and with good reason. 

It’s mere days after the Snap that you feel it, the tremble beneath your feet as you indulge Thor by telling him stories about your life. It distracts you from the lack of Tonys presence, and it distracts him from wallowing in his misery brought upon by the losses he’d endured. 

  “Y/N!” Your gaze flickers upward as Steve sprints into the room and urges you out the bedroom door to the main yard, where a massive ship is being carried by a glowing woman who you are unfamiliar with. She sets it down with ease and meets your gaze, and you give her a firm nod in thanks. 

The hangar door opens, and all the blood drains from your face. The air crackles with static electricity from where you stand before Steve, Natasha, Bruce and Rhodes, completely paralyzed as you watch the occupants of the Benatar file off into the open night. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you resist the urge to sprint across the clearing and jump into his arms. It’s something you’ve had to learn to control, but just seeing Tony standing there actually speaking to Steve sparks something deep within you that urges you forward and across the clearing. 

  “Y/N?” 

Aching arms fling outward to envelop Tony Stark in the most bone crushing hug he’s ever experienced, and it takes all of his willpower not to crumble in your embrace as you whisper in his ear. “Home. Home. Home.” His hands sink into the tresses of your hair, breath ghosting over your skin as he hides his face in the crook of your shoulder. 

The other Avengers don’t bother to pry the two of you apart, not after what you’ve been through. There was no possible way of moving through the despair and anguish without people. Or more specifically, the people you love. 

  “When you need an anchor, you count to three.” In the midst of Tony learning to deal with his anxiety, you’d given him a solution. Of course it had come in the most unconventional way - seated at the bar - and drunk enough to make your head spin. But he was here, warm and alive, and so very... very real. “Count five things about me. Anything goes. Physical traits, things you love about me, things I’ve taught you. If it helps you cope with whatever is plaguing that beautiful mind of yours..” Your fingers curled around the curve of his jaw and brought his eyes up to yours, thumb dragging across the apple of his cheek to settle in the divot of his lips. “You do whatever it takes.” 

  “One, hands that have held my heart since the day you stumbled on my front porch when I was 7 years old.” 

He tries to make nice with Steve, he really does. But after being left for dead in Siberia and alone in the fight against Thanos, Tony holds a considerable amount of resentment for that very same man who had once said that if they were to lose, they’d do that together too. 

You’re always lingering in his line of sight when things go awry, and just as he suspects, you are immediately at his side when he rips the IV from his arm and stumbles in Steves direction. Fury courses through his blood and despite the fact there are stars dancing behind his eyes, Tony still rips out his arc reactor and slams it into the hands of Steve Rogers. 

It’s only when his knees give out from beneath him and he lands on the floor that the second thought comes, when he looks up into your eyes and sees the terror lurking within them just before he slips into unconsciousness.

  “Two, even when I am least deserving, you are always there. Always lingering for that moment when I need you most desperately, and present when I fall to my knees.” 

Recovery is never easy, but having someone there when you wake up makes it just a bit more bearable. 

Shaking fingers extend outward as Tonys eyes slowly flutter open, blinded by the light of dawn as he struggles to adjust to the brightness. His eyes follow the billow of the curtains at the open windows and slowly travel the length of the incredibly bland medical wing up until he catches the TV - where his favorite TV show is softly playing in the background. 

His fingers tighten in the mess of hair laying limply at his bedside. You sleep at Tonys side with your hand loosely wrapped around his calf, almost as if its your only security that he’ll be there when you wake up. Eyes drift over the curve of your parted lips, breaths coming slow and steady. Tony hasn’t seen you sleep so hard since you were younger. 

When life was a little bit easier. 

  “Y/N?” His voice rumbles low in his chest, and its enough to jolt you upward at the sound. Tony nearly topples over the side of the bed because his hands are still tangled in your hair, and the sight of the shock written all over his expression is enough to send you into a fit of laughter. “That was not funny-” 

Your eyes soften as they meet his. “I have never been so happy to see your eyes open in the forty some years we’ve known each other.” You whisper. He can see the reluctance to open up when you dip your head toward your chest, extending your hand outward into the open in hopes he will oblige and take it. 

He does. 

  “I nearly lost you, Tony. All this time after Thanos snapped.. I really believed you were dead. And do you know how disheartening it is to be stuck in another country with people you once called family, left behind by your husband with your only company being the God of Thunder?” You settle a knee into the mattress and bring yourself up to hover over him as he lays supine beneath you. “Seeing everyone disappear, screaming so loudly to someone who might hear me to keep you safe.. I have never experienced true fear like that. Fear of believing that you would never come home.” 

That’s when thought number three comes. Trapped in the cage of your arms, breath ghosting over his face and sunshine reflecting in your eyes. He realizes right there, in that moment of silence, that your presence is the only home he has ever known. 

And that despite your darkness and your regrets, despite his failures to both you and the greater good, you will never part from his side willingly. You are here and real and you are never leaving. It’s the best freakin’ news he’s heard all day. 

  “Y/N, I need-” 

  “What do you need?” 

Tony swallows the knot in his throat and lets his tongue dart out to wet the cracked flesh of his lips. “I need you to kiss me.” It’s spoken with the same desperation you heard before he boarded his ship for Titan. That same desperation that pours from your own mouth when he tries stumbling down a path you can’t follow him on. “Please.” 

It’s hard to pick a word to describe that moment - that moment of solitude where it’s nothing but you and him. How you succumb to his desires and lower yourself on top of him, careful of aggravating his injuries. He arches his back into you as you claim his mouth with your own. Hot, heavy, full of need and the ability to convey the fierce loyalty the two of you held for one another since the day you’d met as young children. 

  “What about you?” 

  “What about me?” 

Tony swirls a single finger around the rim of his glass as you pour yourself another. “Whenever you need a anchor, what will you count to?” You believe he thinks something absolutely ridiculous, like 72 or 191. Something completely unrelated to what you’ve just said. 

  “I’ll count to three too, but for me it’ll be in the moments we pull together instead of apart. When I need you the most.. when I need to breathe, I’ll count to three.” 

His tongue breaks past the seam of your lips and his hands tangle in your hair, and if you listen quietly enough, you can hear someone whimper. You don’t know if it’s him or you. 

It’s only when you are forced to pull apart for air that you whisper, “Three.” 

[angrylizardjacket]

ask your destiny to dance [6] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“What are you doing here?” Ash’s voice is hostile, and Roger waits with his snare in his arms, just around the corner of the building. He’s not following her, or at least, he didn’t mean to; he’s just packing up his drums, like he did after every show. Sure he was a bit earlier than usual but that didn’t mean anything.

“Sweet girl, I wanted to see you.” The voice is teasing, like she should have know this already, masculine, low, and it makes Roger nauseous. Finally he peers around the edge of the building and catches a better glimpse of the man from the bar, who is now standing less than a foot from a tense and confused Ash who leans against the door to the bar.

“You- why?” Already her voice has softened, but it seems he still makes her uncertain, if the tense set of her shoulders is anything to go by. But then the man’s reaching out, resting his hands on her upper arms. “You’re not mad at me?” She asks, relaxing under his touch, looking up at him with her big, brown eyes. Something in Roger’s gut twists at the sight.

“Of course not, baby girl.” He’s got her accent, Roger realises, and something in his chest tightens as the man places his hands on her shoulders coaxing her away from the door so he can wrap her up in a hug. Roger can see her trembling as she hugs him back, a soft confusion written all over face. “I’ve missed you.” He tells her, voice a murmur, but in the crisp, night air, it’s loud enough that even Roger hears.

“Why are you here, Gus?” Ash is the one who steps back, out of his grip, leaning back against the door. Roger can see her hands shake when she pulls half a cigarette from her breast pocket.

“I wanted to see you again, make sure you’re okay.” And the man, Gus, takes her hands, gently taking the cigarette stub and throwing it away before he laces his fingers with hers. She doesn’t even protest.

“And Kira?” She’d asked, voice so soft that Roger almost didn’t catch it, and the man in question shook his head with a smile as he leaned in, murmuring something that only she could hear, pressing kiss to her cheek.

“Oh, my sweet girl, you look so good.” He mused, voice growing a little louder, stepping back to admire her, and though Roger wants to gag at his tone, syrupy and full of obviously fake revere. Ash actually giggles, and not insincerely. “As beautiful as the day I met you.”

“You think so?” Voice uncharacteristically young and hopeful, it’s so unlike her that Roger’s pushed to the end of his patience, and rounds the corner with his drum in hand, not even acknowledging the pair as he heads for his van, though the way Ash jumps back from the man as if he’d burned her, it does little to ease the discomfort in Roger’s chest.

“Hi!” Suddenly flustered, Ash moves around Gus to stand between him and Roger. He’s not really sure why she’s bothered, there’s so much distance between the back door and the van, but he thinks it might be so that they look less suspicious. It’s not working.

“Hey.” Roger says, tone clipped as he says it, fumbling for his keys as he opens the back doors of the van.

“This is, uh, August.” She’s aware of how strange it sounds, how guilty her words come out, and when Roger’s sat his drum inside the van, he finally turns to get a good look at the man. The man with a hand on Ash’s shoulder, making direct, unflinching eye contact with Roger, smirking.

“August, this is Roger, he’s in the band.” There’s a waiver to her voice that Roger doesn’t like, and he can’t bring himself to smile at her. Everything feels so wrong, and Ash looks so guilty, like she’s been caught red handed.

He’s handsome by any definition, but not by Ash’s usual one. High cheek bones, hair gelled up into a neat quiff with a few sparing grey strands running through it that only served to make him look more distinguished, as did the dark, well groomed stubble on his jaw. He looks to be in his late 40s, in a pressed, well tailored suit, and shoes that Roger would consider too formal for even an explicitly formal event, so out of place in the dingy, pub setting. And his hand is still on Ash’s shoulder.

Roger doesn’t want to think about why it puts him on edge, just knows that it does. August takes long, deliberate strides before he reaches Roger, holding out his hand.

“August Reid.” His smile was sharp, and when Roger took his hand, he held it a little too tight, a show of dominance. “You guys played very well.” It’s the least sincere compliment Roger’s ever received; he wants nothing more than to punch August in his smug face.

“Roger.” After a beat, he leaned against the edge of the van, crossing his arms. “So how do you know Ash?”

“Ashley.” August correct automatically, and Roger can see the way Ash flinches out the corner of his eye, still looking a little mortified, avoiding looking at both of them. August doesn’t see it, his smile widens just a little bit, all sharp teeth. “I taught her back at Saint Andrew’s, I thought I’d stop in while I was in town.” 

“He was my Art History professor.” Ash confirms from behind him, and Roger freezes where he’s looking at her. He’s never seen her like this before, demure, shy; she’s always consciously made an effort to appear larger than life, to compensate for her size and sweet looks, but now she looks so young. She can’t even bring herself to meet his gaze, but he can tell she doesn’t know he saw their earlier exchange, if she did know, he thinks she probably wouldn’t be so honest about that.

“Oh,” is all Roger can say, before he snaps out of it, moving past where August is trying to be intimidating, up to Ash who’s leaning against the back door, “Rocket, can you move, I’m trying to pack up.” She doesn’t even fight him on it, tell he can walk around the front the same way as he got here. With the door opens, he hesitates, reaches out to touch her arm, and when she looks at him her expression is surprised as he tilts his head in a silent question, asking if she’s okay.

“What?” She snaps, frowning and shifting out of his grip, a spark of her old fire returning. Roger’s moment of softness receded with his eye roll and he lets the door slam closed behind him. Part of him knows that August was watching the exchange. By the time he’s pulled down the rest of his equipment and is ready to haul it out, Ash is behind the bar, cheery as ever, and August is nowhere to be found.

“I thought you were studying fashion.” Brian muses into the balmy night air. The band had stayed until last call, intrigued about the newcomer, waiting until Ash was taking out the trash for the night to ask her, the four of them chatting around the van, Mary looking quite tired and leaning against Freddie, but enjoying their company..

“I am.” Ash agreed, seemingly back to her old self now that August had left, grinning like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This isn’t my first go at uni.” She admitted, and Freddie nodded, passing Mary his lit cigarette.

“I thought he was a talent scout or something; he’s well dressed.” Brian half smiled, and Ash chuckled, shaking her head at him, smile bright. "What was his name?” He asked, and Ash looked a little shocked, looking to Roger, who was suddenly avoiding her gaze.

“Rog didn’t tell you guys?” She asked, smile fading a little into confusion, and Roger snorted out a laugh.

“Told them he seemed like a prick.” He scoffed around his cigarette, and Ash flushed, frowning at him.

“Oi, don’t be mean, Rog! It’s just how he is, he’s always been a bit of a-” and for the barest moments they lock eyes and Ash turns a hilarious shade of pink, they both somehow know what she was about to say, he’s always been a bit of a dominant one, but she can’t bring herself to say those words out loud. She doesn’t want to say it for how it would sound, how it would make the others suspicious, but she knows Roger already is, even if she doesn’t know the full extent; it would be funny if the implication didn’t make Roger’s stomach turn, “a bit of an alpha male, you know.” After a beat, she clears her throat. “But yeah, Doctor Reid is my old Art History professor.”

It doesn’t escape Roger the way she doesn’t say his first name.

“What made you change your mind?” Mary yawns, passing the cigarette back to Freddie, and Ash fixes her with a fond smile. Since Freddie had introduced the women, they’d become fast friends, and Roger had never seen anyone as ready to fight as Ash when the dudes start leering at Mary.

“This was the only place that I could do what I wanted to.” And it sounds so honest that Roger’s tempted to believe it, if not for the memory that surfaces.

It’s her, a few months ago, bathed in moonlight, her head on his chest and his arm around her, ‘I was kicked out of uni once before, you know?’ her voice is thoughtful and he laughs, a little incredulous, asks how, but she’s grinning at him with that wicked smile of hers, and does a good enough job of distracting him that he doesn’t even realise she doesn’t give an answer.

“I’m surprised you even remember his last name,” Freddie laughs, “she couldn’t name a single lecturer on our timetable this semester.” And the others laugh, but Ash just rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want to know their names, it’s not like we’re gonna be friends,” but she does concede after she turns to head inside, “Doctor Reid is a friend of my dad’s, I’ve known him since I was sixteen.” And she smiles so blithely it somehow takes some of the shock out of her statement for Roger, who chokes on the smoke of his cigarette. 

“How did he know you were here?” John’s question cuts through Roger’s spluttering, and Ash stops in her tracks.

“What?” She asked, suddenly confused, a little defensive, as she turns back.

“How did he know you’d be here?” He asks again, so calm and unflinching, not looking away from the sudden flicker of doubt that cross Ash’s face.

“It was coincidence, Deaky; just luck is all.” She says, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She heads back inside. 

The next time they play there, he’s back, and Ash is a sweet, flustered mess, and the dichotomy of this, and who Roger knows her as, is a little shocking. Even Maureen seems concerned, though she doesn’t say anything.

“He’s too old for you.” Roger makes it out the back before Ash does during her usual post-gig break. August went home halfway through the night, and Ash had returned to her normal bright, if a little sultry, bar-persona.

“Excuse me?” She snapped as the door slammed closed, and she looked to where Roger was sitting on her usual milk crate.

“You heard me.” Roger responded, something easing in his chest at the comfort of hearing the hostility in her voice that she’d used when they’d first met. It also hurts a little, to think how he’d prefer the hostility to the cute, blushy mess that August brings out in her. “I saw how he looked at you.” 

“Watch your accusations.” She snapped, but there was actual anger in her words, which surprised Roger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She growled, and it was cold hostility; it wouldn’t lead anywhere fun, and Roger didn’t know how to face this. “I’m an adult, dickhead, so don’t think I can’t make my own decisions.” And her accent’s a little stronger, but her words take a moment to process. “He’s a friend-”

“He calls you baby.” 

That shocks her into silence, and after a moment, a cruel, cold smile spread over her face. They both know, now, that Roger knows exactly what’s going on between her and August. He’d never been good at anything apart from blurting out exactly what was bothering him, and this time was no different.

“Are you jealous? Were you eavesdropping on us? What the fuck?” And there’s no warmth in her harsh laughter. “This is why I don’t do casual.” She spits, and Roger’s whole face lights up with shock, and he barks out a laugh.

“Jealous? Oh Ashley,” and when he says it, she flinches again, and he regrets using the name almost immediately, but he can’t help digging himself deeper, “no, I’m just interested in what a goddamn doctor, who’s almost fifty, mind you, is doing being interested in a girl like you.” 

He watches as she actually has to take a step back, her mouth falling open in shock, eyes suddenly shiny with tears, and he knows he’s fucked up.

“A girl like me...” She whispers it with a laugh, smiling sadly, before finally meeting his gaze. “He... he likes me, Roger.” And fuck, she sounds so vulnerable it’s like a punch to the gut. “After everything I’ve done, he fucking likes me.” And after a beat, she stepped forward. “He still thinks I’m good, and that’s all that matters.”

She cuts her own break short, slamming the door as she heads back inside, leaving Roger to the silence of the car park.

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[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON JINX’S MAIN DANCE NAM SOOJUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 28 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE:14 COMPANY: Midas SECONDARY SKILL: Variety

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): Soojung Bolt, because no one outruns other idols (or their problems) the way she does Hot Body Soo, self explanatory. Thank god the excessive exercising paid off. Sooj, it’s ugly but it’s there. INSPIRATION: Pushed by her friends from school who recognized her talent, Soojung auditioned with quite a few of her friends to various idol agencies in hopes of making it big and debuting in a group together. SPECIAL TALENTS:

athleticism: she runs fast, and puts her all in korean wrestling. there’s a rumor rookies pray they don’t get pitted against her at ISAC

cooking: [ +44, -489 ]: wow she cooks so well for someone who looks like they only have rocks in their head, i’m so fcking hungry just looking at the screen

one-liners/cursing: Jeolla-do’s finest one-liners, insults, and curse words, she knows them all and will share them with or without express permission

NOTABLE FACTS:

younger brother is Seoul FC’s center-forward Nam Taewoong, does not seem to acknowledge this fact very much if at all

has admitted to getting plastic surgery on her nose, eyes, and jaw probably to her manager’s extreme chagrin

was once punched in the face by an Olympus sasaeng after leaving practice, has since distanced herself from the group publicly

prior to her viral fancam was nicknamed JiNX’s most prominent backup dancer” by less-than-kind netizens

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

She’s not an idiot, or at least she’s certainly not as stupid as everyone seems to suggest she is. Banking on new found popularity Soojung’s number one goal is to monetize as much as that popularity as she can, if she can possibly make herself known as something other than the girl who pelvic-thrusted her way into the nation’s attention she wouldn’t oppose that either.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

Nothing lasts forever, certainly not the career of a female idol and though she may not admit it, at least not publicly, she knows there’s nothing left for her once contract expire. She’s too old to continue to pretend that she enjoys putting on cutesy acts or playing dumb and funny for public consumption. In the end, she’ll sink into obscurity and hopefully with enough in the bank to live comfortably in her self-imposed insignificance of an existence. While not ideal, as far as Soojung’s concerned it’s certainly better than aging in front of a camera trying to retain some vestige of a career built off of her late-teens and twenties. Leaving in dignity is the ideal.

IDOL IMAGE

She’s supposed to be like this.

The better part of seven years practicing a relatable smile in the mirror every single day, twenty minutes a day. She’s supposed to be the girl-next-door-turned-sex-pot, or whatever it is her CEO said she was supposed to be. She can’t remember what he said in that meeting all those years ago, it’s not like it matters anyways.

She’s supposed to be like this. Smiling dumbly, content with her lot in life, pretty in a sort of forgettable way.

Maybe that’s what the CEO told her. Smile pretty and let people think what they think. She can’t remember anymore.

If they think she’s an idiot, so be it. That’s what she’s supposed to be like; glib and sedate. No one wants a girl who’s mouth runs a mile a minute, snapping in satoori without a second thought, curse-words decorating sentences like they’re just another adjective.

The people want a girl who’s demure, who knows what to say and how to say it. No one wants the real girl they grew up next to, they want the idealized image of what she should’ve been per societal standards. Pretty with a mouth tinged with the taste of blood, a tongue with noted teeth marks along it’s edges.

She’s supposed to be this fucking fool.

Her manager says no one really wants the reality of who she is. A girl that drinks more than she should, a girl that spends her days off bared-face practicing recipes and watching documentary after documentary. No one begs to see the girl who jogs down the street with her over-sized dog because she’s reformed from her wild child days into a grown woman with a painfully average existence.

People want fantasy, people want the grandiose. Nothing in the reality of who Nam Soojung is at her core fits the desire. But she’s willing to play the part, smile blankly at a camera and basks her in new found fame that’s seven years too late to do her any real good, move her hips in a way that makes tongues and fingers wag all the same.

It’s all for the money. It’s all for the love a desperate little girl was looking for ages ago.

None of it really matters, but she’ll give it a go. If only for a life worth more comfort; pride isn’t worth half as much as everyone seems to claim it is. Not when her checks cash so nicely and everyone bends over backwards to tell her how they adore her.

It’s all bullshit but it’s fine.

This is who she’s supposed to be. This is who she’s supposed to be.

IDOL HISTORY

Life is told in five parts.

i. Her father’s life is ruined the day Soojung is conceived. She knows  this because he tells her just as much over the years.

Nothing is as awful as getting saddled with a baby you don’t want to a girl you don’t love. A lack of control born out of lust and a bottle of beer, that’s all she owes her very life to.

He never lets her forget.

ii. Soojung is good but Taewoong is better.

Maybe it’s three years that make the difference. Maybe it’s their parents halfway falling in love with each other. Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s a boy and the youngest and she’s a girl and the oldest.

Things always work out differently for the pair of them. Even if their mother insists they’re loved equally; the disparity is as obvious as the sun.

The son gets lauded with praise, and the daughter is weighted down with lectures. Halmeoni says this is just how the world works, her mother was raised the same way with her younger brother; it’s just how things work.

Soojung hates it all the same; hates her brother a bit too just for making things that much harder.

No one cares if she runs fast because Taewoong’s always faster. No one cares if Soojung gets first place at a talent show because Taewoong has brains in his feet and the football scout said he was a prodigy.

No one cares about Soojung because the world revolves around Nam Taewoong who clings to her like a shadow.

She can’t stand him, not really. Not when she’s the only one who sees him as he is, a sniveling brat who steals away affection and has the nerve to beg her for it too as if he doesn’t get enough.

Sons receive too much and daughters too little in their home.

It’s the way life is but even still she can’t stand it.

iii. The story goes like this:

Soojung, Eunhye, Minsoo, Kyungwan, and Jinah all audition for Midas entertainment. Ride a train up to Seoul and try their hands at fate.

The details get muddled in the middle. Someone says it’s because they’re all Gemini fans, a group of men singing sweet songs and gyrating motivates a group of teenage girls from bumfuck nowhere to make something of themselves. The other version of events is Jinah’s a great singer, Soojung is the best dancer around town, Eunhye is the prettiest girl any of them know, Minsoo’s hilarious and a decent dancer, Kyungwan has a nice voice and charisma no one can touch.

They’re the perfect girl group set to take the nation by storm. Only nobody knows it yet.

It’s all just a fairy-tale though, Soojung still remembers the truth.

She begs and pleads her friends to come with her to Seoul. Fills their heads up with stupid little dreams, her stupid little dreams, and convinces them they have the God-given talent to be someone the whole nation wants to know. She begs them because she doesn’t want to be rejected alone in a city she doesn’t know.

She lies. She lies. She’s a liar.

No one she knows is as talented as her. Jinah is only okay, Eunhye’s pretty only to countryside eyes, Minsoo can’t dance but she tries her hardest, Kyungwan has the kind of personality that only gets you far in Jeolla-do.

But Soojung’s different. Soojung has life in her bones, vitality in her steps; a God-given talent. People flock to see her back home, they only watch the others out of polite respect.

All of the stories end the same way.

Soojung becomes the only trainee, two of the others go to other companies but end up back home with the rest of their cronies after a few years.

Soojung is the only one who matters in the end.

iv. Halmeoni sends her letters every week. They all read the same way.

Be pragmatic, be kind, be resilient, be strong, work hard.

It’s as if she knows he only granddaughter has turned to a holy terror. Divine intuition, she thinks it’s called.

Arrogant, teenage vain-glory takes hold. Soojung is good and so is everyone else, and they’re all vying for the same stupid little spots. Familiarity breeds contempt breeds a bitter girl who’s a little crueler than necessary because she can be.

Insecurity breeds a girl who pushes herself too hard in every which direction because she’s desperate to be someone who matters, desperate to be another face smiling on a screen for millions to be seen.

She wants to be loved, she has to be adored. Her confidence is too fragile to accept any other option as a possibility.

So Soojung does what she has to. She gets the plastic surgery some higher up suggests with the smaller face and bigger eyes and nicer nose, learns how to be more charming, gets a crash course in the world of sex appeal and what it means and what it earns girls like her.

And when the day is done she runs over to her little group of friends who are just like her with frayed nerves and driven solely by hormones and desperate desires.

It pays off in the end, she knows it does.

v. In a way, it’s all for naught.

All the blood, sweat, and tears. All the wasted hours spent in a practice room, all the youth she wasted living for some desperate desire that she could be adored.

It’s all for nothing.

People like her, but only as Soojung, the other girl in JiNX. No one really loves her as Nam Soojung, most people don’t even care.

Nothing really matters because she’ll never be the nation’s first love. She could claw her eyes out to be the nation’s second or even third love, but everything pales when she stands only a few feet away from the first.

Her father always used to tell her brother, “if you’re not second you’re last.” Soojung doesn’t understand what he means until she’s standing five feet behind the nation’s first love and two other people who are a little bit more than she is.

Her manager says it’s a lack of versatility that’s the issue. She can’t act, she can’t really sing, she can’t rap, all she can do is dance. It doesn’t matter if she’s funnier than everyone else. It’s what people pick up on and run with that matters. Girls who are relatively funny are a dime a dozen.

No one cares.

Even still, Soojung pushes herself a little harder to be someone people could love. She smiles brighter, eats less, works out more, makes herself more attractive in the ways society demands, moves a little more sensually. She could be the nation’s second love or even third love. She’s willing to settle.

Still, no one cares.

She runs fast, she laughs loudly, she looks every fan in the eye, acts graciously, pretends it doesn’t hurt that people call her a fucking fool, pretends she doesn’t know the internet calls her the nation’s first back up dancer. It’s back-breaking work to get the love of the public and it doesn’t pay.

No one cares about Nam Soojung, not really.

A rumor of an iljin past complete with bullying, smoking, and underage drinking comes out. Midas releases a statement about a nice girl from the outskirts of Gwangju who used to write her grandmother every week as a trainee complete with pictures of letters and her grandmother who smiles with closed eyes and a chubby arm raised.

Another rumor flies around about a relationship with an Olympus member floats around Pann. Pre-debut photos of her with her old nose and smaller eyes and bigger jaw, and there are notes from crazy fans about how she’s hung around their boys for too long, desperate for love and affection. A few comments she’s just desperate for attention. Then it culminates with a girl punching her in the eye one day after practice for the next comeback and Midas releasing a statement about criminal actions and false allegations with no proof.

A million rumors could brew, none of it means much until it’s far too late for her Soojung’s liking. No one cares until Soojung no longer bothers.

The girl who’s desperate for attention feels a lifetime away by the time Soojung finally gets the notoriety she spent years searching for.

It turns out pretty smiles into cameras and painstaking work don’t win a nation’s heart. It’s all hip movement that leaves little to the imaginations and smiles that say “come fuck me” is all that anyone wants.

But it’s too many years too late and Soojung can’t truly be bothered by the time what she’s looking for finally finds her.

“I’m not so needy for love these days,” she tells her manager when he asks why she doesn’t seem happier about her situation, “maybe when I was younger but none of it really matters now that we’re at the end of the road does it?”

Adoration, as it turns out, is overrated. It doesn’t win her father’s love, doesn’t make her better than Taewoong. It doesn’t make her relationships any better. Doesn’t make her feel any better any better about the pitfalls of a somewhat pathetic life that she only regrets in retrospect.

All the time she wasted wanting to be loved. All the years she wasted screaming into a void, being the worst possible version of herself. All the time wasted living as a human train-wreck that only serves to disappoint. A nation’s love doesn’t make up for any of it, not the way she thought it would.

There’s too little validation for her liking.

In the end, the belated affection of a nation only earns her more work and grief. Still, the love of a nation lines her wallet nicely and maybe that’s all that matters to Nam Soojung these days.