#also the marines too..... jesus

[hauntingblue]

I might be dumb. Only 2 episodes left....

[sleep-nurse]

Freddy fazbear anon here

what... the bite of '83 was shown, the bit of '87 was not shown and it is heavily implied to be a guard????? There's only one crying child, which is also heavily implied if not outright shown is the son of William Afton and brother of Michael Afton. A child whom was seen in the games crying.

We indeed see him die by the hand of his brother while being bullied, crushed by fredbear's faulty suit. Bitten even. Very sorry you have to be caught in this WIllow, this gentlewoman might have confused some of the lore. (you can address me she/her too)

For your time I will ask you, do you think willow would enjoy marine biology?

...........he absolutely would...........................<-pretending i didn't hear anything about this fnaf lore

[garbinge]

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty. 

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08. 

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money. 

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs. 

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?” 

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh. 

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders. 

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.” 

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report. 

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative. 

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut. 

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds. 

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras. 

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away. 

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed. 

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him. 

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head. 

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes. 

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over. 

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. 

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.” 

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated. 

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.” 

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face. 

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him. 

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.” 

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you. 

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back. 

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist. 

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER. 

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you. 

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements. 

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked. 

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you. 

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out. 

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you. 

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him. 

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.” 

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

[bcdaily]

An Influx of James/Lily...stuff

So, this is the first week in...lol, a year?...that I haven't had mountains of freelancing to finish or grappling with utter burnout or just...yeah lol whatever life. So I'm at Starbucks now with the freedom to ~~write whatever I want~~ which has left me dazzlingly undecided, which lead me on a little foray into my Google Docs.

And the thing is...I've started so many one-shots or stories or somethings or another that are not going to go anywhere because I don't even remember what they were. And I'm too sad to delete them, so I thought I'd just...throw them up here under a cut?

So enjoy, these random paragraphs of the graveyard of Bee's Fics That Never Were:

Something AU? About Lily house/petsitting?? There are fish??

Everything was going swimmingly well until Lily almost killed both the fish and the heir.

"Whoah—whoah!" the latter had been shouting as Lily had been shrieking, the tidy bowl of fish in her hands rattling and sloshing water over its rounded rim as bodies collided inside the posh townhouse foyer, and Lily's instinctive reaction had been a sad attempt at weaponizing paltry plastic. Blindly, mid-shriek, she'd shoved the fish bowl like a battering ram the intruder's way, endangering both innocent marine life, most eardrums within range, and Euphemia Potter's pristine hardwood floors.

Also, Lily realises approximately twenty seconds too late, Euphemia Potter's similarly pristine only child.

Not likely to be keen on the destruction of either, Euphemia.

Hands down, Fleamont would care most about the fish.

"Jesus—shit. Shit." Lily jerks the bowl back, lifting it up to inspect the damage, her frantic gaze bouncing between the man she's just attacked and the tiny sea life she may have just murdered. "I'm so—are you—are they—are they alive?"

"Is this a burglary? Are you stealing them?" asks the heir, the hefty armful of papers and books he'd been holding now mostly scattered by his feet. A few industrious, aerodynamic pages are still floating down, lapping leisurely by their legs. He'd dropped them, back during the shrieking and colliding and shame. Now, he is standing very still, but nodding very specifically at the fish. "If so, I will not stand in your way."

"What?"

"Take them. Please."

"The fish?"

"Yes."

"I'm not stealing fish," Lily responds dumbly, eyes shifting from the heir back to the precious cargo he is honestly being a bit too generous in looking to offload. Her mind has quit whirling enough to concentrate on the contents. Immediately, she begins to tally up fish. Four, five, six...fuck, were there two of the blue ones? Is the orange one moving? Is that a death float?

One fish, two fish. Red fish, slew fish.

The heir is still talking.

"More of an art thief, then?" he asks. His hand lifts, elegant-looking and long-fingered, moving to straighten the trendy specs sitting upon his patrician nose, which had gone askew in the scuffle. "There's a bloody ugly statue of some tragic Greek in the dining room. Worth loads. Grab and go. I'll assist hefting, even. No charge."

"What?" There are eleven fish. Eleven, glorious, wonderful, still somehow living fish. Relief is a drowning tidal wave nearly pulling Lily under. Her knees go fair weak with it. She attempts to shake the remnants of shock and panic off like a sodden dog, but hasn't quite managed it when she gives her attention back to the man in front of her. He's quite tall. His hair is dark and haphazard, like Fleamont's. "That's not how burglary works."

"Are you certain?"

"Not from personal experience, but a woman can take some educated stances."

"So you're not a burglar."

"No." This is a ludicrous conversation. From the smile playing at his lips, Lily reckons the heir thinks so, too. She's trying to remember his name. Fleamont had told her it at some point, maybe even multiple points. It's something traditional, one syllable. She'd had some worry about that, with parents called mouthfuls like Fleamont and Euphemia. Fleamont's favorite fish was called Jeremiah Rumplestiltskin. "I'm Lily. The housesitter."

"The housesitter." He says the word with the flourish of a brightened lightbulb, ah yes, there it is. He bends, beginning to gather his belongings from the foyer floor.

++++

Something canon?? I actually think this might have been a sequel to a one-shot? Maybe??

It's become a game now, and they are both very, very good at it.

“What are you staring at?” she baldly asks that very first Monday morning, barely twenty-four hours after what James had quickly begun to refer to in his head as The Age-Old Snogging Incident (subtitle: Wildest Dreams Defined).

They are eating breakfast in the Great Hall, and save for the seven seconds it had taken James to thrust the wrapped Brewing Cauldrons record at her yesterday with a hurried “Happy birthday, Evans,” before scurrying off in the most pathetic of manners, this is the first time he’s encountered her. She looks much the same as she always does (brilliant), and he’s doing much the same as he always does (eating lathered toast, subtly watching her, hoping no one realizes he’s subtly watching her), but this time, she calls him out on it.

She’s seated across the table and two seats over. They are surrounded by people, but they may as well be alone. Noise buzzes in James’s ears as he stares fixedly at her smugly arched eyebrows, her tellingly quirked lips (the same ones that had snogged him). He is moments away from stuttering out an embarrassed, evasive response, likely flushing and bumbling at being caught, because she's right, he is staring...

But then he realizes something.

He is not the only one.

Lily Evans, that coy conundrum, is staring fixedly at him, as well.

More specifically, she is staring fixedly at his mouth.

Fucking hell, she’s thinking about it, too.

It's sudden, stunning awareness. It's wild, uncontrollable confidence. It's unproven, untested, unmitigated victory and arrogance, a feeling James is not entirely unfamiliar with, but never--never--in regards to her.

“I’m not staring at anything,” he somehow finds himself answering, slowly biting into his toast like it's a token power move. He takes his leisurely time swallowing. “What are you staring at?”

“Me?” Her eyebrows have arched even higher. She licks her lips. “I’m not staring.”

“No?”

“No.”

“My mistake, then.”

"That's right."

"Cheers."

Neither of them breaks eye contact. Neither of them even moves. It is a battle of pointed, heady, bloody fucking hell flirtatious wills, and now that James has realized she is not the only one with power here, he is damn well not going to give it up.

"What are you two doing?" Hestia Jones eventually asks, regarding them with vague suspicion. "What's going on?"

James bites his toast.

Lily stirs her tea.

"Nothing," they both say.

But ten minutes later, as James is somewhat giddily taking his time in exiting the Hall for Charms, Lily slinks up behind him, grabs his arm, and yanks him back as their mates sail unassumingly though the Great Hall toward lessons.

"You're so obvious," she hisses. "Control yourself."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," James returns loftily. "But for shame, Evans--can't you keep your hands off me for even a moment?"

James nods down to where her fingers are still curled around his biceps. He expects her to drop it immediately like a scorching hot pan, but instead she gets a wicked sort of gleam in her green eyes, curls her fingers around even further, and squeezes.

"Mm. So tense." The quiet husk in her voice sends a string of shivers straight down James's spine. One of her fingers has begun to stroke. "I know a few helpful ways to remedy that...but I'm afraid you're just a bit too young to hear them."

"Corrupter of youth," James accuses, though it mostly comes out as a choke.

Cruel, cruel witch that she is, Lily gives a jaunty shrug, lets loose his arm, and with nothing more than a conciliatory pat, stalks off past him.

The point, admittedly, goes to her. But James is nothing if not a sportsman.

Later that same afternoon, Marc Darndis spills an entire beaker of uncooked Brinstin Brew down his front in Potions, and James takes a moment in the ensuing chaos to turn around to the workstation behind him. He watches Lily as she diligently keeps working, then leans his elbows against the table top, sighs heavily, and says, "Poor Darndis. He'll be in the shower for ages trying to scrape that off. Unfortunate, I suppose...but then again, I am personally a very firm advocate for a nice, long shower."

Lily doesn't even glance up at this comment. Maybe her eye twitches a bit, but mostly she just continues chopping up her beetle parts.

"If you don't turn around and mix in your daffodil root," she says eventually, "you're going to need a nice, long shower. When your cauldron explodes."

"Nothing beats a good shower," James continues, like she hasn't spoken. "You know, when the steam starts to billow, and you take your first step in, and the hot water hits your skin, dripping down..."

James manages to get through a good thirty-five seconds of discussing raunchy bathing habits before Lily's face has gone so completely red, it very nearly matches her hair.

(Truly, if James's bothersome cauldron hadn't chosen that exact moment to go on and explode, he reckons he may very well have cracked her.)

(Still, it's worth the detention Slughorn gives him, and the victorious look Lily shoots him. Overall: Point Potter.)

That Monday sets the tone for the following weeks, unleashing this new, maddening dynamic wherein James is now not only allowed to flirt shamelessly and ruthlessly with Lily Evans...it is quite simply expected. The pair of them are both so grossly over-the-top with it, it is very nearly laughable.

She shows up to breakfast one morning with an extra shirt button undone and glossy lips, and James has to squint at the ceiling for a good three minutes before he's in a dignified enough condition to rise from the table.

He "accidentally" leaves his Charms textbook in his dormitory, inquires if he can look on with hers, and spends the entirety of the lesson invading her personal space to her ever-obvious reluctant delight.

They cross paths in the common room, where she promptly begins to read aloud from a Witch Weekly article entitled "The Sexy Art of Snogging" (with charade accompaniment).

James arrives back from Quidditch practice one afternoon, sweaty and still in-kit, and finds her gawking at him by the portrait hole. He loudly hums the chorus to "Mrs. Robinson" as he passes her by, and hears her muffled laughter as the Fat Lady swings closed behind him.

Somehow, they're sitting together during History now, and spend nearly every lesson shooting hurried, sloppy notes between them:

It's so sad how badly you want to kiss me, Evans.

I could weep with how much of a projection that is, Potter.

Shoot those lusty looks elsewhere, I will not be seduced. (how long did he just say this essay was meant to be?)

If I wanted you seduced, you'd be seduced. (I don't know I wasn't listening, go ask Remus.)

I'm too young for these types of conversations. How dare you. (two scrolls)

I guess I'll go find someone else to have them with for the next thirty-two days, then. (thks)

Speaking of mates...the lot of them know nothing. Or at least, James hasn't told his--he can't be certain what Lily has divulged. As far as the lads are concerned, James and Lily are merely engaged in a mysterious, extended battle of wills, their hushed conversations never disclosed, the prize an unconfirmed puzzle. Peter finds the anomaly entertaining. Sirius is primarily disinterested. Remus likely figured the whole thing out on day two, but is much too polite to intrude.

So on it goes, just the two of them--tempting and toying and teasing and TK.

James loves his birthday. He has always loved his birthday. It's the one day of the year when no one's allowed to tell you off for being utterly self-involved, and James has always been keen on that type of lenience. He fancies cake and presents and embarrassing traditions. He doesn't shy from attention or parties or mugs of beverages clinked in his honour. But this birthday...

January quickly shifts to February. February fades into March. James has never been so keenly aware of the days of his youth ticking by as he is at this particular moment. Last week, Lily had cornered him in the library stacks, had used that sad, predictable old ploy of reaching for a book beyond his shoulder in order to brush her body full against his, and James had very nearly threw the whole game and timeline out the window then and there. He was losing his mind. She was keenly enjoying it. If he wasn't very nearly certain the tricks and teasing were getting to her too, he'd likely have put a stop to them ages ago.

But Lily Evans is not the sort of girl who would even vaguely entertain a bloke if she wasn't interested. James, of all people, ought to know that. Yes, their blatant harassment of each other these past eight weeks has been so wildly extraneous in every way...but that doesn't mean there isn't something lying beneath. There is for James, in any case. And really, she'd started it. He doesn't exactly know what any of it means, but he reckons he can't be be castigated for counting down the hours until 27 March with bated breath.

It's Thursday, three days until his birthday. 

+++++

Some canon smut that never was??

"This," James mutters, as her mouth peppers his chin, "is an insulting cliche."

She hums a vague acknowledgment at this comment—or is that a groan?—but continues undeterred in wrestling apart the buttons of his shirt. The sharp half-moons of her nails scrape his chest in a scrambling kitten's scratch as the paltry buttons of his cotton school shirt pop. There is a cool June wind drifting in from the mooncast evening outside the nearby doorway, leading out onto the ramparts. It hits his now exposed skin in soft, brisk billows.

Her teeth bite down on his pulse point. James teeters to the right, nearly tipping back down the steep spiral staircase.

He grabs her around the waist, swinging them around until her back is pressed against the cold stone wall.

She gives a light oomph...then continues to nibble.

"The Astronomy Tower," James snarls.

She has made work of half his shirt buttons. Sighs. "James."

"Really. 'Meet me,' she says. Then drags me to the Astronomy Tower. I feel cheap and tawdry."

[drdemonprince]

When other people say that they do not have enough time to get something done, they (often, if they're quite healthy) mean they are taking into account the time it takes to do the laundry and arrange new pieces of furniture and cook dinner and meet up with friends to see a movie and run to the post office or the hair dresser and take the dog for walks and do the dishes and paint their nails and drive to the store and go to their cousin's wedding and go to the barbecue their friend is throwing on the weekend

they don't winnow their life down to just spending time at the computer, working from when they wake up until they cannot focus their eyes anymore, granola bars, coffee, and bottles of water all around them because of course they did not take time to have lunch or breakfast, only dragging themselves away from work when they are truly too exhausted to do any of it anymore, and then lacking the energy to do much of anything that remains of life but to eat a tiny bit more, sponge themselves off, and go to sleep.

i just saw a video of a fursuiter on their bed, legs kicked back, head propped on their hands, delightedly announcing that after many years of hard work they had finally finished their Master's degree. And some part of me, some sick withered part, thought really? you had time to do a Master's degree while also getting a fursuit done? and going to conventions, presumably? you had time in the day to research fursuit makers, have a sona designed and drawn by someone else (or to draw it yourself), to contact a maker to make a duck tape dummy of yourself, and to have a friend over to help you make it and to cut it off of you, to send it in the mail to the maker, to then get it and make videos? you had time to set up this beautiful bedroom that i see in your video, with a soft pink sham on the bed and LED lights behind your bookshelf and lamps and all kinds of stuffed toys? you had a life? you were out playing, and dancing, and pursuing your hobbies, and you did a master's degree?

because when i was working on my doctorate, there was nothing. three layers of foam on the floor with a fitted sheet over it. a folding card table from aldi that had cost $40 that my grandparents got me. no food in the fridge. no time to even get the internet installed, just stolen wi-fi when my laptop could pick it up. i woke up, got dressed, and slunk into the office. i sat alone in the dark working until my hunger made me furious and i could not write another word. and then i walked to the grocery store, got something to subsist on, went home, ate, kickboxing video, went to sleep. every day. with almost nothing breaking the routine.

and ive gotten better, so much better, but my brain still kind of works that way. i feel like i have to quit my job and stop being a writer if i want to have hobbies. to paint my bedroom. to marinate a meat for longer than fifteen minutes. to get a driver's license again. to take a trip. but i dont want to be like that any more. how do people know when to stop? i feel like i have to give everything my absolute all until there is nothing left or else i have done nothing. i feel that i would have to treat a hobby like a job to get it done. I feel that anything that takes more than two minutes is a huge waste of time i must feel guilty for. i am working on all these things. jesus i have been working on them for years at this point. but because i have been so successful at telling people to do less, i get pulled in. interview. workshop invitation. email. urgent in the subject line. call from my agent. meeting request from my boss. new book idea, better sell it now while my sales figures still look good. recording studio session. deadline. writing. can you talk about this. can you talk about that. tag. email. book idea. deadline. long heartfelt email. still so often i have to take my own damn advice.

and this is why i am getting a fursuit made!! and going to cons! and going to leather and latex events! and making socials that are separate for these things!! i am going to let myself be silly and soft and do frivolous things. i am so sick of what i do to myself, all the pursuit of seeming like a strong mature adult.

[nervousd]

Chapter Three— Unexpected visitors

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#SYNOPSIS— The dead come back to visit

#WARNING(S)— This is a dark fic, implications of abandonment, implications of being a bad mother, child abandonment, implications of discrimination, implications of physical abuse, yandere, unhealthy obsession, possessive, prey/hunter dynamics, scent kink, creepy behavior, throat usage?/does that even make sense?, forced kissing, noncon kissing???)) quaritch goes feral, unwanted touching

#CHARACTER(S)— Recom! colonel Miles Quaritch

#NOTE— so I lied— the good stuff will definitely be on the next chapter. I’m also planning to make a Drabble to make up for it

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Quaritch extended out his palm towards the diagram ❝ The target is pretty much this whole island group— ❞ he was cut of by Spider ducking beneath his large frame, he glanced down at his son smiling briefly, ❝— Never been up there, you know those waters doc. What kind of indigenous we got? ❞ Scoresby gestured towards the man on the opposite side of the diagram. The doc was startled out of his own thinking, hesitating briefly as he glanced at the blue Recom looking at him with piercing yellow eyes ❝ Well— uh we got metkayina mostly some Ta’unui maybe fifty villages— ❞

Having enough of his rambiling, Quaritch cut off him with a puzzled face, ❝ uh you are who?❞ he didn’t need to know what specific species of na’vi there was— all he needed to know where was the nearest village nearby to get stated on his mission ❝ Oh I’m uh Doctor Ian Garvin, a marine biologist ❞ he extended out his palm for a handshake but was ultimately ignored by Quaritch, he dropped down his hand in embarrassment, ❝ Fifty villages— a hundred villages. I don’t care we’ll search them all ❞ Scoresby scoffed, and snapped back with an obnoxious tone ❝ I hunt Tulkun, that’s what I’m rigged for that’s all my guys do. I’ve got quotas to meet ❞

A rotten wry smile split Quaritch face, he showed a smile with far too many teeth— teeth to sharp his lips curled up. He looked like a happy predator with upturned lips, ❝ I’ll be nice once than I won’t ❞ Behind him, Lyle lifted his respiratory mask taking a sip of carbon. His yellow eyes gleamed, as he watched the interaction between the two of them. Scoresby pursed his lips, not expecting to be threatened in his own ship, ❝ Oh if you can’t get out of it, get into it. All crew to stations! ❞

—

It was difficult being an outsider among the na’vi, unable to fully understand the ways of being‘ One of the people ‘ as they say. But they were welcoming to say the least— a bit skittish but nothing you can do about it. Had it not been for Jake sully— Toruk Makto as they call him; you would have never been accepted into the Ta’unui clan. You weren’t ‘ one of the people ‘ your simply coexisting with them. It was difficult at first, finding yourself frustrated with them— and yourself. It was a horrible decision to leave the forest but if you didn’t then you would be stuck with him— burden by the responsibility of being a mother. So you packed your things and left—

Gone the next day leaving no trace behind but a few personal belongings. It was heartless— to abandon a child but you couldn’t bare to look at it. Finding bile crawling up your throat whenever you ever so glanced at it. But that was years ago and you can only find yourself wanting to learn about their life now— only a little. You come up with your own conclusions, that’s he’s fine— doing much better now that you were gone. Has a happy family that gives him all the affection and care he needs— anything to lesson the guilt of abandoning him.

You were startled out of your thoughts as a blue hand appeared in your vision. You jumped like a feral cat, whisking around as your eyes caught culprit of a sheepish male na’vi. ❝Jesus Christ— must you always do this to me? ❞ The male na’vi blinked, cocking his head to the side as he stared at you with wide eyes, ❝ I do not understand this sky people talk— what is this Jesus Christ? ❞ You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal ❝ Dont worry about it— Sky people nonsense and all that. Your English has gotten good ❞ at your compliment, the male puffed up his chest in pride. You scoff at his flared ego— ever since you’ve been here this male na’vi was always by your side, claiming he was curious about the sky people.

He’s become your student— only for a short while. You’ve been teaching him English for quite some and was surprised to see him learn the language very quick. It brought a sense of peace towards you— familiarity. It’s as if you were back in the past with Grace helping her at the school. A wave of nostalgia hit you, often times you missed the moments you had with everyone. You smiled briefly, the past would always sneak upon you leaving nothing but a longing to see everyone. But you had made your bed— choosing to leave and abandon everyone. Now you must lay in your choices. ❝ You are friends with Toruk Makto, no? ❞

Confused by the sudden interest in an old friend, you nodded, ❝ Yeah— Jake sully, what’s the sudden interest in him? ❞ he hesitated briefly, ❝ He is residing in a metkayina clan— not far from here— there has been talk of war following him ❝ Your lips pursed in response, brows furrowing. ❝ That is odd— not something he would do. Who knows maybe he just wanted a vacation? ❞ He looked at you with wide eyes, ❝ You are certain of this? ❞ You hesitated briefly, you weren’t— Jake would of never fled the Omaticaya— especially Neytiri, seeing as how she loved her home and would even die for her people. This wasn’t something they would do— not unless they were running from something— or someone.

But no one could posses such a threat that would cause Jake to flee— and if they did, we’ll they were dead. But you couldn’t cause panic— ❝ I’m sure, who knows maybe it’s for diplomat reasons ❞ He seemed satisfied with your answer and bided you goodbye. You were back to being alone— busying yourself to your own devices. But worry seemed to overshadow your thoughts— worming their way inside your mind. If Jake was here than what of the boy you gave birth to? Jake didn’t adopt him— no the boy had foster parents that took care of him along with other human children that were left behind. But Jake promised— he promised to watch over him. Did Jake bring him here to the ocean clans? Or did he leave him back at the Omaticaya?

Worry gnawed at your gut— you couldn’t bare to risk seeing the boy. Your stomach churned in disgust— you were cut off by a horn being blasted through the air— your stomach dropped. Through the years residing in the clan not once has the horn been used. Distant cries were heard thought the beach and a loud rumbling sound swallowed their petrified cries. You scrambled towards the noise, terror sticking at your nerves as a large ship came into view, ❝ Oh fuck— fuck! ❞ you scrambled backwards running towards your small hut. You gathered your necessity items, shoving the basic necessities in a small bag.

None of this made sense— they shouldn’t be here, not once had they come near the islands. They were often seen out in the open waters hunting tulkun. This was different— had they come here to threaten or kill the na’vi residing in this island? Peace was not on the table so the like hold of the other two options happening were possible. You flinched at the loud cries coming from the na’vi and the curses of your mother tongue being shouted out. If they caught you— there was no doubt you might be publicly executed for betraying your race.

And so you hid— lost in the wildlife of Pandora you seeked shelter behind a trunk covered by bushes. Your breaths came out labored, you peeked from a small opening seeing the na’vi being rounded up on the clearing. You leaned forward trying to get a better view unaware of the footsteps behind you. You let out a scream as a hand tugged you up from your hiding place. You struggled immediately, clawing at the hands that held onto you— ❝ Stay still—! I got a traitor here! ❞ your attacker dragged you towards the clearing, gun pressing against your back.

You tripped over your own feet a couple of times as you were dragged to the clearing. Countless of na’vi were forced to kneel onto the sand with guns and tasers threatening to cause harm. There were avatars among them humans, dressed in full camo gear with weapons strapped towards their vest. The color drained from your face as you made eye contact with piercing yellow eyes, ❝ What the actual fuck— ❞ you were starting to panic, kicking your feet and acting like a mad woman— you were unsure of what to do but your brain screamed at you to run.

In front of you was the man you once thought was dead— no you were certain he was dead. His skeleton was out in the forest decomposing on itself. Yet, here he was, breathing and certainly alive. He was back from the dead and this time he came back blue. Beside him was a human boy wearing na’vi clothes, he was covered in blue stripes. A flicker of recognition sparkled in your eyes— your breath hitched at your throat, ❝no— no! ❞ you shook your head refusing to accept the truth. A newfound strength courses through your body.

You elbowed the guy on the ribs making a run for it, ❝ Don’t shoot! I need her alive! ❞ a familiar voice ran along the clearing— it was him. Colonel Miles Quaritch was back from the dead and came back bigger, stronger and faster in the body of a na’vi—a species he hated with a passion. But how was that even possible? You wouldn’t stay to find out— you had to leave— to hide

❝ Get back here! ❞ He roared out, the sheer volume and grit of his voice caused the ends of your hairs to stand up. He launched himself to your pursuit, screaming out in rage. He was hot on your tail, commanding you stop running but it only caused you to pump your legs faster. Soon enough you heard him right behind you— you glanced back a mistake you realized as he ran at you in a primal way. Hands and feet— claws out for a grip against the terrain he pounced on you. ❝C’mere! ❞ You ducked out the way, barley missing his grasp but not without paying the price of your shirt being torn by his claws. You slammed yourself against a trunk barley missing his claws. You scrambled back to your feet leaving him in the dust.

❝ Stop running! ❞ he screamed out, ❝ you’re suppose to be with me— You’re mine— mine! ❞ Sharp canines gritted against each other and bared into a sneer, his brows were furrowed and yellow eyes were wide like saucers— he looked insane as if he submitted himself to his primal instincts. He was fixated on getting you; even going as far as his abandoning his gun— anything that slowed him down. A shaky sigh left his lips as he gripped the garment of your torn blouse— he inhaled deeply pressing it against his nose. He swears he could taste your scent on his tongue. It’s yours— and you’re here with him.

He exhaled shaky, pocketing the torn piece of clothing inside his pocket. He glanced back up finding you no where in his sight. His ears flattened against his skull, tail laying limp, ❝Don’t be mean now honey— ❞ his voice drawled out, the smirk wiping off his face seeing as there was no indication to where you could possibly be. He scouted out the area in a frenzy coming to a halt as a thud behind him makes him turn around in a swift. He rushes over to the sound pushing away the wildlife , ❝ Gotcha! ❞ his excitement died down when all he found was a small animal cowering in fear. He let out a hiss of frustration, tail whipping around as his anxiety clawed at him.

Panic rose as he searched every creek he could find— which way did you go? His frustration bubbled in his chest, ❝ If you don’t come out right now I swear I’ll paint that ass red and blue! ❞ He looked left and right, running in circles looking for any sign or indication to where you could possibly be. Meanwhile, you had ran as far as you could ending up near your shack. You stoped to catch your breath, heart beating against your chest in an erratic way. You bended over placing your hand on your knees— you had lost him for now. But what can you do before he catches up to you again? For how long can you evade his grasp? Leaving the island would be impossible. This was a hopeless scenario for you— there was no way to flee and running was the only option. You could hide in your shack but wouldn’t that be the first place they would check?

You couldn’t give up now, standing straight you began to plot your next move. Hiding was a no go— you need small places somewhere a na’vi can’t fit in. You could hear the distant scream of your name out in the woods, your head whipped to the sound. Tripping over your own steps you decided to push more distance away from him. You knew exactly where to go— you’ve known this island for years. He doesn’t, all that matters is making sure he doesn’t catch up to you before you get there. Soon enough you heard a branch break beside you— you don’t have time to register the force that impacted you.

You feel like you’re flying through the air— unable to grasp what’s going on. He’s grabbing you and wrestling you beneath him— a coarse laugh came from him, his canines glistened from the copious amount of times of running his tongue over them— unable to swallow his exceeding amount of saliva. His tail thumped behind him in excitement, ❝ I got you, sweetheart— you’re mine now ❞ his chuckles were hoarse, shoulders shaking as deep rumbles came within his chest.

He pressed his nose against the juncture of your nape, curling himself to your size. You froze— did he just sniff you? He’s panting, whole body trembling. ❝ You done teasing me? You and I have some unfinished business to get to. How about we finish that family that we started? Give the brat a couple of siblings while you and I get to be acquainted once again ❞ You shook your head frantically, the thought of having another child with him disgust you. Tears slid down your cheeks freely, you wanted to scream and cry out. This was a nightmare come to life. You let out a squeal as you felt his palm reach down and grabbed a handful of your ass, groping and squeezing the flesh. He rained down numerous kisses on your neck, nipping and lapping at your flesh. You were frozen in place— He was terrifying, and too fucking big. His whole body encased yours. Quaritch looked at you, pupils blown wide—. Your attempts to trash away from his grip was useless against his strength and size. He was overwhelming— you could only see and feel him. Both of his massive biceps were placed beside you, lowering his chest towards back.

Back when he was human he always towered over you but now as a na’vi? He was huge— it was like you were his own personal human doll. You could hear shuffling behind you— you were manhandled as if you were nothing but cargo. You were face to face with him. His biceps kept you locked in his embrace, lowering himself towards you. He was starved for you— relishing every touch he could get from you. You however— we’re frightened and did everything possible to get away from his embrace. You wiggled and kicked helplessly under his strong grip— his arms tightened around you like a snake coiling around it’s prey. It only just hit how strong and big his was.

He hugged you even closer— if it was even possible to do so. Pressing your body against his, he let out a deep low moan making you let out a squeak as you felt his canines drag across your flesh. He leaned down again— seeing his face dip towards yours; you turned your face to the side avoiding his lips from touching yours. His lips skimmed over your cheeks— a low animalistic snarl escaped from him. His fingers dug into your jaws and wrenched your face to look back at him. ❝ You will not take this from me, girl— I have waited so long to have you ❞

His lips pressed against yours in a messy kiss, he pressed his tongue against your mouth. Claws prodding your jaw to open up as he swallowed your mouth whole. Tears streamed down your cheeks— He doesn’t get to have you— you weren’t his. You wish you could tell him this but all you can squeak out are muffled sobs. Quaritch was overjoyed— a sense of peace came flowing to him. You were back in his arms, exactly where he wanted you. Nothing can stop him now— not even the order he was given from his predecessor— you were meant to be his— human or na’vi doesn’t matter.

Your attempts to break away from the kiss were futile against his overwhelming strength. He deepened the kiss, tongue lashing at ever crook and crane he could find. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you felt his tongue slither down your throat. Your fist slammed against his chest seeing black dots prick at the corner of your vision. Feeling you go limp in his arms caused him to draw back from your mouth. His hold on you however remained— a string of saliva connected both of your lips. Face running red, you stared at him unable to fully wrap your head on just what happened

He stared back down at you, completely unfazed. As if this was the most natural thing to do ❝ What? Cat got your tongue, hmm Princess? ❞ , you shook your head to the side a couple of times; mumbling out incoherent words. His ears however managed to hear you every well, ❝ You’re not him— how are you even alive? You died— ❞ you babbled out— pawing against his chest pathetically, pushing and slapping with your weak strength. A mistake you were quick to realize as he slammed you back to the ground caging you in his arms, ❝ Just relax, princes I’ll explain it to ya— you see I’m a clone of that old man. He’s deceased— he was weak ❞ he hissed, ❝ I’m better— I’m stronger and I am going to take what is rightfully mine; starting with you ❞

Small wheezes came from you, you looked at him as if he was absurd ❝ I don’t belong to you— ❞ his fingers curled around your throat ❝ Watch it— clearly you’re attitude has been left unchecked for quite a long time. Don’t worry sweetheart, daddy will fix that ❞ His palm pressed against your back bringing you upwards to him, he coaxed you to his lap; tail wrapping around your arm. His palms groped your flesh, touching every place he could. His hands fiddled with your blouse, scrunching up the piece of fabric you called blouse tearing it off. You’re breast bounced from the impact— you curled inward to protect your modesty. His fingers itched to grab hold of your breast— lips curling up at your refusal. However, a static voice coming from his earpiece caused him to pause his actions. You couldnt catch what they were saying but you doubted it was anything good. His yellow eyes gleamed, ❝ Let’s get you back home— where you belong ❞

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━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

[even-in-arcadia]

I was rereading "Lovers of the Human Flesh" by Caleb Crain as one does and I was very struck by two particular lines in relation to one Cornelius Hickey:

Incorporating what you love is a sure way to see that it never escapes from you.

and

Eating something is a way of keeping it with you forever, but it is also a way of destroying it.

I don't need to delve into the implications for Hickey's actual cannibalism - that's been done by those better (and more attached to Hickey) than I. What I want to talk about more is this concept in relationship to Hickey's ambitions to godhood.

Hickey has a plan always, at all times. It's a plan that shifts based on what seems best for him, what seems most convenient, and whatever he thinks his relationship to Crozier is at any given moment. They all essentially make sense in a scrappy, aggrieved, mutiny kind of way. Until: Solomon Tozer tells him, horrified, that he witnessed the Tuunbaq eat Mr. Collins' soul. Hickey says, specifically, that this merits a change in plan. He spends a long time by himself on a hill doing --we'll never know what.

EC/Cornelius Hickey, a man who clearly has never known a love that didn't turn on him or leave, has determined to be become melded to the Tuunbaq, an eater of souls. Gibson turned on him by falsely representing their relationship to Irving; Crozier turned on him by denying the "clear" bond they had and denying Hickey's gift of Lady Silence; he's been betrayed by this entire voyage that was supposed to take him to Oahu. Who knows what other loves have betrayed him.

If the Tuunbaq can eat souls, if Hickey can become connected with that power, then perhaps he too will be able to incorporate souls! Perhaps he will be able to finally ensure that something, someone will never turn on him. And if those souls must be destroyed in the process, what is it to him? Has the world not spent his entire time on earth trying to destroy him? (Conjecture: but given what we learn of him, the Nagaitis lore, and the cultural & economic context in which he exists, I think this is reasonable.) He yells into the Arctic air:

Bugger Victoria! Bugger Nelson! Bugger Jesus! Bugger Joseph, bugger Mary! Bugger the Archbishop of Canterbury! NONE EVER WANTED NOTHING FROM ME

He feels abandoned by every institution of society, and so he is going to create one in his own image. He offers a captain, an officer, a marine, and a ship's boy: the ship's hierarchy in miniature. If he feeds the Tuunbaq their souls and then melds with Tuunbaq himself, he can eat society and reconstitute it not just in his own image but in his own person, with only his chosen loyal followers, those who do want something from him. As Crain says, "In Freud's Totem and Taboo, the cannibal feast is the founding act of crime and sharing that binds society." That's the founding myth Hickey is not just counting on but trying to actively create.

And maybe, maybe! When he has access to Tuunbaq's power - will he have a line on those souls as well? Tuunbaq devours both body and soul in tandem, suggesting they are connected. As Hickey has already eaten of Gibson's flesh, maybe he can reconstitute and reingest that as Gibson's soul. Thus the destruction becomes the resurrection becomes the incorporation. Crain writes: "The body is a convenient boundary for the definition of the self. [...] in practice the peculiar act [cannibalism and homosexuality] violates that boundary. The act offers an ecstatic union." A cannibal rat wedding, if you will.

Crozier says to Hickey, "You must be a surpassingly lonely man." Hickey doesn't deny this. He merely says "Not for long." This is about power, but it is also about an end to loneliness, to his sense of betrayal at all levels and at every turn. Of course, it doesn't work out. In not caring about who suffered the consequences of his actions, he failed to take into account that incorporation & ingestion involve destruction. He thought himself the instrument of this, but by failing to see the Tuunbaq unto itself, as something other than a tool, as the independent Arctic that could never stomach Western society and live: he turned that back on himself and so was himself destroyed.

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love- series masterlist

summary: you’re an ex-black widow, now working with the avengers. and marc spector, a soldier gone vigilante, is your target. so who’s this steven guy, and what’s up with the giant skeleton bird?

relationships: moon boys x fem!reader

total wordcount: 20k

warnings: violence, language, episode five, specific warning listed in each part

ALSO I’M DELETING LAYLA I’M SORRY I LOVE HER TOO BUT I FOR THE SAKE OF THE FIC I MUST

this series is complete!

[pictures aren’t mine]

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

part i- the mission

“and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.” -mahmoud darwish

you head to britain to begin your most recent assignment: to find the vigilante marc spector.

part ii- the scarab

“the moon taught me there is beauty in darkness too” - marine ashnalikyan

steven gets arrested, there’s a cult, and apparently, a magic bug. how did you get roped into this?

part iii- cairo

“i am a deserted sky, and you are the moonlight” - manoj muntashir

arthur harrow causes more problems

part iv- the hunt

“the moon in me finds the sky in you” - dikshasuman

a bit of breaking and entering, a touch of mummy surgeons

part v- the boat

“we are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side” - kahlil gibran

grave robbing and a shootout lands you in a bit of trouble. ok, i guess being dead is a lot of trouble

part vi- fault

“someday someone will bring the moon down for you in the shape of their love” - dikshasuman

a dive into the past to save the future

part vii- choice

“hug me like the night holds the moon” - alexandra vasiliu

two resurrections that could arguably give that jesus dude a run for his money

part viii- home

“love you to the moon and to saturn” - taylor swift

you come back from your mission with a little more than you expected. namely, a boyfriend.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 10/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014

2015 – Bradley

                He doesn’t have the location feature in Grindr turned on by default. He can’t and won’t pick up while he’s deployed, not considering the fact that they have all sort of security hoops and communication blackouts, the location hasn’t ever been important. Except when he’s on leave and he’s looking at it now and Jas is in the same state as him. Not close by any means, but holy shit he’ll travel if he has to. Jas is meant to be deployed, however Texas is a huge state, and Jas has no reason to lie about being deployed. Unless their luck has changed, and Jas is somehow on leave and they’re in the same state. There’s a chance that Jas is on base, and if that’s the case it rules out the Marines and Coast Guard, but not Army, Navy or Air Force.

                He wonders if it’s even possible for them to meet. He would totally fly a couple of hours to finally meet Jas.

>>Not to creep on you, but I can see you’re in Texas.

>>You here long?

>>You have got to be fucking kidding me.

>>What?

>>I’m here for two days. Just here to attend my grandma’s funeral.

>>And avoid my family as much as possible.

>>Okay. Not exactly ideal meeting conditions.

>>Fuck.

>>I’m almost tempted to just ditch the funeral.

>>But I can’t.

>>Of course not.

>>God I hate this entire state.

>>Special leave to attend.

>>Turn around is tight.

>>I’m sorry for your loss.

                Bradley isn’t sure what else to say, because he hadn’t even realized that Jas spoke to any of his family members, had left them all behind when he joined up whatever service it is he’s in. 

>>Thanks. She was the last decent family member I had.

>>Not that I was the best grandson.

>>Another thing to feel shitty and guilty about I guess.

>>But I don’t think I’ll be coming back here unless it’s for work.

…            …            …

                He studies his calendar and the dates Jas has sent through of when he’s on leave. There’s not more than twenty-four hours of overlap with his own leave and he gets that people come and go and in a twelve-month period it’s fine, however this has been going on for several years now. The world feels like it’s going crazy and he doesn’t know if it actually is, or if he’s just paying more attention now, as he gets older and aware how world events will impact where he might be sent next. Where Jas might be sent next.

                Massacres.

                Shootings.

                Coups.

                Wars.

                Foreign airstrikes.

                And that’s just the first two months of the year. God, no wonder they can’t seem to catch a break. He scrolls back up to the pictures Jas had sent through last night and studies the tan lines, wonders where he might be to develop them. It’s not a comms blackout, but it’s close. They’re time zones apart now and it makes him regret not appreciating all the times when they were only hours apart.

                “Is that your guy?”

                “Jesus Christ! Natasha!” Bradley presses his phone to his chest and squirms away from where she’s trying to sit on his thighs in an attempt to pin him.

                “I mean, I’d be distracted too if someone sent me pictures like that. Maybe worth the money you paid for that ridiculous phone,” she says, poking him in the thigh.

                “He’s not my guy. Just… okay. Yeah. I guess it is my guy. He’s also a friend. He doesn’t need you drooling over him.”

                “A friend you have pretty regular sex with… And I’m sure you drool over him enough for the both of us.”

                “Yeah. But we’ve never met and it feels like we’re never going to. And we don’t even know each other’s names. It’s not a romance for the ages.”

                “And yet you admitted it’s one of your most important relationships. And not just because of the sex. That does sound pretty romantic to me.”

                “This is why people think we’re sleeping together, all you talk about is sex.”

                “I just said it was romantic! But I talk about sex because it winds you up.”

                Bradley groans.

                “Is it phone sex, when your still just sending messages? Isn’t phone sex when you’re actually on the phone with each other? Have you tried that? Does he have an accent?”

                “Why are you so interested?” Bradley replies, because he’s wondering now, and he hadn’t really thought about it before and he’s annoyed at himself. Wonders if they could talk on the phone, hear each other’s voices. Wonders if Jas has an accent, because he is Texan.

                “Because I’m bored.”

                “What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?”

                “There’s nothing you can do. You need to entertain me. Can I talk to your friend?”

                “No!”

                “I could find him and talk to him. You’ve given me enough details to find him I think…”

                “Why would you want to do that?”

                “The entertainment value alone would make it worth it.”

                He rolls his eyes but pulls a deck of cards from his pocket, because while he doesn’t think she would go through with it he also wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she did.

…            …            …

                His next deployment once again finds him on a carrier with Jake Seresin. Carriers are huge, there are thousands of people on board and yet Seresin seems to be there every time he turns around. Fortunately Seresin’s squadron are meant to leave in two months so at least that’s only one-third of his deployment he has to suffer through, and another squadron is cycling through in one-month, so between them he can at least try and avoid him. It works better in theory than in practice. Their downtime in the rec room nearly always seems to coincide and he’s not really listening to what the others are talking about until he hears Seresin mention going home to Texas.

                “You’re Texan?” Bradley asks, eyes shooting up to meet his and Seresin raises an eyebrow.

                “Born and bred. How did you miss that fact Rooster? It’s not like you haven’t heard my gorgeous dulcet tones.”

                “I guess I just never thought of it before, about where you’re from.”

                He doesn’t mean it as an insult, he just really hadn’t thought about it, because he was in Corpus Christi where everyone seemed to sound Texan. And Seresin sometimes doesn’t sound as Texan as he does right now. He’s pretty sure that’s the case anyway.

                “Proud Texan through and through, go back every chance I get.”

                “Of course you do.”

…            …            …           

                Bambi arrives like a breath of fresh air with five others, and he grabs her and swings her around and then brings her in for a tight hug.

                “God it’s good to see you.”

                “Good to see you too BB!”

                “Congrats on the promotion.”

                “Yeah, now you can stop being an asshole about it.”

                “Only with you. And Natasha.”

                “Yeah yeah. It really is good to see you. Come on, think we can get a party started up in here and do some dancing?”

                “I’m certain you can achieve anything you want.”

                “And don’t you forget it! You can play the piano for me later!”

                “As you wish…” Bradley says, and she cackles madly and he grins, glad that she’s here.

…            …            …

                Things get a lot less fun for a while, they’re in the air dropping bombs, patrolling airspace and this is what he’s trained for, years of training paying off, and it’s necessary, and he loves flying, and when it comes down to an enemy plane or Seresin being shot down he’s glad that Seresin made the shot. As much as he might find him arrogant and annoying he doesn’t want him dead. He does wish the guy would learn a little humility though, and he definitely snaps when he hears him re-telling the kill.

                “Judge, jury and executioner… You’re just a modern-day hangman now aren’t you?”

                The nickname of Hangman sticks to him, and he can tell it grates him a little, but then he starts leaning into it and somehow becomes even more arrogant and Bradley didn’t think it was possible but he’s been wrong before. Two weeks later Seresin and the rest of his squadron leave and he lets out a mental sigh of relief.

                Four months to go.

…            …            …

>>You ever kill anyone?

>>No.

>>You okay?

>>Probably not. Good enough to fake it.

>>You shouldn’t have to fake it.

>>I’m assuming this isn’t a hypothetical?

>>No. Not hypothetical.

>>I’ve probably been responsible for people dying before.

>>Just never seen faces before.

>>I’m having nightmares.

>>Shit. I’m sorry. Wish I could give you a hug.

>>Thanks. I’ve got J helping me out.

>>They aren’t going to keep me down.

>>I’ll be fine.

>>Jas. Take some time. Talk to someone.

>>And say what?

>>I throw up every time I think about it too much?

>>It’s okay to feel upset about it.

>>Yeah? Then why is everyone congratulating me like what I did was a good thing?

>>War on terror… fucking hell.

>>You’re on leave right now right?

>>Go and get laid?

>>If I could be guaranteed a good lay, I would take that advice.

>>You know what I feel like?

>>What?

>>Just… pinned down and fucked until I can’t think about anything except how I’m feeling physically. Nothing in my head.

>>I mentioned once about tying you up… would you let me?

>>Yeah. Of course.

>>No. Not of course. We can talk about anything and everything, but actually doing it is another matter.

>>You know what I want the most?

>>What?

>>Giving you what you need.

>>If that’s tying you to a bed that’s all well and good, but I can pin you with my body, hold you down while I just rub against you. Get you hard and desperate for it, just rubbing up against each other like horny teenagers.

>>Would be an interesting experiment to try out.

>>Yeah, especially if I was already stretched and lubed up, that potential for more just there on the edge for both of us…

>>But you’d have to figure out how to keep me pinned and get you dick in me.

>>God you’ve gotten so good at this.

>>All the practice with you baby.

…            …            …

                He’s back in a squadron with Natasha and for the first time also Hangman, and it’s a learning curve and a half because he remember Seresin and how he was at Top Gun a few years ago. He seems to have embraced the title of the only naval aviator in active duty to have an air to air kill, and all it does is make him wonder what has happened to Maverick, because surely he’s still active. The idea that he might have died and he wouldn’t know about it scares him, so he sends a carefully worded email to Ice and asks about them both. The response he gets back isn’t overly open or encouraging, but it is still a response and Bradley takes it as the small stepping stone it is. He’s still angry, but not angry enough to not want to know that Mav is alive and well. Ice too. It’s been over fifteen years and what he really wants now is answers. So he sends another email back, shares a funny story about something that happened and hopes for the best.

…            …            …

                “Every turn he assumes I think the worst of him.”

                “Don’t you?”

                “No! He’s an asshole, but I think he maybe uses that to cover up stuff.”

                “Hmm. Deep.”

                “Shut up,” Bradley mutters.

                “Maybe the two of you have more in common than you think.”

                Bradley looks at her sharply.

                “What do you mean by that?”

                “I can’t say. Just… keep an open mind I guess?”

                “Oh my god Nat. I don’t need an open mind,” Bradley says with an eye roll, putting sarcastic quotation marks in the air when he says open mind. “He made a pass at me.”

                “Oh, so you know he’s gay.”

                “And so do you…” Bradley observes.

                “Yeah well, best friend privilege I guess? I haven’t said anything about you though. Other than you being in a long-distance relationship.”

                “Oh, great, thanks for that.”

                “What?”

                “If I go and hook up people are going to think I’m cheating.”

                “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t think about that. Wait, how long have you known Seresin’s gay?”

                “Uh. Few years. When I was at Top Gun for the year.”

                “When you spent a large chunk of time bitching to me about how annoying he was?”

                “He asked me out for a drink after that. After most of that…”

                “Did he?! Really?” Natasha sits up and leans forward, eyes wide and excited.

                “I turned him down obviously.”

                “Why obviously?”

                “I was sort of an instructor at the time. Didn’t want a reputation of sleeping with people anymore than I want one as a cheater,” he says, poking his toes into her thigh in annoyance, although all she does back is pinch the delicate skin of his ankle and he yelps in pain.

                “So… you haven’t slept with him.”

                “Nope.”

                “Thinking about it now though right?”

                He groans and she laughs. It’s annoying because they both know she’s right.

…            …            …

                It wasn’t him. That’s the only thing he can think of when he hears the news. Who ever it was got the target wrong and hit a hospital. He hears all the talk about collateral damage but he still thinks he’s going to be sick. He didn’t sign up to kill injured people and doctors. He sends another email to Ice, wonders if he’ll have any magical words that will help him sleep at night.

…            …            …

                It hits him over dinner one night that Seresin’s first name is Jake. He has the same initials as Jas, is maybe born the same year and is also from Texas. That’s quite a few coincidences. He starts paying a little more attention. He knows Natasha thinks it’s because he wants to maybe fuck him, and okay, she’s not wrong, but it’s not the only reason he’s looking. Then he hears Hangman on the phone talking to someone, his sister he tells Natasha later when she asks (at Bradley’s not so gentle request). It’s that that makes him realize that’s all they are; coincidences. Jas doesn’t talk to his family and hates Texas, Seresin is the opposite. Seems about right.

…            …            …

>>How are you going?

>>Good. Didn’t need to vomit when a nightmare woke me up this time.

>>That’s what I call winning.

>>You and I have very different definitions of winning.

                Bradley walks into the rec room and Hangman is there on his phone, thumbs flying over the screen and he wonders who he’s talking to. He looks happy, clearly not as troubled as Jas is feeling, and he guesses they’re different people and have very different experiences.

                “Hey Hangman, you okay?”

                “Would you care if I wasn’t?” Hangman says back, and he’s smiling, but his eyes are glinting with a challenge. Bradley shrugs, because he can extend an olive branch, but shoving it down Hangman’s throat pretty much defeats the purpose.

                “I just thought I’d check in on you. Some people… struggle, when they’ve killed someone,” he doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, or detached, but they’re not friends. Maybe he should be checking in with Coyote instead, asking him if he thinks Hangman is okay. He’d definitely get a more honest answer, that’s certain.

                “I’m in the wrong profession if that’s something I’d allow to bother me.”

                “Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”

                God, he’s such an asshole.

2016

[hauntingblue]

NAMI NEEDS TO GO UP THERE AND FIGHT BIG MOM I AM SO SERIOUS!!! THIS IS A BATTLE FOR THE ROMANCE DOWN TRIO!! SANJI DO NOT DARE TAKE HER SPOT!!!

[stuckybarton]

Sirens Call

Summary: You were just a marine scientist, but with the recent urge of the US Government to locate more Vibranium, you would have never thought that it would spell the unexpected change in your life. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Siren!Female Reader. Word Count: 6,408 (jesus christ was this long) Chapter Warnings: Black Panther Wakanda Forever Spoilers. Mention of Kidnapping, Death, Bloodshed, drowning. Possible Stockhold Syndrom. Angst. Sort of Happy Ever After. A/N: A request from @kpopgirlbtssvt, sorry for the delay. I did tweak a little on your request since i didn't want it to be too similar to the series i'm writing but i do hope you enjoy.

Also, the song included in this story is a Filipino Lullabye

Masterlist || Join the Library ( i no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Sirens Call

It has been over a year now since you have turned your life around. With the death of Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff, you had no one you could truly depend on to protect you from the government coming for you. Without Steve, and with the desolation of the Avengers, of the family you have created with them, your life of running had ended with finally agreeing to the Government's terms whether you liked it or not.

You stood on the deck of the large boat, the wind blowing through your hair and the salty smell of the ocean filling your lungs. You were a Marine Scientist before your involvement with the Avengers, now you were working for the CIA, and the current objective was to locate Vibranium that is said to be located deep beneath the oceans floors.

You had knew about the abundance of the metal in Wakanda, the durability and power it had when making weapons, Steve Rogers’ shield was an evident example of it. So it was no surprise to anyone, even for you at this point that it was an immense interest to the government. They had ignored Queen Ramonda’s warning of staying away from Wakanda to search for the metal, instead doing the exact opposite to help even out the odds against their own feud with the people of Wakanda. Fight fire with fire if you will. But you were hesitant about this mission. You were now only a scientist, no longer a hero nor were you a solider, and the thought of being one of the individuals responsible for creating a possible weapon of mass destruction made you uneasy.

As the boat bobbed up and down in the rough waves, you can’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It felt off. It’s was almost as if the ocean was singing, the gentle breeze of the night winds was calling you out, beckoning you to come closer. You shook your head, chalking it up to exhaustion. You have been working countless of days and even week for this mission, your team’s safety had been your top priority instead of that stupid metal, and your mind was simply playing tricks on you.

“You alright, Doc?” It was Daniel, one of the dozen of agents the CIA had given as your “protection” during this mission, but you knew for a fact that man like him wouldn’t even bother to save you from drowning if he was given a chance. You’ve met men like him in your lifetime and you wouldn’t trust him with your life because of it.

“Nothing that needs your concern, Agent.” You brushed him off, taking another healthy sip of your tea, your eyes had lingered onto the waters. It has been well over ten minutes now since two members of the team have been deployed to submerge from the waters to locate the Vibranium.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, the water is find and that suit is practically impenetrable.” He scoffed only for you to ignore as you continued watching the line wires that held onto the suits move further and further down. “This should be the least of your concern knowing what will happen if we find nothing.”

“If any of them are hurt or killed, you know what would happen.”  You threatened him right back.

You had made a deal with the devil for your own freedom from the Government. What they had over you and your secret that you wished to put your grave would be buried along with the fallout that you were certain would come one way or another. God only knows what Wakanda would do to you when the truth comes out about your involvement. Your head would be in a silver platter for all you know. It was only a matter on whose table it would lay upon at the end of the day.

“You worry too much, Doc.” He scoffed before leaving you all on your own—peace that you truly needed at this point in time.

But as the night wears on and they have descended deeper into the ocean, the feeling grows stronger. Even as you had headed into the control room to check how they were doing in the water, there was something that was keeping you uneasy.

You can hear a faint humming sound, almost like a song. It was in the same moment you heard the panic from the communications and everyone was scrambling to and fro inside the boat and you were left stock still from where you stood, even as you tried to locate the two members in the waters. You were informed that it was the Wakandans that had attacked.

Your team has been hard at work, scanning the ocean floor with the suits. But as you approach the coordinate where the Vibranium is believed to be located, something had fucked everything you worked so hard for. The suit and the members were gone, your vision of them had gone black. You and what was left of the escorts were scrambling to figure out what was happening.

You tried rebooting the system hoping it was a glitch, but to no avail. It’s as if something is interfering with the signals. Your heart begins to race. Is this some kind of attack? Have you been discovered by Wakanda’s forces?

And then, without warning, the hum that sounded grew louder, almost blaring through. You had watch some begin to put on earplugs but there was something that kept you from doing such a thing even when they were in your pockets as a precautionary measures—old tale’s don’t die it seems when it comes to the unknown of the waters.

It was a sound that you have never heard before, it had your heart racing, palms sweating and from the looks of everyone else that acted far too late, glazed over as they walked closer into the water in a trance. Had it not have been for the gunshot that echoed, the spell would have remained and there would have been more bloodshed that you would not even be able to imagine.

“Move!” Someone had screamed at you and before you could realize what was going on a bulking man had risen from the waters and you were left frozen at the sight of the man as his spear had penetrated into your escort, Daniel right to the wall besides you.

The man was no Wakandan. He had blue skin, some type of breathing apparatus, and the daunting sight of his headgear made out of a hammerhead shark’s skull. The man over towered over you as he took a step towards you, but your adrenaline has finally kicked in and you find yourself making a mad dash back into the control room, hoping to find anything that could help you in the situation.

It was only in this moment that you had put on the earplugs, deafening the sounds of death up above. You tried to find a gun, a knife, anything that could miraculously keep you alive at this point. Left empty handed, you found a small cabinet right under the control panel. Shoving all of its content all over the floor in hopes of messing with their trail of you before you cramped right in, shutting yourself in complete darkness of the cabinet.

In the deafness of the earplugs, you could hear your heart racing and your breathing shallow. You can feel the vibration of footsteps approaching, getting more and more prominent. You know that the attackers were getting closer and closer to finding you.

Your mind raced as you try to come up with a plan instead of just hiding. You know that if you are found, you are dead. You try to remember your training, but your mind was a jumbled mess and everything was well forgotten in the face of the reality of the danger. You can’t think straight, and your hands were shaking with fear.

As the footsteps draw neared, you slowly find yourself removing the earplugs to the sound of voices. You strain to listen, trying to make out what they were saying, but the language was not like you had ever heard before in your life. It was garbled and indistinct, and you couldn’t tell from where you hid just how many people were there.

You close your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. You know that you have to be brave, that you have to stay calm and think rationally if you're going to survive. But as the sound of the footsteps grows louder, your resolve begins to crumble. You're so scared that you can hardly think straight. You feel like you're going to die.

And then, suddenly, you hear the sound of the door opening. You hold your breath, praying that you won't be found. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you're sure that they can hear it too. But as the seconds tick by, nothing happens. You're still hidden in the cabinet, and your attackers haven't found you. You begin to relax, thinking that maybe you're safe after all.

But as you felt the sound of the monitors being broken from above you, you felt all the reassurance turn into nothing but panic and dread.

Your life flashes before your eyes. You think of your family, of your mother that you have never talked to since you had pulled away from her and her people growing up, your friends that have accepted you for who you were, the people you have loved and cherish, the members of your team that had risked their lives for this excavation—all for nothing. You wondered if you would ever see any of them again. The profound sense of sadness and regret, knowing that there was still so many things you have not done, places you have never been able to see, to have the family you have never thought you would deserve to have.

It was the first line of sobs that escaped your lips that caught their attention and the cabinet was torn off the hinges and you were in front of them all. Pulled by the arm by one of them, you were scrambling to pull away from their hold but the spear that was now pointed at you, you were left standing still.

There were five of them, the man from earlier was also here, but it was not him that had your attention—it was the man with the normal skin.

You stand in front of the man, looking him in the eye. You can sense his fury, the anger boiling just beneath the surface. His face is twisted in a scowl, his eyes flashing with an intensity that makes your heart race. You can feel the tension in the air, the electricity that seems to crackle between you.

But as he gets closer, you start to feel a little bit of fear creeping in. You can see the veins bulging in his neck, his breathing becoming ragged and uneven.

In the closer proximity, you took a look at him from head to toe to realize that he wasn’t normal either. Sans the blue skin, he had pointed ears and the physics-impossible wings where his Achilles’ heels should have been.

“Who created the machine?” The man spoke, accent-heavy. His voice deep and daunting, you can feel the heat of his anger, the rage that seems to be directed at you.

You were left frozen at his question.

“All I know is her name is Riri William.” You spoke honestly. When you had learned that the government had a mobile drone that would help in the location of Vibranium, you did not asked too much question knowing what it entails in the future.

The spear you didn’t realize was in his grasp was now pointed directly at you, the sharp blade of it resting on the base of your neck. One wrong move from you and you could slice your throat open. The tears begin to fall freely from your eyes, pleading for him to spare you. Pleading for him that this was all the information that you knew.

As the spear was finally held down, you felt your knees turn jelly realizing you were still alive and he had spared you—for now.

“If I find out you are lying, I will feed you to the sharks.” He warned.

You shook your head.

“I promise you, on my mother’s name. That is all I know. I’m just here as a scientist helping them finding Vibranium, nothing more.”

The man turned to the hulking man, speaking in a language that you didn’t know before the man had approached you and pulling off his breathing apparatus for you.

“What are you doing?” You questioned moving your head away from him.

“You are coming with me back to Talokan. I cannot trust you to keep my people’s existence as a secret.”

Accepting the breathing apparatus, you were lifted onto the man’s shoulder and the adrenaline was slowly dying down at the foreign device covering on your face and your world begins to fade into the dark abyss.

~

The throne room was quiet, save for the argument that was exchanged between K’uk’ulkan and his cousin and most trusted General, Namora. He was pacing back and forth, while Namora stood stoically, arms crossed in front of her. It was one thing to watch his cousin and Attuma butt heads from time to time and see Namora come out victorious, it was another to have himself be in the middle of it all, more so for his action that led to this argument to begin with.

"I cannot believe you would bring an outsider into our hidden kingdom, K'uk'ulkan," Namora said sternly. "We have always kept our existence a secret, and now you want to invite this woman into our midst?"

He stopped pacing and turned to face Namora.

“She is not just an outsider. She is a scientist from the surface world, she possesses the knowledge that could help us in finding out who we are up against.”

A part of him did wonder why he did what he did. He could have killed you then and there and be done with it. But how you spoke, to your mother’s grave, it was the truth and he trusted a surface dweller so easily because of it. It was pathetic to see you in hiding, in the confinements of a small cabinet, with just the sob that escaped your lips that gave your location away.

He took you in to his nation, knowing he could find a much better use for you for the time being, at least, that was what he kept telling himself and reassuring Namora too in the process.

Namora's expression remained unchanged. "And what if she reveals our existence to the surface world? What if she leads them here, endangering us and our way of life?"

He sighed heavily. “I have thought about that, my child.” He cupped her cheeks hoping to give her the reassurance that she would need in this moment. “But I have also considered the potential benefits that could come from her here in our Kingdom for the foreseeable future.”

“You are willing to risk everything we have worked for, just for a potential benefit? Is it worth it?” Namora questioned pulling away, with her eyes narrowed at him.

“For our people, for their safety, it will be worth it, My child. With her here, our people will be hidden and protected.”

Namora remained silent, considering his words.

“It’s on you. But we must keep a close eye on the surface dweller. We are not to trust her, not until we know if she is safe for our people.”

“I understand, Namora.” He nodded in agreement. “I will take full responsibility for her while she is here. And if she proves to be more of a liability, we will deal with her accordingly.”

Namora’s expression softened slightly.

"Very well. But if anything goes wrong, it will be on your head."

K'uk'ulkan nodded once more. "I understand."

With that, Namora turned and left the throne room, leaving K'uk'ulkan alone to contemplate the potential risks and rewards of his decision.

~

Slowly opening your eyes, feeling disoriented as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. You remember being on the boat, the attack that killed almost certainly everyone in the team, to the memories of your life flashing before your eyes in the confinements of the cabinet. But now, you were in a strange chambers inside of a cavern, surrounded by walls of rocks and water.

Sitting up, you noticed the figure standing in front of you. The same man at the boat. The man stood now with robes on instead of just the green shorts and there was a lack of the spear much to your relief. He sees you finally wake up and turns to face you.

“Welcome,” he says, the same daunting voice from the boat but no longer did it held the anger from that night. “I am K’uk’ulkan, King of Talokan.”

You looked at him confused. Talokan? In your years of working for the Avengers and eventually the CIA, learning about all different kinds of aliens and otherworldly beings, both in the surface and in the water, this was the first time you had ever heard about Talokan. Not even from your own family’s history have you heard of beings just like him.

It was as if he could sense your confusion and fear as he held his hands up in reassurance.

“You are in my chambers.” He explains. “You are safe here, Surface dweller, I have spared you in hopes of learning what your people want with the Vibranium in our kingdom.”

You start to feel a sense of uneasiness. What if you told him the truth, of what the government wanted with the Vibranium, would you finally be killed?

“Do not be afraid.” He continues walking closer to you now, his hand placed on your shoulders. “You are safe here, I have brought you alive for a reason and you have my word that you will not be placed in any harm throughout your stay under my jurisdiction.”

As you start to look around the chamber, you notice something strange. The walls are covered in murals, painted in bright colors. They depict scenes of ancient rituals and ceremonies, with strange symbols and images that you can't quite decipher.

He seemed to have noticed your interest.

“Murals of Talokan,” He explains gesturing to the walls. “They tell the story of my people, of our history, and of our beliefs.”

You start to feel a sense of awe, looking at the intricate designs and patterns. You’ve never seen anything like this before in your life. He moves to the wall, taking a brush and paint from a nearby table. As he starts to paint, you watch in amazement. The colors seem to come to life, swirling and dancing before your eyes.

As he paints, K'uk'ulkan begins to speak. He tells you of the ancient gods, of their power and their wisdom. He tells you of the secrets of the Talokan, and of his origins, of why he was different from the rest of his people. He was mutant, the first born son of Talokan.

“Why am I here then?” You questioned, as much as you now grow interested in his stories, you were more concern of what was needed from you in this moment. “I don’t fit into any narrative in your stories or your people?”

“You know too much, and it is best for you to remain here for the time being while we handle the person responsible for creating the machine.”

“How long?” You questioned.

“For a while.” He spoke nonchalantly. “For the meantime, you can visit Talokan with me or you can spend your days here in the chambers, it is up to you.”

You blinked seemingly having no choice in the matter at this point.

~

It was not what he intended to happen, all he wanted was for Talokan to remain a secret from the surface world. Never did he even think that a glimpse of you and the wonder in your eyes through the water suit did he think he could ever fall in love, with a surface dweller of all people, but here he was.

It had been days now since your arrival, days since your time has been spent in his chambers and in Talokan. How you had made use of your expertise in the waters for their benefit. Fishes and other marine creatures that even the oldest of their scholars did not know of their use was now being integrated into their daily lives.

Y/N.

He had learned so much about you in your stay in his home. How you found yourself making use of your love for the water into your studies to be what you were now. How from so much trials and tribulation in your life, have ended up under the government’s jurisdiction and in your expedition for Vibranium would have been the last part of your agreement with them. Who would have ever thought that someone as shell shock as you would have been a siren in hiding all this time?

He fell in love with you for your love for the water. How the simplest of gifts he would give you would send the biggest and brightest smile on your face. He fell in love with your intention to do better for the world even with everyone against you. He had fallen so madly in love with how easy it had been for his children to open up to you—even Namora that has been far too apprehensive with your stay in Talokan in the beginning.

“Sing me a song, In Sirena?” He asked, his head rested on your lap, your fingers combing through his hair.

In the silence of his bed chambers, he had opened himself to you, about his mother, of the promise he had kept of burying her in their home in the surface world, of the name that was never his own by took to inflict fear to those who were a threat to his people.

He closed his eyes and felt the comfort that came with your touch and of your voice that echoed through his chambers. How your hauntingly beautiful voice placed him at ease, something he was not given as often in his life. He was at peace.

He felt the smile slowly form on his lips as you continued on with your song that was now becoming all too familiar to him. It was a lullaby, one that your own mother had sung to you as a young child, it brought back memories of his own mother, of the love that only she could give you even with the responsibility that rested on his shoulders—he felt like a child all over again.

“When this is all over, if I let you go, will you ever come back for me?” He found himself asking, slowly opening his eyes to look up at you.

You had halted in your song to look right back at him, eyes softening at his question.

“I don’t know,” You answered honestly.

Another thing he had appreciated about you was your honesty, no matter if it would offend him or anyone else, you held honesty that was few and far in between for a surface dweller. He understood your answer, though he was sadden by the reality of it—you were still a captive of his domain, stuck in the crossfire of his mission to protect his people. But he longed for the day that you would stay, even for just his people.

“I understand.”

“I have people that depend on me in the surface. I’ve already lost some of the people I’ve treated like my family—I want to make sure that I explained what had happened to their families.”

He looked away, knowing the weight of his action had on you now. Of the deaths that was to be expected for the protection of his own people.

Their little moment was interrupted at the sight of Attuma arriving.

“What?” He inquired, not leaving his positon on your lap much to your own discomfort and embarrassment.

“The Princess and the scientist are here.” Attuma announced and it was the sign he needed that his moment with you was now over.

~

At the news of someone else from the surface now being held under hostage of Talokan, you had asked K’uk’ulkan about seeing them. No matter how much you were slowly understanding the man’s need to protect his people a part of you still wanted to see and check upon those that are for certain scared of being here.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

The last thing you would have expected to see was Princess Shuri and Riri Williams here. But then again, it was Vibranium that Talokan was protecting, and having them here was becoming more understandable than anything else.

“Are you two okay?” You asked, checking them from head to toe for any sort of injuries.

“You were reported dead.” It was Shuri that had spoken and your heart fell. But realized that after everything, at the death of your team and escorts, it would have bound to happen that without your body recovered, they would have expected as much.

“They have taken me here to keep quiet.” You answered. You worry that if you said too much it would end with your hurt or worst the women in front of you would.

The guilt was now washing over your system at the realization of your admittance of Riri being responsible for the machine had now led to her here—bringing Shuri along in the process.

“We have to find a way out.” You whispered holding onto their hands, you know it would take some work to find the suits they have used but it was better than whatever they might have planned for them—or for you at the matter.

“No.” Shuri shook her head.

You shook your head. It was not the right thing to do for her. Unlike you, that now had everyone believing you were dead and for certain would face prosecution if the Government found out you were alive, Shuri had so much to live for, someone to that loved her, and everything else in her life that you know for certain that you did not have anymore.

“He wants to go to war with the surface world, and asked me to help him.”

You blinked realizing then and there the reality of the man and his intentions. One of the servants remained, providing food for the three of you and you had hoped that she did not understand anything that you were talking about in this moment. Your eyes lingered to the guards also station around to watch over you and over the two.

“Princess, please.” You held onto her hand, hoping to talk some sense to her even in this very moment. “The world has done all of us wrong, but this is not the right thing to do.” You plead for her, turning your attention towards Riri that was still shaken by everything that was happening.

“Then why did you remain when you could easily have escaped?” Shuri questioned.

Your eyes closed at the reality of her words, how easily you could have escaped because of your powers but chose not to do so. In the moment you did not have a reason to leave, for you genuinely fell in love with Talokan even with the circumstance of it all.

You fell in love. How stupid it was for you to do so, falling in love with your captor but you did. You see your family in this people. How your own was cast to the waters by the very same people that had once cast K’uk’ulkan’s people into the waters. He was just like you, just as much as you were just like him.

“I’ve lost everything, Princess.” You whispered. “I’ve got to no Tony or Nat to back me up anymore, the government is wringing me dry for all that I have until they have the better reason to finally lock me away and experiment on me. He gave me an opportunity to live here and I might just stay because of it.”

In the struggle of it all, you once had Tony and Nat to depend on in your life, but with everything that had happened during the snap and their death to save the entirety of the universe, life has never been the same for you and you linger in the chaos of the life you tried to rebuild for yourself in the process.

Your eyes lingered behind and the sight of Nakia had caught you off guard.

Before you could even act, Nakia had shot the guards on stand by and the servant had now held a knife against Shuri. It was chaos and you did not know who to save in this moment. You held your hands up towards Nakia and pleaded for the servant to let her go, the sight of her hesitation was all you need to know that she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Please. It doesn’t have to end like this.” You plead to Nakia. “They will let Shuri go, and you can escape safely. Please.”

Nakia held a blank look before talking to Shuri and before long shooting the servant without hesitation. You were quick in your steps, dashing towards the servant as you held onto the wound and your eyes turned towards Shuri and Nakia.

“You need to come with us, Wakanda can protect you. It is the least we can do for all the help you’ve given us in the past.”

You wanted to, but as the servant had held onto you as she fought for her life, it had you second guessing yourself. If it was worth the risk coming back, with not only the Government coming after you but now even Talokan that has shown her nothing but kindness since your arrival.

“You’ve waged the war…all he wanted was to protect his people.” You shook your head refusing to come with them.

You had watched them leave, in the emptiness of the caverns that they stayed in, you found the tears have slowly fallen as you begin to sing the servant a song, hoping to be there for her in her dying moments.

‘Ili-ili tulog anay Wala diri imong nanay Kadto tienda Bakal Papay Ili-ili tulog anay Mata kana tabang mo Ikarga ang Nakompra ko Kay Bug-at Man Sing Putos ko Tabang Mo Ako Anay Ili-ili Tulog Anay Walang diri Imong Nanay Kadto tienda Bakal Papay Ili-ili tulog anay’

“In Sirena?”

The sight of K’uk’ulkan approaching brought all the guilt to the surface as your eyes turned back to the servant girl, how she was begging for her king to save her even when it was far too late for her.

“I tried to stop them.” You whispered closing the servant girl’s eyes as she now laid lifeless in your arms. “I tried to make them go without hurting anyone else in the process.”

You turned to the sight of Namora walking behind at the scene of death at the hands of Wakanda. You did not have the heart to look her in the eyes now, after all the help she had given you in your stay in Talokan—this was the price that you paid. It was better off if you were dead just like the rest of them.

You sobbed as the cousins begin to converse in their language. It was all your fault, from the moment you had accepted the mission to seek Vibranium from under the waters, you have left nothing but death and failure in your midst and now even in Talokan, the same curse has come to present you.

Even as K’uk’ulkan has pulled you away from the servant girl to allow her to be buried, you sobbed over and over even as you were pulled into his chest.

“Why did you stay?” He questioned you, his hand cupped your cheeks wiping what remains of the tears on your cheeks. “You could have left with them.”

“I can’t.” You confessed. “Not like this, not if it means someone dying in the process.”

“Then join us, in our fight.”

“I can’t. Revenge is never the answer.”

~

It was a week now since the attack in the cavern, you have decided to remain in K’uk’ulkan’s chambers for the entirety of it. But you have never talked to the man after what he had done as retribution for Nakia’s attack. The Queen of Wakanda was dead—drowned, and the invasion of Wakanda had set off more conflict than anything you would have ever imagine from them.

“In Sirena,”

You turned, the frown rested heavily on your lips in the moment but you said nothing even as the man approaching you, standing right in front of you from where you sat in the bed. You know why he was hear, it has been a week as the agreement and at any time a war is about to break through and you could only fear the damage and death it would cause in their paths.

“I want you to join me in this fight. After everything with Wakanda is resolved, I want you to be my Queen.”

You closed your eyes, it was not how you would have wanted to stay, not in this circumstance.

“Revenger and retribution is not the answer. It will only cause death and pain for everyone involved.”

“Then please stay here in Talokan, with me, with my people. Live with us and flourish and grow to be what you were always meant to be.”

And just like every instances that he asks you the question, you shook your head. In a perfect world, when things have not been filled with bloodshed, you would have. But in this instance, you couldn’t, not when you had a part in the mess that created the fight between Talokan and Wakanda.

“I can’t.”

“Then when you are ready, you can leave.” He spoke to which had your eyes widen and you looked at him now straight in his eyes, the sadness that came with his words. “Just know that you can never come back or you will be killed on the spot as you are a surface dweller trespassing our home. My love and fondness for you does not change the fact that you are an enemy of Talokan.”

It was cruel for him to say after everything that you have both been through together. But in the end, it was always his people above his own emotions and the love you have come to realize you both shared for each other in the short amount of time in his chambers and in his home.

“Okay.”

~

As he had laid on his back so close to the brink of death, defeated by the Black Panther, his mind had been only on two things. His mother and you. He was ready to die, but his memories were brought back to you as the Princess had the spear by his neck, ready to kill him. He was brought back to your words as you had pleaded for him to reconsider the fight against Wakanda. He was brought back to the hope that you would stay if he made the right decision.

He had yielded, with you and his mother on his mind. He had yielded hoping that you would stay even at the venom of his words when he last spoke to you.

As he had spoken to his people, ordering them to go back to Talokan, his mind was flooded with you—the glimpse of hope that you would remain still and be with him. He swam back to the waters, with his people guiding him throughout, his injuries were slowly healing, but it will take time and he needed to rest.

“I want to be left alone.” He spoke to his servant, brushing them away as they intended to patch him up. He refused, deciding to lick his wound in solitude.

Groggily, he had made his way back to this chambers, the silence broke his heart as he saw no sign of you anywhere. Walking towards his bed, he laid face first, the ache and pain that came with the battle against the Princess did a number on him and it would take a while before his wings would grow back.

He closed his eyes, for the moment, making peace with the silence of his chambers, the ghost of your voice echoing his mind. Your lullaby that would give him the comfort he never truly had in his life.

“K’uk’ulkan?”

His eyes snapped open, confused and devastated, it might be the delirium from his injuries that made him hear voices that were never there. But the panic of the voice continued to sound and it was when he felt the warm familiar hands on his shoulders that he had realize it was not his imagination playing a cruel joke on him.

It was you. You were still here.

“In Sirena,” he spoke turning his head to look at you.

The tear stricken face and the worry that was all too evident in your beautiful features.

“Why are you here?” He questioned, sitting up with you guiding him.

“I didn’t have the heart to leave until I know for certain you were alright.”

It was how quick his heart fluttered by your words, the effect you had on him knows no bound and made it all the more painful when you decided to finally leave.

“It is over, I have made an agreement with Wakanda.” He spoke. He watched the way your shoulders relaxed at this words. “You no longer have a reason to stay, you can leave and never turn back.”

“I can’t.” You smiled gently wrapping your arms around the man, sealing your fate to be with him forever, not only as his partner and companion, but as the Queen of Talokan.

[sillypiratelife]

The more I think about it, the more insane the first Mihawk and Zoro encounter is.

Mihawk adopted Zoro right in front of Zeff and went directly to tell Shanks about it???

No, but seriously. There's no way Zeff didn't feel a bit invested in the chaos. He saw Zoro giving his all for his dream and he knew that's how Sanji was too, it's just that Sanji gave up for some reason guilt. It was not only Luffy who convinced Zeff that he needed to kick Sanji out of the Baratie and sent him sailing with those idiots, but also freaking Zoro.

Zoro addressing Luffy as the pirate king in front of everyone??

Fever whenever I think of how you could say Mihawk proclaimed Zoro as Luffy's first mate on the spot. He really said "you two came in the same pack. good". It's like? Oh look, the kid I just adopted is besties with the kid of one of my friends. How convenient.

Mihawk's tiny baby knife. It reminds me of the knife Luffy cut his cheek with when he wanted to prove to Shanks that he was ready to sail with him. Except both Zoro and Luffy gained their mentors' respect, meaning that Shank left Luffy with a hat that identified him from there on, while Mihawk left Zoro with a giant scar all across his chest as the promise Zoro must fulfill to Mihawk.

The fact Mihawk identified Luffy from Shank's stories and he judged Luffy also based on his compatibility with Zoro??????? Sure, only the pirate king would be worthy of having the greatest swordsman in his crew.

Sanji. Sanji's reaction to the whole thing. The desperation in his voice. I still can't believe it was the way Sanji was truly introduced to Zoro. Of course they are not normal about each other. Sanji was screaming for Zoro to give up so he wouldn't die and Zoro was asking for death so he wouldn't be defeated.

"Why are the fighting all the time?" MAYBE BECAUSE THEY STAND DIRECTLY ON TWO OPPOSITE SIDES IN THAT MATTER???

There were already two swordsmen following Zoro?? Calling him big brother?? There were five young men around Zoro's age there and he absolutely didn't disappoint in guiding by example? It was a Zoro masterclass on how to be a strawhat. What a time to be alive.

I just love that everyone was losing their mind over Mihawk and his powers and Zoro just. Jumped to face him. Mihawk told him YOU ARE A KID and Zoro proceeded to impress Mihawk so hard, the man became a fan. It's? Simply?? Idk, idk!

Sanji's family remembers Zoro and Luffy like that. Do you understand what that means? Ussop was kinda there and Nami didn't make the best of first impressions, but Luffy and Zoro made a total show. At that point, Zeff was the kind of dad who almost forced his kid to befriend the other kids he thinks that will be a good influence.

Which again. Insane.

Luffy ready to throw hands over Zoro did not surprise me. The intensity of his panic? The hurt on the way he screamed Zoro's name? He was sweating, using all his willpower to control himself and not interrupt Zoro's fight, he was cursing Mihawk and going wild and— I cannot breathe whenever I remember how Luffy met Zoro, how their friendship started. No one else knows that Zoro was on a Marine base CRUCIFIED. Some freaking pulling this Jesus out of the cross and taking him with me to see the world shit going on here.

The whole Zoro basically crucified image and the whole cross imagery with Mihawk and— I'm not going that route today, sorry.

THE VOW. THE VOW. THE VOOOOOOOOW.

WERE YOU WORRIED ABOUT ME?

AND HE WAS.

The way Sanji calls back to the vow when he criticizes Zoro in Alabasta for being worried about Luffy losing. The Zoro Sanji knows is the one who raised his arm and called Luffy the pirate king, the one who vowed to never lose again to not worry Luffy. Sanji was not happy to see Zoro so out of himself and in a weird (their) way, he was reassuring Zoro. Ugh. My brain hurts.

But then again, Zoro was acting exactly how Luffy acted before. The first fight of Luffy vs Crocodile is clearly paralleling the Zoro vs Mihawk first encounter. I'll need a therapist after this.

I'm just now reading the version of the manga and not the anime and wjdnkdbfjej I just—

The end(?)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The makeshift town of Slab City in the brutal Sonoran Desert might not be glamorous, but over 1,000 nomads call it home and live off-the-grid. 

Slab City, aka The Slabs, was born when the U.S. Marines abandoned Fort Dunlap, near the town of Niland. They dismantled the buildings but left the concrete slabs. Though California officially has control over the land, it’s too remote and inhospitable for it to care.

When employees from a chemical company near Niland found the slabs, they decided it was the perfect spot to make a temporary settlement close to their job.  The small trailers they brought were the beginning of the new community of Slab City.

Over the next few decades, people were drawn to the improvised city, too. To this day, the residents remain a motley collection of those with little income and people looking for a way to live off the grid.

In this forgotten place, there are no property taxes or utility bills, which makes it ideal for people trying to stretch their pensions or Social Security.

Slab City's population swells to over 4,000 during the winter months as people come down as far away as Canada to take advantage of the warmer weather and cheap living.

I’m impressed- they have a library.

When the summer heat rises to 120 degrees, most return home, leaving a smaller permanent population of about 150.

Becoming a resident of Slab City is an informal process. You simply show up, find a spot that no one else has claimed, and set up a trailer, shack, yurt, or truck.

The nearest public amenities – including drinkable water – are in Niland, a few miles away. Residents share a single communal shower fed by a nearby hot spring.

If you want electricity, you have to set up a collection of solar panels, generators, and batteries. Or you can hire "Solar Mike," who sells and installs solar panels out of his trailer

The community center, known as The Range, occasionally screens movie and TV. There's also an internet café that basically amounts to a tent with a wireless router inside. Some people are bored and some embrace the simple life.

Though police from Niland occasionally patrol the area and will respond to emergency calls, the community largely polices itself.

While drug use is common, residents say that it's usually confined to certain, well-known areas of the camp. The most common type of crime is theft but the community will shun people who are suspect. 

The entrance to East Jesus, an art installation, in Slab City.

Oddly, the remote community didn’t escape COVID and it was a hard sell for the state to try to vaccinate them.

https://allthatsinteresting.com/slab-city#24

[gunkbaby]

if Shuu was a human what would his top 5 favourite foods be?

ooh good one. This is tricky bc shuu is such a picky eater, but still has this ‘eat the world’ attitude, i think one thing abt human shuu aus rly neglect to compensate for is how closely tied Shuu is to the idea of being an apex predator, but I think you can still achieve it, and I will try my best! i do know a bit abt gourmet food! (There are actually a lot of books abt food critics and gourmet chefs who get 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕪 with cooking)

i feel like is also hard bc shuu would probably like everyone to think his favourite food is something rare and exotic so maybe he would twist the truth a little. Narrowing down specific foods is difficult but I will try my best!

Kaneki’s bussy

Orlotan - this fucked me up when i heard about it. But the practice of eating orlotan is utter decadence - to a ridiculous extent. It’s a bit like Foie Gras - the orlotan are wild caught and force fed to double their mass, then drowned and marinated in Armagnac and then cooked. It’s meant to be consumed whole, the bones spat out, and typically, the consumer is traditionally supposed to wear a napkin or towel over their face whilst they eat the bird. I can’t remember why - but I’ve seen it said that is either to maintain dignity when spitting out the bones, or to shield such a disgraceful act from God’s eyes. The latter sounds cool as fuck so i believe it. I love Jesus!!! I think Shuu would lap something like that up. I’ve yet to find something so dreadfully French in the matter of food, and I think he’d probably say this is his favourite food - if only for the amount of ceremony involved.

Cheesecake - Shuu always mentioning cheesecake in early TG and I would like to give him this one as a little treat. I don’t know a lot abt cheesecake bc i fucking hate the stuff but maybe he’d like something like Basque? Which is just burned custard(?) cheesecake - i was reminded of tiramisu but apparently it’s more of a soufflé. I think he’d probably go for something floral too - rose cheesecake’s probably a thing, lavender, peony. I don’t know if I see him as a sweet/dessert person. He’s more likely to enjoy richer desserts like cheesecake and chocolates.

Dark Chocolate - maybe a sneak! I am a Dark Chocolate Enjoyer so total bias but hear me out (yes i do also like black liquorice!). If it is less than 80% cocoa it’s too sweet! He’d be a 100% kind of guy, because bragging rights. I think he might enjoy it with some fruits, maybe with orange biscuits or raspberries. I think he’d like raspberries, they taste like little rubies to me. Dark chocolate goes good with almond butter, he might make it fancy - foamed raspberry with shredded chocolate over almond biscuits with coffee cream. we might call that a rather bizarre mocha, but shuu would say it’s a deconstructed tiramisu. the reason i think he’d choose dark chocolate is because i don’t think he’d eat sweets. Dark chocolate has a deeper taste profile, in my experience dark chocolate is always unique. This might appeal to Shuu. It goes well with far more flavours than typical chocolate - spices, florals, etc - i recently had dark chocolate almonds dusted in matcha! They were utterly divine. Dark chocolate is highly overrhated in my opinion.

Exotic Meat - this is a generalisation sorry 😢 But I believe it canonical - very premium cuts of meat from animals you might not typically farm - zebra, bear, crocodile, rattlesnake, that sort of thing. It’s really controversial for some reason and as a vegan I should be opposed, but I think wild hunting is leagues better than farming, provided it’s not an endangered species, but Shuu would definitely eat an endangered species. Maybe he likes to brag and his favourite meat is snow leopard, or something. Dodo. Dinosaur, even (he was There).

Fugu (pufferfish) - this is shorthand for ‘dangerous food’ lol! Without the danger of being a ghoul, we have to consider how a human shuu might chase this danger. He might hunt his exotic meats, but I think he might try and achieve this by also eating dangerous food - food that’s poisonous or toxic. a bit of a Russian roulette. I wouldn’t even put it beneath a human or a ghoul Shuu to eat something with worms! (Same tbh. Would.)

i think most of the above are what Shuu might want people to believe are his favourite foods, so I’d like to take some time to throw my other ideas in the ring.

I think he’d take comfort in Monte Cristo - if only because in a human universe, I would take it to be his father’s favourite food. He’d probably be given it as a child or something, so good associations. There’s not much rly to say else there, but the idea of Shuu eating a toastie fascinates me. If he eats it when he’s sad, i think he’d look like that little mouse video, but otherwise I think he’d eat a toastie with a knife & fork.

I mentioned dark chocolate earlier, but of course he might also like some luxury chocolates - i think of these wonderful chocolates i saw once, that had been dyed and marbled to look like planets and marbled, filled with pistachio or coffee foams. Wonderful. Straight from switzerland or italy. Maybe he would enjoy ruby chocolate too? I’ve never had it! I said no sweets but white chocolate has a time and place, but it works wonderfully with wasabi or miso - i made wasabi and white chocolate cupcakes once. Good lord. He would like that. White chocolate and nuts is also very good. When I was vegetarian, my guilty pleasure used to be salted liquorice dipped in white chocolate - but I don’t know if he’d like that!

i think he’d eat sea urchin.

Some drinks too! -

Coffee: specifically coffee with blue seaweed or Kopi Iuwak. He’s definitely tried it, but does he like it? Who knows? I’ve always wanted to try seaweed coffee. Kopi Iuwak is coffee beans that’s already passed through the digestive system of a civet. It sounds like a bit of a farce to me, but i don’t think it’s as repulsive as people make out.

matchaaaa - bias i just think everyone should drink matcha

moon milk - i’ve never had this bc broke but it sounds so good. I think he’d like the pink/rose milk the most! maybe the blue spirulina?

Nut milks - vegan bias but seriously who can honestly argue cow juice tastes better than a refreshing glass of cashew milk??? Shuu would probably have something like pistachio milk, tigernut, brazil nut, macadamia -that sort of thing! Stuff you can’t get from the shops!

People will probably kill me if I don’t mention escargot or frogs legs so. Obligatory mention. Personally I find that to be rather typical and cliched - ooh, mandatory french food! So bizarre! Whatever. Partly why this ask took me a long time to get to, is because I wanted to go through my books and notes. It would have been easy for me to sit here and type that human Shuu would eat lobster and ragyu and live baby shrimp in miso soup, but i think it’s too obvious. In my experience, there is so much more to get out of Shuu when you delve deeper and don’t say the first thing!

i also want to say, sometimes i see how we (westerners) talk about food from different cultures. lots of high-class gourmet stuff seems silly, but i dont care to mock it. i can’t enjoy food anymore, but it makes me happy that some people enjoy food enough to make it a silly and pompous hobby. But i think sometimes we look at frogs legs or zebra steaks, orlotan or fugu, fermented egg, people eating guinea pigs, chihuahua or cat, sometimes we have a tendency to say it’s gross and twisted, but i don’t think that’s necessary. if something tastes good, if an animal has good meat, then why not? eating the world is sometimes a good thing. not always, but sometimes.

This question made me think a lot, so thank you! I was thinking about a human shuu - all the stories you could make up! There’s a lot to sink your teeth into!

I’m sorry if this was incoherent last night i took 40 laxatives and i just drank 2 monster energy back to back I feel very sane!!!!

[royallygray]

So in your superhero-soul link-au thingy the skyblings and the seablings are all siblings. So how does that work?

Like are they all avians but also with fins and gills? Do we get moth Pearl or avian Pearl or fish Pearl? Does Lizzie have bird wings? Do they have to keep not being human a secret or are they just open about it? Are they all full siblings or are some half siblings or adopted? Please ive been thinking about this for so long.

WHAT DOES PEARL LOOK LIKE IM DOING AN ART

Firstly, omg omg omg omg OH MY GOD OH MY GOD??? YOU WANT TO DO AN ART?? FOR MY SILLY LITTLE AU?? OH MY GOD :D

Secondly, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE QUESTIONS AGDHLSJDFSDFJ (gives me an excuse/a prompt to rant :D)

I’m so honored.

It gets a little (read: a lot) extensive bc I like to give a lot of background and reasoning for why stuff is the way it is but in case I get rly unclear the direct answers to each question will be at the end.

Grian and Pearl are biological siblings that share both parents (they have two moms, one is trans and one is cis, and they are fantastic parents who are so in love with each other. Both are avian hybrids.) Pearl is one year older than Grian. Their family name is Azure. They don’t have fish traits.

Grian has the traditional parrot red-yellow-blue wings and Pearl has midnight blue wings with gray and white speckles on the bottom half. Idk if they have the ear wings.

Lizzie and Jimmy share a dad, who is a piscine hybrid. (Piscine is basically just the word avian (relating to birds) for fish. Saying fish hybrid sounded significantly less cool so I found this and now they are piscine hybrids. Also it sounds like pool in spanish which. is fine i guess fuck you latin.) The dad’s last name is Marina, because of the relation to fish and the sea and stuff, but it’s also Marina and not Marine because I’m pretty sure I was listening to Oh No! or Seventeen (by Marina) while creating the name.

Jimmy’s mom was human, and Lizzie’s mom is fae. Lizzie is the same age as Grian, and they’re about five years older than Jimmy.

Lizzie has piscine traits (fins, gills along with lungs, ear fins) AND has fae wings and her eyes tend to glow. The piscine is from ESMP1 axolotl and the fae is from the Fairy Fort in LL. Jimmy is supposed to have piscine traits, (cod, courtesy of ESMP1) and he was born with them. However, within the day he was born, the fins and gills started either falling off or self destructing, respectively. He started growing wings (which o7 to the nurses of this imaginary hospital jesus christ) and the ear wings. So within the day he was born, he completely transferred from being a healthy piscine baby to an avian. And due to the yellow downy feathers, Jimmy’s mom knew that he was the canary. (also rip Jimmy’s mom you will be missed o7)

So Jimmy’s mom (Last name Solidarity. Jimmy's last name was supposed to be Solidarity-Marina) was besties with one of the Skybling moms, and she was basically like “hi bestie you have avian kids, right? mhm so essentially my kiddo was a fish and now hes not a fish and he’s a bird and this is a problem because I think he’s the prophecy which means that he’s got a TARGET on his head and I want my son alive. if you guys accept him into your family, it will look significantly less suspicious. also i’m not gonna make it that childbirth took a lot out of me”

negotiations were made between the four adults (jimmy’s mom, seablings’ dad, skyblings’ moms) and jimmy got very subtly adopted before his mom died. (o7, we will miss you)

When Jimmy’s somewhere from two to four, Lizzie (age ~7-9) gets adopted too because her dad is too unstable and he is BARELY keeping it together. Jimmy’s mom was the love of his life (i’m pretty sure lizzie was either the result of a one-night-stand or a mildly brief fling) and he is Not Okay. So it was arranged that Lizzie got adopted by the Azures, which she was thrilled about bc they’re cool as fuck.

(also Lizzie’s mom (Last name Shadow. Lizzie's last name is Shadow-Marina) was Not really prepared for a child. She was not emotionally prepared for the commitment of a child, nor did she actually have a stable paying job. By the time that seablings’ dad gotta go, she’s also not qualified to adopt Lizzie since there’s just a bunch of shit that she’s got going on in her life. But she does hang out with Lizzie monthly throughout her childhood with the Azures, and they still visit occasionally throughout Lizzie’s adulthood. she’s more like the cool aunt than the mom)

When the Azures adopted Lizzie, they had a pool installed in their backyard (the Azures are solid middle class. They can afford a pool bc of hybrid pensions. Hybrid pensions are basically just getting more resources to accommodate for your traits. The Azures have the Avian Mansion Pension, which is just a ginormous house because you gotta have space to stretch your wings. basically enrichment/some basic needs for hybrids)

When the kids started learning magic, specifically shifting magic, they wanted to learn how to shift to be more alike to piscine hybrids. Throughout childhood, Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy all got better at shifting to piscine hybrid traits. This hobby was to help Lizzie feel more included in culture stuff, but also if Jimmy randomly started becoming a fish again, his body wouldn’t have to build something from scratch and it would be less painful and easier to adapt to.

Pearl shifted into a salmon piscine hybrid, Grian to a cod piscine hybrid, and because Jimmy wanted to be like his cool older brother, he also shifted to a cod piscine hybrid.

(shifting is a type of Guise Magic. it’s basically glamor from through the sky blue cracks au or the Mist from PJO/HoO.)

Basically, if you draw her younger, it’s totally plausible to draw Pearl as a fish. and you could technically draw them all with fins and gills.

Lizzie never particularly cared about trying to imitate avian wings since she had her own fae wings.

I haven’t quite decided what the social system does about hybrids. Generally, I’ve been trying to make it so that humans and hybrids literally have the same social status and stuff so technically they’re equal. However, I did also make stuff like avian mansion pensions exist so idk. but they don’t need to hide their hybrid traits in public

SUMMARY BECAUSE THAT WAS REALLY FUCKING LONG LMAO:

Pearl and Grian are full avian hybrids. Jimmy is also an avian, although born piscine. Lizzie is a piscine hybrid. (Piscine is like the word avian (relating to birds) for fish.) Lizzie is the only one with fins. She has gills and also has lungs. When born, Jimmy also had gills and fins, but they dropped off and got replaced with wings and ear wings.

We get avian Pearl, but Pearl, Grian, Jimmy, and Lizzie used to roleplay as fish to practice magic for if/when Jimmy ever returned to being a piscine, and also to make Lizzie feel more included and learn some about her culture.

Lizzie does not have bird wings, but she does have fairy wings.

In this AU, hybrids aren’t treated any different than humans. They’re open about it.

Pearl and Grian are full siblings. Jimmy and Lizzie are half siblings. Jimmy and Lizzie are adopted into Pearl and Grian’s family, although Jimmy thinks he’s biologically related to Pearl & Grian (until he learns he’s not, at some point in the plot).

Hope this was clear and interesting :]

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part ii- the scarab

“the moon taught me there is beauty in darkness too” - marine ashnalikyan

summary: you meet marc spector, and he meets the real you

wordcount: 2.4k

warnings: language, violence

a/n: yuhhh so excited for this. part three coming very soon hope y’all enjoy!!! also tfw your professors let you take finals early so you can go to the taylor concert. if any of y’all fellow swifties will be in nashville on may 7, i’ll see y’all there! feel free to leave feedback, i love it and love u all 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-yourcookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc

sorry it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all 😭

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For all accounts, you think you’re handling the situation pretty well.

Your sort-of-friend sort-of-target that you thought was innocent and also British turns out to be not-innocent and American? Shocking.

He’s also covered in blood and tried to knife you when you broke into his apartment because he doesn’t know you’re secretly an ex-Russian agent turned Avenger that could kill him easily? Arguably less shocking. Reasonable, even.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” you say, holding a hand up. Steven- no, Marc, sighs exasperatedly, waiting. “You are a mercenary?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Just answer the damn question!”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Yes.” You sigh, leaning against a bookshelf full of volumes on Egyptian history, mythology, and archaeology.

“So what? Was ‘Steven Grant’ just an alibi?” you ask.

You really hope not. One, because he’s sweet and kind and an absolute nerd. And two, because if he isn’t, then that means that Marc’s dedication to a cover is better than yours. And that simply will not stand.

“No, it’s more complicated than that. He’s, like, a facet of me. Another personality. We share the same body, but when the other is in control, it’s like the other is asleep. You’re stuck.” You perk up, visibly relieved.

“Oh, so he’s an alter? Like, you have DID?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Do you… Do you not know the name of your own personality disorder?” His silence speaks volumes.

You chuckle under your breath, watching him stammer to try and recover from his fumble. Taking out the gun from your waistband, you go to set it on the table. In an instant, Marc has your wrist in a death grip, attempting to jostle the gun from you.

“Again, seriously? This went so well for you literally a minute ago,” you snark.

With a dramatic eye roll, you effortlessly twist under his arms, kicking out his legs. He rolls over and stands back up, kicking the gun from your hands.

You take a moment to watch his fighting style, scanning him as he circles you. He’s good, yes, but his form is sloppy. Basic US military training, most likely nothing specialized.

Deciding to take one out of Nat’s book, you leap up, wrap your thighs around Marc’s head, and flip him over, holding him in place as he thrashes on the floor.

“Заткнись, ты такой черто��ски громкий, Иисус, черт возьми, Христос [Shut up, holy fuck you are so damn loud Jesus fucking Christ],” you hiss. Eventually, he taps your leg, wheezing.

“Truce,” he sighs. You roll off of him, nodding.

“Sure, truce.”

He’s huffing as you stand, checking your gun and finally setting it down.

“So, why are you here?” Marc asks.

You shrug. “Heard there was a vigilante, so I was sent to check it out.”

“By who?”

“None of your business.”

“Why are you Russian?”

“Also none of your business.”

Marc rolls his eyes, but accepts that that is as far as he’s gonna get for the moment.

You frown, glancing around the room. All of the items in here seem very Steven-ish. Mostly Egyptian decor and books. You have a hunch, though you hope it isn’t true.

“Steven doesn’t know about you, does he?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Marc shakes his head. “I was the… original, I guess? I set him up with a safe place here, but vigilantism is part of my job. Can’t stop, even if you want me to.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Observing the fish tank, you watch the one-finned goldfish happily swim around. You’ll have to tell a certain one-armed assassin about him. “I just need to make sure you’re hurting the right people.”

“That seems subjective,” he jokes. You chuckle, but shrug. He gets oddly contemplative before speaking again. “Do me a favor?”

You haven’t known this man for ten minutes, but you nod. “Sure.”

“Don’t tell Steven about me.”

———————————————————————

It’s not even a week later when trouble comes calling.

You get a text from Steven, who has been oddly silent this week. It’s asking for you to come to some storage lockers, promising to explain everything. He’s worried, and a part of you wonders if he’s more worried about the whole vigilant thing or about his alter.

Hopping on your motorcycle with no sense to put on your helmet, you speed through traffic in record time. Eyes flickering to signs as you zoom past, you finally spot him sprinting frantically out of the building.

He trips and falls as you skid to a halt.

“Shit! Steven, you can’t be running into traffic like that,” you curse, hopping off the back and grabbing your helmet from the seat compartment to give to him. “Hop on. We’ve got to get you back to your apartment.”

He awkwardly climbs on, holding your shoulders.

You raise a brow and drive off. “Why’re you grabbing my shoulder like that? I get you’re British, but come on, you’re not the queen.”

“Why’re you Russian, all of the sudden?” he asks.

You don’t respond.

Unsure about what to do, he wraps an arm around your waist as you speed up further, nimbly wearing between cars. Your breath doesn’t hitch and you don’t blush, but your heart rate quickens a bit anyways.

When you arrive back at the apartments, you head in together. Steven locks the door, catching a glimpse of Marc in the fish tank.

‘She shouldn’t be here.’ He can’t really tell Steven that you’re not a civilian yet. He can’t freak him out more. And honestly, Marc himself doesn’t even know what you are. A special agent? A military operative?

‘You need to get her out of here. You’re way out of your depth.’

“I just want my life back,” Steven replies aloud.

You stand up from where you’re feeding Gus. “What?”

“No, sorry.” He waves a hand. “I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself. Sort of.”

“Marc?” you ask.

He nods. “So… you met him?”

“…Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; he didn’t want you to know yet.“

Steven doesn’t have it in him to be mad. Especially not when you pick up one of his books.

“Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?”

“Yep,” Steven mumbles. He begins reciting a poem, which you join in on. “She’s my favorite poet.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him you only learned her work for a mission in France, and every time you hear them you can see the gun you used to shoot down a politician that happened to be a literary buff. You’d gained his trust with poetry, convinced him to take you back to his home, and killed him.

You eventually smile and set the book down. “I’m more partial to Mahmoud Darwish. ‘ربما القمر جميل ‘فقط لأنه بعيد [‘Maybe the moon is beautiful only because it is far’]?”

Wandering over to his desk, you gesture at a paper.

“Why do you have Egyptian funeral rites here?”

“You speak French, Arabic, and read hieroglyphics, but have a Russian accent?” Steven seems almost in awe of you. No one looks at an assassin like that. “Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Before he can respond to your smirk, there’s a demanding knock on the door. You’re gone by the time Steven opens it.

You hear him greet the officers, followed by them forcing their way into the apartment and searching the place. All the while, you’re climbing onto the roof and ducking from view with a bag of contraband clutched close to you.

It takes all of your strength to not just kill them when they arrest him, despite how easy it would be.

———————————————————————

You track the car easily. It leads you to a sort of community, almost cultish. You’re in a black tank top and cargo pants now, weapons concealed all over.

A man lets him out of the car and frees him from the handcuffs as you jump from roof to roof, watching and waiting. He guides him around, pointing out a goat and speaking butchered Mandarin.

You watch as strange things begin to happen. A stack of trays shakes and falls, trash goes up in a whirlwind. A shadow flickers just beyond your vision.

Down at the table, Harrow’s pushing for the scarab.

“Maybe you know someone who has it?” he suggests.

In a bowl, Marc shakes his head.

‘No, don’t give her up. She’s a civilian, she’ll get hurt. Just give me the body.’

People begin surrounding the table as you ready your gun. Slinging the bag of money, weapons, and a small scarab over your shoulder, you drop into the shadows.

“Sorry, is that… Is that what… You’re all into that, like, killing children and that?” you hear Steven say. “Maybe that’s just me, but that’s- I kinda draw a line there at child murder.”

The man stands, raising his staff that glows purple with power and demanding the scarab. Steven begins backing away as the man gets confrontational, and you decide enough is enough.

“Hey, dipshit. I’ve got your bug right here.” You hold it up, gun raised in the other hand.

“You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding,” the man says. “Let me have it, I’ll keep it safe.”

You stand next to Steven, training the barrel of a polished gold gun on the head of this cult leader.

“Do you have a suit or something? That’d be really helpful right now,” you grumble.

“‘Do I have a soup’? What are you saying?” he whispers.

With an exasperated sigh, you hand him the scarab and start running. A man grabs your arm and you slam him into the wall, shooting him with little regard to Steven’s shriek.

You tuck the gun into your holster as you race up some stairs, attacking another man before throwing him off the high platform.

“That was awesome,” Steven gapes as you drag him along.

“Here, bolt the door,” you yell, backing away as you survey the room. A few windows are backup exits, but there’s not much here. Well, some dead bodies.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die in an evil magician’s man cave.”

There’s a pounding on the door as you start trying to calm Steven down. Admittedly, you’re a bit lacking in the social skills department.

“Ok, hey, we’re gonna be fine okay?” His breathing quickens. “Um, not to say that I don’t appreciate you, but is there a chance Marc could come out? He seems to be familiar with guns, yes?”

“No, no I can’t! Stop, please, both of you,” he begs, growing more panicked. Shit. You guide him to the ground as he rambles. “Please stop, leave me alone, both of you!”

You let him take a moment as the door starts splintering. It bursts open, but you don’t see anything?

“Jackal, jackal. Jackal!” Steven yells. Even though you don’t see any such dog, he gets tackled out of the window.

You run to the ledge, embedding a grappling hook in the ground and muttering curses in Russian under your breath.

The fall is familiar, and you land crouched as the hook retracts. Hurrying around, you finally see him, now in a white suit that covers his face, fighting the air.

He’s literally punching the air. His eyes are also glowing.

“Ok… what the fuck what the fuck,” you hiss. Firing off a few rounds, they embed in the air as something yelps.

A force grabs you by the throat before you stab at it with a shattered bottle on the ground, rolling away as heavy footsteps beat the rain-soaked pavement.

It drags you back as you cuss, firing off shots into air that occasionally connect. Letting you go, it targets Steven instead, knocking him against a car.

The man seems to have a conversation with his alter before rising.

“Get away from her, you.” He’s bouncing on his toes like a boxer. “Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote.”

This was about to end horribly. This random Brit was about to get absolutely murdered trying to keep whatever it was away from you.

“You’re in the wrong ends, mate. You’re in my yard now.” He throws his rather nice jacket on the ground as he continues taunting the beast.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V,” he says at the same time you hiss, “Отлично [Perfect], he’s gonna die before I even recruit him.”

He throws a punch that seems to knock him off balance, cheering and whooping before, if unsurprisingly, getting kicked across the street.

Then it happens. Steven turns around, something about him changing. The suit morphs, becoming almost like mummy wrappings. Marc.

“Get it away from the civilians, I’ll follow,” you call.

He dashes away, with you following behind on the ground.

———————————————————————

Marc lands on the ground once the creature is dead, staring into the mirror.

He doesn’t trust this situation. Harrow, Khonshu, you. He doesn’t know who’s lying, who’s honest, and who’s halfway in-between.

Steven appears in the mirror, disrupting Marc’s train of thought. They go back and forth, bickering as the wind grows stronger.

“You told (Y/N) to keep you a secret from me, and then we left her behind,” Steven accuses, growing more frustrated in the glass.

“Oh, please, what do you even know about her? What do either of us know about her?” Marc yells. “We can’t trust her.”

Steven shakes his head, pacing. “She’s my friend. She needs to stay out of this, you don’t need to drag an innocent civilian in.”

“She’s not a civilian!”

“…What?”

“The night she found out about me, she disarmed me like it was nothing. She had a gun.”

“That doesn’t matter, I trust her, she’s helped me and saved me from muggers, and-“

Steven’s argument doesn’t provide much solace for Marc, who groans and runs a hand over his face.

The arguing continues, growing louder and louder as they start talking over one another.

By the time you’re there, Marc’s glaring at the ground. The chairs are scattered around (the work of Khonshu, but you don’t know that) and he’s ready to start his third fight with you that he knows he’ll lose.

“Who are you?” he asks again, eyeing the weapons covering your person. The Black Widow buckle on your belt should give it away, but you suppose the public isn’t quite aware of you, yet. “Why are you following me?”

You tap the buckle and watch him instantly tense up. “I’m with the Avengers. And you are my mission.”