#and broken my block woop

[all-or-nothing-baby]

dear heart

[somedaynotsoon]

Super Small Stardust Saga, Chapter 4

"Captain Skylor says: TEN choices!? Wow! And you don't even have to pay a subscription fee to the website! Gosh, now that's futuristic!"

OOPS ALL ALIENS As usual, the formatting is broken due to it being written for Cohost's html.

Okie doke! Now that you're seated, you turn to Jynx. You glance at the ship manifest and decide to pick who you'd like to meet first.

"Ok! Jynx, I'd like to say to hi to..."

[Option 1: ID #000, the Evacuations Director]

"...The Evacuations Director?" You say, glancing at the top.

"Hi, that's me." Jynx replies instantly.

"...Oh."

Jynx is using some kind of telekinetic power to float around in circles. She's thankfully far enough away from you that her relative size doesn't disorient you. You don't know what it would be like to be on her body when she's spinning around or floating like that, but you're glad she didn't do that while carrying you around earlier. This day has already been overwhelming enough without nausea.

"Why are you listed first, anyway? I'm like... Number 4? I feel like the captain should be 1." You ask.

"Oh, yeah, I can explain that. Ship IDs are listed in 'Wake-Up' order. If there's an unknown emergency, the ship wakes me up first, then the Reactor Specialist, Head Engineer, Head Comms Officer, and then wakes up you, Mads, and then the rest of the crew." Jynx says.

"Why's that?"

"Alright, picture this. You're eight months into a trip between two galaxies. You're not gonna see any Collective ship or station that can help you for another three months, on top of that. The ship automatically detects the Main Reactor going critical. It wakes up you, the reactor specialist, and the head engineer. Your dorms are placed on opposite sides of the ship because you have a hundred ID numbers between you. By the time you can meet up and make a plan of action, boom. Ship explodes, everybody dies."

"Oh, that's not fun."

"Right? Ok, another example. You're being raided by space pirates. They know better than to ask the enemy to just give up their own captain, so they handle it themselves. They walk to the dorms, crack open the first two doors they see, and woops, there you are. Bang. Pipe bomb gets thrown in your face."

"How does the weird numbering system fix that?"

"Simple. When there's an emergency on the ship, the one who gets woken up first...is me. The Evacuation Director is a highly intensive role requiring a lot of experience. Most E.Ds are retired captains. If the captain and co-captain bite it, authority gets passed to me."

"So...what do you do?"

"It's my job to know what to do when there's an emergency, and to respond to it as fast as possible. My dorm alone has six different buttons in it that wake up very specific configurations of crewmates to instantly respond to any possible crisis. I am in the perfect position to do one job and one job only - answer emergencies, and if need be, evacuate everyone safely."

"Have you ever done this before?"

"I have done this for almost every single Academy Station graduate for the last six hundred years." Jynx says it so matter-of-factly. It's hard not to take her seriously, even while she's upside-down.

"I had no idea you Greys could get that old."

"Who are you calling old...? I'm like, 32 in human years."

"How old are you for actually?"

"...................uh, 617?"

You can tell that's a lie almost instantly. "Really?"

"Ugh!! Fine! I'm like, 4,810. I've been around the block for well over half the time the Collective's even existed, so why don'tcha show me some respect and don't talk to me like I'm some kinda grandma!"

"Oh, right. Sorry, Jynx. Do a good job, okay?"

Jynx stops floating and lands perfectly upright in one of the bridge's seats, catching her hat with a forepaw. "I always do a good job."

[Option #2: ID#001, the Reactor Specialist]

"Hey, so I guess let's call ID 1 up here. They're not a member of the officers, right?" You ask.

"Correct. Vanilla is, however, very important because he's the Reactor Specialist. He makes sure the ship doesn't get enveloped in plasmatic hydrogen and become a star." Jynx says. "I'll call him up to the bridge so you can say hi."

Three minutes later, and Vanilla arrived.

"Vanilla is a Siccus. They're primarily composed of plant cells, but they aren't really 'plant-people' if you get my meaning. They don't play well with other plant-based aliens, and instead work well with animals, myconids, and silicatids, et cetera." Jynx rattled off a bit of alien trivia as Vanilla entered. You suppose that was for your sake.

"Nice to meet you, Vanilla!"

His gaze was intense. He seemed flowery in his superficial appearance, but there was little doubt in your mind that he was all-business.

"Captain. Name's Vanilla. I handle the solar reactor above the Gallery Deck. It produces light that rivals that of a star. Don't stare at it." He approaches your chair and...hands you an appropriately-sized pair of sunglasses.

"For small crewmates." He says. "Since you will have to look up a fair lot."

"Oh, thank you!" You put on the sunglasses. "They're so cool!"

Vanilla immediately strolls back over to the elevator.

"Oh! Are you leaving already?" You ask.

"I will be busy a lot of the time. Big ball of fire powers the ship. I am the guy who knows how to make it not go boom. Also. I need to give a few other small crewmates sunglasses, as well."

"Oh! Well, best of luck! I hope we can talk some more later when you're not so busy!"

Vanilla blinks slowly, but his expression doesn't change. "If you need shade...and I have free time to spare... I can stand over you. If you want." He says it in such a straightforward fashion, you don't realize he's flirting at first.

"O-oh. I'll think about it!! Hehehehe." You admit, he is definitely very nice to look at.

"Goodbye." And then he leaves.

"How long in advance did he make those sunglasses for you, I wonder." Jynx appears to have been keeping herself busy by drawing a picture of you wearing anime-style sunglasses on the room's big monitor.

[Option #3: ID#002, the Head Engineer] [This sequence contains: Thighs.]

"Can you call the Head Engineer up? The way I see it, they're basically one of the two most important people on a vessel like this." You say.

"Yeah, of course. Though really, the Captain's mates are the higher authority." Jynx says. She presses a button on her chair. "Lieutenant, we'd like to have a word with Moss Gilliam."

A minute later, and in strolls a rather...mossy and green character from the elevator.

"Miss Gilliam is a Miregreen Saltcony. You'll note the single eye and floral body." Jynx says.

"Hi, nice to meet you!" You say, standing up.

Moss approaches the Captain's chair and looks over the odd configuration of stuff on the cushion meant to accommodate for your size. Her huge eye looks over everything but you, seemingly. She blinks and then turns right around, seemingly to leave.

"Hey, wait, where are you going-?" You start, before Moss leaps up, her body passing entirely over you before landing against the regular-sized seat-back, sitting in your chair with your miniature captain's chambers between her legs. You crane your neck up and turn around to meet her eye, which only now is looking at you.

"Cap'n." Moss nods. "Welcome aboard the Rampant Lovelander. I hope you like the Dollhouse Theater I prepped for your Captain's seat. I figured it'd be cozier than a field of cushion fibers."

"Oh? You mean this miniature captain seat here is something you built?"

"It's not just a tiny chair, it's also a kitchenette, an office fit for a war room, a shower room, walk-in closet. Lounge. Exercise Room. A hella gamer setup. I especially love the Micro-Management sim at the back. It's got an interactive hologram of the whole ship with a live map of estimated positions of every crewmate. You can issue orders anywhere, anytime, to anyone, easier than ordering takeout. If y'ever wanted to feel BIG? That's why I called it the Dollhouse Theater." Moss offers a prideful smirk.

"Oh, wow! I'll have to check that out later. I guess I didn't know how impressed I should be. I thought you were just making fun of me for being small." You say.

"Well. The fact that it fits between my thighs with 2 inches to spare on either side is a nice bonus."

"About that..." You really tried as hard as you could to keep looking at Moss' face. The fact that her bare thighs and all were surrounding you like a wall of mountains was a bit hard to pretend to ignore.

"Miregreens like Moss usually are covered in bandages and flora to hide the parts of their bodies where their animal tissue meets the plants they symbiotically bond with. It's atypical to meet one so...exposed." Jynx says. She's not even looking.

"We don't have hands or feet or tails, so our 'paws' are bonded with plants that take the right shape. Most Saltcony also cover the side of our heads where our eye isn't, but I guess I'm 'an egomaniac' because I think I look pretty. I lead with with the best of me."

"Moss, could you at least ASK before you sit here and surround me with your thighs 'n crotch and all-!" You protest.

"Haha! Sure." Moss gets up, lifting one thigh and passing it over the Dollhouse Theater, before hopping up and out of the chair. She turns her head to you as she walks over to her own seat on the bridge. "Though, just remember that you can ask me for anything! If you want me to build anything, I'll do it. If you want me to introduce you to give you six new hobbies, I can do that. Or if you want to explode in the best way possible and wake up a week later sore in a hundred places-"

"Go sit down, Moss. And get in line. Everybody thinks the Captain's cute." Jynx says, almost bored.

"Yeah yeah. Killjoy." And off Moss goes to her seat. She winks at you from across the room. Or...blinks? Hard to tell, one eye. She is at least a little cute, you decide.

[Option 4: ID#003, the Head Communications Officer] [This sequence contains: paw.]

"Ok. Let's see. How about the Head Communications Officer. I think of the Commsperson and the Engineer as basically the two most important people on the ship, y'know." You say.

"Well, that's kind. You're wrong of course, because it's you and me, but still! Really nice of you to think that." Jynx says. She calls Mads to send up the HCO.

A minute or so later, a rather dignified...no...sleepy-looking, bunny-alien walks in from the elevator.

"Miss Zero is a Nevergreen Saltcony. Saltcony come in a few varieties, but the Nevergreens are the ones that always look cold and have legs and tails made of crystalized salt." Jynx says. She seems to have the biological information on the species of all the crewmates memorized.

"Howdy." Friya says. She doesn't walk closer or anything, she just greets you from across the room.

"Uh...howdy?" You reply.

"Howdy..." Friya says again. She's got one eye, the other side of her face has a big eyepatch across it. You know Saltcony only have the one eye, but it's a little odd that it's on one side of their head rather than in the center. For whatever reason, you find yourself paying a lot of attention to Friya's eye - probably because she looks so completely and utterly spaced out.

"Howdy. I'm Justine! What's your name?" You try to get anything else out of her.

"Friya."

"Hi Friya!" You smile! You try to plead with Jynx with your eyes for any sort of help at all.

"FRIYA!" Jynx shouts.

"AHiii...yes?" Friya seems to wake up for a moment.

"Go get some coffee. And quit staying up late playing MMOs before launch day. I will kick your ass if you embarrass the captain because you fall asleep at the wheel, got it?" Jynx clicks her tongue.

"Yes, ma'am. I'lla go right away. Ain't easy getting decent shuteye on the station. Sorry y'all."

"Don't worry about it!! We can chat more later when you feel a bit more alert!" You try to be encouraging.

Friya walks over to the captain's chair now, and lifts one of her paws. It's true, her leg is basically one big carved, salty rock. She lowers it over you and...pets your head. It's surprisingly gentle - well, as gentle as getting pressed on by a big rocky ceiling can be. Little salt grains slightly taller than you are fall around you.

"You're a...good egg. Nice ta meet ya, Captain." Friya murmurs.

"U-uh...! Yeah! Nice to meet you too." You say, trying not to flinch under the unyielding weight of her foot.

With that, Friya heads back down the elevator.

Jynx blinks slowly. "Ugh, she acts like she's still a college student, it's the worst. At least she keeps a decent sleep schedule while she's on the ship."

"How do you know everybody, Jynx?" You ask.

"Not everybody. Just the characters."

ID#004 is You.

ID #005 is Mads, the Co-Captain, otherwise known as the First Mate.

[Option #5: ID#006, the Second Mate] [This sequence has: Licking.]

"The first mate is the co-captain right? I don't think I need to do a proper introduction to the Lieutenant. I think we already did that, more or less. So...how about the second mate?" You say.

"Good choice." Jynx says, pushing the intercom button on her chair. "Hey Mads, Jynx. Send Nadira up."

Rather than waiting in silence for a minute for Nadira to arrive, Jynx continues talking to you while you wait. "Now, before Nadira arrives, I should let you know that she's a Phosfynx. They're a canid-like alien that swaps between a bipedal anthropoid morphology and a quadrupedal one in accordance with the moon. Though, without a moon to sync up with, they swap every other day, more or less. Nadira's a biped today. And this is important, so listen - Phosfynx have a 'crown' with a serpent head. That's where her real eyes are, so try not to look at it. Her 'main' head's eyes are just eye-spots, kind of like an orca. It wigs out her species when others meet their real eyes' gaze because it sets off their prey instincts. They were in kind of a middle of the food chain position on their home planet, see."

"Don't look at the snake head, got it." You say.

Nadira arrives just as soon as you finish that sentence.

Her winter boots produce squeaks against the polished floors. She prances with a confident strut over to your chair, then right past it. Then she stops and backs up until she's in front of your chair again.

"...I forgot the Captain was a Sellan on the way up here." She says. She kneels in front of your chair to be more at your eye-level. You can tell from the way she moves her head she's intentionally doing her best to make it look like she's looking at you with the eye-spots on her big canine head. It's hard not to occasionally glance at the snake-head, especially when you notice the smaller hat.

[Footnote: Regarding the Translator] [The Interplanetary Translator worn by all the characters has a few quirks that are worth re-iterating. For starters, the way it works is by collecting a huge amount of data from spoken language, before mapping several language models in an attempt to find the best fit. This process is fast only because it takes a Hypercomputer's worth of processing to accomplish. However, it's worth noting that its translations prioritize successful communication of core concepts over perfect accuracy. Jynx, for instance, has never seen an orca in her entire life, and definitely would never reference an Earth animal as an example. Instead, the translator pulled this example in order to communicate the idea faster.

Another quirk of The Translators is that they censor slurs, epithets, pet-names, and other slang for species' names using an arbitrary catch-all term. These terms exist for every species, but the only one you need to know is "Sellan" for humans. Whenever a character calls a human "Sellan", it is a placeholder for a word in that character's home-language that refers to humans, but cannot be Translated because it is derogatory, potentially offensive, or would be difficult to parse. Basically, the Translators have a built-in feature that stops the Collective from giving each other insulting Ben 10-style alien nicknames.

Okay, back to adventure.]

"Uh, it's okay!! As long as you don't accidentally forget I'm small while I'm on the floor or somewhere, it's fine if you take a little bit to get used to it!"

"We are Nadira III. Honorable princess of great repute. It's nice to meet you, Captain."

"Oh, are you actually a princess? That's super cool!" You say.

Out of the corner of your eye, you look past Nadira at Jynx. Jynx is doing a 'cut it out' motion with her forepaw over her neck. She's also holding up a holographic screen that reads 'She's not a princess, none of them are princesses. They just talk like that. Nobody knows why.'

"The Captain thinks I'm cool..." Nadira seems to blush for a moment, before regaining her composure. "We shall be the bestest of friends. You shalt not refuse."

"Y-yeah! Okay! We can be friends if you want! Looking forward to working with you!" You hold out a hand for a handshake. You know it's very very small, but the gesture can't hurt, right?

The sphinxfoxgirl instead leans in closer, closer, closer. When her snout almost touches you, she sticks out her tongue, and her tongue presses you down in your chair. She laps at your body for a moment, before lifting her head and letting you slowly drip off of her tongue. She lifts her pawfingers and dries your dot of a body out of the droplet of spittle she left on your whole region.

"A handshake is plebian and unbefitting of authority and princesses like us. A kiss is much more in line with Our stature. We look forward to working with you, Princess Captain Skylor."

You try to dry the front of your spacesuit with your hands. ...Nope, still gonna be a little soggy for the rest of the day. "Uh...yeah!! See you later, Nadira! I'll call you when I need something."

Nadira heads over to her chair. She keeps seeming to be tasting something in her mouth, like she's sucking on a piece of candy. Is she...appreciating your flavor? That's a bit weird.

"The Second Mate usually handles diplomatic duties, by the way." Jynx says.

"I am quite diplomatic." Nadira says it in an oddly defensive manner, like she's trying to hoard her position to herself.

[Option #6: ID#007, the Third Mate] [This sequence contains: Sharp claws.]

"Can you call up the Third Mate to the bridge?"

"Yup. On it."

Topsy plods off the elevator a minute or two later.

"Topsy is a Demi-human." Jynx says, beginning to prattle off some sort of rehearsed info-dump, but you have to stop her right away.

"Sorry, a Demi-human?"

"Oh...uh... sorry, hang on. Just call them 'Demis' for simplicity's sake. The Translator automatically fills in the suffix part of their name with a common referent for bipedal aliens. There really isn't a more convenient word for Topsy's species; even their own language refers to themselves as "Half-and-Halfs" or something to that effect. Right?"

Topsy nods.

"Uh, hi! Sorry to be talking about you rather than to you. I'm Justine!" You put out your hand for a handshake.

Topsy approaches and lifts one of his arms, holding out a razor-sharp claw from one of his digits. It's so sharp, in fact, it's thinner than your microscopic body at its edge. You...carefully and gently hold the tip of it and shake it. It's a very dangerous finger-handshake.

"Topsy. I'm in charge of safety. Let me know if your spacesuit needs adjusting or anything. It's my job to make sure there's life-vests and breathable atmosphere aboard for everyone."

"Oh, neat! Do the claws help you with your safety-stuff?" You can't help but ask.

"Nah. Well, yeah. If you're ever tied up I've got ya. But really I just like to paint m'nails."

"Oh, neat!! Maybe we could do that together." You offer.

"That's awesome." He points at you with the knife's edge of his scary-sharp claw. "You're a real one."

"Ahaha...t-thanks!" You gulp. Mental note: do not make him mad.

"Remind me to get you safety goggles and a swimsuit and the like later. It's no rush, but you ought to have them just in case. For now I've gots to go and check the seatbelts on the escape pods."

"Oh, right! Th-that sounds important. Best of luck!" You weren't trying to dismiss him so quickly, but it was hard not to be at least a little intimidated, despite how otherwise relaxed Topsy seemed to be.

Topsy tips his hat with one of his claws, and then plods right back out towards the elevator. He really is quite a weird beast - half-cat, half-human-ish, all chill. Though, he is quite a bit bigger than humans were now, obviously.

"You know, he's actually really precise with those claws of his," Jynx says, seemingly to nobody in particular. "He can slice the clothes right off you without even leaving a scratch."

You consider chewing Jynx out for the unnecessary aside, but the instant you began thinking about what she said, it became hard to get it out of your head.

[Option #7:ID#008, the Fourth Mate] [This sequence contains: expletives!]

"Yeah, let's call the fourth mate up to the bridge. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Captain." Jynx is quick to reply, and just as quick to call 'Ramon Reilly' up to the bridge.

It takes a bit longer than you might otherwise have expected any of the other crewmates to arrive. In fact, it takes longer than five minutes.

"Hey...what's the hold-up? Nobody else so far has taken this long."

"Aw, just give poor Ramon a minute. He's always quite punctual and responsible, I'll have you know. I'm sure he just got caught up on the way." Jynx is snickering to herself about something.

"...Can I at least know what kind of person he is? What species is he?"

"Oh, he's perfectly normal. And just a swell dude, all around. Totally reliable. Easy to keep by your side."

You note her failure to answer the second question. "Then where is he?"

"Oh, or didn't you know? He's been in the room with us this entire time."

"No I didn't know? Am I being pranked, is he invisible or something?"

"Nyaha! Invisible. That's funny. Not at all, I thought you might be able to relate some! You and Ramon have a lot in common!"

"Jynx, go get Ramon. This is silly."

"Yeah, sure."

Jynx hops out of her chair and approaches a different one on the opposite side of the room. She reaches out one of her paws to the middle of it, and you hear a series of rustling, echoing noises over your earpiece. After a minute, you get a brief bit of sharp, loud feedback. And then, as Jynx picks him up, you hear Ramon speak.

"You seriously left me here on the chair overnight without my headset!? You frickin' brat! Unfuckinbelievable."

Jynx sets him down in front of you.

"Oh hey! I didn't know there were other humans on the ship! Let alone in the officers! Hi!" You perk up right away, forgiving Jynx for making you play a guessing game in your excitement.

"And whose fault is that, huh?" Ramon glares at the Grey looming off to the side of both of you.

"I'm not sorry, it was funny." Jynx states it flatly as though it were a fact of life.

"It was NOT funny! I had to wander the stupid friggin' cushion for half a day because you took my earpiece away. This shit SUCKS!! You macros are terrible!"

Jynx seemed to miss part of what Ramon said. "It doesn't have anything to do with me being a Grey! All of us think you humans are cute."

"Macros?" You ask.

"Oh yeah, that's a catch-all term for aliens the Translators-" Jynx starts.

"No, not that. Sorry, you probably can't get context, Jynx. I can understand Ramon without the translator, so I'm hearing what he's saying unfiltered, and I think part of what he's saying just...isn't being picked up and localized the right way." You pluck your translator off your ear for a moment, finding a little switch on the side to see if you can fiddle it on or off while someone else is talking.

"Okay, Ramon, can you tell me what a 'macro' is?" You say, putting your earpiece back in, ready to force-switch it on and off in the middle of Ramon talking.

The boy seems all too eager to launch into a tirade. "All of these godforsaken fockin' aliens treat us people like dirt!! or germs!! it's indescribable!! The entire -" {kzzt} "- Collective tends to be more than a little handsy in some ways that are quite a bit irresponsible. I honestly feel quite disrespected when Triploids or Kiddians or Lydiates try to carry us Sellans in their -" {kzzt} "- wretched cavernous pussies! Every fuckin' minute I'm off of a human colony world is another minute of Hell!! And the fetishists drool their brains dry all 'OoOOoO I love macros, aliens are sooo hot. I'm gonna get MaRrIeD to this betentacled nerd who treats me like a nipple stud.' FORGET IT!! If I'm gonna get abandoned on a cushion and left there overnight like I gotta survive the fuckin' Sahara, I might as well -" {kzzt} "-take it up with someone who has a modicum more tact and care when handling vulnerable individuals. Surely, Captain, you understand where I'm coming from, when I say that-" {kzzt} "-getting fucking STEPPED on in gross dusty toes is worse than-" {kzzt} "-virtually any other potential embarrassment this unpredictable universe tends to throw us humans. I'm going to complain to the Bureaucrats about this the next chance I get." {kzzt} "Am I fuckin' wrong, or what? What the hell are you starin' at?"

Ramon looks winded after that long rant.

"Oh, I was just testing something with the Translator. I don't think people are hearing you swear up a storm and complain so...verbosely...about the whole...macros and Nanokink...thing." You say.

"...I knew that." Ramon didn't know that.

"You're the Fourth Mate, right? So I guess you handle tactical decisions and plan out resource management, and stuff like that. Nice to meet you, Ramon. I'm Justine. I'm the new Captain. Hopefully folks will be a little nicer to you as long as I'm in charge. I'll do my best, so... do me a favor, and try to keep a lid on the temper, please! It's not healthy for you to get so heated like that."

Ramon blushes for a moment, putting his hat on to cover his eyes so he doesn't have to look so completely dumbstruck. "Y-yeah. Alright, Captain. Sure. I'll...work on it."

"Jynx, can you go put Ramon back? And don't take stuff from humans without asking, that's dangerous."

For once, Jynx actually seems deferent to your authority. "Oh! Uh, right away, Captain."

[Option #8: ID#009, the Navigator] [This sequence contains: Paws, slime]

"I wanna meet my Navigator." You say to Jynx.

"Roger that, Captain. Paging Poppy Lorde." Jynx hums to herself for a moment, then seems to remember something.

"Oh, Captain, I should tell you, before she arrives on the deck - she's got a chronic condition affecting Salmalkin. It's not contagious, but like...you know how normal Salmalkin look?"

"Uh, they're bluish-green, with red fur during certain parts of the year, with a generally fishlike appearance, right?"

"Right. Anyway, Poppy is bright pink with purple-ish hues and red fur. She's got a bubblegum-looking appearance, and she's a bit gooey all over. Her entire outer layer of blubber is composed of a non-Newtonian fluid that can dissolve and release oxygen."

"You mean she's made of breathable goo?" You blink.

"Yyyyeah, more or less." Jynx seems apprehensive. Maybe she just doesn't want to get into the technical details.

"What even causes a condition like that?"

"It's an environmental thing. Salmalkin bodies adapt to swim in many different places. Even ones that aren't water."

The elevator door opens. Poppy strolls in and hops up onto one of the tables to the side of the room and lays down on it.

"Hi Poppy!" You say.

"Hiya Captain. Sorry if I seem out of sorts. I've been bored stiff parked here waiting for ya. The ship's way more fun than a stuffy campus space-station. We've got foosball tables aboard." She's a bit irreverent, and gives off the impression of a slacker.

"Well! We're launching tomorrow! So get excited for that! And you're navigating, right? So I hope I can count on you." You say, tilting your head a little bit.

"Count on me?" Poppy seems to perk up, and approaches your chair, lifting a paw over you. It drips a long string of sticky, viscous goop that makes contact with you before she lifts it up and gets you stuck to her front pawtoes. She flips her paw over to get a good look at you.

"Count on me? Wow. I can't remember the last time someone talked down to me like that. You're real spirited for a girl smaller than a sprinkle, huh? Well, lookie here. I'm the champ round these parts. I keep the ship from running into meteors or black holes on the outside, and I keep brats and jocks from thinking they've got the run of the place on the inside."

She claps her front paws together and pulls a string of goop out between them. You're stuck in the middle as it slowly thins and droops the further apart her paws get from each other. You can't exactly speak when you're swimming in her pawgoop. You also sincerely don't want to breathe it, but the longer she talks, the harder it gets to hold your breath until you gasp in. Her slime fills your lungs, and as gross as it is to have the thickness of it in you, it's definitely entirely breathable.

Poppy keeps talking. "We can play ball, you and I. We're both in the business of giving orders and knowing better than everybody else, right? So we're going to call it a competition. I might not have the know-how to be a captain, but that's fine, 'cuz that's not what I want anyway. How about this - If you win and one-up me in whatever contests I toss your way, Captain Dotgirl, I'll get you vacay reservations to the most exclusive resort hotspots in the galaxy. I'll pay for your media subscription services. I'll shove your bullies in lockers. But if I win, I'll add "Toegoop Sniffer" to your list of responsibilities and roles aboard the ship, yeah?"

She rolls the long, stretched string of gooey gum between her front paws, spinning you like cotton candy. Finally, she flexes the digits on her front paw again, and you drip out of her pawslime and back into your seat, mostly dry aside from the fact that you feel sticky all over. You're at least grateful Poppy's pink stuff doesn't cling to your hair.

"What kind of offer is that? I'm the Captain, I don't have to do anything you say if I don't want to, you know." You retort, but Poppy seems unconvinced.

"Oh! Well. I guess 5-star hot springs aren't your thing, huh? What is, I wonder." The fishcat seems to be trying to attach a value to you with her eyes.

"Come back to me when you figure it out. Until then, I! am going to talk to someone else on the crew manifest and try to feel a little less covered in bubblegum." You cross your arms. You try to think about your hobbies for a second and actually consider something you would be willing to risk contesting Poppy over.

Well, you liked anime and games, and you also were a pretty decent climber and hiker. You liked plushies, too, you guess. But there wasn't really anything you really wanted so much you would go for some kind of vapid ego contest like that. ...except maybe...that one thing. That one really embarrassing thing. Ehehehe...yeah...maybe that. But you were definitely never going to let her hear you say it, and definitely not where anyone else could hear it.

Poppy goes over to her own seat. She occasionally steals daring and competitive glances at you. She's pretty cute aside from her desire to prove she's better than you for some reason.

[Option #9: ID#011, the Chief Bosun] [This sequence contains: Thighs]

"Can I talk with 11? The...Bosun?" You struggle to remember much more than the top few lines of the crew list, even after just having looked at it.

"Yeah. Just so you know, there's like, a quartermaster and a bosun for every section of the ship, basically. The Chief Bosun is just in charge of all of them." Jynx goes right ahead and pages Jora to come up.

She arrives within the minute, and instantly swings herself into her chair without looking at you first.

"Hi! Nice to meet you!" You start.

"Skylor, right? I'm Jora. I'm the one who built the ship. A fortress of my design."

"Oh, really? That's kind of impressive-!" You look around and try to picture Jora working on all this stuff with her paws. It always astonishes you how dexterous quadrupedal aliens like her can be sometimes.

"I had help. I'll introduce ya to the Bosun's Mates when I feel like it."

"That's not your chair." Jynx interjects.

"Oh, isn't it?" Jora seems to take it as a challenge. "I installed the things. They swivel cuz I said so. But suddenly they're not mine just 'cuz someone else sits in it?"

"That's the way assigned seats works, yes."

"Hah!! Fine. How about this one, then?" Jora hops up and approaches your seat. She throws herself into it with a huff. She seems almost to disregard your presence between her huge thighs until she crosses her legs and you find yourself rolled between her haunches.

"That's the Captain's seat." Jynx doesn't seem to be mad so much as playing along.

"Aw, please! We can share." Jora squeezes you tighter. Your miniature-scale Captain's room-setup on the chair is thankfully spared, but you are rubbed up and down across Jora's massive, smooth, somewhat slick thighs.

"Don't hug me with your legs so tight, if you're going to insist that-!" You protest, trying and failing to push the unyieldingly thick heft of Jora's thigh off of you.

Jora complies immediately and spreads herself out, letting you fall back into your small-seat and catch your breath some. She chuckles, seeming to savor your reactions. "Sorry! I get a little...'handsy' sometimes. I can't help but hug what I love, and I adore humans." She flutters her star-shaped eyes at you.

It's difficult to think of something to say back when the gap between Jora's thighs has been absolutely steamy with her body's warmth since she approached you.

"W-w-well!! A-at least ask for permission the next time you want to s-share, okay?" You stutter, trying and failing to keep yourself from blushing. Dangit. It was way too easy to flirt with you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll keep it in mind. Mind if I sit here a while longer?"

"Uh, g-go ahead?"

Jora got up, though, and sat in a third chair. "Nah, I changed my mind. We're launching tomorrow, so everybody's running around pecking at me to do stuff. I'd rather play when I've got a free evening. If I wanna kill some time, I wanna kill hours of it all at once. You go do your thing and call up whoever else you wanna meet in the officers."

"Oh, yeah, good point. Good point."

"Don't say 'good point', that's letting her win. Don't just roll over and let her give you thigh-hugs whenever she wants to." Jynx is invested.

"Yeah, Captain. Don't just roll over and take it. It's more fun for me if you fight and squirm."

Well, now you don't know what to think.

[Option #10: ID#018, whose role name escapes me] [This sequence contains: implied violence, threatened violence/gore.]

"Is #18 important?" You ask. You genuinely can't even remember looking at the crew manifest any more. The mere thought of that exhaustively long list makes you want to curl up and sleep.

Jynx tries to auto-complete your poor understanding of the crew list. "Well...#17 is the Bulkhead Bosun, but #18 is the Airlock Specialist. They're not really an officer, so I dunno if they're necessarily -"

"Oh, yeah, call them up here! The Airlock Specialist handles the airlock, so if I ever end up in space, I'd wanna know I can trust whoever's at the door." You cut her off immediately.

"...Yeah, okay. Let's see...#18 is... oh geez. Chemisier Avaleur." Jynx winces and presses the call button on her chair anyway.

Twelve seconds pass. The door to the elevator slams open. You weren't even aware it could slam open. A premonition of death wafts in, and Chemisier steps into the bridge shortly after.

"Hello! It's nice to meet you!" You greet her. She doesn't respond, instead looking at Jynx and nodding her head.

"Yeah, I'll tell her." Jynx says, then pulls up a document on the big monitor. "Ahem. First of all, I'd like to state that Chemisier is a Rasqué, whose primary characteristics are a lifespan somewhere in the ballpark of eight months, and a fantastic cross-generational cultural memory. You shouldn't have to worry about it for a while, considering Chemisier is middle-aged, but somewhere around four months from now Chemisier's progeny will seemlessly replace her and most of us won't be able to tell the difference. That is, if not for her...appearance." Jynx mimes a black eye.

"Uh? What do you mean?" You're mostly just trying to be polite. You weren't going to mention the weird eye, actually.

"Hooo...well. This document here is a Bureaucracy-issued Class E Restriction on Chemisier Avaleur. Quote, 'Following the incident on 3-22-13-9010' (so, about 44 days ago), 'Chemisier Avaleur is barred from interaction with the following species: Vyrmkin, Nezumites, Humans, and Salmalkin. This restriction shall remain in place until such time as Chemisier has been rehabilitated.' That's what it says." Jynx reads it with something of a distraught look on her face.

"Oh. Well, Chemisier, you might not be able to interact with me directly, but...I won't tell anybody if you talk out loud while I happen to be in earshot. I'm still happy to have you as a part of the crew!"

The mouse-snouted alien seems to ponder this for a minute. Finally, she speaks. Her voice is raspy and stressful to listen to.

"I handle the airlocks. I like them. They're cold. The job is easy. I don't have to talk to anyone. I don't like small little freaks that get in the way. I had a different job before this one. I got removed from that job and put on this ship because they told me it was bad to try and flatten the little freaks into tattoos for getting in the way. I got in a fight. I won."

"Yyyyes...thanks, Avaleur. You can go now." Jynx is eager to not be in the same room as Chemisier as soon as possible.

"Whoa whoa! Jynx, you mean Chemisier tried to crush humans and some other folks, too? What's that about-?" You lean out of your chair a little bit. You feel like you ought to know.

Chemisier answers first. "Body paint is chic. Humans would be...better as smears." She growls.

Jynx has already pressed the call button on her chair and is murmuring a command to it. "Can we get someone from security up to the bridge to detain Avaleur? I really don't think she should be in the same room as the captain."

"No!" You chastise. "I don't get it, what would possess you to do that? We should all get along here-!" You weren't sure if you were talking to Jynx or Chemisier at this point. Maybe both of them.

"Khehehe..." Chemisier stalks forward with a hoarse little giggle. "You're...an interesting bug. It's so hard to even think of most of you as people. You're just...skittering things. You actually seem to think enough to be able to surprise me. I can't decide... Whether I want to bite down on you to see what happens. Or. put you in this awful, restrictive dive suit they stuck me in and see how long it takes to turn you into a stamp."

She's almost upon you now. You're more than a little tempted to hide behind your chair, but you remain firm and stare directly into Chemisier's eyes. It's odd how passionate and bright they seem when they're so obviously messed up from fights.

"You really shouldn't talk to me that way. I'm the Captain, so I have to look out for everyone. That includes you, too." You're scared, but you don't move a muscle.

Chemisier leers down at you with a snarl. "KHAHAHA!!! ARE YOU KIDDING!? MY SISTER EATS YOU LITTLE FREAKS FOR BREAKFAST!"

Jynx taps the call button again. "Bring the sleep-gun. Step on it."

You remain firm, and speak as clearly as you can. You can feel sweat on your forehead. "I don't think you want to hurt people. I think you're just saying that to be scary." You have to admit, she is more than a little scary, especially when her face towers over you so high you have to crane your neck to look her in the eyes.

"YOU LITTLE PUNK. I COULD CRUSH YOU FASTER THAN YOU COULD BLINK. YOU WOULD COME OUT IN THE WASH AND NOTHING WOULD BE LEFT."

"So what? Anyone could do that! I'm still here, though, aren't I?"

Chemisier continues drooling and grimacing. You can feel every rage-filled breath wash over you.

Nevertheless, several seconds pass, and you lose your patience having her in your personal space like this.

"What are you waiting for? If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done something already! Either do something or...or fuck off, and quit fogging up my glasses!" You squeak.

Chemisier remains in place for a second, then her crazed expression practically falls off of her face, and she stands back up and takes a few steps back. She looks just as bored and deathly tired as she did when she walked in. She sits on the floor and lets out a throaty sigh.

"...You said your name was Skylor during your speech. I'll remember that. Let's talk again, some other time. I've been having a bad year."

Just then, a few security guards appeared from the auxiliary elevator. They burst into the room and fired some beam at Chemisier. You didn't really even get a good look at them, they were so fast.

The villainess of a Rasqué fell forward, landing on her face and appeared immediately groggy. She sighed. "I'll be seeing you...Captain." She quickly passed out and got hauled off, leaving you in silence once more.

"Never do that again." Jynx stared at you gravely.

"I'll do whatever I want, I'm in charge." You shoot back.

You have no idea what possessed you to do all that. But somehow, you feel proud of yourself for trying.

[Option 11: ID#024, who I seem to remember being important] [This sequence contains: Utter nonsense.]

"...You know, I kind of want to know who the head doctor on the ship is." You say.

"No you don't." Jynx contradicts you. She seems utterly confident in herself.

"Yeah I do. Call the head doctor up to the bridge. I figure they're just as important as anybody else on the ship. Can't do our jobs if we're sick."

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." Jynx taps the call button on her chair. "Hey, Lieutenant Bitwise, can you send up-"

The elevator door opens before Jynx finishes. On it stands a weirdo quadrupedal alien in a kigurumi...?

"Who's this?" You ask.

"-Nevermind Lieutenant, he's here already." Jynx finishes on the call. "Yeah, I have no idea why/how Dr. Inkblood got here before I finished asking for him."

You try to place the look on his face. Is it a smile? A grimace? It's weird, but for how expressive he looks, he seems to be in an entirely neutral mood.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor! Care to tell me about yourself?"

Dr. Inkblood speaks up in a light and boyish voice. "Yeap. I'm Ed." He puts a forepaw to the side of his head, and then starts talking again, in a voice that sounds exactly like Jynx's. "That's Ed Inkblood, he's the Head Doctor. He's a Kawaigu, a species whose main population isn't in space yet technically. The spacefaring ones are neurodivergent and are called Sillymanders. They're a bit unpredictable, so try to be patient. Despite whatever first impression he leaves you with, I can give you my assurance that Ed's a trained and experienced medical professional. We don't know why, but he sat through med school with perfect attendance and behavior in a way that seems entirely uncharacteristic of the short attention spans of his ilk. We aren't sure what his game is, but he tends to go missing and be hard to find once he boards the ship until you need him for something. We don't know where he goes, to be honest." Ed finishes impersonating Jynx and then blinks very slowly at you.

You turn to look at Jynx. She seems just as dumbfounded as you are. "That's more or less what I would have said, yeah."

You turn back to Dr. Inkblood. He's six feet closer than before, even though you didn't hear him walk closer.

"Well, I hope we get along, doctor!"

"Hey, what's that?" He points behind you.

You turn to look, and Dr. Inkblood is standing on the opposite side of the room in the place that he was pointing to. Well, that's confusing. He taps a button on the far console and pulls up a diagram on the room's big monitor. It's a simplified model of the human brain, rendered in a scribbly, low-detail manner. It's colored in sloppily, and signed "Ed Inkblood" in perfect English cursive at the bottom.

Inkblood produces a yardstick from behind his back - hang on, that's the same yardstick Lieutenant Bitwise had earlier - and points to a small node highlighted in blue around the lower center of the brain. "Captain, this is the amygdala. It's an almond-sized thing that you need to turn short-term memory into long-term memory, and it also does something involving decision-making and emotional responses, probably." He circles it with the yardstick. "Neurological anatomy varies greatly between species, but in humans like you, this is our very important culprit."

"Culprit? What's this lecture about?" You ask.

"Neurocognitive biases responsible for the demonstration of a single instance of the Mere Exposure Coincidence and/or Nanokink Effect." Ed rattles off the answer like you just asked him what he had for breakfast this morning.

"Eh?"

Ed puts a paw to the side of his head, and speaks in a voice that sounds almost identical to yours. "Oh! I get it! You're the type of person who likes to give a gift to the new Captain by giving them a salient biology lecture that potentially affects their tenure!"

"...Is that prescriptive?" You ask. You're not sure how you feel about having words put in your mouth.

Ed uses his normal voice for a moment. "No, this is prescriptive." And then he launches right back into it. "In six days, I'm going to go to bed with a Blood Alcohol Level of .14 because I don't know I can't handle a Moscow Mule yet!"

"What's a Moscow Mule?" You ask.

"Don't worry about it." Jynx replies.

Ed whaps the big monitor with the yardstick to get your attention again and resumes his lecture in his regular voice. "This part of your squishy brains is the culprit. The novelty of encountering entirely new and unfamiliar specimens in-person freaks out your amygdala, and causes it to falsely allocate a disproportionate amount of short-term memory to long-term very rapidly. Neurochemically speaking, it's an extremely emotional process, so you perceive the flood of hormones, oxytocin, and dopamine as a 'Love at First Sight' phenomenon. You implicitly trust aliens you meet in-person much faster than you might unfamiliar people. This is a cognitive bias that will put you in dangerous situations if you're unprepared. Hey look behind you what's that?"

You turn around. Ed is miraculously behind you. He's got a chainsaw. He revs it menacingly. You flinch instinctively just because of how loud and scary chainsaws are, but Dr. Inkblood just seems to be trying to make a point along the lines of 'you turned your back on someone you just met?' and you're not entirely sure how effectively the message comes across when he seems to defy all logic. You get the impression you're supposed to turn back around again, and so you turn back around to look at the big monitor again. Sure enough, Ed's at the big monitor again somehow.

The slideshow has progressed to a drawing of several other alien species, with the same drawing of a human brain superimposed on their heads. The brain drawing now has a fish tail or a plant stem or various other doodles sticking out of it depending on the alien species in question.

"So as I was saying, you will trust others when you meet them in-person more easily than they might deserve. Be aware of this bias, obviously." Ed smacks one of the drawings on the monitor with the yardstick. All their expressions change to look frustrated with him. This would be an impressive magic trick, but it's a touch-responsive hologram projected on glass, so you're not impressed. "But we're talking about a Coincidence, Captain. So keep in mind that even though others have differently shaped brains than you, that run on plant or fish oil, they still experience some version of this same thing. It just works differently in its nitty-gritty mechanics. Others will develop a crush on you when they meet you in person, too. This may be dangerous for you for entirely different reasons. Also, this particular Coincidence has its effects magnified when encountering multiple individuals at once, so anyone who's ever encountered a crowd of humans at once will have experienced a much stronger version of this phenomenon. We call it 'the Nanokink Effect' when an individual demonstrates a romantic or sexual attraction to all humans following an encounter with a crowd of them." He clears his throat. "There is a 78% Nanokink saturation among crewmates of the Rampant Lovelander. In other words, 3 out of 4 of your crewmates have a fetish for your presence. Sun Tzu says know the enemy and yourself and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."

"Who the heck is Sun Tzu?" Jynx asks.

"Who IS Sun Tzu?" Ed blinks slowly, then sticks out his tongue and winks.

"..." You stare at Dr. Ed Inkblood for what feels like the longest four seconds of your life. He's completely goofy, arguably a liability for how bizarre he acts. Yet you can't seem to shake the feeling that he's the smartest person in the room by a country mile, and not just because of the medical degree. "I think I get what you're trying to say. I'll keep that in mind, thanks." You sigh. You were admittedly sort of hoping the ship's head doctor would be a curvy nurse-looking type.

"Yeap. Here's my number. Use it if you ever need me to make a 'house call'. Fair warning: it's completely normal if it goes to voicemail."

The slide on the big monitor flips to read: Dr. Ed Inkblood M.D. Channel: MERL Line: NVR-7RU5T

"Yeah got it, thanks!" You say. "Nice to meet you, Doctor!"

You think you've got a handle on how this works now. You turn around to look at the elevator. Yup, he's there already somehow.

"Yep. Don't stay up late tonight! Go straight to bed, yeap. You'll thank me in the morning, yeap."

And down the elevator he goes.

You turn around. Ed is back at the big monitor. He grabs the yardstick out from under the desk. "Sorry, I forgot this on my way out."

Your palm hits your face. You take it back. This guy's a doofus.

~~~

After talking to all the officers, you and Jynx agree to call it a day. You're able to navigate the Lovelander better than you initially expect. There's a system of human-scale walkways along the walls with escalators that move and make navigating the ship way faster than your walking speed.

You get lost at least a little, but eventually you manage to find your way to Dorm #004, the Captain's Quarters. It's sized for normal aliens, but you find the floor has many segmented platforms for your access and ease. It's surprisingly easy to navigate a bedroom for someone thousands of times your size.

Atop the pillow, there's a cozy mattress-suite bigger than a king-size to you. It's actually rather stable on the pillow, and you are able to get comfortable pretty easily. You suppose this miniature setup meant for you is another gift from the Head Engineer, in all likelihood. You get the Computer to turn off the lights and try to get to sleep.

An hour passes, but you're still awake. It's difficult to get to sleep when you're this excited and anxious. For whatever reason, you feel like you need to...talk to someone. Confide. Hug? You don't know.

You think about it. Finally, you come to a decision. You're gonna invite someone to your room.

{Most of these choices weren't yet written at the time of Cohost's closure.} Option 1: Jynx Option 2: Vanilla Option 3: Moss Option 4: Friya Option 5: Nadira {To Chapter 5} Option 6: Topsy Option 7: Ramon Option 8: Poppy Option 9: Jora Option 10: Chemisier Option 11: Inkblood

[mariequien]

An unusual travel day ... actually the most efficient travel I ever experienced.

To get from my very remote bizarre beach kitesurf village Salinas del Rey to Santa Marta and to my next adventure the Lost City Hike in Sierra Nevada, I expected a subdivided journey of 6-8 hours, but made it in 4hr 45min, and it was comfy as well. And, to make it even more extraordinary, this is happening in Carrebian Colombia, a region in the world where they master chill vibes and vague timing - don't go to a restaurant hungry. ;)

Initial plan:

1. Leaving the hostel after breakfast, tranquilla. Walking to the bus stop and simply wait. The yellow bus is supposed to come every 30min, mas o menos, no schedule, "the one to Barranquilla will honk". ;)

2. In Baranquilla getting off at Exito San Francisco (in the North) and taking a taxi to the Bus Terminal Metropolitana de Transportes (South).

3. At the big Terminal finding the right ticket counter, maybe some food, waiting, getting on the bus to Santa Marta.

4. In Santa Marta negotiating a taxi ride to my Hostel and arrive.

What actually happened:

9:45 // After saying goodbye to new friends I am walking smoothly for 15min to the roundabout. I see a bus just driving around the corner. Locals sitting in the shade look at me "Barranquilla?" - "Yes yes! Perfecto." Great. Nice catch, zero waiting time. 10:01

The bus speeds down the expressway, the sea passes by on the left, cheerful music sounds - similar to the Mexican Mariachi music, the decorative red curtains with white fringes blow in the wind, friendly Colombians fill the rows of seats - zero backpackers, snack sellers enter and leave the bus ... I am very much enjoying the ride.

In the bus with my broken Spanish: "Cual exito es muy cerca del Terminal Tranportes in Baranquilla?" "Te lo diré."

Other guests get involved - all in Spanish of course. "Where do you want to go?" - "Santa Marta." - "Oh, no need to go to the Terminal. There is bus stops on the way, much faster. I need to get off now, but this senior will tell you where to get off." - "Muchas muchas gracias."

How beautiful, 5 people smiling and engaging with me, helping to find the very best way.

10:55 getting off of the bus. "Simply go down this street 2 blocks and look for a bus company, Marisol or Berlinas." - "GRACIAS!"

"Hola, vas a Santa Marta?" "No, Cartagena, pero esa furgoneta va para allá." "Perfecto, a que hora?" "A las 11." "Ahora" "Siii." "Wow, muchas muchas gracias." "You can buy the ticket over there."

11.01. I am sitting in the comfy air-conditioned van to Santa Marta, woop woop.

12:26 Enjoying a fresh Mango snack con Limon y Sal, delicious. And manis /peanuts. While watching palm trees and wooden huts pass by.

13:09 El mar to the left, Ceviche sign to the right, and in the far distance I am spotting mountains of the Tyrona National Park. Estoy encantada.

13:53 We're driving through Los Ángeles, Comuna 2 in Santa Marta. El centro es muy cerca.

14:08 "Gracias, voy a caminar." Again no taxi needed, luckily the drop-off is 11min walk away from my hostel.

14:27 Taking a deep content breath at the rooftop of my hostel, overlooking the sunny city. And, of course, the weekly yoga class here happens to happen mañana mañana (tomorrow morning), lucky me, again.

15:14 Enjoying yummy Lebanese food. Something I am always looking forward to when getting into the cities: diversity of food and spices and herbs, as traditional Colombian food appears to be quite monotonous, prepared with lots of passion though, but lacking creativity and variety, especially for vegetarians, even hard to find meals with plant-based proteins like beans, lentils or oats - although you can buy it everywhere in the supermarkets. You'll find a lot of fried stuff, white bread, rice, eggs, meat, plus fish and coconut in the Carrebian. And they do use cilantro, that I love.

15:42 Grand finish with home-made fruity grainy Coconut Icecream 🥥

[tsstories]

The Bar Night

!!TRIGGER WARNING!! This includes themes of: drinking/alchocol, implied sexual assult, physical assult, implied attempted rape, drugging someone’s drink, non-consent. All clothes stay on, but this short blip of writing has some dark concepts in it. Please scroll past if you think this will upset you!

Sofie POV

Ugh, I can’t believe he would do that! Today of all days?!

Me too subconscious, me too.

I was blowing off steam by walking away, like I normally did. I can’t help it--if I stayed there, something would get broken; either the wall, or his body.

Not like that would have been a bad thing.

True.

Now, let’s go enjoy my third favorite pastime: drinking

The other two will go unnamed for now.

I’m downing my third… fourth… fifth… sixth… sixth… tenth…

“You know, people usually throw up after three scotches. You have a talent for that.”

Who’s this guy?

I turn to the side and get a look at the stranger.

He’s cuuuuute

Is that the alcohol or my subconscious talking?

...Yes?

Fair enough. I smirk.

“Aw, sad that a girl can beat you at drinking?”

He chuckles, “Oh, no. I respect that actually. You’re a strong woman if you can down twenty shots of scotch and still form coherent sentences.”

How many have we had?!

I don’t know—he says twenty. Is that too much?

YES!

Oh, woops.

“Oh? And how many have you had?”

He smiles but it’s different. I can’t place the way his expression is...it’s familiar…

“Oh, I don’t drink. I prefer to be in control of myself.”

Wait, how long has his hand been on my thigh? When did he get so close? What is happeni—

My mind completely blanks as he starts to kiss me. I'm so disoriented, are we moving? He stops kissing me, but I can’t get out of his grip as he turns and closes the door.

Oh my god we’re drunk in a back room with a sober one-night-stand predator.

Oh god. What am I in for now?

He turns back and my mind is getting the hang of drunkenness because I can finally place the look he has had for a while now: Predatory. He’s looking at my body, not me.

Shit.

“Well, that was a good kiss, but I should be getting ho—“

“Oh, you’re leaving so soon? We were just getting to the fun part”~

Oh. Shit. This is NOT happening.

Somehow I successfully clock him with my free hand. The second he goes to yell at me, I’m (drunkenly) kicking him right in his crotch.

Try to bully a girl for that now.

He second he lets go I stumble to the door, and into the bar. I’m sure I look crazy, but it’s a bar and no one questions it. Except for one person. He looks at me, where I was coming from, and starts over to me.

“Where are you going, doll?”

Fuck.

I step away, but he grabs my wrist in an iron grip.

“Oh no, we weren’t done yet.”

Shitshitshitshitshi—

“JESSICA! Oh my gosh, I’ve been looking EVERYWHERE for you!”

We both turn to see the guy I saw walking up to us and hug me. Before I know it he’s let go again, but he whispered to me a little hint incase I was too drunk/stupid:

“Play along, I’ll get you out of this.”

He leans back, but makes sure to keep his hands on my shoulders. I play innocent.

“I know—that’s how engagement works: you always find me”

I flirt at him, and both men are taken aback.

Boom. Thank you theatre class, now I can even act while drunk.

My ‘savior’ seems to regain his senses.

“Well, I’ve found you, and we need to get to your sister’s house for dinner.”

The idiot holding my wrist still hasn’t let go, an I turn to him and say, “Could you let go? I kind of need to leave.”

He immediately releases me and I all but jump onto my rescuer and we haul ass outta there as smoothly as possible.

Once we’re a block away, I stop and turn to him.

“Okay—who are you, how did you know I needed help and are you going to try the same thing as him because I’ll defend myself again even if you did help me o—“

He clamps a hand over my mouth. his smile showing he finds my drunken rambling not intimidating but funny.

Oh my god, what is it with us and guys tonight?!

I have no idea, tell me when you figure it out.

He takes his hand away once he’s satisfied I’ve stopped talking and says almost clinically:

“He’s a jerk who loves to look for drunks to have fun with. Every other weekend, he’ll come in and sit in the back watching everyone drink until he finds someone who is drinking to forget something, and he’ll pop on over, maybe he’ll put something extra if he doesn’t think they’ll get through enough for him to be satisfied that they’ll be pliable, and then he’ll, well, you can guess.”

I squint at him suspiciously.

“You seem to know a lot about what his plans are.”

He looks off to the side and...is he blushing?

Oh my god you don’t think he’s—

I’m going to stop you there subconscious and not ask any assuming questions anymore.

“...He doesn’t just target girls...”

Oh...OH. ...shit.

“Oh...Did he...did you...?”

I let the question hang in the air for him to take. I feel like I’ve gone too far until he quietly replies:

“...almost.”

We’re gonna get that guy once we’re sober.

Agreed.

~To be Continued (maybe)~

[librarianandguardian]

Playlist Inspired Ficlet

Playlist - POV : Gojo Satoru , Nanami Kento And You Messed Up A Mission, Whole Chaos Fandom : Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing : Platonic Nanami x Gender!Neutral Reader x Gojo Words : 665 (short D’: This is actually inspired by an OC I’m building in my head)

Warnings : Blood and Injuries. I mean it’s a failing mission in JJK what do you expect ?

A.N. : DOUBLE POST !? Yeah I wanted to publish some fun for once. I’m actually really proud of this one lmao. I’ve mainly been inspired by the Bruno Mars part at 9:34 but it fits the rest ! Yes, I’m putting the main blame on Gojo. Listen I like him BUT GOOD GOD way too much energy in this white fluffy mountain. But he’s a good teach’. So he passes. ANYWAY ENJOY THE TINY CHOAS, WOOP.

To be fair, you knew it was gonna go down this way. How could it not ? The Gojo factor was way too volatile on missions. Reading the reports, you had wondered if the curse hadn’t been underestimated. Ah, how right were you. It scared you.

That curse was horrifying to say the least, and Gojo disappearing mid-fight without a reason hadn’t helped. AT ALL.

“You guys can handle it ! I know ! You make a great team. I’ll be back soon. ”

A wink and thumbs up later, that bastard had vanished.

So here you are, a small (okay no big) hole in your side. Cuddled up in Nanami’s arms with a tree branch to try and regenerate yourself, you giggle. Your poor co-worker is starting to run out of breath and the curse is catching up. Damn your nature-based technique, this situation looks ridiculous.

“Turn right.” You weakly whisper.

The blonde takes a sharp turn, almost losing balance. Did I mention the metal bar stuck in one of his shoulders ? Yeah, that’s not ideal. You guys do make a great team. Not against a Special grade curse unfortunately. You, a druidic like sorcerer, fighting in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial part of Tokyo, miles away from any sort of real flourishing greenery, holding onto weeds and the rare outside trees. Nanami and his 7:3 technique against a size changing target. Yeah.

The Grade 1 sorcerer ducked in a nearby closet. You pushed close the door with your foot. The curse screamed and started banging on the door. With the little strength you had left, you both pushed some furniture to block the entry. After doing so, you sat on the floor against the farthest wall of the room. Nanami cursed loudly. That made you laugh like a maniac. He side-eyed you, angry, only to realise you were probably going lightheaded from the quantity of blood you lost. Your hand and the withering branch were covering your wound. His eyes conveyed his worry. Not in the mood to tease him further, you showed him that the wound was now only a nasty gush, not a HOLE. A small grin on your face, you looked around. A bunch of weed and leaves covered the ground; a broken window roughly 6 feet above you. Too small to allow any of you out. You’re trapped.

Groaning, you straightened.

“Wanna take the bar out ? I can stop the bleeding with the weed. I think.

-No, save your strength.”

You rolled your eyes. The pile of rusted furniture was shaking.

“Dude, at least you could run away without risking the curse to catch you by the bar.”

He sighed, brows pinched. You wondered how much more Nanami was gonna be able to resist Gojo’s bullshit before REALLY snapping. His self-control seemed endless.

“Damn that motherf-”

A loud bang echoed, the constant shake of the furniture stopping. You raised an eyebrow. Checking on Nanami, you both got to your feet, a bit shaky. You picked up some leaves, ready to transform them into dangerous blades. A few steps later, a loud obnoxious laugh echoed.

“Phew, just in time. Come on guys, stop making out in the closet !”

Both of you rolled your eyes. Once you’re out, the first thing you did was throwing a hardened leaf at Gojo. Of course, he dodged it with a shitty grin.

“We have done it, good friends ! Mission Successful !”

“Successful !? Gojo, you blew our main energy storage, killed 10 people in the explosion and your two colleagues are on recovery leave for two weeks. IN SUMMER.”

Head Master Yaga was beyond upset, judging from the forehead vein popping out while scolding the manchild. You looked at Nanami, who was infinitely happy with the scene unfolding. Easy to tell with the slight smile on his face. He caught you staring. You winked, very pleased.

The pair of you did make a great team. Especially without Gojo.

[edynism]

Hi! Can you do one fake Instagram where you and Harry just got married and you guys both announce it

Face claim ; hailey baldwin

Ss

thank you for your request my love <3

𝐲/𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 ( ೃ → 𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙼𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙰 𝙰𝚄! )

pairings: famous!y/n x harry styles

summary: y/n y/l/n finally becomes mrs styles!

authors note: pics used are not mine! requests are open <3

♥︎ liked by annetwist and others

harrystyles see you tomorrow my little pasta baby

tagged youruser

load more comments…

youruser pasta baby that’s a new one

→ harrystyles my little rigatoni

harryfan1 IM SO EXCIGED DHIEFHIFHESJOS

harryfan2 guys i think i skipped a few chapters—

yourbff wonder what’s on the menu xxx

→ youruser hi be quiet xxx

♥︎ liked by harrystyles and others

youruser bridal breakfast

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harrystyles BLOCK ME Y/N BEFORE I SEE YOUR DRESS

→ youruser WOOPS I FORGOT

→ youruser see you later ;) love you

→ harrystyles love you sugar

yourbff never seen cucumber cut like that

→ youruser ITS AVOCADO YOU TIT

gemmastyles still not over those pastries

→ youruser delic

♥︎ liked by youruser and others

yourmum i am so grateful i get to stand by your side as your dreams come true, i love you my little princess.

tagged youruser

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youruser oh mum, my heart. i love you more than words can explain, thank you <3

y/nfan1 IM SOBBINGNDIDSHDOR

y/nfan2 “my little princess” heart is officially broken

yourbrother love you stinker @/youruser

→ youruser love you smelly

♥︎ liked by youruser and others

harrystyles my bride. my love. my life.

tagged youruser

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harryfan1 FINALLY

youruser there is nobody i love more than you, thank you for making me the happiest lady. i’d be well and truly lost without you, my sunshine.

→ harrystyles no thank you, mrs styles x

annetwist @/youruser so happy i officially get to call you my second daughter, i love you Y/N styles, thank you for making my boy happy x

→ gemmastyles @/youruser we love you Y/N, now let’s get pissed pls xxxx

→ youruser @/annetwist @/gemmastyles you’ve broken my heart in the best way, i love you both🤍x

harryfan2 i am over the moon for you both <3

yourbff i’ve just ordered a round of jägers xxxx

→ harrystyles YAY

→ youruser YAY

♥︎ liked by youruser and others

yourbff seeing you happy makes me happy, congratulations to my best friends x

tagged harrystyles youruser

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youruser WE LOVE YOU

harrystyles thank you xxx

y/nfan1 the prettiest group of friends oh my

→ yourbff 🤍

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youruser perfect ending the to most perfect day

tagged harrystyles

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harrystyles for the most perfect girl

→ youruser with the most perfect husband

y/nfan1 hi my heart can’t take anymore x

arianagrande i am so happy for you both, can’t wait to see you <3

→ youruser ily my sweet

harryfan1 imagine the songs we are going to get now eeeek

yourbff i’ll ring the dry cleaners for you in the morning <333

→ youruser a babe that’s what you are

┈◦ೋ•◦❥•◦

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

In which @inber​ sends a drabble request, and I accidentally write nearly 4k words instead. Woops. This is all probaly quite dreadful, I warn you now. If it wasn't 11:30, I'd cut it down. But it is. So I won't.

Geralt twisted the key in the ignition once more. The engine choked and spluttered, the car jerking beneath him. Shit. Cars zoomed past him on the dual carriageway, their headlights illuminating the inside of his car in bright strobes. His phone sat discarded on the passenger seat. As he watched, another message flashed up. He grabbed the phone and scrolled through them.

7:31 - Geralt?

7:45 - Where are you

7:59 - Hello?

8:15 - Hello?

8: 25 - Ok don’t bother w/e

9:02 - I was more interested in your brother anyway

With a sigh, he thumped his hand against the steering wheel. His hand accidentally connected with the horn with a short, sharp honk, making him jump. He cursed, and thumped his head against the wheel.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Shit. His first date in a year and he’d fucked it up. Honestly, he felt more annoyed about the failed date than the woman he was supposed to be seeing - Eskel had given him her number, muttering something about her magnetic personality - and as they and Lambert were on their second bottle of Redanian Spirit by that stage he’d actually texted her. She’d actually seemed keen to meet: the restaurant had been her idea, in fact, and she’d sent him the link to make reservations nearly three weeks in advance. Sure, it had been expensive, but…

Geralt stopped thumping his head against the steering wheel. Fuck. Suddenly, everything fell into place. He was an idiot. He was a horny idiot who’d been so invested in the idea of not dying alone that he’d managed to completely ignore all the red flags.

He turned the key again. This time there wasn’t even a response from beneath the hood. The car was completely dead. Fantastic. He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure no more cars were coming, then hopped out of the car and clambered up onto the grass verge beside the hard shoulder. The dress shoes he was wearing had no grip whatsoever, and slipped on the muddy grass. He swore, the hazard lights blinking at him, mocking him. He found the number for the breakdown cover Vesemir had insisted he get, and tapped an impatient foot as the calling tone hummed against the noise of the traffic.

“Good evening, this is Western Winds Breakdown Cover, how can I help?”

“Hi,” said Geralt, blocking the sound of the wind and traffic with a cupped hand, “I’ve broken down and my car is completely dead. I need someone to come and tow me to the nearest garage.”

“And where are you?” Trilled the voice.

Geralt looked around. “The A26,” he said, “just before the turning to Oxenfurt.”

“One moment, please.”

The line cut to tinny hold music. He sighed, fiddling with a self-aware nervousness at the sleeve of the suit jacket his date had insisted he wear. Finally, the voice reappeared.

“It looks like we’ve had a bit of a rush this evening,” she said, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to get anyone to you for at least a couple of hours.”

“What?” Geralt bit back the urge to swear at her. “I can’t wait here for two hours!”

“Oh, of course Sir. We never recommend our clients wait at this time of night, especially for so long. If you can just confirm your license plate and membership number for me, I can send out a truck as soon as one’s available. The driver will give you a ring when he arrives just to confirm that it’s your car.”

Geralt breathed through his nose, impatiently. “Fine,” he said, “Fine,” then gave her the details she needed. He could hear her tapping away on her keyboard at the other end of the line.

“Right, then,” she said, finally, “And we’ll just need a password as well, just so we can confirm your identity when our truck arrives.”

He didn’t even think. “Dandelion.”

“Excellent choice. Thank you very much for choosing Western Winds.”

The line dropped off. Geralt stared at his car, the hazard lights still merrily blinking away. He looked at his watch - his best watch. It was half past nine. There was nothing else for it. He’d have to walk to safety.

He leant back into the car to grab his keys and his wallet, which had been lying next to his phone on the passenger seat. Next to the wallet was a vibrant bunch of flowers. Fuck. He grabbed them too. They’d been expensive, after all: He’d dashed into the flower shop moments before getting in the car, struck with the sudden panic that a fancy date at a fancy restaurant would also require fancy flowers. The woman behind the counter had been a little amused - and very sorry, as that late at night there’d been fewer blooms in stock than usual. He’d had to make do with what they had: a few red tulips, some carnations, a couple of chrysanthemums. It was, to be honest, a bit of a mess, but in a sudden surge of creativity Geralt had decided a simple dozen red roses would be too boring.

He stared down at the mismatched bouquet and sighed. She probably would have laughed at it anyway.

He began the slow trudge through the wet grass towards the slip road, the ridiculous dress shoes squeaking and twisting in the mud. Up above, far away from the noise of the main road, a neat row of houses twinkled down, their windows illuminated in neat orange rows. He stared up at them.

Wait…

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, and quickly dialed the number. It rang for a long time. He was about to hang up, realising what a stupid idea it had been, when there was a sleepy voice in his ear.

“Hello? Geralt?” Jaskier sounded exhausted.

“Jaskier? Sorry, did I wake you up?”

There was a sniff. “No, no. Well. Yes, you did, but it’s too early to be asleep anyway. What’s up?”

“My car’s broken down on the A26, just before the Oxenfurt slip road.”

“Fuck, Geralt. Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine. The car’s not.”

“Ohh, no,” breathed Jaskier. It sounded like he meant it. “Poor Roach.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you got a thingy coming? You know, a tow truck guy?”

“Yeah, but not for a couple hours.”

“Shit. Geralt, I’d come and get you but I’ve had two very large glasses of wine. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t expecting you to.” He paused. “Are you okay, Jaskier?” There was a long silence. Jaskier would chat and chat no matter what. If he was silent, something was definitely wrong. “Jaskier?”

“You’ll get all judgy on me.”

“No I won’t,” Geralt lied.

“I… went round to Virginia’s house. Virginia de Stael.”

“Jaskier.”

“I know, I know. You warned me. And I went anyway.”

“And?”

“And… she was there with her new boyfriend. Who told me fuck off. And then she told me to fuck off. And I said, look, Virginia, you’re the one who sent me that text, and then her boyfriend started getting angry, and she started getting angry, and then…”

“What?”

“Well then I read the text out, and then they started swearing at each other, so…”

“You ran?”

“I ran. I ran all the way to Tesco to buy a bottle of Rose and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. And they didn’t even have Ben and Jerry’s. I had to buy a cake. It was the cheapest thing I could find with sugar in it.”

“I did warn you.”

“And as we both know, you’re always right.”

Geralt couldn’t help but smile to himself. Even traipsing through the mud, his new shoes and freshly-pressed trousers almost certainly ruined, speaking to Jaskier lit a kind of warmth within him, making him feel safe.

“Can I come over?” He asked.

“I… what? Geralt, what are you talking about?”

“Your house is only forty minutes from the slip road. Look, I know it’s late, but I’ve got nowhere else to go…”

He could hear Jaskier’s dramatic, exaggerated sigh. “I suppose you can come over.”

“Thanks. I, ah…” He bit his lip. “Thanks.”

“What are best friends for, hmm?” Jaskier purred. “And if you pass Tesco, make sure you buy another bottle of wine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So…” Jaskier said, clearly trying to sound nonchalant, “What’re you doing on the A26 Oxenfurt slip road at nine thirty in the evening?”

Geralt coughed.

“What was that?”

“I was… going on a date.”

“On the A26?”

“No, in Novigrad.”

There was another pause. “May I ask… with who?”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to hesitate. Jaskier picked up on it immediately.

“Who was it, Geralt, come on. Tell me. I deserve to know.”

Geralt sighed. “Remember… Eskel’s friend?”

Jaskier swore so loudly he had to hold the phone away from his ear. A car sped past, illuminating him as he winced. When he brought the phone back to his face, he could hear Jaskier ranting.

“--warned you, Geralt, it was a terrible idea! And you go ahead and do it anyway! Well now fate has clearly intervened on my behalf, to prove to you what a foolish…”

“I know.”

“Come again?”

“I know.” He laughed. “I know it was stupid. Want to know where our date was?”

“...go on?”

“The Passiflora.”

“Geralt, no. They take bookings weeks in advance!”

“I know, Jaskier. I had to get one.”

“They take a deposit!” Jaskier said it like it was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard. “They don’t let you in unless you’re wearing…” he trailed off. “Geralt?”

Geralt knew what was coming. “Yes?”

“Are you… and, forgive me if this is cruel, but are you currently walking down the A26 wearing a full three piece suit?”

Geralt didn’t respond.

“Oh my gods you are! Geralt!” He burst into laughter. “Oh, Geralt, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I think she just wanted to see how far she could take me. She just sent me a message about how she preferred Eskel anyway.”

“Well…” Crooned Jaskier, thoughtfully, “She may be onto something there…”

“Jaskier!”

“I’m joking, Geralt. Come now. So… it didn’t work out, then?”

“It didn’t work out.”

“Shame.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier just giggled at him. “So… when can I expect you?”

Geralt had begun the slog up the steep bank of the slip road. His shoes slid dangerously on the mud. “Half an hour?” He guessed, as a huge lorry zoomed past.

“What?”

“Half an hour!”

“Alright, alright, no need to shout about it. I’ll get the kettle on, shall I?”

“Please do.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you in a bit, Geralt.”

He tucked the phone back into his pocket. Three more cars zoomed past. He wondered, somewhat bitterly, why none had stopped and offered to help. Oh well - no use dwelling. He stared up at the hill that presented itself to him.

There was only one way up.

~

Jaskier flicked through Netflix, listlessly. He’d last spoken to Geralt forty-five minutes ago, and he was beginning to get nervous. He’d tried to call him - tried to call him several times - but was only getting his voicemail.

He tried to focus on the TV. He was not thinking about the suddenly very real and rather awful idea that Geralt might be lying in a ditch on the side of the A26, covered in mud, his sad, lifeless body lit up by the passing traffic, the only sound the roar of the--

He dialed Geralt’s number again. He listened to the dial tone, then the ring, impatiently tapping his fingers against his knee.

“Pick up, Geralt,” he muttered, the tapping growing more insistent. “Pick up…”

There was a sudden banging at the door. Jaskier leapt out of his skin, dropping the phone onto his chest. He jumped up, very nearly sending the half-full glass of wine sat on the floor next to the couch flying, and ran to the door.

He slid back the latch and pulled it open.

Geralt stared back at him.

Jaskier burst out laughing. “Oh Geralt.”

He really had dressed up for his date. He was wearing a black three-piece suit, the blazer slung over one arm. The waistcoat was unbuttoned and the perfectly tailored trousers were coated thickly with mud. In fact - most of Geralt was coated with mud: it was streaked up his leg, splashed up one arm. There was even some in his hair.

His hair which, Jaskeir quickly noted, had been tied into a rather fashionable top-knot. It suited him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. In fact: the whole outfit suited him, the shirt and waistcoat well-tailored to his frame, neatly outlining his torso. Jaskier very rarely got to see Geralt in a suit, and the rather lovely image was only a little ruined by the aforementioned mud.

“What happened?” He said, finally.

“I fell.”

Jaskeir’s heart swelled. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Bruised ego more than anything.”

“Shall I fetch you a cup of tea?”

“I’d rather a glass of this, actually.”

Geralt thrust a bottle of wine into Jaskier’s hands. “Oohh,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “this is the good shit.”

Geralt shrugged. “I’ve decided,” he said, kicking his muddy feet against Jaskier’s front step, “that I deserve it.”

“I think you do,” said Jaskier, grinning. “Come on, come in, go and get yourself cleaned up and I’ll find you a clean glass.” Geralt hovered in the doorway. “What’s wrong? I don’t mind a little mud, you know me...”

Geralt thrust out his other hand. Held within it, was a slightly wilted bunch of flowers.

“Oh!” Jaskier couldn’t help the little shocked noise. He knew, logically, that these had been for Geralt’s date - not for him - and yet… “They’re lovely, Geralt. Do you want me to find you a vase? These are nice, they’ll keep till tomorr--”

“They’re for you,” Geralt said, rather awkwardly. “I mean. You should keep them.”

Jaskier gazed at the flowers. “They’ve not even gotten muddy,” he said, unsure what else he could say.

“They were in my other hand.”

“Right. Yes. Ah…” Jaskier swallowed, trying to ignore the little elated feeling in his chest. “You should come inside, really. You’re making my house look messy. What will the neighbours think…”

Geralt smiled. He was about to step into the house, when he seemed to pause. “Wait…”

Pressing toe to heel, he wrenched each shoe off. Jaskier grimaced at the haphazard way he treated the clearly very expensive shoes, but decided it was best not to comment. When the shoes were removed, the socks followed - also, somehow, stained with mud. Geralt stared down at them.

“You can… leave them outside,” said Jaskier. “I don’t think anyone’s going to steal them, do you?”

“No, probably not.” With a final awkward glance at his stained clothes, Geralt stepped inside. Jaskier quickly shut the door behind him.

“Right,” he said, bustling around Geralt, “You know where the bathroom is. You head up and get as much of that muck off as you can, and I’ll find you something else to wear, alright?”

“I…”

“Go on! You’re getting mud everywhere…”

Geralt did as he was told, traipsing up the stairs towards the bathroom. Jaskier hurried into the kitchen, throwing the bottle of wine into the fridge and then filling the sink for the flowers. When they were safely submerged, he followed Geralt up the stairs, heading towards his room. He dug through his chest of drawers until he found an old pair of sweatpants and a band shirt that seemed the right size. He folded them - fastidiously - and placed them outside the bathroom door.

“I’ve left a couple of things just outside the door,” he called through the wood, “for you to get changed!”

And then, trying very hard not to linger on the mental image of Geralt standing naked in his bathroom, Jaskier headed back downstairs. He grabbed another glass from the cupboard and the wine from the fridge - only slightly cooled - then wandered back into the living room. Wine and glasses safely deposited on the coffee table, he sat back on the sofa, waiting.

He began to drum his fingers on his knee again.

He looked down at himself. He was dressed only in his pajamas, and not even the cute ones with the little shorts - the old ones that he’d picked up ages ago, full of holes in all the wrong places. And Geralt - perfect, marvellous, dreadful Geralt - had shown up in a full three piece designer suit.

Shit.

He held his head in his hands. First Virginia, now this. He could feel dutch courage buzzing in his fingers. No: he couldn’t. He wanted to, but he wasn’t going to. He did not want to get rejected twice in one night.

“Jaskier?”

He looked up. Geralt stood in the doorway to the living room, staring at him.

“Hrnkkkhello.” It came out slightly choked, a strangled little noise.

He’d been right, at least: the clothes he’d chosen for Geralt fit him. Just. The sweatpants - well - they fit well enough around the legs, but the higher they went the tighter they got. The thin fabric clung to his arse, and left absolutely nothing to the imagination anywhere else, either. Even the shirt, which Jaskier had always thought was at least a little baggy on himself, clung to his arms like it was painted on.

Geralt seemed to notice his sudden distraction.

“Jaskier?” He said, coming closer, “you okay?”

“Hmmmyes, fine,” said Jaskier, quickly. “Wine?” He grabbed the bottle and the glasses, trying to find anything to distract himself.

“Please,” said Geralt, slumping onto the sofa next to him.

Jaskier smiled, going to unscrew the lid, then realised.

“A cork?” He said, “very fancy. Hold on…”

He picked up the bottle and headed into the kitchen, glad for a brief respite from Geralt’s maddenly sculpted figure. He rooted around in the draw for the bottle opener, then quickly got to work at unstopping the bottle. The cork came out easily with a satisfying little pop.

Jaskier sighed, grabbing onto the counter top. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

His eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, still sitting in the sink. Keen to find something to do with his hands, he grabbed a vase from the shelf on the other side of the room and filled it with water, then grabbed the bouquet. He unwrapped the paper and dunked the stems into the vase haphazardly. Grabbing the vase in both hands, Jaskier was about to move it to the table when he glanced, for the first time, at the actual flowers.

Red tulips. Carnations. Pink and red chrysanthemums. Huh. Geralt wasn’t one for floriography. He’d probably just grabbed whatever blooms he could. And, even then, they were meant for someone else: not him.

Even so…

He stroked a gentle finger across the soft petal of one of the tulips, velvety against his skin. He sighed.

“Uh… Jaskier?”

He spun around. Geralt was standing in the door of the kitchen, looking concerned. “Uhh…”

“What’re you doing?”

“I just thought I’d… sort out the flowers. While I remembered.”

“Right.”

“They’re… really lovely, Geralt.”

Aware he was looking a little awkward, he grabbed the vase. “Here,” he said, offering it to Geralt, “You can take this. Put it on the coffee table, would you?”

Geralt reached for the vase. It was heavy, and awkwardly shaped, and instead of grabbing the vase his hands wrapped around Jaskier’s. Oh. He knew he was blushing, knew that as soon as Geralt’s hands had touched his that his face had lit up like his head was full of fairy lights.

“Ah--”

“Um--”

They gaped at each other for a moment, then Geralt removed his hands, awkwardly rubbing them against his sides.

“I’ll, ah… get the wine, shall I?”

Jaskier nodded, and Geralt rushed past him towards the counter top. Without looking behind him, Jaskier darted back into the living room, taking longer than was strictly necessary to find the right spot for the flowers atop the ring-marked coffee table. He was sliding it into place when a full glass of wine was placed next to him with a gentle clink. Without looking up, he heard the sofa sag behind him, Geralt’s content murmur as he sank into the soft cushion.

He grabbed the glass, and rose back to his feet. Geralt was leaning back against the sofa, the glass of wine hanging lazily from one hand, his legs spread just enough to make it indecent. Jaskier took a long, slow sip. And then - barely thinking - he dropped down onto the sofa next to him, pressing his shoulder against Geralt’s side, the glass held in his other hand.

“So,” he said, finally.

“So.”

Jaskier took another sip of wine. “It appears,” he said, slowly, “we’ve both been quite horribly rejected this evening.”

Geralt looked down at him, slumped against his arm. “My car broke down. I wasn’t rejected.”

“No? Just me, then.”

They lapsed into silence once more. Jaskier’s gaze kept drifting to the bouquet of flowers, sat innocently on the table.

“Tell me, Geralt…”

“What?”

“Do you know what red tulips mean?”

He shifted against him. “I can’t say I do.”

“I thought as much.”

“Why?”

“No reason.” Jaskier moved, sliding himself back along the sofa. He was too close, too intimate - suddenly struck with the need to move away from the madding touch of Geralt’s skin on his.

And then - Geralt’s hand was on his, his finger’s lacing between his own, his thumb gently rubbing across his skin. He hadn’t even turned to look at him - still staring at his wine glass. “Do you know?” He asked, apparently innocently.

“I… yeah.”

“Will you tell me?”

Jaskier trapped his bottom lip beneath his teeth. “Perhaps,” he said, “But I’m going to need another glass of wine first.”

[ninma]

A look at Dream's punishment through irl rules and taking into account UN's rules regarding prisons. Because it is just interesting and it proves how there is NO justification for it. But mostly because it's interesting to look at and you may learn a thing or two.

I have seen too many times people trying to justify Dream's punishment. I did research and read through multiple articles and documents (over 73 pages of two different documents) about the more legal sides of his punishment. While Quackity's physical torture is obvious, I am here to address that even before that it was still very illegal. I know it is fictional! This is just a look into the real life facts and rules regarding prisons because it is interesting to look at Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault under the light of these. So keep that in mind while reading this!

Welcome to my ted talk with actual facts and be prepared for quite the ride!

While yes, he has done bad things...however he has not done something so bad that he deserves a punishment so cruel that it's considered too inhumane for even mass murderers. Like actually! Stay tooned and you'll see what I mean.

His sentence is indefinite solidary confinement. Which is defined by the united nations as:

"the confinement of prisoners for 22 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact."

This means his punishment fits the definition for all his time (including visits) except when Tommy was locked inn and now with Quackity (although I'd consider the last one a turn for the worse). Now that we have that cleared up- lets get into the rule breaking. But first, let me introduce you to The Mandela Rules!

"The Mandela Rules reinforce human rights principles, including

 the recognition of the absolute prohibition of torture and other cruel, inhuman

 or degrading treatment or punishment and effective guidance 

to national prison administrations for persons deprived of their liberty"

Now that we have established that, lets get into this concerning fact train!

Rule 43

1. In no circumstances may restrictions or disciplinary sanctions amount to torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.

The following practices, in particular, shall be prohibited:

(a) Indefinite solitary confinement;

(b) Prolonged solitary confinement;

(c) Placement of a prisoner in a dark or constantly lit cell;

(d) Corporal punishment or the reduction of a prisoner’s diet or drinking water;

(e) Collective punishment.

Yeah...pretty clear breaking of 4/5 there. They can't even break e! Not to mention the pretty explicit breaking of d that was probably a surprise. You can count it as them breaking 4/4 if you count the fact that they can’t even break e. Rest assured my friend, this is just the beginning.

Rule 44

For the purpose of these rules, solitary confinement shall refer to the confinement of prisoners for 22

 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact. Prolonged solitary confinement shall refer to 

solitary confinement for a time period in excess of 15 consecutive days.

Already broken this one too huh. Even visiting days counts because I don't think anyone has been there for hours and I also don't think Sam's interactions would be long enough or count as meaningful human contact. The time with Tommy and Quackity is the only time it dosen't count as solidary. So this is getting...very much concerinng. But this is still only the start.

Rule 45

1. Solitary confinement shall be used only in exceptional cases as a last

 resort*, for as* short a time as possible and subject to independent

 review, and only pursuant to the authorization by a competent authority. It

 shall not be imposed by virtue of a prisoner’s sentence.

2. The imposition of solitary confinement should be prohibited in the case

 of prisoners with mental or physical disabilities when their conditions

 would be exacerbated by such measures

Woops...so not only is it illegal as a punishment...but also the "he is a psychopath" argument (which is already a bad stereotype, but I won't get into psychology here. It's a common misconception and c!Tommy not knowing is almost to be expected. However please do not say that someone, character or real person, have a mental disorder or illness without proper knowledge about psychology and in the case of characters we shouldn’t put labels unless the writer has said that they have taken mental disorders or illnesses into account when making the character) just got yeeted out the window. Actually that argument just took a loop and now is an argument for the other side. It makes sense because as it says: it exacerbates their preexisting mental illnesses. Which is why it's prohibited. 

"In no case may a detainee’s contact with the outside world be

 dependent on his or her cooperativeness, be used as a disciplinary

 sanction or form part of the sentence."

  - Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, Civil and Political Rights, Including the Questions of Torture and Detention, ¶ 43, Comm’n on Human Rights,

“…The medical officer should visit prisoners held in solitary confinement

 every day, on the understanding that such visits should be in the interests

 of the prisoners ’ health. Furthermore, prisoners held in solitary

 confinement for more than 12 hours should have access to fresh air for at

 least 1 hour each day” - Subcomm. on Prevention of Torture [SPT]

Wow Sam...it is almost impressive in a dark way just how explicitly these are broken. The Warden's very punishments for disobedience just straight up counts as torture. And for the obvious record I highly doubt Quackity's daily visits to the green bloob counts as anything but 'the interests of the prisoners' health'. You can disagree here...but I am being very sarcastic.

Rule 22

1. Every prisoner shall be provided by the prison administration at the

usual hours with food of nutritional value adequate for health and

strength, of wholesome quality and well prepared and served.

Raw potatoes every day for the rest of your life..eehhh no thanks. If Dream ever gets out he will probably join me in the 'eating potatoes trauma' box. As funny as that sounds, it isn't a joke. I was force fed potatoes as a child and I hated it to the point where it gave me a mental block that stops me from eating them as my body just does not want to swallow it. It's a problem. But I can joke about it. Maybe Tommy will join us too, although it wasn't really the eating potatoes that caused that trauma...rip. Rest in anything but potatoes.

Rule 42

General living conditions addressed in these rules, including those related

to light, ventilation, temperature, sanitation, nutrition, drinking water,

access to open air and physical exercise, personal hygiene, health care

and adequate personal space, shall apply to all prisoners without

 exception.

I think it's pointless to say more on that topic as it's pretty much already summed up. Let us now move over to what are probably some of the qoutes so specific that it's scary.

“Furthermore, [the Committee] is concerned about the use of solitary

 confinement for indefinite periods of time.... Full isolation of 22 to 23

 hours a day in supermaximum security prisons is unacceptable

(art. 16).” - Committee. against Torture [CAT]

Oh wow.. talk about on the nose. I should've just started with this one as it pretty much says pretty clearly how it is unacceptable. Like yikes...can you get more specific? It is just downright ridiculous at this point. (-_-;)

“Solitary confinement, when used for the purpose of punishment,

 cannot be justified for any reason, precisely because it imposes severe

 mental pain and suffering beyond any reasonable retribution for

 criminal behaviour and thus constitutes an act defined in article 1 or article

 16 of the Convention against Torture, and a breach of article 7 of the

 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights."

Ahaha...ha....yeah for those who justify it...the convention against torture is very much against it being justified...Imagine if the characters could read these rules, that'd be interesting. Although I am pretty sure they don't follow realism for the imprisonment. As I have already said; this is just an interesting look at the irl rules and how Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault stand under light of them.

“No prisoner, including those serving life sentence [sic] and prisoners on

 death row, shall be held in solitary confinement merely because of the

 gravity of the crime.”

 - Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment

Like...there are no loopholes here. It is so extremely clear that it truly is darkly impressive how the characters don't seem to have a second thought about this. How do you accidentally sentence someone to a lifetime of torture without realizing? If they do know...It'd be very dark.

Btw Tommy's exile and his time in prison doesn't count as solidary confinement. Just to clear that up.

It amazes me how badly they break these rules...I know they probably didn't take the realism into consideration. However it is still kind of darkly impressive. Especially considering how scary specific they break them too. Even though this is just a interesting (I was about to write fun, however I wouldn't count realizing how inhuman the prison is is 'fun'. But it is interesting) look at Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault under the light of real life rules for prisons. (lol my paranoid self have said this so much)

These facts also proves how saying it's justified...is kind of morally bad. Not attacking anyone! I just want to also say how while it is pure fiction and the characters in the story can have whatever opinion they want as they are characters. However when it comes to fans approving and justifying it without taking time to consider how it really isn't something that can be justified (real or no). You can have whatever opinion you want, however just maybe take some of what you have learned today and reflect over it? To think twice after having received new information dosen't hurt. I am not here to tell you what to think, so rest easy. Only to share some facts^^ (*so obviously scared of offending anyone*)

I recommend taking some time to look it up yourself if you want to look further into it. The psychological aspects of it is also interesting to look at!

I hope you have learned something here today and found this post and my research interesting! I spent hours on this so I hope you have enjoyed this! I originally posted this on reddit and I was very surprised at how many stopped by to read it and therefore I choose to post it here as well because you learn something and hopefully also gained a new perspective. 

Ninma over and out!

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 18

A/N: Yo. I’m actually starting to like this Mulciber x reader thing. Woop. This is also so long, I feel like it won’t ever end. Sigh.

XX

The night was peaceful. No... the night was not peaceful. The night was like magic. It felt emotionally fulfilling and beautifully loving. No matter the cold, the grass hugged your body, the stars shimmered down on you and the air was wonderfully fresh and cold, like a sharp cut on your boiling vein. 

“Sometimes I wonder whether I’m being too cold towards my family... too selfish...” you turned your head to the side, looking at him gaze upon the night sky. 

The smile on his face told you his ears were all for you. “Who says being selfish is a bad thing?” 

“Isn’t it?”

“That’s like saying being serving is a bad thing.” he shrugged, turning his head to you and catching your furrow. “Helpful... nice...” he continued, trying to catch you up. He pulled himself on one elbow and started to explain. “Here’s a question for you to ponder on; Would you rather be constantly giving and pleasing other people and never get anything in return or constantly give and please yourself and get something in return?”

You pondered the thought, question quickly in your head. “Giving and pleasing to other people can be a satisfying thing for oneself as well... doesn’t it?”

“Is that your family speaking or you?” he plopped himself back on the grass. “Think about it, love. Were you ever even happy when you found out that people were just using your good nature for their own benefit and leaving you behind when they saw you had nothing more to give them or did that satisfy you?”

You felt your fingers claw the grass beneath you. Not because you were furious with him but because he was right about this one thing. People always did exploit your good nature for their own benefit and when they saw you couldn’t give them anything anymore, they left. 

“Is that why you’re always selfish then?” 

“One of us has to be.” he let out a laugh. “I’m telling you, darling. Selfish is a good thing and sometimes being selfish means setting your boundaries, even if it is to your family.” he re-positioned himself again, pulling himself on his elbow and facing you with a stern expression. “Your family doesn’t realise your true potential, your true power- even your gift!” he started to get louder. “Your mother neglected that power in you, hid it behind her lies and manipulation and kept it a secret for her own selfish reasons. Your father seems like a good chap but even he had to know about that with your mother. He had to know as he was still a young fellow when our ancestors were still alive and well. And James has been nothing but selfish towards you. With his little werewolf possy and throwing you aside like some side character.”

“Werewolf possy?”

“Don’t tell me you hadn’t figured it out yet?” he rolled his eyes. “You, (Y/n) Potter, the quick witted Gryffindor?” he let out another laugh. “It’s like your intuition is a broken antenna on that TV box.”

“Ouch.”

“That Lupin boy, the tall one with the scars.” he looked into your eyes, an pleased little smirk playing on his lips. “Where do you think he got those scars from?”

You saw your mind go completely blank. “Remus?!”

“I Remus, Romul, Rome, Roberto... whatever you’d like to call him.” he laid back and put his hands under his head. “He is- AUUUUUUU!” he howled into the night sky, then laughed after meanwhile you processed the information and tried to resolve the shock. 

“But he looks so innocent.”

“Oh, you’d think. He almost ripped Snape apart by the end of this year.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh, yeah. Snape was on some high spying shite and he told us this theory about it before, but just in little snips, clues but we all figured out what he was talking about. I thought he was barmy for implying so but Avery came to me one night, told me Snape was in the hospital. We sneaked out there, over-heard Dumbledore telling him to keep this quiet and Snape obeyed like a little Gryffindor pup he is.”

“But he’s in Slytherin.”

“He follows those Gryffindors like a pup. He’s always trailing behind that red-head, always provoking your brother and that black mop.” he continued and you couldn’t help yourself but giggle at his little insults. “Roberto’s quite neutral. I mean a werewolf would always come in handy and for that little rat... he’s so pathetic he makes me laugh just by seeing him.”

“Oh, now you’re being cruel.”

“I’m telling it as it is.” he scoffed. “Your brother is a pompous dickhead, Black is constantly flipping his hair every where like a prima donna and he literally makes me want to punch him when he walks around with that grin of his after what he did to Regulus. Roberto-”

“Wait... what he did to Regulus?”

“He left him.” Mulciber bolted to sit up, throwing his arms wide open in frustration. “When you come from a family home like we do- it.. I mean... you don’t just leave people- brothers!” he started to get more heated more as he spoke. “Slytherin is all about fraternity, (y/n) and you don’t leave your brothers, your family for some pompous dickhead.”

“That’s my brother you’re talking about.” you snapped back, sitting up. “And how can you then tell me to leave my family when only now you talk about fraternity.”

“It’s different. You’re not abandoning it. You’re leaving it for your own high ambitions and the life you want. I’m not telling you to abandon your family, to cut it off and fly away from the nest- I’m telling you to stand up on your two fooking feet and stand up for yourself. Stop being such a naive little girl for everybody to throw around- Merlin! Do you even see yourself!? Everybody is treating you like a dump and you’re letting them and here I have to tell you this the hard way because you’re too dense to fucking see it with your two bloody well, good working eyeballs!”

“Fuck you, Mulciber!” you stood up on your feet, clenching your fists and glaring down on him. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like I’m one of those students you bully! You fucking coward, who can’t seperate from his rich  daddy, who you follow like a little abandoned puppy!”

“Shut your bloody mouth, (y/n)!” he stood up as well, now he glaring down at you. His chest was heaving, up and down, slowly, slower as the anger rised and fell.

“Shut my mouth?!” you scoffed and let out another laugh. “What makes you think if I don’t shut my mouth around my own family, that I’ll shut up around some arse like you?!”

“You- I-” he seemed to be stuttering and for the first time, you had seen Mulciber go quiet. 

Yet you felt offended. You felt degraded by his words that your anger kept bubbling and the thought of your teeth shattering from gritting them so hard, made you feel scared and stupid at the same time. 

“This was a perfectly good day until you decided to ruin it!” you shouted at him as he only stood there. No more anger. No more emotion. Just a heartless exterior. Yet you knew him well enough that he was not feeling heartless at all. “Say something!” you pushed him but he didn’t budge. You tried to connect with him, to feel him but he was blocking you. He was not letting you in and that pissed you off even more. 

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you kept bursting out, knowing you weren’t angry with him, knowing you weren’t angry with anybody else but yourself. “You won’t talk to me like that!” you pointed your finger at him, the tears starting to gather in your eyes. “You won’t ever degrade me like that ever again!!” you pushed his shoulder and disapparated from his sight. 

He stood there in the cold, looking at the space where you were last seen. He felt his heart squeeze hard, like somebody was squeezing it. He felt his throat blocked and he knew that this wasn’t because of him. He knew that was you and what was worse, was how much all that pain intestified when he realised he made you feel like that. 

“Fuck.” he ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck.” he breathed out again. “I fucking care now.” 

---

You apparated into your room, threw your jacket off and blasted it onto your bed. 

Feeling your throat itch all you wanted to do was scream into the unknown but instead, you grabbed your pillow and screamed so loudly into it. Then you sat on the edge of the bed and just sat there, figuring out where to direct your anger. You clawed your fingers on the edge of the bed, wanting to cry but not being able to. So you just let out dry sobs. 

“You fucking liar!” James burst into your room, pointing his finger at you with his own anger bubbling inside of him. “Who were you with?! Huh!” 

“What the fuck do you care!”

“I called Nina and her mom answered, saying Nina already left early for school- so who the fuck were you with!”

“That’s none of your business!” you stood up and shoved him out of your room but James was stronger than you and he didn’t budge. 

“You were with him, weren’t you?!” 

“With who?!” 

“With that snake!?”

“Even if I was, that’s none of your business! Now LEAVE ME ALONE!”

But he didn’t budge. 

“Sirius was right! The two of you were talking since that night, weren’t you! I forbid you to talk to him ever again!”

“YOU FORBID ME?!” you scoffed. “Who do fuck do you think you are?! My father?!”

“I-”

“No but I am.” you father came from behind James with a stern look on his eyes. “And I forbid you.”

“WHAT?!”

“The Mulciber family isn’t one to get into. You’re better than this. We’re better than this.” he continued in his stern voice that only started lowering as you rolled your eyes at him. “And don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady.” 

“I’ll do whatever I want! I’m old enough!”

“You’re a child!”

“YES! I’M YOUR CHILD! ONLY WHEN IT COMES TO AN ARGUMENT WITH JAMES I’M YOUR CHILD BUT NONE OF YOU NOTICED SHIT!” you started to scream, the ends of your hair starting to let out purple lightning and causing your father to turn pale. There was thunder and lightning outside; purple, green and blue- and so did your eyes. 

Sirius and your mother appeared in your sight as well, your mother just as pale as your father. James was confused, Sirius was near him. 

“(y/n).” he spoke softly, taking a hold of James shoulder to move him away and walk closer to you. 

“How can you tell him EVERYTHING! Can’t you talk to me first! No! You have to go to James first! God!” you let out a laugh, a lighting appearing right behind you. “I’m so fucking glad we didn’t sleep together because I’d never forgive myself for ever sleeping with you!” you shouted and seeing as he took a step back, guilt filling his eyes. So you turned to your mother. “And you should have told me about my great grandma! You should have told me who I was! You shouldn’t have hidden this from me!” you started to cry, tears streaming down your face. 

“I didn’t want to make a difference between the two of you.”

“BUT YOU DID! YOU FOCUSED ON HIM INSTEAD OF ME!” 

The walls started to crack, the wind breaking the window behind you and causing everybody to duck. 

“Honey, you have to calm down.”

But you couldn’t. You wanted to but you couldn’t. It was as if you had lost the control over the steering wheel. “I can’t.” you felt your hands electrify and you felt completely terrified as you saw the large purple light in your hands and the power it held. It was like you were holding a bomb and you were afraid to move, hurt them... the people you cared about, the people who stood right in front of you. “Oh God...” you kept crying, not knowing what to do. “I don’t know what to do!” you continued to cry, looking at your parents. “Dad.” you looked at him with pleading eyes. “Help me.” 

But he didn’t budge. For the first time in your life, you saw your dad being terrified of you. “James, Sirius, go our with your mother.”

“(y/n)?” James kept looking at you, as if this was the last time he was seeing you. 

“James don’t leave me.” Your lips trembled as tears started to fall, the power only growing stronger in your hands. 

James took a step forward but your father stopped him. He looked at him and him and pushed him back. “No, James.” he said, looking back at you. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Dad?!” both you and James screamed. 

“Mr. Potter!” Sirius added, looking back at you. 

“I’m sorry, darling.” your father felt his eyes tear up. 

“Dad! Don’t leave me!” you screamed. “I’m scared!”

James kept looking at you as he was being pushed away and he couldn’t help himself but wanting to run forward to you. He wanted to but Sirius grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He gave him a grieving look. 

“James!” your father shouted and everything started to get blurry. 

And they left. 

They left you and you were alone, the power growing and you being close to exploding into bitses. You fell on your knees, the purple, the green and the blue surrounding you. Your bed started to burn from heat, your drawings, books, stereo,... 

“Oh, Gorgeous. What mess did you get yourself into?” you heard a voice from the door and as you looked up, you saw his two heterochromical eyes, the ones you were so furious at before, were now the only eyes you were happy to see.

“Mulciber...” you cried as he approached you. “No, don’t. I’ll hurt you.”

“Darling, we both know I won’t leave you.” he knelt down to you and leaned his forehead on yours. He hissed from the pain those little lightnings gave him and you felt more scared than ever to hurt him. He only smiled at the thought of you hurting him and cupped your cheeks. “You can never hurt me. Just listen to my voice, alright.” he said, letting his hands trail down your neck, to your shoulders, down your arms and into those two balls of lights. “I should have never talked to you like that. And you should know I don’t apologise easily and if you tell anybody I did, I will deny it.” he spoke softly and you let out a laugh, the power around you fading away. He let his hands fall into yours and interwined his fingers with yours, trying to contain the little light in them that wanted to grow stronger. He felt the tingles in his chest, his heart from all the bits of magic you gave him and all the power that tasted so good to him. “I’ve been trough this. You’re not the only one, darls.” he took your hands to his lips and kissed them softly. “And I’m here to take care of you.” he smiled and you laughed softly. “You and me, baby. Till the end.” 

You looked up at him, everything around you calm and peacful yet again. Only you and him. “Till the end.”

[kathaariawrites]

Nights in Cádiz - Armando Salazar x Reader (Chapter 2)

So my writer’s block is finally down and I could finally finish the second chapter. I will be uploading three more works tomorrow so can I get a woop woop? Thanks.

Gravity. That was the first thing you noticed, as if you were at the bottom of the ocean but quickly being pulled up. You could not breathe but then, out of seemingly nowhere, you could breathe and see that you were aboard a ruined ship, the darkened hull burnt to a crisp and rough under your feet as you wandered through. The waves rolled in the background but other than that you could hear nothing but a creaking sound from below you.

It was a bit surreal, to be honest. It felt very real, as if you were there or had been there for long periods of time and you could’ve easily believed in a kidnapping scenario were it not for the fact you looked down and your night robe stared back at you. No one seemed to be on board with you except for a figure standing at the ship’s helm. From your point of view you could make out what was supposed to be a ruined uniform, as black and burnt as the rest of the ship.

Caution be damned, you thought, your curiosity getting the best of you as you approached with low, calculated steps. Whoever it was, it was obviously a man, broad shoulders and tall figure even if he seemed to be a little hunched. A captain, from the looks of it.

“Señor?”

The figure turned to you, its eyes widened in surprise and a gasp left you. “Capitán Salazar?”

He seemed puzzled, staring at you and measuring you up. In the blink of an eye his figure approached, a sound of some sort of cane and his steps following. “Señorita…what are you doing here?”

Through your shock you realized it was his cursed form that stood in front of you staring you down, hair floating as if underwater and a piece of his head missing on the left side. “I...I do not know, Armando, I woke here just now. Where…”

“The Mary...the ship. I have this dream every night since our curse was broken. I just stand here until I wake up.”

“So...this is the triangle?”, to which he replied with a subtle nod. “Why are you still cursed here?”

He sighed then and took a few steps back, turning his back to you. “Not completely. I do not feel the rage I did back then, or the pain. I am alive, but at the same time I am not.” His brow furrowed then, looking back at you. “You should leave. This is no place for you, even if it is but a dream.”

“A lovely point”, you replied, “if it was not for the fact that I do not wake up whenever I wish to.”

He chuckled, “Argumentative tonight, eh? Quite different from dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, taking advantage of the fact he could not see your lack of manners at that moment and walked to him, sitting on the railing. He reached for you, trying to pull you down but you chuckled and avoided his hand.

“Get down. Where are your manners, [Y/N]?”

“I am in your dream, Armando, I do not need to have manners.”

It was a bit overwhelming to Salazar. He was used to this dream, to the scenario and the long waiting periods alone until he woke up in the real world and life went on. Having you here was a completely different story and he had no idea what to do with you, let alone in such revealing clothes. Clothes that were not supposed to be seen by anyone outside of a bedroom.

“[Y/N], por favor. Vas a matarme, mujer.”

You laughed at that, holding his hand. “Armando, I am not going to fall. The ship is not moving.”

He stared at both of your hands joined at the railing. Armando Salazar was not, by all means, a sentimental man but the fact you sought his touch, leaving manners and judgements aside, warmed his heart a bit. It was the third or fourth night of him being at his friend’s home and each passing day you got closer, actively seeking him for walks and conversation. You took him to the city, bought him fruits and even accompanied him, your dad and Guillermo on their trip to the hearing at the Armada’s headquarters.

He was not used to it. It had been a long time since a lady had any sort of interest in him, let alone one that was not purely carnal and, as rusty as he was on his own manners, he could tell you enjoyed being around. Your father and Guillermo did as well, which earned him a few comments that would make a sailor feel embarrassed. It was not proper, he thought, to have a lady such as yourself tagging along all the time; and yet the fact he enjoyed it just as much was terrifying. Armando was used to rough handling, that was the life the Armada brought him and the one he grew up into, be it from his own years sailing or from the previous years as his dad was much the same.

You looked up, frowning at the lack of sensations and stars. It was not cold but neither was it warm; there was no wind blowing, no stars above, no moon but you could still see everything around you; you could feel the rough wood of the ship but it didn’t smell like it had been burnt. Was this how he felt when he was dead? How they all felt? “Are you going to tell me?”

The captain’s gruesome head turned to you then, doing the little tilt it usually did when he was confused or puzzled by something. “Tell you what?”

“How you died. How you got like this. How you came back. I could not attend the hearing but I wonder how it was to be trapped for so long.”

A sigh left his lips then, a frown set on his face. “[Y/N], you were not supposed to be here, to see me like this, and for the life of me I do not know how you ended up here. It was a pirate, a young boy, he...he took everything from me. I died here, we all did, it was our house for the past 25 years and the toll it took on all of us can’t be named. I was another man back then…”

You noticed the conflict on his eyes, how tormented he seemed to be to relive all that was in his past and raised a hand. “Do not. I can see it pains you.” You jumped down from the railing and touched his shoulder in a gentle, calming gesture. “You can tell me when, and if, you feel comfortable about it one day. I am happy you returned, that is enough for me.”

Armando’s eyes took another light then, one of gratitude. He put his own hand on top of yours and squeezed it, nodding. “Gracias.”

You stood together like that, occasionally making little jokes or small conversations until you felt the same pull than before and the next time your eyes opened you were staring at your ceiling. Your maid walked in not long after, helping you get dressed to move on with your day and if you smirked at Salazar when you met him at the table for breakfast, it was no one’s business.

Spanish translations:

Señor = Sir

[Y/N], por favor. Vas a matarme, mujer. = [Y/N], please. You’re going to kill me, woman.

Gracias = Thank you.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Shaken to the core // J x Lilith // angst, fluff, comfort.

Summary: During the scene in which J is interrogated by Batman (the True Villain of Gotham), you protect J and end up getting punched by the Masked Coward. J goes feral but when you’re safe at home and patched up, J’s own emotional wounds come to the forefront and your bond deepens; if such a thing is even possible.

Warnings: I don’t like Batman and it shows lmao (so maybe don’t read if you like him), reader gets punched, J is scary angry, descriptions of fights and physical injury, swearing, crying, intense discussions, lots of comfort.

A personalised fic for @jokershyena​. I love you, doll, and I can’t thank you enough for letting me fully write this out for you skskskkkskk I adore our talks. I hope you like this! ^^

Word count: 3, 581 (Okay, I know you said under 1k buuuut~ a) have you met me? and b) when do I ever do what I’m told?)

Everything happened so fast.

One minute J was sat in the cold and unforgiving metal chair, his hands folded neatly in his lap in a mockery of the ‘rules’ the Commissioner had left him with, and the next were his feet suspended several inches above the floor, steel toecaps scraping across the floor, his painted face so close to Bats’ own masked one. J had been sat there teasing the Masked Coward but once again had Bats’ power and the situation at hand gone to his head. He was acting more like a villain than J was as without a word did Bats swing J around and slam him down far too harshly onto the metal table. It made J cackle and woop through his amusement as he curled his fingers up beneath his chin in a position of mock defense. “Ya’ gotta break your code,” J dropped his voice to a gravelly octave to mock Bats’ own ridiculous voice. “You know it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“I’m not gonna break my code,” You rolled your eyes at Bats’ voice - seriously, how was this dude able to talk like that for so long? Did he use something to alter his voice? - but your sarcasm quickly turned to horror when Bats lifted J up, still by his collar, and slammed him down once more against the table. How could this man call himself a hero when he was so violent with J, a man who hadn’t actually done anything in this particular case and had just been minding his own business? And why the hell had someone asked for you to be in the room, too? Ugh, you hated Batman. If anyone was the villain of Gotham, it was him.

While Bats was still holding J down by his collar, his other arm, clad in hard leather, came up, up, high above his head, his fist clenched - 

“No!” Your heart seized in your chest as panic and a fierce need to defend what is yours took you over and you flung your body forward, moving so that your back was pressed to J’s chest, your hair spilling over his abdomen and chest like a dark halo. You were leaning over him, protecting him, and you heard J growl, felt the vibration against your back as it rumbled through his chest and pushed out of his throat, the sound guttural and foreboding, as Bats’ fist connected squarely with your shoulder, and made you cry out. You slid off the table and dropped to the floor and the room. went. silent.

Pain exploded in your shoulder. Fuck, it hurt. The hard leather, Bats’ brute strength, the harsh way that Bats had let you drop, presumably shocked by the fact that he had just broken his code completely accidentally. Your entire arm was numb, pain and fear pulsating through you. You were so scared for J, you were terrified that something bad was going to happen to him. You had always been so protective of him, immensely so, and right now was no exception. You knew, even through the haze of pain, that right now J was both impressed that you had managed to get Bats to break his insanely stupid and hypocritical code but also really angry. 

Seconds ticked past, marked in silence. You weren’t sure anyone was even breathing as you each took the time to process what had just happened. Your thoughts all circled and though the words changed, the sentiment was the same every time as the reality seeped into your foggy mind. You would be lucky if you only had bruising from this. 

You had just been punched by Bats.

Bats had just broken his stupid fucking hypocritical code.

You had been protecting your J.

One thought, more important than the rest, stuck in the very forefront of your mind. So strong was it, so raw was its intensity, that it reverberated around and around inside your head, like a hurricane of beautiful devastation, once it registered in your mind. It was louder than all the other thoughts:

You had been protecting your J.

You felt proud of yourself for doing so. You were a woman of your word. You had told J once that you would be a dragon if he ever got hurt - you would defend him with your life. And right now - you had just proven yourself to be true. You were proud of yourself, immensely so, for looking after your clown. He was yours and no one hurt your J. No one.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” J’s voice was lower than you had ever heard it before. You had known J for twelve years; you knew his every tone, his every expression, his every demeanour... but you had never heard that pitch from him before. Your head shot up as you took him all in. The ticking jaw muscle, the clenched gloved fists, the leather creaking with every flex of his fingers, his tongue prodding against the scarring on his inner cheek, first one side and then the other before the thick muscle left the warm cavern of his mouth to wet his full lips, his chin dipped, his head tilted to the side... your blood ran cold. “No one hurts my hyena.”

J was pissed, so much so that he was almost shaking with sheer unadulterated rage. In a movement so fast that your naked eyes struggled to see what was happening, and your mind, oh, it was spinning, J grabbed Bats’ head with both of his hands, raised his knee and mercilessly brought Bats’ head down. J acted with no hesitation and with brute force in a moment which reminded you of just how dangerous your chaotic clown could truly be. There was a sickening noise and Bats dropped to the concrete floor like a sack of potatoes. It was loud, undignified and he was undoubtedly out cold, but you didn’t much care. Good riddance. It was nice to see Bats get a taste of his own medicine. You had no idea where the Commissioner was or where any of the stationed police officers were but you suspected that everyone had cleared out of the vicinity once Batman had begun his portion of the ‘interrogation’ - or, as you and every other morally flexible person saw it, unwarranted aggression akin to torture. You had intervened long before Bats had truly started on J, but he never should have even been allowed to do so. He wasn’t a man of the law and as such, he had no jurisdiction here and he definitely had no right to be throwing anyone around like that. Who the fuck did he think he was??

J climbed gracelessly off the table and stepped over Bats’ body like he was nothing more than a pile of shit in the middle of the road (if the shoe fits...) and got down on his knees beside you, gently, gently, pulling you into his lap. His body was trembling, from worry or from adrenaline you knew not. “You shouldn’t have done that, doll.”

Tears came to your eyes fast now that it was all over and you sniffled. Oh, but you were in so much pain, but J was okay. Nothing more than a few scrapes or bruises. J’s okay. J’s safe, J’s okay he’s okay he’s okay... “I would never let you get hurt, J.”

“I know,” J sounded so genuine, his voice quiet and his tone soft as gloved fingers swiped your tears away. Not many fell - both of you knew that this was neither the time nor the place, no matter how much it hurt. There were no masks here, no pretenses... just you and J, as it had always been. “You’re my guard hyena, aren’t’cha?” There was untapped urgency in his words, a need to make sure that you were okay and you felt that same sense echoed within your own self, so desperate were you to ensure that your J was okay.

Your answering nod sent sharp stabbing pains shooting through your shoulder and you couldn’t have stopped the wince if you had tried. J’s gaze sharpened as he looked you over. His intense chocolate eyes were looking at you critically, his stare roaming over your body as he catalogued your body language. He was being so tender, his arms around you like the safest, warmest cage, like a heater was your clown.

Deft fingers pulled your collar aside, making you wince, and J leaned into your body, peeking into your shirt as he checked out the damage. There were no cameras in this interrogation room but even so did J not wish to expose you, to make you uncomfortable in any way. He made a soft whistling noise. Had you been anyone else, he would have been impressed with the colouring. As it was... he was enraged and trying so, so hard to keep himself from beating Batman shitless. “It’s a pretty purple ya’ gonna be wearing when this settles, Lil.” Despite his gentle teasing, J was being completely serious. It was almost scary. Almost. But you knew your J, you knew him, and you knew that he would always take care of you. Right now was no exception. “Come on, let’s get’cha home.”

There was a shakiness to J’s voice which both of you could hear but J’s ticking jaw muscles kept you from voicing your concerns as he gathered you up in his arms and carried you out of the building. Nothing had gone the way he wanted it to,  but you had always been and would always be his number one concern. Fuck the world - his hyena needed him and truthfully, he needed you, too.

Time ceased to have all meaning as J did not let you go. You remained in his arms for the few blocks that he had to walk, your face tucked into the warm crook of his neck. You littered the skin available to you with kisses, licks, nibbles, gentle bites... J had so much pent up anger and energy within him that he was almost vibrating, but he was still so gentle with you as he got you both home, holding you in such a way that you were barely jostled by his movements. Oh, but he was so strong, emotionally, physically... your clown was fierceless, unstoppable, especially in the face of one of his worst fears.

Losing you.

Without you, J would truly have nothing to lose, nothing that he could be threatened with. He got you both home safely and he carried you through to the sofa in the living room.

“J... J, you can put me down. I can walk.”

He only shushed you, somewhat roughly, and set you down on the sofa. Immediately was he gone to get the dark green first aid kit which you kept in the bathroom, and he was back just as quickly. A pocket knife slid out of his sleeve and he fingered it into position expertly, the blade balanced between two fingers as he sliced your shirt off straight up the middle and peeled it off your body as gently as he could. You made no protests. J would replace it, you knew he would, and the circumstances were such that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop J. His face was set, his eyes were somewhat misty, and his breaths were deliberately slow, deep. J was keeping calm as best as he could, and you knew that once your injury had been examined and taken care of, you would have to deal with J’s own wounds.

You almost wanted to tell him to not bother with your injury, to let you take care of him, but that would only get you scolded, so you sat tight and let J take care of you. In moments like this did the two of you not need words, so well did you know each other and so deep was your bond. Twelve years... twelve fucking years and never before had you made good on your promise to take a hit for him if you had to. J had always made sure that such a promise wasn’t even necessary but today, today there had been an opening to prove yourself, to use your body to protect J’s own, and you knew that he was more thankful for it, for you, than he knew how to say.

So he would show you, instead.

And J did... careful touches, slightly rough kisses to your forehead, to your cheeks when you hissed in air through your teeth or otherwise winced, two pairs of chocolate eyes met every time you did so, and J would either shush you or his full lips would turn downwards in genuine sympathy. You were hurt because of him. His touches were so tender as he ran fingers over the deep purple bruise which bloomed across your collarbones, the slope of your shoulder, veiny lines spreaded out like tendrils around the outside of the bruising like a border of red and purple vines... there was some blood where the skin had completely split and J mopped it up, bandaged the areas and kissed over the protective layer he had placed against your skin as if his love could seep through the barrier and heal you from the outside in; indeed, many of your emotional wounds had already been healed, or, at the very least, soothed, by his presence in your life. You were pretty messed up just from one punch, but you were infinitely grateful that J hadn’t had to take the hit. You would do, be and say anything for him if it meant keeping him safe, sane, honest.

The more J put you back together, the more unravelled he became. 

When at last you were bandaged and J had helped you to get into your pyjamas ready for sleep - you had been awake with J this entire time and neither of you had slept for more than a few hours at a time over the last few days and you were both exhausted on top of everything else - J put the first aid box back into the bathroom. He took his sweet time, his head bowed, his broad shoulders stiff. He was still on the defence. J was too calm, too quiet and you knew, you knew your J. He was barely holding it together.

As he came back into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, his beautiful face bare and his footsteps uneven, his fists clenched, his head bowed and his slightly greasy locks framing his face, hiding himself from you, J sighed. “Best you, ah - get some rest, doll. Bed’s ready for ya’.”

“Aren’t you... aren’t you joining me, J?”

J shook his head, angling his face away from you some more as he took another step towards you. “No, no, I, ah - got some calls to make.”

Like hell he did. Not tonight. “Then I’m not sleeping.” Fire crept into your voice and you stood. Your shoulder didn’t hurt too badly. It wasn’t as bad as the pain you had felt that time you had been shot in the leg, and you knew you’d be okay. “Not without you, J, not after today.”

“Lilith - “ There was a warning in J’s tone and you went immediately to his side. You knew your clown, you knew that he had been on the edge of something ever since you had taken the hit for him, and you saw the opening that you had been waiting for, perhaps subconsciously, this entire time.

You took his hand, locked your fingers with his and you walked the both of you to the bedroom. You could almost hear J’s torment as you got into bed, easing yourself down with a wince. Lying down, it wasn’t so bad. You would be just fine within a few weeks. You had taken worse before. 

“J, don’t... don’t hide from me. Come here, sweet angel.” You kept your tone soft, warm, comforting and you used your grip on his hand to pull J towards you. He didn’t protest, he didn’t fight you, he didn’t argue or try to say that he had work to do. No, J went with you, and as he eased himself down atop you with barely any hesitation - you were always so sure of yourself and what you wanted with him and for him - he sunk into your body.

J’s strong forearms framed either side of your head, your hair once more like a dark halo; it was reminiscent of what had happened today, though this time was J protecting you, and his shaking only intensified until his entire body was shaking. J dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his slightly greasy locks tickling at the underside of your chin, your nose, and you felt the falling of one, maybe two tears.

J was shaken to his very core and you needed (and wanted) to take care of him, now.

Ignoring the screaming in your shoulder, you wrapped both of your arms around J’s broad shoulders, wrapped your legs around his waist and crossed your ankles to solidly anchor him to you. “Shh, Jack, it’s okay - it’s okay, my darling, I’m here.” J didn’t even react to the mention of his real name, he just burrowed down further into you as if he was trying to climb inside you, to hide himself from the world by literally becoming one with you so that never again could the two of you be torn asunder. You ducked your head somewhat awkwardly so that you could rain kisses down upon the top of J’s head, your lips lingering against his skin, your nose resting in his strands, which were in desperate need of a dye job as well as a wash. Normally, you would have made him shower before coming to bed, but not tonight.

Tonight, all the rules were off the table. There was only room for the two of you. The raw essence of your relationship had been exposed to reality this night and neither of you quite knew what to do about it. All you could do was just to... simply be together, to express the impossibly deep bond which the two of you shared with one another. You continued to kiss J over and over and at some point he lifted his face up so that you could reach him there, too, his bare scars receiving the most love. You adored his scars and you treasured the times he let you interact with them. 

J lifted himself up so that his nose was inches from yours. Your lips landed on his forehead next and J’s broken rasp of a voice broke the quiet stillness of the room, “He dared to touch my hyena. No one touches you, Lilith. You’re mine and… there’s no me without you. Without you, I have nothing… nothing.” As if he was distressed by words alone did he shut his eyes tightly, and you cooed as you cupped his face in your hands, your fingers stroking along his cheeks.

“No one hurts my J. Mine. I love you.” You felt like you were going to cry, so deeply and so intensely were the waves of love and affection crashing over your shores at this moment.

The answering sentimental declaration came in the form of J’s full lips crashing against your own, his lips warm but heavy against your own, his tongue hot as he commanded your full attention. J’s kiss was so thorough, his hot hands cupping your face - like a heater was he - the feeling of his heart pounding against your own... oh, but this was everything you could ever want and need. J left no room for arguments as he took from you what he needed, though in equal measures did he give you what you needed. You only needed each other, to reaffirm that the both of you were alive and safe and whole and loved, always loved, and that would always be enough to shine a light on any residual fears and anxieties lurking in the dark about each other’s continued safety.

“Mine,” J growled against your lips as he peppered your face with kisses so ferocious that they were almost bruising, “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yes, J,” You smiled through tears you refused to let fall. Too many had been shed this night. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

J made a noise low in the back of his throat by way of agreement, by way of making and keeping a promise which never needed to be voiced because you both just knew as he claimed your lips with his again once more, but it was a slower, more tender expression now, more reverent and full of worship than it was of desperation, of urgency. “The hyena and her clown... the clown and his hyena. I like the sound of that, doll, don’t you?”

The smile you gave J by way of a reply was brighter than any firework, bigger than any explosion, and more commanding of J’s heart than anything else in the world.

You were his entire world, and so long as he had you and you had him, why, you both had everything.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Since the quarantine started I've been trying to keep myself in shape, and I started to do exercises every day, feeling completely incapable. 😂😂😂 Imagine Billy trying to be some sort of personal trainer for Jonathan, mostly because he noticed that he doesn't move enaugh, but also because it's funny to watch him stuggle while Will and El laugh their asses off.

first of all: i FEEL it!! dude i keep trying to do things and then my mind is like: you’re real funny to think i’m ever doing anything physical ever again

I’M CACKLING i absolutely cannot!! Billy and Jonathan's relationship w/ each other makes me laugh and this??? has me rolling. you just know Jonathan would NOT want this. he'd push so hard against this. (also sorry i kind of gave this a plot WOOPS)

Okay, if this was a modern AU/if i ever could rip my absolute love for the 80’s away from myself enough to WRITE a modern AU, i think this would make the PERFECT ONE. like….. Imagine Billy filming shitty little videos on his camera/phone for social media (snapchat or instagram or like……. Vlogging for his fitness youtube channel or some shit, idk, i don’t use social media enough but you get the idea) and being like: “Alright guys… day one of turning local twig into more than just skin and bones.”

And he’s sauntering to Jonathan’s room as he talks and turns the camera around to find Jonathan’s door open and him laying on his bed like, reading or going through his camera or something looking at and deleting pictures he doesn’t like/need/whatever and Jonathan looks up, just barely perturbed bc it’s just Billy and his door is open so he kind of asked for this and the camera catches the exact moment that Jonathan’s face switches to -oh shit oh no Billy has his camera out- and he just goes: “What are you doing?”

And Billy turns the camera back around to him and you can see Jonathan’s little head and scared little face in the background behind Billy’s shoulder as Billy says: “Training day!” with the biggest, widest, most malicious grin on his face as he fucking trust falls back onto Jonathan’s stretched out form.

And Jonathan starts scrambling trying to get up but he’s really just flailing his limbs, eyes going wide as the camera gets blurry and there’s a thump and an-

“Ooof!”

And then Billy’s cackling.

And Jonathan’s voice is strained- sounds like someone’s practically choking him- as the camera focuses on Billy’s grinning face and skinny hands that are pushing at his broad shoulders and his cheek (which makes Billy grimace bc he doesn’t like his face being touched thank you) and Jonathan says: “Get off, you’re heavy.”

“First exercise! Push me off yourself.”

“What?” Jonathan squeaks. “No! I can’t! You’re like, a million pounds.”

“Million pounds of pure muscle, baby.” Billy says as he lets all that muscle go and becomes absolute dead weight onto Jonathan who is struggling.

“I hate you so much.” Jonathan wheezes, shoving at Billy, pinching him a few times until Billy smacks Jonathan’s hand hard enough to make him whine, laughing about how that’s cheating, jackass

You’re the one who won’t get up, asshole.

Yeah, well maybe after this we need to work on your reflexes, slow poke.

And it goes on like that. At first Billy does it randomly bc it’s kind of just a joke, like: “I think I wanna mess with Jonathan today. Let’s go.”

But then he gets kinda serious about it and it becomes an actual series of videos like: “Day 5, cardio day! If he can do it, then you can do it.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

Billy shrugs, grinning at the camera with an: “I think it’s pretty funny...”

Jonathan shoves at Billy, who in turn shoulders the boy back and makes him lose his balance.

The curly haired boy sends a knowing look to the camera.

“And this is why we’re doing this.”

“Whatever.” Jonathan mutters.

And it’s kind of fun for both of them, honestly!! Jonathan gets into it (even though Billy’s a little aggressive in his ways…) and absolutely does NOT look at any of the comments. Billy does though, and likes to tell Jonathan all of the ones that 1. Playfully make fun of him and 2. Are like…… really oddly and kind of grossly horny for him (bc Jonathan’s face gets red and he always tries to run away as quickly as possible bc our boy is a Shy Lil Bean who does NOT want to hear about how some random girl or guy on the internet thinks Jonathan is “just cute enough to eat the fuck up”) there are also some extremely rude people who shit on Jonathan constantly but they’re bullies and Billy always tells them off right before blocking them completely.

ANYWAY enough of that, let’s get back to the 80’s please!

No vlogging, no comments, just Billy walking out of basketball practice to his car to go hang out with Steve, heading around the back of the gym so he can avoid as many people as possible, when he hears a very familiar sound.

He looks over, out of instinct and curiosity bc yup, it’s a body being slammed into the chain link fence that surrounds the school. And his sauntering slows, curiosity fully taking over because hey, he must know the dudes that’re fighting, and gossip is one of the only interesting things in this town and-

Shit.... Shit, he knows that floppy hair.

It’s Jonathan. Billy doesn’t have a good view of the guy who’s pushing him but the two boys behind him are Jacob and Trevor so he figures the dude acting as the aggressor must be that jackass Zack Olson. The boy’s a punk. Billy keeps a careful watch of the scene in front of him, wondering what the occasion is.

And then the boy, with a hand still on Jonathan’s jacket, reaches his fist back for a punch. Billy does all he can to keep himself from going over there. Something about the need to “fight your own battles” or whatever filtering through his head when-

The boy punches Jonathan’s stomach. Billy’s mind is racing, blood starting to boil, shifting his weight.

C’mon, bud… fight back… I know you can-

He gets shoved back against the fence again, before his shin is getting kicked and-

Nope nope nope-

Billy’s kicked into gear. He’s stalking over there, getting faster with each aggressive move and the assholes are goddamn cackling and Billy’s blood is boiling and it seems like Jonathan’s had enough at this point bc he ducks out of the way quickly and then Billy’s veering for the hole in the fence and he’s stepping through it and he slams his hand against the fence, the rest of it shaking noisily as all 4 of the boys swing their heads over to him.

“Hargrove!” calls one of the boys.

“Get out of here.”

“C’mon… we’re just having some fun-”

“Get… out... unless you want your nose broken in multiple places.”

Fear fills their eyes, but they don’t leave without a scowl.

And then Jonathan is there, coughs a little bit, and Billy’s mad.

“Hey.” Jonathan mumbles, pushing off the fence to walk past Billy but Billy grabs his wrist before he can get away.

“What was that?” He asks, teeth clenched because he’s confused and is trying to make sense of this. “You just let those guys beat you up like that?”

Jonathan shrugs.

“I don’t understand you.” Billy continues, sitting in his hip, still keeping hold of the thin wrist. “Those guys are punks… You beat up my boyfriend, didn’t you? What are you doing letting those guys do that to you?”

“I don’t like to fight.” Jonathan mumbles and Billy thinks he needs to clean out his ears.

“Don’t like to fight?” Billy laughs disbelievingly. “From what I hear you beat Steve up to a fucking pulp and you don’t like to fight? Don’t give me that shit-”

“Yeah, because Steve was saying stuff about Will and… and my mom. So.” Jonathan looks Billy in the eyes but Billy’s too busy being shocked by the words.

He knew Jonathan beat Steve up in an alley. He knew Steve did some pretty shitty stuff leading up to it. He knew Steve incited it. He knew Steve was sorry sorry so sorry... but he didn’t know it got so personal. He didn’t know Steve said shit about the Byers. Steve never wants to talk about it and, frankly, Billy never wants to ask. But this seems important. Maybe he will. Because… well-

“.... He said shit about Joyce? And Will?” Billy’s grip loosens.

“Yeah…” Jonathan mumbles, hanging his head again, shaking his wrist out of Billy’s hand. “But he- he didn’t mean it. He was just mad. He apologized. A lot… it’s fine.”

Billy’s gonna have to ask about that. But for now he’s got a shaking boy in front of him that for some reason he like…. Actually cares about now and it’s weird but it’s not horrible and… and he doesn’t wanna see this boy get hurt when he knows the boy himself can prevent it.

“Huh…. well you’ve got reflexes obviously. Don’t tell me it’s some ‘monster’ side of you or something- you’ve got practice.”

“Yeah well…. I used to….” Jonathan’s voice gets far away. “I used to have to fight my dad off...”

“Oh…. huh.” Billy knew that too. Vaguely. Knows Jonathan’s dad was an absolute asshole and Jonathan used to have to keep him at bay so he wouldn’t hurt Joyce or Will. Still doesn’t make it any less shocking to know that their little family has roots in so much pain and fear. They’re such a good family now. They didn’t let it break them apart. Joyce fought for them and… and Billy can’t think about that too much. “So what, you’re one of those guys? Hero type, won’t fight unless you need to or whatever.”

“You do the same thing.”

“Do not-”

“Most of the time you do.” Jonathan says with an eyebrow raised. “C’mon Billy, you can cut the tough guy shit. I know you now.”

Billy’s not having it. “Yeah, whatever, this is about you. Maybe if you had some more meat on your bones they wouldn’t be able to push you around like that.”

“It’s not that, they’re just jerks-”

“Yeah, and you’re not exactly intimidating-”

“It’s fine, Billy, stop pretending like you care-”

“I do care, you asshole.”

“Then quit worrying. I’m fine, I’ll take care of myself, I can handle it… it’s fine. I just don’t like fighting.”

Billy’s irritated, but he’s too tired to fight because he already knows the two of them could go at it forever. He just watches Jonathan shrug his shoulders harshly as he backs up before he turns, slips through the hole in the fence, and stalks away.

Billy rolls his eyes.

But when he’s with Steve, he brings it up. The fact that he saw Jonathan after school (Steve asked how he’s doing), the fact that he saw Jonathan getting beat up (Steve sat up with concern and asked if he stopped them), the fact that Jonathan told him he doesn’t like to fight (Steve nodded with understanding, like he knew that already), the fact that-

“Jonathan said you said shit about Will and Joyce.”

“Hu-... oh…”

“That’s why he beat you up.”

“I… I didn’t mean it. He knows I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, I was just… it was a lot that was happening and-” Steve is stammering. Billy starts to feel bad about it. “-there’s no excuses. No no, there’s no excuses, I shouldn’t make excuses, I was an asshole and I shouldn’t have said that shit no matter how angry I was because they… they didn’t do anything and Will is such a good kid and Joyce is like… one of the only people that actually ever seems to care and-”

“Babe.”

“And I didn’t mean it, I swear-”

“Babe.”

“H-huh?”

“I know.” Billy says, grabbing hold of Steve’s face to get him to calm the hell down. Steve breathes.

But Billy still doesn’t know what to do about Jonathan. And Steve tries to reassure him that- “He knows what he’s doing. We know he can fight them off he just… doesn’t want to. Can’t make a horse eat the hay or…. Whatever it is. What is it? Can’t get an old dog to… drink from a river?”

Billy rolls his eyes, but his heart beats a little faster.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

Steve tries to be resentful but he’s being kissed so he doesn’t exactly have the opportunity.

But Billy isn’t okay with this!!! He truthfully doesn’t know how Jonathan even has the reflexes he does still bc Lonnie’s been gone for a while and all the boy does nowadays is lay around the house…. Literally that’s it. At any given moment of any given day he’s laying on the couch, laying in his bed, or running around with his camera- and by ‘running’, he really means ‘ambling’ bc the boy has absolutely no sense of urgency.

He likes to say that he had “enough urgency back when I thought my brother was dead. I’d like to take a break now.” but Billy likes to say: “That was two years ago, you lazy fucker.”

So.

And Billy can’t really be lead to believe that sex with Nancy is that much of a fuckng cardio work out. Billy doesn’t know hardly any details of the two and their sex life because he doesn’t want to know but Billy can bet the two of them are the most vanilla people on the planet. And Nancy is tiny, it’s not like lifting her would be that much of a physical strain. For anyone.

So...

He’s like…. upset about this. Jonathans carries himself very differently when he’s at home than when he’s at school but it still bothers Billy bc why. And he figures it must be bc the boy just isn’t physically capable of being confident in a place with so many people. Figures maybe Jonathan just wants to be invisible when he's at school and so he shrinks but Billy just doesn't understand. And now all I can think about is Billy being a really fucking aggressive version of Glinda from Wicked and Jonathan is Elphaba and Billy just stands in Jonathan’s doorway, large and intimidating presence that he is, and says: “Jonathan, I’ve decided to make you my new project.”

And Jonathan, who’s laying in bed eating popcorn and flipping through his photo album as he listens to R.E.M. just gives a very disinterested look in Billy’s direction and says: “You really don’t have to do that.”

And Billy sits in his hip and raises and eyebrow and rolls his eyes and says: “I know…” on a sigh, with a vaguely exhausted and yet somehow cocky “That’s what makes me so nice.” tagged onto the end.

“Think I’m gonna have to disagree-”

“No time. C’mon. We’re going for a run.”

And Billy tries not to give the boy much of a chance, but he makes it so difficult. For as thin and lazy as the boy seems to be, Jonathan has a lot of fucking endurance. He can fight Billy on this forever and Billy really just wants to pick him up and throw him in front of the weights and make him lift them but like… he knows he can’t so he gives up for the day.

But then one day he catches Jonathan asleep on the couch.

So he scares him awake.

“Shit!” Jonathan jerks, sitting up and looking into Billy’s face and sighing harshly. “Billy! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Did that get your heart rate up?”

“Yeah, you nearly scared me to death.”

“Great, we’re going for a run.”

“No.”

“Yes, we are. 5 laps around the house and then we’ll see where you’re at, c’mon.”

“Billy I said no.” And Jonathan pushes himself up and starts heading to the kitchen but Billy just isn’t having this because… because he knows Jonathan was getting smacked around again yesterday. Knows he got harassed after gym class. Billy saw it. He’s mad about it and he thinks he can do something about it so he’s gonna and…

Billy grabs hold of the back of Jonathan’s shirt and yanks him back.

“Billy!”

“You think you’re good? Fine then, fight me.”

“No.”

And Billy keeps hold of Jonathan’s shirt even as he struggles out of the way and Billy knows the boy used to be able to hit and take a punch in return but he just… he needs to really know. If Jonathan can get away from him then he’ll leave him alone but only then.

Jonathan struggles. “Let go of me.”

“You get away yourself.”

“Billy-”

And Billy pulls Jonathan back some more so he can pin him against the wall aggressively and Jonathan shrinks and Billy’s got him against the wall, hand to his chest, arm’s distance away from him, waiting for Jonathan to fight back and-

“Fight back.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Do it. Try and get away.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m at home! I don’t… I don’t wanna fight in my house! Not in the house, just-stop. What if Will walks in?”

And the words strike Billy harshly. Like he’s the one that’s taken a blow, like Jonathan just punched him and-

And suddenly Billy feels like an absolute asshole. Because he’s being a bully. He’s bullying Jonathan in his own home, even when he’s being asked to stop. He’s an aggressor. He’s being their fucking father and maybe the intent isn’t malicious but that doesn’t change a whole fucking lot, now does it? He knows it doesn’t. He loosens his grip, unsure how he could have let himself get this far. He tries to convince himself that it’s not like that... but he knows that Will wouldn’t see it that way if he were to walk in.

He lets go of Jonathan. They stand there in silence.

But Billy’s still just not okay with this.

“I just… I don’t wanna see you get pushed around anymore.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes.

“Then look away.”

Billy growls.

“No, you idiot. Don’t you… you affect Will too, y’know!”

Jonathan eyes Billy darkly. “Yeah, what are you talking abou-”

“What do you think he would think if he saw you getting pushed around? He’s gonna think it’s okay to let people do that to him!” Billy’s getting riled up and really he feels kind of stupid being so affected by these people he gave absolutely zero shits about a little over a year ago but… but now.

Jonathan’s mouth screws up in thought and irritation. Billy’s trying to hit it home.

“He’s not gonna stand up for himself because you don’t.”

Jonathan slumps against the wall. Billy thinks he’s got him.

“I still don’t see why you care.” Jonathan mumbles, eyeing Billy with a curiosity that’s colored with disdain and Billy’s a little sick of that face.

“Because you guys are my family now, jackass.”

Jonathan scoffs disbelievingly. “I really never would have pegged you for being such a ‘family guy’, Billy.”

The words leave something bitter in Billy’s system. He licks his teeth . “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t wanna be like those assholes.”

Jonathan sizes Billy up for a second… and Billy knows he’s got him.

“Fine.”

Billy’s grin becomes shark-like. If that scared look on Jonathan’s face is regret… well it’s too late for that.

And so Joyce comes home from her shift at the store to find her son…. Running…. Around the outside of the house……

“Uhm… Hi honey.” Joyce climbs to the porch, turning around as Jonathan stops in front of her.

“H-uh… huh… huh… huh…h-uh-”

“Don’t stop! Who said you could stop?!” Comes a voice that makes Joyce jump.

Billy jogs up, looking up at Joyce and giving a polite smile.

“Hi!” He says, hands on his hips, slightly out of breath but looking rather unbothered compared to Jonathan who’s currently bent over wheezing.

“Uhhhhhm…. What’s going on?”

“Jonathan’s my new workout buddy!” Billy says triumphantly, patting a large hand harshly on Jonathan’s back and causing the boy to cough in response.

Joyce looks concerned. Billy’s not too worried about it.

“Uh huh. Alright then… well, I’m just gonna start on… dinner…. Then….”

“Sounds good.” Billy pats Jonathan’s back harshly, barking again once Joyce has her back turned. “Alright, 5 more!”

“B-but! We just did 5!”

“Yup, and we’re doing 5 more. C’mon, the longer you stay standing the harder it’s gonna be, now move!”

And Jonathan’s getting shoved and then the two are running, Jonathan flailing a bit more with every step he takes but hey…. All that stuff about Rome and taking time and whatever… Billy thinks that applies here.

And so the two of them work out and Jonathan kind of 100% wants to quit every time they start (esp bc Billy seems to know exactly when it’s inconvenient for Jonathan to start working out and picks that exact moment to bug him) but…. It kind of feels good... he guesses.

And Billy pushes hard at first. And he makes Jonathan eat more. Like… a lot more. So much more, in fact, that the boy vomits and Billy realizes he may need to pull back because: Hey…. maybe he can’t force too much too quickly. He’s just trying to get the boy to carbo-load so he gets some kind of muscle.

He wants to track it too (because maybe this is his calling or something), so he asks Jonathan for his camera and pulls him in front of a wall.

“Uhhh… please just… just be careful with it.” Jonathan insists, holding onto his camera until the last possible second but eventually having to concede to allowing the camera to lay in Billy’s large hands.

“It’s fine.”

“Put the strap on. It can’t fall if you-”

“I’m not putting on the stupid little strap, I’m not trying to look like a loser, I’m just trying to get a picture.” and then he’s twisting and flipping the camera around in his hands, mumbling: “Now how do I…?”

“Be careful.”

“I’ve got it!” Billy barks, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m just looking for the-shit!”

“Ah!” Jonathan cries, moving lightning fast towards his camera and catching it before it hits the ground. His breath is labored from his fear. “What the hell! Be careful, asshole!”

Billy’s heart is racing too, fear flashing in his eyes as he watched the camera start to fall to the ground. He takes a second to collect himself.

“Cool. Good. I was just testing your reflexes.”

“Yeah, it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a clumsy piece of shit.”

“Hey.” Billy growls, reaching to grab for the camera again but Jonathan holds it away. “Keep that up and I break it for real.”

“Yeah yeah.” Jonathan says, completely unconvinced, flopping the camera strap around Billy’s neck and catching his head a bit.

“Hey, watch the hair!”

“Woops.” Jonathan mocks like a piece of shit and Billy’s gonna fight him just for being irritating. Jonathan steps back up against the wall once he’s satisfied that the strap is on properly.

“Alright, say cheese.”

“Cheese.” Jonathan mumbles and the flash goes off.

And the two of them work out every day!! And every week Billy pushes Jonathan to stand against the wall and takes some pictures, some with him flexing (I feel stupid, Yeah well you’ll feel less stupid once you’ve got something to flex, now shut up and stay still).

And Jonathan is sore. Like… all the time. El laughs about it when she tries to mess around with him and he winces in pain. Will is a little worried but it makes him giggle.

One day the two kids are sitting in the room, eating lunch and watching TV, when Billy decides it’s time to lift weights in the living room. And so they do. And Jonathan’s just lifting the bar and it’s difficult. And Billy likes to show off so he’s lifting a shitton and yelling at Jonathan to keep up and it’s hard and the kids start laughing.

Jonathan whines a bit, setting the bar down and asking Billy quietly if maybe they can do this later because…. Well… he’s embarrassed.

And that just won’t do. He’s not okay with that. Because he’s having Jonathan do this so that they can both be good examples for these kids and they’re laughing?

So Billy sets his weights down and walks in front of the kids and El glares him down bc he’s “in the way” and Will seems kind of nervous bc Billy has that glint in his eye and then-

“Ah! Wait! Billy!”

Billy scoops Will up and carries him over to Jonathan and shoves a squirming Will into Jonathan’s arms.

“Weight training.” Billy supplies by way of answer, and Jonathan is laughing bc Will is wriggling and he’s hard to hold like this but Billy’s too busy walking over to El who’s so busy cracking up over on the couch that she doesn’t notice Billy is currently headed towards her on a mission… until he picks her up and then she’s squealing and he turns to Jonathan with a: “Get to it!”

And Billy starts curling with El is his arms and she’s squealing and wriggling and all 4 of them are laughing and Hop is most definitely confused when he comes home in his break between shifts.

But progress is made! And one day Jonathan comes home from work to find Steve lazing around on the couch with Billy, the both of them in crop tops and short exercise shorts, and Jonathan knows this is nothing good. Because there’s a bag next to the couch and Jonathan thinks maybe he should just turn back around and try to hang out with Nancy or something because-

“Finally! We’ve been waiting around for you!” Billy calls out, rolling himself off the couch and picking up the bag and oh no.

“Hey Johnny!” Steve calls from the couch and Jonathan is supremely uncomfortable whenever Steve calls him that but he does it so often and he can’t think too much about it bc the bag is being shoved into his chest.

“Put these on.”

Jonathan peeks into the bag and closes it quickly.

“No.” Jonathan whines.

“Shut up just put them on.”

“Why?”

“Because you wear the same sweats every time we work out and they’re gross, now put them on.”

And now the kids are really laughing…. Like REALLY laughing…. Bc the the three boys are wearing crop tops and short exercise shorts as they work out in the living room and Billy took one of his hair ties and tied up Jonathan’s fringe so there’s a little tuft at the top of his head bc: “We’re doing burpees and your hair is gonna get in the way, dummy.”

And it’s just funny.

Jonathan can’t say he agrees. he also can't really laugh while he’s busy wheezing.

But he’s doing well! And he starts getting some muscle and he didn’t think it’d feel this good but like… gym doesn’t totally suck anymore. And he’s not as tired 24/7. And his body like… starts feeling good when he and Billy start to exercise. To the point that when they take a day off he feels bad... almost empty.

And Billy is so proud of him! And yeah, it’s not like Jonathan’s gonna try out for the basketball team or anything, but when guys try to push him around in the hallway now he’s surprisingly sturdy. He plants his feet and he’s practically a rock and guys are confused by it. When guys try to push him against fences they just can’t. People stop bothering him. They murmur about how “the freak got like… strong all of a sudden”

And Billy couldn’t be prouder. Really, he feels like he should do this professionally.

Although… Nancy is pretty confused when she walks into the dark room in search of her boyfriend (who is absolutely fed up with her nonsense of not listening to him when the light says to stay out) and she hugs him from behind and asks: “Uh… what’s that?”

Bc Jonathan is developing all the pictures they’ve taken and… well…

“Who took those?” She asks, grabbing for them no matter how much Jonathan protests that you’re gonna ruin them, be careful

“Uh… Billy took them.”

“Billy? Hargrove? Took pictures of you… shirtless? And flexing?”

Jonathan’s about to melt to the floor in embarrassment. Nancy is giggling.

“Did you guys take them for me, or what?”

Jonathan’s head is in his hands. He’s gonna die.

“Y’know how I told you we’ve been working out?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“He wanted pictures to... document the progress. He gets a power trip off of it or something.”

“Oh my god, Jonathan, are you wearing a crop top in this one?!”

Jonathan is absolutely going to die.

[bardic-inspo]

I'm trying to write my ot3 (Nick/Deacon/F!SS), not in a smutty way (yet ahah) but like in a casual intimacy kinda way, and it's hard! I'm used to writing scenes with just two people. Got any tips?

Oooh I am flattered that you’d want my two cents on this and very happy to volunteer it! I’m always happy to hear about more OT3 content in the works!  A few smallish things that have helped me:

Names over pronouns. With three people in play, it’s easy to lose track which person is doing what/is being referred to. I try to use fewer pronouns in favor of the characters’ names/nicknames where I can. 

Dialogue tags. In scenes where two people are talking, I like to omit any tags to get more of a ping-pong effect or conversational flow. But if three people are talking, even just having “so-and-so said” is going to help keep track of who’s saying what.

There’s also this term called “blocking”, and I think it comes from theatre/acting/scriptwriting. But it’s where you put little x’s on the stage for where the characters should stand or move to for a given scene. When I’m outlining, I try to have bullets for when a character might move in or out of the scene, who’s standing where, when they might move. Who’s interacting with who. Having it broken down into small movements like that helps me avoid spots where, woops, somebody was just stock still and silent while things were happening around them. (Unless that lack of reaction was purposeful, then I make note of that, too.)

Each person in your OT3 might have different preferences for expressing/receiving casual intimacy, and maybe that guides how you block out your scene or what you have them doing at any point. For example, characters big into physical touch might grab a partner’s hand, but a character that’s happy as a clam with quality time might be good to sit there with the other two holding hands, and not feel by any means neglected by that interaction. I hope that makes sense? Mostly, my point is that you have freedom in how to write that intimacy and that gives you freedom in where to put your people. 

The other thing I’ll throw out here -- and sorry, this is probably veering from what you actually asked -- is a term I recently learned: “compersion”, which is loosely defined as the opposite of jealousy, and the idea that you get a warm and fuzzy feeling from seeing your loved one being loved by someone else (not exclusively in a sexual way). Thinking about that concept helped me frame scenes with my OT3 that felt intimate but didn’t necessarily directly involve all three being physically present. Again, more room for flexibility then, from the writer’s side.

I hope this ramble helped in some small way. Thank you stopping by to ask!

[thoschei-rights]

A collection of Who fic ideas I cant be motivated to write

SEASON 12 FINALE SPOILERS INCLUDED.

some of these are really shit half-ideas and some are just so bad, im sorry but i need someone to write these bc i suck at writing- ilysm

1. So Clara can’t get back to Trap Street because Gallifrey is gone and I doubt its coming back this time, because they don’t deserve it- but imagine if Clara unknowingly arrived on Gallifrey, saw the destruction and then saw a small gaggle of humans making their way towards the broken citadel and she’s like oya oya I smell a conspiracy- and thus we get Clara there, and are you telling me when she finds out the truth, she isn’t going to smack The Master round the face because he’s the only Time Lord left in the Universe and she needs to get her anger out at them somehow- idk where it goes from here but I think about Thirteen and Clara a lot.

2. The Master is that child on the cliff with the Timeless Child, I’ve seen this idea around and I love it but I have no idea how I’d really write it, I just love the idea and want more people to write this thanks??

3. Angsty plot but imagine if Yaz, Graham and the other two humans got into the Cybersuits and couldn’t get back out? Like the suit took them? Thought oh hey new flesh yum good stuff?? And woops Graham you doylum you accidentally converted the four of yall into Cybermen while thinking yall clever. 

4. Someone needs to write Thirteen finding out where she’s from though, and hopefully she finds out her original race aren’t all assholes and she has somewhere she actually belongs. Make it Madagascar 2 style like at first she feels like the odd one out, doesn’t fit in, does something wrong and feels outcasted, scared to be alone again but bOOM she isn’’t and someone is there for her, heck even give her parents or smth, i just want her to belong, to have a family she knows wont leave her after only a few years like all the companions do, someone of her own species who dont age in the blink of an eye like humans- :’) am i trying to redeem myself for all the torture i put thirteen through

5. The prison is Stormcage and River hears about the fact they have a new maximum security prisoner and they are really rare bc sure the universe has lots of psychos but only the worst of the worst land themselves in the block the doctor is in and she’s like hmm I wonder- and boom prison break happens as soon as River finds out who it is and whats just happened to her :’)

6. Dhawan!Master barely escaping Gallifrey with The Doctor, the two forces to escape in the same Tardis since its the only one in range, but he’s been hit ever so slightly by the death particle, enough that his body is forced to regenerate and he becomes Missy and Thirteen is just on shock because OH it all makes sense now- Missy didn’t revert to her old ways, she’d not BEEN Missy yet, and finally there’s some hope in the Dark for Thirteen. Also Thrissy because I’m gay for Thrissy.

7. That 12.9 ending scene but instead of just standing in shock and fear and anger, the Doctor paces over to the smug bitch who just yeeted out of that boundary, slaps him across the face and then snogs the fuck outta him. Thoschei rights. Preach. 

8. When The Doctor blows the Matrix, her wiped memories start coming back to her and while in prison she has to experience some of these returning terrors alone, with no comfort. Lots of angst. Make it really dark and sad. Make me sob my heart out. 

9. The Matrix takes more energy from Thirteen than she thought and when yanking from Yaz’s hold to go blow up the Master and the Cybermasters, she collapses from exhaustion and is unconscious while Yaz takes her place and sacrifices herself. When Thirteen wakes, its too late and she has to live in a Universe with no Yaz, just even more shit for her to try and process, its all too much. 

10. Somehow rumour of the true creation of the time lords gets out among the stars, it suddenly becomes common knowledge, “did you hear about the doctor?” “the time lords experimented on her, as a child, stole her dna for themselves” and “they wiped her memories, forced her to revert to a child” and maybe even “i heard they trapped her in a confession dial for 4.5 billion years-” “wha- 4.5 BILLION years?” and suddenly everyone knows the time lords dirty secret but they also know the fragments of the doctors past, and eventually these rumours reach people who know her well, her friends whom are still among the stars, Bill, Clara and Me, Jack, River, hell anyone you wanted, and these companions are like shit we need to find the doctor?? maybe some of them break her outta prison or?? maybe some stumble upon her after shes reunited with the fam and the fam end up finding out too, after thirteen tries not to let them know too much?? idk?? this one is very ambiguous on details so go with it as you want

11. any form of feral baby thirteen. just anything where she snaps at any point will make me happy. just give me. give. me.

[gingerwritess]

How did Loki meet their S/O?

shawarma

warning: some violence and descriptive injuries

a/n: HEY HERE IT IS

finally wrote how you n Loki met woop HOPE ITS EVERYTHING YOU IMAGINED

friendly reminder that criticism is NOT welcome here if it’s mean and just because you want to be right and you just like telling other people they’re wrong!!! :)))

i know the ending is a bit sudden but don’t WORRY we’re entering slowburn territory folks enjoy

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The feeling of coming-to is a strange one.

Normally it goes with eyes opening to darkness, then you blink a couple times and start to remember where you are.

This time is no different. The blinks come painfully, powdered cement probably catching behind your eyelids, but you pry watering eyes open to glance around.

Your office, destroyed. Only one desk still stands, unfortunately not yours, computer parts litter the floor, half the ceiling appears to have collapsed—a pair of heeled feet bend at an odd angle from under the rubble.

You scramble away, dust settling in your throat with each heavy gasp before you manage to pull yourself to your feet. Something warm trickles down your cheek but you can’t feel it, staring in horror at your humble little office: the new intern, Mark, lies over in the corner, clearly dead.

A pencil sticks halfway out of his neck.

One of the janitors who’s name you hadn’t gotten to know yet is writhing at the top of the stairwell as you stumble past, moaning in agony and clutching her face, something red dripping from behind her hands.

The first step down the stairs sends you retching and you vomit over the handrail.

Fresh air, fresh air—

It’s not much fresher, but you fall to your skinned knees and take in lungfuls of dusty, smokey air.

More bodies. This time both human and alien. Ugly purplish and scaly and distorted, like every alien you’d ever imagined would drop from a portal in the sky.

The scent of charred flesh hits your nose and you double over once again, heaving the bile from your empty stomach onto the stained streets.

“That was dramatic.”

You nearly fall over with a start, heart leaping from your chest—oh god, to hear someone else actually speak, be alive—

“You.”

One of the alien’s staffs is sticking into a corpse just a few feet away; you take a quick step and pry it from the body, trying not to retch.

He cocks his head.

“Are you going to kill me?”

You take a shaky breath and point the spear at his chest. “I-I’m considering it.”

The god lifts his head, turning his face to the sky and closing his eyes. The throat now bared so plainly to your pointed end of the spear is bruised, you notice, yellowing purple spots starting to appear on the once perfect skin.

“Kill away.”

Awkward and heavy in your grip, the spear shakes with the trembles of your hands as you stare. No, don’t kill him yet—you’re still not sure what you’re looking at.

That face has been plastered across news channels for hours; you’d seen a warning this morning and thought to yourself how freakishly blue his eyes were, not paying much mind to the “dangerous persons” warning that came after the photo.

It’s never a worry, you always think you’ll be fine, but then it happens.

Now this “dangerous person” is sitting on a curb, flakes of rubble and dust on his caped shoulders and in his dark hair, leaning against a stop sign with a hammer of some sort on his knees.

“Why are you just…” you move the end of the spear down and back up. “Sitting here?”

“Would you rather I do something else?”

The pointed tip of the staff meets the hard armour on his chest. “Don’t,” you hiss, fingers tightening around the cold metal. You should just do it, end him now, it’s the least he deserves—

“Please,” you add after a moment, voice coming out much more cracked and desperate than you intended. “No more, please don’t.”

“Then kill me, mortal, we don’t have much time.” He lifts his chin again, this time not closing his eyes, just staring at you down the bridge of his nose.

You can’t move forward, can’t push the spear through the hollow of his throat; your feet won’t move.

“Do you have any idea,” you choke out, pushing the staff against him a little harder, “how many people you killed?”

“Enlighten me.”

It all happened so quickly that looking back, it’s a blur.

You know you cut him, somewhere either along his jaw or his neck—mostly out of self defence, you’ll tell yourself later. It was almost as if he’d known you would strike him when he said that; he bared his teeth and snarled, lunging at you just as you brought the spear down near his neck with a shriek and a set of handcuffs yanked him back into the stop sign with a crash.

So he is a prisoner.

You point the spear right back in his face, trying to slow your pounding heart—good.

“Stay back,” you order, but it comes out in a pathetic whisper.

“Or what?” The god’s lips curl at the corners. “You’ll…kill me?”

Why does he sound hopeful?

A door to the left of you slams open and before you have a moment to even blink, Iron Man is pointing a glowing palm at you, a bag of takeout in the other hand. The other god you’d seen on the news, the good one, Thor, steps in front of your more evil god, blocking that haunting smirk from view.

And Captain America’s hand is on the spear, a burger in his other hand, lowering the weapon from pointing at the two gods and slowly taking it from your trembling hands.

“No one else needs to die today,” he murmurs, tossing the spear to the ground and giving you a small smile.

Your eyes meet for half a second before you crumple to the floor, shaking and curling in on yourself.

You almost killed him.

* * * * * * * *

Stark Industries hired nearly every displaced employee after the attack, adding wings to the tower and new job descriptions to fit everyone he could help.

You’re grateful for the job; it’s not like you had much elsewhere to go. Dumping all your savings into a little apartment put a new roof over your head, but sure as hell drained your wallet for the next few months.

And so begins the rebuilding process.

The god, Loki, you’ve learned is his name, is being held in the tower, too, for who knows how long. No one will say. You don’t see much of the Avengers, besides getting out of their way in hallways and rec rooms and giving an awkward half-wave whenever the Captain looks your way.

It’s not like he stopped you from nearly skewering a man.

You see Loki, every once in a while, just in passing. First time, he was being escorted to a holding cell by a few armoured shield agents, and you had been heading up to your office.

Those freakishly blue eyes caught yours.

He smiled.

If you could even call it that. The concept of an “evil grin” was something you’d figured out only happened in movies, no actual person could have an evil grin—until that.

That…was an evil grin. Full on Disney villain smirk, you half expected him to offer you a poison apple.

A shudder ran through your whole body and he disappeared around the corner, handcuffs clanking with each step.

Rumors about him start circulating within days, whispers heard of a second attack, a plot to tear apart the Avengers, assassination attempts on Thor…even mind control. But he has fans, you discover after agreeing to an after-work outing, a lot of your coworkers actually find him attractive—

No more truth or dare four drinks into the night.

“You know that wasn’t really him,” one girl had snorted, swaying in her seat. “He was being brain-played! No, no, m-m…memory…mind controlled!”

She’d snapped her fingers in your face with a laugh and you’d rolled your eyes. “I doubt it, some people are just…” you had paused, trying to capture everything wrong in the world in one word. “I don’t know…hateful.”

“But he’s hot.”

You left early that night.

And a couple days later, you see him again. This time he doesn’t look like himself.

He’s stumbling down the hallway, past the break room with one hand clutching the side of his head, the other leaning his weight against the wall for support. His eyes screwed shut, a look of pure pain twists his face.

Good, he deserves it.

You cringe to yourself as you watch him struggle—that was a pretty malicious thought—and he punches a fist into the wall, leaving broken drywall clouding the air as he shakes his hand out and punches the wall again, clawing at his head with the other hand.

What’s this act for, this time?

Thor comes running, catches Loki’s fist that was about to shatter a window, and slams him into the wall with a shout.

You peek your head out the door and for the first time hear Loki whimper, a pathetic, refreshingly weak noise in the back of his throat. He’s hurting.

“Need me to call for backup?”

The blond slings Loki’s arm over his shoulders and lugs him up against his side. “I have this under control,” he smiles, hoisting Loki’s limp body higher. “We got through him this time. Once more and he might be back to normal.”

“Is normal…” you gesture to the lanky god. “Is normal any better?”

“A bit,” Thor grunts, lifting one of Loki’s eyelids and studying his rolling eye. “He’s a bit less…genocidal.”

“Oh, goody.”

His eyes fly open and he jerks towards you, snarling like a rabid animal.

“YOU—”

Barely stopping a scream from ripping from your throat, you shrink back against the wall and shut your eyes, hands covering your face and yelling until Thor takes him by the throat and slams his head into the wall again.

“You should’ve—” Loki’s voice dies in his throat and he slumps, head lolling.

“What the HELL—”

“Cognitive recalibration,” Thor sighs, dragging Loki upright. “He’s…unstable. Teleported himself right out of the lab before we could stop him. My apologies.”

Chest heaving, you nod and try to catch your breath. “Don’t worry about it. Just, uh, please don’t let him kill me.”

“To be fair,” Thor chuckles, “you did nearly murder him.”

“He literally blew up half of New York.”

* * * * * * * *

There’s a guard now, a shield agent with a clunky gun and who probably sleeps in a bulletproof vest, following a few steps behind you everywhere you go.

Apparently Loki had asked for you a couple days ago while he was still being held in the lab. Well, maybe not so much asked rather than demanded Mr. Stark bring you to him.

Mr. Stark said no.

Thank god.

They asked him why and he wouldn’t give any answer more than “even prisoners are allowed their toys,” which upon hearing, you’d tried to quit your job.

The captain, Steve, and the others told you you’d honestly be safer here, where they can keep the recently brainwashed god on a tight leash and keep a protective eye on you—hence the guard.

You’re scared out of your mind, naturally.

He’s sweet though, the guard.

He holds doors open for you, asks you how your days are going, compliments your outfits in a way that’s actually not creepy for a change, and only once brought up the fact that you managed to get yourself on a god’s hitlist—you know, the usual small talk.

But there’s been no talk of Loki the past few days, though, it’s been kind of nice. Nothing to worry about.

Your “special agent” seems to think so, too; he’s getting comfortable.

After another day standing by your office door with a gun in his hands, he yawns and stretches, arms over his head. “I’m gonna get a coffee,” he announces. “Ain’t nobody makes it like I do, sweetheart, want one?”

You laugh and politely decline, going back to your work as the door swings shut.

Sweetheart. That’s new.

Someone clears their throat.

Loki’s leaning against the door, arms crossed and staring at you, hair a wild mess and leather shirt in shreds.

You scream for your guard and nearly fall out of your chair, scrambling to find the gun set under your desk.

“He won’t hear you,” he drones, rolling his eyes and raising a hand.

“No, no, don’t—”

“Relax, sweetheart, I only want an answer.” He takes a couple steps towards you, eyes dark. Cold. Immensely threatening…you have to find this gun.

“Stay away from me.” Finally feeling the cold metal under your fingers, you shoot to your feet and point the gun at him, ignoring the shaking of your hands. “I will shoot you in your fucking face, if you take another step—”

“It’s like you read my mind.” He taps a finger to his temple and stalks towards you, staring down the barrel of your gun.

“Wh-what is that supposed to mean??” You take a couple stumbling steps backwards, keep the gun trembling in his face.

The god pauses in front of you, staring at your gun. Or maybe more so your hands; they’re shaking beyond control now. He raises a finger and pushes the end of the gun, watching it weakly wobble in your grip.

“Finish the job.”

It’s barely a snarl and he makes a sharp, sudden movement towards you; you shriek, squeeze your eyes shut, and pull the trigger.

Gunshots are louder than you imagined.

Once the ringing in your ears has stopped, you don’t want to open your eyes. You’ve seen enough blood, dead bodies, and bullets through the head to last a lifetime—thanks to this guy, though.

The thought slightly comforts you and you crack one eye open.

“So you would have done it?”

His breath is cold on your neck and you whirl around with a shout, pulling the trigger again and again with no direction, no sight, no idea where he is, just needing him gone. No more haunting you, or rather…no more hunting you.

He’s in front of you when you open your eyes again, twisting his head around and rubbing his neck with a quiet groan, the bullet holes in his pale skin sewing themselves shut.

The smoking gun falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Damn,” he grunts, bending to pick up the gun. “You like to see me hurt, hm?”

He moves towards you, one hand behind his back as the other twirls your gun around on a long finger, and you can’t seem to break eye contact until the backs of your thighs hit your desk and you fall to your ass with a dull thud.

A smirk turns at his lips and you swallow hard.

“Next time,” he murmurs, handing you back the gun, “take the coffee.”

“No—w-where are you going??”

He pauses with a hand on the door and turns back to your raised gun. “I got my answer. Worth a try.”

The door swings open before you can ask what that is and your guard walks in with another yawn, two cups of coffee in his hands and a donut balanced on each one.

Needless to say, he was a bit surprised—and confused—to find you a babbling, trembling mess, sitting on your desk in an empty room, pointing an empty gun in his face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes

[thecardsimagine]

Of shipwrecks and seafoam

Summary: Let me tell you a story about a pirate and a merman, finding a love that goes beyond insecurities and death. Let yourself be taken away onto a journey about doubt and secrets, understanding and a bond that even goes beyond the deep blue of the ocean.

Pairing: Merman!Julian Devorak x Pirate!Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death, Killing Genre: Romance, Drama, Alternate Universe

a/n: I originally wanted to post it tomorrow, but since I finished so many requests, I didn’t want to take up a request post with my own writing. So today was just as good as any and I am STOKED. I’ve been planning this story carefully and I was so looking forward to writing it and here it is!! I hope I don’t disappoint myself halfway in and I hope you guys enjoy it too! Leave me a comment on what you think about it if you got the time, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! MerMay woop!

Prologue

You gasped for air, holding on to the mast as tightly as you could as the enemy ship rammed into yours. With a loud creak, as loud as the growling thunder from above, the floor under you split, marking the end of the wooden transport device you had called your home for so long now. You could hear your comrades shrieking, the captain urging everyone to continue and to fight, but you had long lost your bite in this war. For you, it was over.

Panicked, you looked around, trying to make out the dinghy. Even if all your supplies were going to sink with the enormous boat, the smaller one would secure your survival at least for a while. But your hopes were cruelly shattered as you heard a splash that did not fit the usual ones around you. You couldn’t even see the dinghy anymore, hidden somewhere below your vision, as some of your - still alive - comrades had already begun sinking it and rowing off. There were many, many more people on the ship, but that lifeline had been torn.

There was another loud, terrible crash as the enemies struck again. With the rain pouring down mercilessly, you felt your grip slip away in the rumble all around you. The sounds of cannons being fired rang through your brain like nothing had ever before, even after all the countless sea battles you had participated in before. And there was the thunder, always the thunder that seemed to reprimand everyone for their actions in this war.

You were no coward, but in the very moment that you felt your grip on the mast loosened, you felt an unspeakable fear falling over you. This was the end. That was the moment you’d die. Your fingers let go of the wooden pillar, helplessly trying to reach for a stray rope that was close by. But you missed and instead, fell backwards. Suddenly, the noises were blocked out by the fear in you, your own screams echoing through the night, as your body tumbled to the floor.

Like so many of the other people you had lived with, your body spun over, your shoulders crashed into the ground, your head hit it only seconds later. There was no way you could say which direction you were going anymore, as you rolled into the one of the open water, unable to stop yourself from tumbling overboard.

However, before you fell to your sure death, you once more got to feel the indescribable pain of having your body pierced. For a second, your tumble got held back by the broken railing, split wood piercing into the side of your torso, making you shriek in pain. But your body reacted, gripping onto what was left of the railing, your hands bleeding as the clawed into the last hold you had.

Never before had you felt as seasick as now that you could see the raging, black waters below you. The movement in you had been strong enough to have you involuntarily sway from side to side. You readjusted your grip multiple times, whimpering every time you could feel the sting in your body from all your wounds. You wished this was all a bad dream, that none of this really happened and you’d wake up in your hammock soon, ready to sweep the deck for the day. But the reality was harsh, cold and dark. If not for the blood on your hands, you might have been able to hang on long enough for someone to pull you up, but the more you readjusted, the slippery it got.

Soon enough you were hanging by your last two fingers only, frantically looking back and forth between water and boat until suddenly - another crash. Another hit from your enemies, another death sentence for so many of you. Without warning you got tossed off the boat, hearing only the thunder above you and feeling the hard clash as you hit the water and then…

Silence.

Nothing anymore, just irregular splashes which you could faintly make out. If not for the creeping feeling in your lungs, you would have thought that this was it, the end of the long dream. But the longer you stayed underwater, the more your lungs screamed in pain, your body convulsing and trying to get back to the surface. You felt like you were on fire, the wounds burning because of the sea salt, your lungs giving out on their function without air to supply them, and your eyes burning as you tried to see anything. There was so much panic in every cell of your body, the adrenaline kicking in to help you survive an almost impossible situation.

You knew you had breached the surface when you heard the screams and the cracks again. More and more people splashed into the waters, mostly dead than alive. Right in front of your eyes - from the little bit you could see through your blurry vision - you saw the boat dividing itself into two pieces, barrels falling overboard as well as people jumping to what they thought was better than staying on the ship. You knew, or at least, your body knew it had to get away from the sinking piece of wood that would tear everyone down with it, but you could only watch in pure disbelieve, mixed with sadness, mixed with the inevitable knowledge that you’d die when it sank.

You almost saw the mast you had previously held on before too late as it came into your direction. It was almost too hypnotic to take your eyes off of it, as it slowly fell over you and your mouth let out another scream while your mind recited a silent prayer. And with the last bit of consciousness you had, you sank back into the water as deep as you could, hoping that whatever being had heard your pleads, would rescue you.

A loud groan escaped your body and you instinctively gripped your side, feeling the pain of it erupting through your nerves. Under your dirty, bloody fingers you felt a slimy consistency and your eyes shot open in a moment of realization.

You were not dead.

Sure, everything hurt. From your hands that stung like a million bees, to your head which had gotten hit pretty hard after all. The place you were laying was uncomfortable, crunching every time you moved around, though when you gripped into it, you felt all too familiar sand running through your fingers.

More groans escaped you as you tried to piece together the happenings of the night. It must have been hours since then, the sun blinding you so much, your eyes began to produce tears to water them. Your ship had been wrecked by another crew of pirates, you had lost your grip on the mast, plummeted against the railings and fell into the water where the mast almost battered you to death. So far, it was clear to you what happened. But where were you now?

Hissing and whining from the pain you turned your body onto your healthy right side, hearing the sound of water softly splashing near you. Taking a moment to breathe deeply you squinnied your eyes tightly together, trying to get rid of the burning in them.

When you opened them again, you were met with another pair of eyes looking at you as if they were staring directly into your soul. Dark grey jewels that blinked shyly back at you, their color indescribable with the words you knew. They were surrounded by red strings, that looked like velvet hair, flowing in the water and they blinded you as they reflected the sun. If you had learned anything in all the years a pirate behind you, those features were not from an animal.

And they were not human either.