#i mean all that hatred probably is doing major damage on their skin

[rantingravingliving]

Shut up, fuck off and just listen to this with your headphones on. Park Jimin sounds fucking amazing.

So fucking amazing all I am hearing (and seeing) is how great his debut is despite people trying to drag him for almost anything.

Well, you know how karma works, right?

Anyway, Alone is my fave FACE track, but SMF Pt. 2 will always make me gasp whenever I hear it and more so when I see Jimin performs it.

So you, fuck off your opps. Jimin has shown what he can do, and the world responded with applause and praises.

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART SIX-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @xmichaelmyers​

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR| |PART FIVE|

After activating the pager hacking device after you had entered the building, you and Homelander went your seperate ways for the night.

You watched as Madelyn Stillwell hung off of his arm, smiling and pretending that she was actually interested in tonight’s events as Homelander indulged politicians and government officials in small talk. You however, stood in a secluded corner of the room, waiting for your device to break through Vought’s firewalls whilst idly sipping a glass of champagne. You didn’t know how long he had been there, but Black Noir stood by your side, his arms folded over his armoured chest as his suit blended perfectly with the shadows to your right.

You were growing more anxious as time went by. You expected to hear a small beeping noise when your device had finished its task, but the growing fear that the device wouldn’t work caused your palms to become increasingly sweaty. You loosed a shaky breath, taking a small sip of the champagne in your grasp. You found small comfort in the fact that Noir was by your side, grateful that at least someone else knew what you were up to.

From your position in the corner, you could hear various topics of conversation. However, the majority of them were about you. ‘Who was that woman with him?’ You heard someone question, that someone turning out to be the wife of the Secretary of Defence. ‘Who is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her around before’. ‘Her dress is beautiful, no wonder Homelander chose to escort her inside’. ‘He was probably being nice, she doesn’t really belong here’. You felt Noir step out of the shadows and move to your side, his arm brushing against yours as he stood defensive and tall. As soon as he appeared, the conversations about you stopped, everyone averting their gaze to anywhere else in the room but towards you and the Supe. No doubt he would have heard all of the negative chatter his stern stance giving off a pissed off vibe loud and clear.

“Is it normal for you to intimidate people who piss you off?” You asked teasingly, a smirk growing on your lips as you finished the last of the champagne. Noir nodded wordlessly, his helmeted gaze not leaving the gathered congregation before him. You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as you anxiously peered down at the clutch in your other hand. Still nothing. You huffed through your nose, your anxiety being replaced with frustration. What if all of this was for nothing? What of at the end of the night, the device didn’t go off. What then?

Slow music began to play, a choir of violinists, cellos and various other instruments beginning a long classical piece which you knew would likely last the entire night. “Excuse me, can I have a word?” A toxically sweet voice spoke softly, causing you to turn your gaze and meet the emerald eyes of the blood red reporter from earlier. She smiled a viper’s grin, her eyes turning a shade darker as she towered over over your smaller frame. You blinked in surprise and confusion, unsure as to why this woman was even speaking to you. As if sensing your confusion, her grin widened “I only want to interview you in regards to your entrance with The Homelander himself, it was quite spectacular I have to say”. You laughed breathlessly, unsure of what to do or say. So you shrugged your shoulders “Oh, uh, thank you? To be honest it wasn’t really that-”

“Tell me, is there a secret relationship going on between the two of you behind closed doors?” She pried, her question catching you off guard. You choked, shaking your head in disbelief “I’m sorry? I don’t think I understand” You spoke lowly, standing as tall as your heels would allow. The reporter smirked evilly, knowing that she had gotten under your skin. She stepped closer toward you intimidatingly close with her hands propped on her hips. “Well one would assume that something was going was going on between you two with the way he escorted you inside” She spoke lazily, staring down at you with a bored expression “everyone has been talking about it, you know”.

Your eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare, one that even made the Supe at your side flinch with how much hatred and ice radiated from your form. “He was just being chivalrous-” “Oh, I’m sure he was...” The reporter interrupted sarcastically, picking at her red painted nails through her hooded eyelashes “then again, why else would he associate with someone as dull and uninteresting as you? I mean, look at you. You don’t fit in here, you’re hiding in a corner for gods sake...”

Dull and uninteresting...is that how people saw you?

You tried to maintain your composure, you tried not to take the bitch’s words to heart. But why did they hurt so much?

Dull and uninteresting, boring and plain. You averted your gaze from the reporter’s and casted your eyes across the room. Where your eyes met his. And you knew. You knew Homelander had been listening, given by the stern and unreadable expression on his face. Damn his superhuman hearing, damn him to hell. You could feel him staring after you as you weaved your way through the dancing crowd. You could feel him staring after you as you climbed the main marble staircase, disappearing down the hall and onto a stone balcony. You leaned against the balcony, breathing deeply to try and prevent the tears in your eyes falling.

Why were you hurt so much by this? What did it matter what people thought about you? Why did it matter what he thought about you?

Why? Why did it matter?

It was peaceful out on the balcony, the noise of the Gala inside was nothing but distant rumbles. The music still clear as day. A gentle but cool breeze caressed your skin, brushing strands of your hair out of its well-kept do. Footsteps echoed on the balcony. They were heavy, but taken in a stride that was light and cautious. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind you.

“Do you think I’m dull and uninteresting?” You asked him, keeping your gaze ahead and on the night cityscape before you. You heard Homelander sigh, but he made no attempt top move toward you. When no answer came, your chest tightened painfully. Of course, he thought you were dull. Of course, he thought you were uninteresting. He was The Homelander. And you...you were just a nobody.

“It’s John...” You heard him sigh out lowly, his tone of voice showing no sign of teasing or malice. With your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you spun to face The Worlds Greatest Superhero with an expression of pure bewilderment. “What?”.

Homelander chuckled, a genuine sound resonating from deep within him as he stepped toward you, his cape billowing slightly in the wind. “Yesterday...” He began, standing beside you and leaning his hands against the stone railing “you asked if I had another name Homelander, otherwise you were going to call me prick or arsehole. My name is John”. You laughed lowly, nodding your head as you leaned back against the railing with an amused smile. So he did have a name. “It suits you” You responded, looking over at him with a soft smile. John nodded, giving you the same smile in return. “And you know what, any woman that can speak to me with such sarcasm, wit, and foul language, and live to tell the tale, is definitely interesting in my eyes”.

Your laughter echoed out from the balcony and across the city. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It wasn’t like the small sarcastic chuckles, or the amused scoffs you would always give him. This was genuine, this was pure. And he loved every second of it. But why? Why did he enjoy your laugh? Why did he long to see you smile, why did he long to always see you as happy as you were now? You turned to face him again, the frown on your face now non-existent as you grinned. “You know, this is why I don’t leave my apartment” You joked lightly, causing the Supe beside you to scoff. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything other than an oversized shirt and sweatpants” He teased, shying away slightly as you lightly slapped his shoulder. He laughed as you pouted, folding your arms over your chest as your eyebrows furrowed.

The music from downstairs floated up on a graceful wind, a slow waltzing piece that would have no doubt been played at a dozen luxurious events prior to this one. John stood up from his position by the balcony, moving to stand in front of you with a soft smile. “Dance with me” he spoke suddenly, holding his gloved hand towards you with a smirk tugging at his lips. Your expression became more confused as you looked up at him with an expression that couldn’t have been more confused if you tried. “What? You want to dance with me?”.

“Why not? It’s a Gala, we might as well” John tried to reason, rolling his eyes as you laughed loudly once again. Placing your clutch carefully on the balcony, you shook your head slowly as you placed your hand into his own. He immediately pulled you close, wrapping one arm securely around your waist, and intertwining his other with yours. The two of you began to sway slowly, your cheeks flushing a bright red at the amount of limited space between you. Your heart was beating so loud, that you were sure the man before you could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest without his superhuman hearing. The thought alone caused your stomach to flutter. Pushing down your nerves, you forced yourself to look up, and almost fell apart. John was staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. No one had ever looked at you like that before, with such emotion, with such raw-

Pain...there was so much pain.

For a split second, you couldn’t breath. The air was taken from your lungs as John flinched, his grip on your form tightening as his eyes widened in pure horror. Blood splattered the front of his uniform, tiny horrifying droplets coating his skin. A strange warmth suddenly spread over your chest, a deep rumbling cough caused the pain to increase. Blood dribbled from your mouth, your blood. You collapsed forward, the world suddenly spinning in dizzying stars. The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, drowning out the terror-filled shouts from downstairs, and John’s frantic cries. You could make out your name on his lips, his arms wrapping around your form as he lowered you to the ground. You were scared, terrified. What happened? 

You suddenly felt tired, your eyes becoming heavier with every second that passed. It was cold, so very cold. Everything suddenly became numb, consumed by the agony and pain that everything slowly began to fade. You never saw the figure emerge from the doorway, you never heard what John said to that blurry image of a man.

But the last thing you saw was his furious expression. His blue eyes glowing a bright red in rage, hatred, and pure madness.

Tag List: @lauraaan182 @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria  @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh​ @itskatrinahere​

[mc-i-r]

He tries

Pov: Janus

Tw: major character death, angst, hint of unsymp!sides (except Remus), arguing, illusions(?), knife/stabbing mention (hypothetically), panic attack (implied), swords, all caps (screaming), language, crying, unintentioned body morphing, self deprecating thoughts, overworking, unintentional triggering of panic attack, a  t o u c h of derealization(?)

Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2460

A/N: hi @imma-potatoo um I know you probably don’t know me but do you remember this post? yeah I um I wrote it so yeah here it is :)

Edit: tumbled being a bitch baby and I can't get the fuckin link to work I'm so sorry D:

Janus is a complicated creature. He always has been and, presumably, always will be. But that's what humans are, aren’t they? Complicated, fickle little things. They suffer with emotions and thoughts and actions and make their way about the world like little ants trying to please their queen. But Janus has no queen, only five sides and a human to please. He’s not even a human, only a fraction of one that’s forced to live and breathe among the ants. However, no matter what he does, no matter how much he sacrifices and works and improves himself, he just can’t please them. Like I said, he’s complicated.

It’s not as if he’s the perfect person either. I mean, all humans make mistakes right? So why should he be any different? I suppose it’s because of his function, being Deceit rarely has its perks. Sure, impersonating other sides to be listened to or get his point across most likely wasn’t the most effective way to help Thomas but...who can blame him? I mean, it’s not as if he could just pop up and immediately be listened to. Hell, Logan shows up in almost every video and even he’s not listened to! But Janus still tries. And tries. And tries. And tries. And tries.

Nothing works.

Right now, he’s trying to tell them that Thomas needs to take a break. He’s been working nonstop for the past three weeks planning videos, photoshoots, costume arrangements, events, and auditions. Needless to say, they're all a bit stressed. Janus most of all.

Changing from Deceit to Self Preservation was a major change in Janus’s life. I mean, spending years being hated and feared and hidden away from others did its damage, it's part of the reason why Janus inherited the snake traits but, finally being acknowledged that he’s real and a part of Thomas just like everyone else is was....overwhelming. Granted, nothing’s really changed. He still gets ignored, pushed around, and left out but...when those two words left Thomas’s mouth… that was all he needed. All he wanted. To just be seen. To be noticed by someone other than Remus.

It only lasted for a week.

Still, he does his job. He makes sure Thomas washes his face in the morning and drinks his coffee. He makes sure he goes to sleep, takes a shower, washes his clothes and does everything else a man in his thirties does. But throwing more and more projects in the mix means Janus gets pushed to the side, left to scream from a distance that Thomas needs to take care of himself. He’s been working overtime just to make sure Thomas goes to bed, not even worried about what time as long as his head hits the pillow before the sun comes up. Sometimes, he’s been unsuccessful. But he still tries. Even now, stressed and overworked out of his mind, he tries.

He was relaxed...well, somewhat, giving his points sparingly to not push the boundaries of his newfound acceptance too soon. He added a pro here and a fact there, trying to lead them all in the right direction. So far only Patton agrees and, given recent events, that basically means everyone else is against it. Still, Janus tries.

He’s settled in between the banister and Logan, putting him unfortunately close to Virgil who is definitely not sparring on giving him his fair amount of glares. Still, Janus endures, knowing that a break will only do Thomas good. I mean, have you seen Hamilton?

But the bickering soon turns into arguing between Roman and Patton, Janus not even daring to interject. It was surprisingly intense, the newfound hatred on Romans end and the persistent pushing from Patton coming together to explode in a bout of yelling. Janus shrank back from the noise, pushing himself further into the shadows in an attempt to hide himself. It, unfortunately, didn’t work.

“Jan, tell him that he needs to take a break!” Patton pleaded, looking at Janus with eyes that held all too much emotion behind them. He wanted to help, he really did, but…

“Oh yeah, please Janus, tell us why Thomas needs a break now that he’s finally getting work done,” Roman sassed back. Janus knew Roman just wanted to prove a point. He knew that. But the intense gaze the creative side gave him made him shudder. Roman was mad at Patton, not Janus. Still, the look of pure hatred bore into Janus, pricking his skin and making his stomach drop.

He couldn’t speak. No witty quip or sarcastic remark, not even a hiss. He just froze. He felt everyone’s eyes turn to him, waiting for a response to the very simple question. Hell, Janus had been supporting it for the past hour they had been talking about it! But now, all eyes on him and tongues ready to object, he couldn’t speak.

It felt as if the room was spinning, warping and contorting around him until he couldn't tell left from right. He knew it wasn't really happening, the real world didn’t work like that, but his brain was convinced that it was. He felt his eyes go wide and he stumbled, catching himself on the banister. He tried to hide it by adjusting his hat only to be met with a concerned voice.

“Janus? Kiddo, are you okay?” Patton, sweet sweet Patton asked, dropping the fierce gaze and tone and replacing it with a gentle question. Janus swallowed and cleared his throat.

“I’m fine, Patton, thank you for your...concern” Janus trailed off, taking a breath in between his words. His eyes started to waver in and out of focus. He gasped and stumbled again, leaning in the banister to keep his weakening body up. He heard Patton shout something, presumably his name, and rush over to him.

Too close too close too close-

Janus hissed at him, shrinking away from Patton and further against the railing. Patton paused, a flash of hurt washing over his face before he took a few steps back, holding his hands up in defense. Janus hated that look, the type of look that made you want to wrap Patton in a blanket to protect him from the world. He wanted to apologize but his throat wouldn’t work, staying stubbornly quiet as the room spun.

A sharp pain bore its way through his skull, feeling as if a hot knife was being stabbed in his snake eye over and over and over again. He yelled out and grabbed his face, kneeling over as it sent a wave of pain through his body. He could feel the others rush forwards, all ready to help the now screaming side.

Get away get away ge-

“Get away!” Janus hissed out.

He felt his body glitch, his insides morphing into something inhuman. He heard a gasp and he opened his eyes to see Patton covering his mouth, Logan furrowing his brow, Virgil staring at him with wide eyes and, of course, Roman with his sword drawn. Janus reached up to his face to feel glasses. He looked down to see a cardigan wrapped around his shoulders and draped over a light blue shirt. He glanced at Patton, confirming the suspicion that he had transformed into the moral trait.

“Kiddo...what's happening?” Patton asked quietly, patiently waiting for an answer.

Janus didn’t have one.

“I don’t kn-aaAAHH!” Janus tried to speak but was interrupted by another glitch, his voice cracking and diving deeper. He kneeled over again, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He could see a blue tie hanging from his neck and, upon sitting up, he realized he had now morphed into Logan.

“Janus are...are you okay?” Logan asked, speaking quietly and for the first time all day. Janus opened his mouth to speak when he glitched again, changing into Roman quicker than he did Patton or Logan. His mind didn’t have time to register the change before he glitched again, becoming draped in a plaid-patched jacket. He heard Virgil hiss.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Virgil hissed out, more panicked than angry. Janus began to sass back when he glitched again, changing back to his former self.

He took a breath and shook his head, leaning against the banister to support himself. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and felt his skin prickle, his scales shining as well as his discolored eye. He slowly looked up, locking eyes with Thomas.

“H-...help-” Janus whispered before he was cut off by a scream, his body morphing back to that of Patton.

He couldn’t control himself now, his body moving on it’s own accord while his mind begged for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. His mouth opened and before he knew it, he was speaking.

“I don't know if I can believe whatever YOU tell me.”

The words left his mouth before he even realized what they were, his hand involuntarily slapping itself over his mouth to stop him from saying more. Patton looked at him with wide eyes, covering his mouth with his hands in shock. Janus could see...he could see the pain in his eyes. The hurt. The regret. Tears were already forming on the moral traits’ face, one or two of them rolling down his flushed cheeks.

“J-Janus? What…?” Patton whispered out, voice barely audible even though the room was silent.

“Pat, ple-” he wanted to apologize. He needed to apologize. But the words couldn’t come out. He glitched yet again, changing into the logical side once more.

“You’re nothing more than a glitch, a mistake in the mind.”

Logan froze solid, face blank in shock. Janus couldn’t blame him, having his own hurtful words thrown back at him would do that to you. Logan absentmindedly fiddled with his tie, staring blankly at Janus. Janus tried to reach out, to take a step and tell him that it was okay, that this was all just a big mistake and that he was sorry, but the fear in Logan’s eyes when he took a step forward was enough to know he should keep his distance. Perhaps, forever.

The bones in his back shifted, forcing his body to morph into the creative side. He leaned exhausted on the railing, looking up at Roman in reluctant hatred.

“We can’t trust him! Did you forget that he’s EVIL?!”

Romans surprised gaze turned into a scowl, his eyes narrowing at the unwilling imposter in the room. Who could blame him? Janus has barely even been acknowledged as a facet of Thomas’s personality, much less accepted and liked. If he starts changing and mocking other sides in front of them all is it really such a stretch that Roman would be on guard?

But Janus can’t stand it. Not anymore. He and Roman had come to somewhat of an agreement, both apologizing soon after the last video and working on building their relationship from the ground up. Things had been good as of late but this...this could ruin that completely.

So Janus cried.

He didn’t mean to, it just kind of...happened. The stress from the past few weeks mixed with whatever was going on currently and the loss of trust between him and Roman was enough to send him over the edge.

He choked out a sob, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked pleadingly to Roman. Praying, wishing for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. Romans intense gaze softened, his sword lowering as the creative side was at a loss for words. Well...almost.

“Jan? Jan, what’s wrong?” Roman asked tentatively, scared of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move. Jan appreciated him for that, always willing to look out for others no matter what. That's what made him an inspiration.

He reached out with his hand towards Roman, hoping that something would happen to make it go away. All he got in return was another glitch and a purple patchwork hoodie over his shoulders.

“N-no-” he tried to make it stop, to morph back to his old self and hide away forever. But his body didn’t hold him any sympathy, his mouth dripping out evil words.

“Even if he can tell the truth, that doesn’t mean he can be trusted.”

Virgil's eyes lit up in shock, his eyeshadow darkening as he backed up from the deceitful trait. He started shaking his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he slid down the wall. He tried to speak, his words cut off by a wave of panic.

“I-...I’m so-sorry, Jan. I-...I-” the boy in black buried his face in his hands, Roman soon rushing over to comfort him.

“I...It’s o-” Janus was cut off by a grunt as a wave of pain passed through him. “-kay. It’s okay.”

“Kiddo, are you sure?” Patton asked...scared? He was careful, speaking softly much like he did when calming Virgil down from an atta-….oh.

Oh.

Janus slowly looked up at him as his body morphed around him, changing back to his own skin. He didn’t feel real anymore, his face feeling too foreign to be familiar. He had no mask up anymore, all his emotions out there in the open for all to see. His eyes were cloudy, covered in a film of exhaustion and weakness. His skin was pale and flushed, his body shaking. He was absolutely pathetic.

He weakly looked over to Thomas, his body relying solely on the support of the wooden stairs behind him. He locked eyes with him, his stomach souring at the pity in his eyes. He opened his mouth, voice coming out in hoarse rasps.

“Oh, I hate this guy and his creepy...snake face!”

“Get out of here, Jack the Fibber!”

“Gah, Deceit! Leave me alone you slippery snake!”

“Well, your face ruined my day so we’ll call it even.”

“Why is he still here?”

“E V I L!”

One by one he repeated the words, his tears falling faster and his body growing weaker. He collapsed on his knees after the final word, clutching his chest as his breath grew sparse. He heaved in a final breath, looking around the room at each of the sides individually. He gasped out his final words, ones that would stick with the rest of them forever.

“I’m sorry.”

With that, he disappeared, his body falling limp to the floor. There were screams. Cries. Pleas for him to come back, for him to have a chance at being accepted. But it never worked. Day after day, year after year, nothing ever worked. Thomas would realize soon after that he had lost the ability to lie…

...and Janus with it.

Taglist: 

@whattheremus

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Silence

theichabbieclub asked:

Geralt x Reader. Reader is hyper and talkative. One day Geralt has a bad day and takes it out on reader. He tells them that he wish they would be silent. They listen to him and stop talking n become shy. They don't say when they're hurt (emotional/physical). Reader ends up having a major anxiety attack. Geralt feels really guity. He tries to calm them down. They end up passing out in his arms. Their pulse is fast and their skin is clammy. He makes sure they don't fall and puts them to bed. Thx❤️

A/N Thank you for this request it was fun to write, though if I got anything medically wrong please let me know

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: violence, language, self-hatred, panic attack, angst

“Geralt look, wildflowers,” you gasped leaping off your horse and running towards the field. You couldn’t believe it was finally spring, after months of cold rides and attempting to pull your cloak around you a little tighter. The day had gotten off to a rough start, you and Geralt had been thrown out of your inn after someone reported feeling uncomfortable with a Witcher hanging around. Geralt had been a silent rage all morning, but you were just glad the world was warming up.

While you picked flowers, you missed the dark look and thinly veiled curses he was sending your way. You wrapped daisies around your wrists and wove lavender in your braids, reveling in the sun painting freckles on your skin once more. You flopped back, arms spread out wide and considered flattening angels in the grass but settled for sighing with delight. You would have laid there forever had Geralt not been waiting for you.

“Isn’t it gorgeous,” you sighed. “I mean springtime, and flowers, and sunshine. I was so sick of the cold but now I could just stay outside forever. I mean do we really need an inn, who cares what they think, right? I mean I don’t even like inns that much, I think we should stay out more often. Don’t you? Oh god, speaking of that-,”

“Do you ever shut up Y/N?” Geralt snarled. You closed your mouth slowly and stared at him. He had already turned away, Roach kicking up dust as he went. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes and the flowers you had picked wilting against your skin. Slowly you dropped them to the dirt rode and climbed onto your horse, sniffing softly.

The road was quiet after that, though there was so much you wanted to talk about. It had been years since anyone had asked you that question, you thought he didn’t mind. You knew he was quiet, but did he really hate it? A tear slipped from your eye when the prospect crossed your mind. He hated you. How long? How long had he wanted to get rid of you? How long had you annoyed him? You’d been hunting together for five years? How much of that had been thinly veiled attempts to get rid of you?

The thought of leaving crossed your mind, but you couldn’t bare it. You knew he hated you now, but you didn’t hate him, far from it. You had been dreaming about him for half of those years, dreaming of him staring at you fondly and kissing you softly. You couldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted you gone. So, change was in order. Silent change.

You could do it, you could do anything if it made him happy.

So, you did.

Geralt didn’t notice at first. He knew he had hurt your feelings but you were never one to stay quiet for long, it’s why he kept you around. He loved the way your eyes widened at the sight of anything that you thought was remotely pretty, from wildflowers to the way ale glittered beneath rays of sun. And the way you described it so he couldn’t help but love it too. Yet, he had told you to shut up when you were doing just that, and now he couldn’t get you to talk.

“Did you notice the… pastries?” he attempted awkwardly, and you glanced at him over your roll before taking a silent bite. “They smelled good.” You hummed nonchalantly, cursing yourself as you did so. He was trying to cover up his dislike by mocking you, not exactly the most subtle way to tell you to go away, but you understood.

“I’m going to bed,” you declared as you stood, leaving a large portion of your dinner behind. You didn’t turn to witness the frown that had etched itself across his face, worried you would find a silent chant of victory instead.

The stairs were a heavy climb, his hatred weighing on your shoulders. Tears were harder to keep in these days, so as you wiped the heavy stream of saltwater you didn’t notice the three men who had gathered outside your door.

“You’re his whore, right?” one of them called, pulling your attention to the knives sheathed in their belt and the stench of liquor that hung in the air. You shook your head, trying to push past them but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the safety of your room. “You travel with him, what else are you good for?” You silently shrugged and reached for your blade, panic bubbling inside of you when you realized you had left it at the table. A solid fist connected with your side and you gasped in pain. It didn’t take long before you were on the ground, hands over your face as you struggled to avoid their drunken kicks. Your body ached and you longed to call out, but fear kept you silent. He would think you were weak, and then he was sure to leave you behind. A Witcher had no use for a weak, annoying girl. So, you endured their abuse until they got bored and wandered away. You could only thank the gods that they had not chosen to take other liberties. Whispering “whore” was different than treating you like one, although you weren’t entirely sure you didn’t deserve it.

Your muscles screamed as you dragged yourself to your room and fumbled with the doorknob before falling in. You considered staying there to bleed out, or at least pass out from exhaustion, but Geralt didn’t deserve to have to clean up your mess.

You made it to the bathroom and surveyed the damage. Not too much to your face which was good, but your stomach was a different story. At least on rib had suffered breakage and the normally pale skin was black and blue. One had taken a knife to your thigh, it was lucky they had only gotten one good hit in before the leader had chastised him. It was nothing a few stitches couldn’t solve, and the rest could be hidden by clothing. All except the busted lip you were currently trying to make up a story for, maybe falling into the bedpost? The real trick would be moving without a limp, but you could manage, you had managed a lot worse.

By the time the stitches were sewn, and you had wiped off the blood, covering everything else with a long sleeve you reserved for winter, the sun had long since set. Geralt was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. When you stepped out he glanced at you, and then he was out of the bed storming towards you. You backed away terrified. Had you missed something? Did the men brag to the bar about the little girl they had taught a lesson? But instead of yelling his hands caught your face and examined your lip with a rough thumb.

“What happened?”

“I tripped,” you muttered.

“Fuck you did.”

“Would you just trust me?” you snapped, ducking beneath his arm and climbing into bed, waiting with bated breath to see if he noticed the slight stiffness to your walk. He hadn’t, and only stared at you, confusion written all over his face.

It was hard to fall asleep that night your whole body was throbbing and the soft snores that you normally fell asleep to never came. You could feel his golden eyes trained on your, waiting for you to admit you weren’t sleeping and tell him what was going on.

“Y/N,” he whispered but you didn’t move. You couldn’t let him know you were weak, and anyway once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. The weeks of silence would finally boil over and he’d be annoyed all over again. It was best to just remain silent.

And that’s how it went, a sleepless night for the both of you, and by god were you exhausted. Between the mental beating of staying silent and the physical one that had happened the night previous it was a wonder you were able to eat your breakfast and climb onto your horse. He had offered you stay the dead and relax, but that wasn’t him. You knew he was just doing it for you, and so you insisted that you didn’t have time for such frivolities. His worry was engulfing now, wrapping around you, thick and suffocating.

He was going to find out, he probably already had.

Oh god he knew.

That’s why he suggested staying in town. You would take a nap and then he would slip out, abandoning you in this little town.

You had failed.

You hadn’t done anything but make it worse.

“Y/N,” he shouted, interrupting your thoughts and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were short and quick as you gasped for air, clawing at your chest and then you were tumbling off your horse. “What’s wrong? Y/N what’s happening?”

He was pleading now, but you couldn’t bare to tell him, though you weren’t even sure you could. Your hands were trembling as you scrambled away from a very worried Geralt. In your fall you had snapped your stitches and blood was coating the leg of your pants, and his hand was pressing against the wound.

A shrill sound echoed in your ears and struggled to block it out with shaking hands, but it was all in your head. It kept getting louder and you felt tighter, like your lungs were expanding, threatening to break your ribcage if you didn’t exhale, but you couldn’t. You no longer knew how.

Someone was holding you, they were whispering into your ear but you could only feel their breath. You hadn’t realized you were moving until the smell of lavender and daises clogged your senses.

“Take a deep breath.” It was an order but you had no idea how you could hear it, they were miles away, yet you thought you could feel their arms wrapped around you. You did your best to listen, the inhale the wildflowers that had caused this whole mess, but it caught in your throat. “Breathe in and out. C’mon Y/N like this.” They were holding your shaking hands to their chest and you could feel the deep rise and fall of their chest, like waves enveloping the beach and then surging away. “There you go, nice and easy,” they coaxed and you nodded. Your face was wet with tears, but so was theirs. “Look, there’s some lavender, you were right it’s gorgeous, but you’ve got to open your eyes to see it. There you go,” he was whispering now, but everything was going fuzzy again. Golden eyes and purple flowers were the last thing you saw before the blood loss pulled you to sleep.

When you woke again you were in the same bed you had pretended to sleep in the night before. Geralt’s head was laying on the thick comforter, the snores you had so desperately craved filling your senses. You tried to sit up but your head spun and you crashed back down to the pillow.

“Y/N,” he whispered and you glanced him, mouth opening to thank him, to apologize, to say anything after the weeks you had spent silent, but his hatred forced them closed again. “No, don’t do that. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and he grabbed your hand tightly pulling it against his lips.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have told you to shut up, I never want you to shut up again.” He had tears in your eyes that you didn’t hesitate to wipe away.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Fuck, yes it is. You should never feel like that. God, someone beat you up and you didn’t feel like you could tell me about it. That’s worse, everything is worse when you’re not there smiling and telling me how wonderful it is. You have to promise you won’t ever listen to me again, I might die.” You smiled and pulled him in for a hug.

“I promise,” you whispered, finally letting the tears that you had been holding in fall. With tender fingers he wiped them away and you giggled softly. You pulled him into bed with you and as you fell back asleep you decided this was a silence you could get used to.

[peaky-gray]

Save Yourself

Pt. 9/?

A/N: buckle up! as always, tell me what you think! xx

Listen while you read.

TW: guns/shooting, injury, panic

PART ONE. PART TWO.   PART THREE.   PART FOUR.   PART FIVE. PART SIX.   PART SEVEN.   PART EIGHT. 

You arrived at the party, making your way into the dining hall where you knew the majority of the Shelby’s would be. You managed to make yourself look presentable, wearing an emerald green dress, using makeup to erase any trace of the breakdown you had only hours ago. 

You mingle amongst guests with a glass of champagne in hand. You saw Michael and Gina walk in, Gina looking like a model. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Michael spotted you before Gina did, his breath catching in his throat. You looked stunning, you also looked fine, which hours ago he knew you were nowhere near fine. 

You stayed out of Michael and Gina's way, but you couldn't help but overhear bits of their conversation. They only stood across the table from you, it was hard not to.

You could hear Michael telling her about the haulage, Gina's face twisting in irritation until Michael told her the potential profit. That changed her mind. When you heard Michael tell her about their future home, you stopped listening.

Reaching for a tea cake, you heard more of their conversation as they had moved closer. 

"What is she doing here?" She found you.

You heard Michael jumble his words, tripping over them before getting them out, "She works for the family, Gina, she has to be here. Lizzie invited her." Fair enough answer.

Gina spits with venom, "Well why didn't you tell me? You know she makes me uncomfortable."

Michael didn't say a thing. At all. He was too busy looking at Oswald Mosley coming in and speaking to you briefly. Mosley made your skin crawl and Michael could see it in the way you collapsed in on yourself, trying to get away from him. Michael wanted nothing more than to go over there and save you from the conversation but he couldn't. His wife was standing in front of him. 

Able to ditch Mosely, you were walking away when you heard Gina say something that she shouldn't have known so easily. She corrected Michael, saying Mosely was not a lord but a baronet. How did she know that? 

Later, you joined Polly, still in the dining hall. You were suspicious of Gina from the get-go and you knew Polly was too. You refrained from saying anything but you would be speaking to her about it eventually. The announcement for the ballet beginning drug you out of your thoughts. 

You made your way to your seat, you were next to Arthur, who would probably sleep through the whole thing. Gina and Michael were behind you. The ballet began, the music and dancers were beautiful. You were tapped on your shoulder, turning around to see Michael. 

“Tommy wants you to wake up Arthur and go with him. Linda is here.” Shit. You could see Gina glare at you for the mere fact of Michael speaking to you, you now had bigger problems than her though. You knew Linda was angry, she had every right to be. Arthur attacked her friend. Nudging Arthur awake you nodded towards the car driving down the lane outside. “We have to go.”

You and Arthur make it outside, Linda visibly upset. You stood back, letting Arthur speak to Linda alone, you were only there in case things escalated. You tuned out the conversation until there was a gun pulled by Linda. 

Unbeknownst to you, Michael had been timing how long you were gone, growing more worried as time continued to tick by without you reappearing. When Tommy got up, so did Michael, much to Gina’s dismay. Right now, Michael didn’t care about Gina, he cared about you and the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was wrong. Gina watched as Tommy left, then glancing at Mosley.

Linda aimed the gun at Arthur, “May all you Peaky Blinders rot in fucking hell.”

She fired the gun. You watched as Linda dropped, confusion on your face. Next to you, Polly appeared with her gun raised, oh. Michael, Tommy, and Lizzie standing behind you in horror. However, Arthur was still standing too, which didn’t make sense because you saw Linda fire the gun. The white-hot pain in your arm answered your question. 

You dropped to the ground, your vision becoming spotty. You felt hands put pressure on your burning arm and you felt the ground disappear. Someone picked you up. You opened your eyes to see Michael, face pale and eyes wide. He looked terrified.

Flashback:

You felt the warm substance slip through your fingers staining everything dark red. You could hear Esme yell out for John. You know he would never answer again. Michael stared up at you, eyes wide in panic, his hands clutching yours out of fear and pain. Esme tore herself away from John to call an ambulance as you continued to apply pressure to Michaels’s gunshot wounds. The blood oozed and pooled around your fingers, clinging to you. You knew no matter how many times you washed your hands you would always feel it. Sticky and wet. The terror you felt was indescribable.

Now he knew how you felt on that dreadful day. 

You were carried into the house and laid on a table in the dining hall, Tommy shoving food onto the floor to make room. You could hear Arthur telling Linda that her wound was only a graze wound and she would be fine. Yours definitely wasn’t just a graze, that you could tell by feel. 

Michael disappeared from your vision, moving where you couldn’t see him. Tommy came into view telling you that you were going to be fine. You felt far from fine. Suddenly, the room was brighter and your hearing louder, your body coming alive. The pain worsened, you yelled out for Michael. He came back into view with a panicked smile on his face, “I’m right here love, I’m right here.”

You moaned and whimpered as Tommy took a hold of your arm, assessing the damage. 

“It’s still in there, right above the bone.” 

You tried to focus on Michael above you, who was hushing you and telling you reassuring words. You liked this Michael, this was your Michael.

You heard a new voice, which you were positive belonged to Gina.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing with her?! Why did you leave me?”

Above you, you could see Michael’s face change as he yelled, “Gina! Get out!”

Gina protested, “Michael, get away from her!”

Michael boomed, “Gina, get the fuck out!” You had never heard Michael so angry, then he looked back down at you and his face changed, softer and concerned as if he didn’t just yell at his wife. Gina ran out of the room, she was going to have his head later.

Beside you, Tommy ordered Lizzie to go get iodine from the kitchen.

Michael knelt beside you, trying to calm you down. His hands cradled your face as Polly and Tommy moved around you. Tommy gave you a napkin to bite and you groaned. 

Michael took the napkin from him,” It’s alright love, you’ve gotta bite on this, come on.”

Biting down, Tommy told you that it was really going to hurt. Like it didn’t already. Tommy dug into your arm as you screamed, wanting the pain to stop. Beside you, Michael had tears in his eyes, seeing you in pain and hearing you scream hurt him to his core. 

Reassuring words were spoken in your ear, “It’s alright, the bullets out. You’re okay, love, you're okay.” 

Tommy, ordering Michael and Polly to keep holding you, poured liquor on the wound to sterilize it. An agonizing scream ripped through you. 

Desperately, Michael asked, “Is she gonna be alright, Tom. Is she gonna be alright?”

Tommy, seeing the fear in Michael’s eyes, tells him yes. You were going to be alright. If Tommy had said no, Michael would have moved heaven and earth for you, Polly knew that as soon as his shoulders dropped at the news that you were going to be fine. He still loved you.

Polly could also see the love in Michael when he had refused to leave you when Tommy told him to go get opium for you. Polly, having enough of the situation and wanting you to feel relief, pulls out a vial of opium from her bra. She had been saving it to celebrate the wedding proposal to Aberama, but you clearly needed it more. And if Michael knew she was withholding something to ease your pain, she didn't want to see what he would do.

Tommy takes the opium from her, pouring it onto a glass with whiskey, bringing it to your lips before Michael took it from him. Propping you up onto a pillow, Michael brought the glass to your lips.

“Here love, drink this. It’ll make the pain go away.”

Still holding onto your hatred of any and all drugs, you mumbled, “No Michael, I don’t want it.”

Unable to see you in pain any longer, Michael begged, “Hey, hey, it’ll even stop the pain in your head. You’ll just sleep for a bit. Please, love.”

Michael held the glass for you as you drank it, the world becoming blurry before it went black and you were asleep.

Michael could breathe properly again. 

Lizzie returned with the iodine, handing it to Polly. Michael grabbed for it, wanting to do it himself.

“Go find Gina, Michael, she’s probably fuming. I can take care of Prudence, she’s going to be fine.”

Michael knew his mother was right, “Anything changes, mum, you come find me. Alright? Anything, I mean it.”

Polly knew her son was still in love with you, his ferocity to protect you did nothing but confirm it, not only to himself or you but to Gina as well. 

tags: @multi-fandom-iimagines​

[evilelitest2]

Why do fascists hate capitalism?

Good question.  About half the reasons they hate capitalism are the same reason most leftist do, bad people are still likely to be annoyed at a bad thing that hurts them. Here are the other reasons 

1) Fascists don’t believe in social mobility.  Capitalism core tenant is “social mobility’, that somebody can work hard and become a billionaire, blah blah blah.  Now this focus on social mobility is and always has been mostly a lie, but even rhetorically capitalism values the notion of social advancement.  fascists do not, in fascist ideology, your birth determines your place in the world, and is part of a “natural order”.  The only way to improve yourself is through war, and even that is more fulfilling your existing destiny rather than creating your own.  Thus Fascists despises any form of social advancement outside military leadership, which is a major reason why they hate liberalism, socialism and communism, but its also a reason why they hate capitalism (though they usually prioritize the left wing ideologies first).  This is even more true for them when somebody they think is “inferior” advances ‘above their station.  Fascists aren’t aristocratic, but they hate capitalism for much of the same reason that the feudal aristocrats and monarchs hated it.  It brings change and challenges the caste system 

(Speaking of which) 

2) On that note, capitalism is rarely…ideologically racist.  Now capitalism is racist, it promotes and enforces existing racial hierarchies, and much of the damage of colonialism can be laid at the feet of capitalism.  However capitalist ideology rarely buys directly into blood purity or “The Volk” style race theory that fascists so love.  Capitalism in the US makes it super difficult for a black man to advance compared to his white counterpart, but if a black man does manage to become a billionaire, capitalism is basically cool with it.  If you look at a demographic breakdown of the 1%, it is mostly old white men (and almost all people who at least partially inherited their wealth) but it also includes a lot of non white people and women.  its a minority and many of them come from dictatorships (Saudi Arabia, China ect) but the ‘richest people in the world club isn’t entirely monochromatic.  To leftists, this doesn’t seem especially impressive, but to fascists it is way too much diversity.  Because capitalism is at its heart…amoral, the system will keep going even if the 1% are majority non white, gay or women, but to fascists that is terrifying.  they barely tolerate capitalism because the ruling class are mostly straight white dudes, but the thought of the ruling class not overlapping with their belief in racial science to them is terrifying 

3) Capitalism is ultimately an amoral system.  It doesn’t really believe in a larger ideology beyond “make a fuck ton of money”  and “innovate…somehow.” It does evil things because it believes that doing so will make them money, if doing the right thing will make them more money, they will.  Capitalism is just an utterly mercenary ideology, and will gladly pretend to support progressive causes if it turns a profit.  Again, leftists (rightly) aren’t big fans of this, but fascists hate it for the same reason we do honestly.  

Like you know the whole “Woke capitalism” thing that gets leftists worked up.  its doing something good but you know they don’t care and so they will abandon us the moment they feel like they can get away with it and all that.  That is how fascists feel about the racism in capitalism, they like it but because it is not ideological, they don’t trust it. 

Again this seems weird to leftists, but yes, fascists don’t like capitalism because it isn’t racist enough.  We tend to interact with capitalism more than fascism, so people often don’t realize how much worse it can get 

4) Capitalism doesn’t care about the spiritual, except as something to sell.  ironically for all the hatred capitalism and communism have for each other, the two ideologies actually share a lot in common, they are super secular, materialist, and basically assume that everything in the world is nothing more than simply products.  Communists and capitalists disagree on what should be done with these goods, but neither of them believe there is anything beyond this world.

Fascists utterly reject this world view, they hate it, they hate it with a thousand suns.  I know that there current image is a sort of ironic racism chanboard nonsense, but in terms of their actual beliefs, Fascists take everything super seriously.  The entire argument of Nazism is that they value symbols more than actual human life, and they are fiercely attached to various “spiritual” political issues even if they are officially atheists.  I mean capitalism doesn’t give a damn about “degeneracy” because it isn’t actually a material thing, its just an aesthetic preference, there is no like “measurement” of degeneracy.  same goes for honor, the family, purity, and their approach to art, fascism is in many ways about finding meaning in otherwise mundane things.  So at fascist rally to them is this transcendental almost religious experience, while a capitalist would be more It interested in trying to find a way to make money off it.   Fascism is a highly Romantic movement, which doesn’t play well with the cynical wordy perspective of capitalists, who believe in nothing.  

Fascists also dislike aristocracy, but they love the myth and romance that is necessary for aristocracy and monarchy.  They basically want aristocracy of the skin.  

5) Fascists kinda…hate the idea of money.  Like Capitalism emerged from the merchant classes and is basically came about with the argument “all of your aristocratic concerns over honor, titles, and god are stupid, what matters is who has the money and how you use it”  And Fascists just hate that worldview, one of their defining traits is their love of war and conflict, in fact fascists prioritize war over almost everything else.  It has been noted by smarter men than I (I recommend Ur Fascism) that Fascism is basically a death cult, they want effectively an endless war that they can die gloriously in destroying their enemies.  

Consistently by the way, fascists will prioritize destroying the people they see as inferior over securing their own material best interest.  Hitler probably could have run his dictatorship in Germany on his own for quite a long time and lived in luxury, but he wanted a giant war because that is what they care about.  

in fact actively seem to indulge in self destructive short term ideologies.  The Nazi economic policy was an absolute joke, with the economy serving as nothing more than something to keep the war effort going.  Stephen Miller, the most fascist like person in trump’s administration, is hyper fixated on a brutal immigration policy, even though it actually hurts the economy.  Fascists oppose freedom of movement and free trade, even though those are policies neoliberal capitalism supports.  The reason is that Fascists value the preservation of “The Volk” over profits, and would rather their people suffer than have to live alongside other races (these people are deeply stupid)

6) Fascism doesn’t enjoy having fun.   I know for most of, our experience of capitalism is misery as we work, to earn the right to work, to earn the right to give, ourselves the right to buy, ourselves the right to live, to earn the right to die.  However the way that capitalism sells itself is basically “buy lots of shit and that will make yourself happy”.    

Fascism doesn’t really…like being happy.  As i said before, they like war, they like conflict, they like having an enemy who they can destroy.  To fascists, what matters most is how you kill and how you die, rather than enjoying life.  Fascism is about fetishistic death.  Pink Floyd was right that Fascism is almost a form of intellectual suicide.  

If you look at Japanese fascism, there is big fixation on aesthetic purity focus, with the only thing mattering being conflict 

7) Capitalism tends to value the urban, the industrial, and the technology, while fascists, like the Confederates before them, are enamored with the rural and the pre-industrial.  This might seem surprising, but there are a lot of fascists who are into environmentalism, Nazis Germany was one of the first states to pass laws banning animal cruelty and limiting smoking.  Fascists are really into this sort of “Clean earth, clean people’ aesthetic which always serves as the breeding ground for cruelty.

8) Capitalism tends to be leery of state control and fascists are all about that shit 

9)Finally….we need to be frank.  A lot of the ways we talk about anti capitalism actually can fit really nicely into the antisemitic narratives that so dominated fascist thinking.  

so the Marxist says 

“Hey the entire world is controlled by a tiny elite of rich greedy parasites who are making us fight each other in order to benefit themselves”

And the Fascist says 

“Yeah….they are Jewish”

its actually really hard to depict the rich as a class without accidentally wandering into anti Jewish sentiments, because the last 2,000 years of anti Jewish racism has been about creating conspiracy theories where they secretly control the entire world.  A lot of what fascism does is taking existing issues of capitalism and being like “oh yeah…that is the fault of the Jews.  Or migrants/African Americans/Muslims/feminists ect.  Gamergate is a good example of this, they are pissed at corporations, but they blame feminists rather than you know…the inherently predatory nature of capitalism.  Many of the things we don’t like about capitalism are things they also don’t like about capitalism.  This is a major thing they do in terms of recruiting, they focus on getting people pissed at capitalism but then make it be secretly run by Jews rather than you know..Jeff Bezos.

  (nazi properganda and below are soviet Images of capitalism ) 

(and sometimes both) 

This is why btw, I am less anti capitalist than most leftists, because talking to fascists makes you appreciate things about them.  Hitler was destroyed by both a communist dictatorship and a capitalist democracy working together.  

Its worth noting that while fascists do hate capitalism, they hate socialism a lot more, and tend to ally with capitalist to kill leftists, as we see from the Weimar Republic.  Fascist are often ok with certain types of corporate authoritarianism, but in the same way the left can be ok with somebody like Obama.  

(Frank Miller’s Batman is if Libertarian and Fascism had a baby) 

The lesson I would take from this is that just because somebody hates the thing you hate, doesn’t mean they are necessarily your ally, they might in fact be even worse. Yet another reason to distrust the dirtbag left 

[lost-eternity]

Match Up Requests: CLOSED.

Please read the rules before requesting

Match up for: @melancholicbutbeautiful

Okie dokie! I match you with....

The 9th doctor!

I know. This isn't everyone's favourite Doctor. He isnt as cute as the 10th or as puppy-man incarnate as the 11th but hear me out. I think he needs you.

Let's start simple, shall we?

He absolutely adores your height.

Standing at an impressive 182cm (6 feet), the 9th would be all over you. He's got a good 18 cm on you. Fully expect him to be "accidentally" leaning on your head and cracking short jokes at the most inappropriate times.

You're running from Daleks (it's an occupational hazard)? He'd say something along the lines of "hahah! I'm suprised they can even see you down there!" Cue and unamused glare from you. It's like.... we're trying not to die here and NOW you are making a short joke? Seriously?

~

You both probably meet at a museum. One of those quirky wax museums. Life-like historical figures expertly sculpted in wax, their empty eyes somehow full with false life. It combines both your passion for history and art, enabling you to walk up close to these esteemed figures who shaped our society.

But you can't focus on the wax creations, nor the historical excerpts that come with them. Instead, you keep getting this unnerving feeling like your being watched. When you turn around, you catch this one guy staring at you. So you look back at him like ???. And instead of quickly looking away like a NORMAL person would he just continues to stare.

So now things are awkward and your kinda tempted to reach for your keys. You know. Just in case.

And that is when you feel someone grabbing you from behind. Weirdly cold hands wrap around your arm, constricting you in a white-knuckle grip. Spikes of numbness shoot up your arm as the blood circulation is cut off to your hand.

You whirl around to face your attacker and are like ???. Why the HELL is Bob Ross attacking you? Like. What?

That was when the fire alarm began to go off.

Before you could react much, someone full on BEHEADED Bob Ross. He immediately releases you and promptly walks himself into a wall. The now headless wax Bob Ross backs up, then moves forward again. Then hits the wall. Rinse and repeat.

The guy who was staring at you earlier, now clutching the ironically red fire axe. Guess you now know who pulled the alarm.

The expression on this guy is borderline mianical as he Cheshire grinned at you. "Hi! What's your name?"

"Uh... y/n..."

"Nice to meet you, y/n, I am the Doctor. Now. Run!"

He grabs your hand and you charge for the exit, herding everyone else out of the museum as more and more wax figures come to life.

Springing into animation, they kinda slowly amble after you. It's not exactly efficient but it is pretty damn threatening.

This moment lead you into a series of events that eventually concluded in you both accidentally almost blowing up Big Ben to stop and alien hive mind from taking over Earth.... whoops. Not that it mattered to much. Because despite the terror and confusion that seemed to now be perpetually stricken in your mind, you had the time of your life.

But despite your pestering and begging, the Doctor adamantly refused to allow you to tag along on his next adventure. He wouldn't explain why. Instead he just dropped you off at your house, swearing to wipe your memory if you spoke a word of this to anyone.

Of course, you called him out on it, asking him if you could meet the "Men in Black" later.

He wasnt amused by your jab, saying that you reminded him of someone who we couldn't afford to lose again... and then promptly vanished after that

At first you thought you would never see him again. That he was just a phantom that emerged in your life, a chance crossing that never should have been. The moment your life was touched by something bigger... greater than the mundane reality you have been so long trapped it.

It was intoxicating. Addicting.

But as fate would have it, you did meet again. Except this time you weren't saving him from a domineering alien race, or robotic tin cans that sewed a path of destruction. No. You were saving him from himself.

~

Cut off from his own kind, the 9th Doctor was a damaged man, disparagingly grieving over the intense suffering he had witnessed; the destruction he had inflicted on his people as the result of his own actions.

He tore himself up, berated himself. Told himself that he did not deserve to be alive. After all, he was a monster in human skin. Because only a monster could cause the pain he had

The doctor struggled with the idea of isolation, he was the last of the Time Lords, having left the conflict with the excruciating knowledge of his hand in its apparent grisly conclusion and he would react strongly if pushed on the matter.

And for whatever reason, he came to you. You found him delirious and beaten down on your porch step, rambling, hardly making sense of himself and... glowing a little? Wtf?

You took him in, and only did not call for emergency care at his persistence and mumbled pleading. After doing the rather peculiar things he instructed and gave him a few questionable concoctions, the glowing stopped and he checked out.

You were up all night worrying yourself sick over this man. This stranger that you hardly even knew. I guess it is just the kind of person you are.

You were there when he awoke in the morning, calling out for you. At least you think it was you because he never said your name. Instead called for a "Rose". You weren't sure if this "rose" was a person or another wacky demand on his part.

You never did find out exactly what happened to him. From what he would say, he had an encounter with an alien species that really kicked his ass. Although you thought there was something more to it than that. Some more emotional undertones and reconciliation. You also did not understand why he came to you. You hardly knew each other. There was definitely something he was not telling you.

Whenever you asked who Rose was, he merely dismissed you or cracked a joke about your height. If you continued to press the matter, he would quickly get very snappy and drop his energized, maniacal façade.

It was after this moment that the Doctor agreed to allow you on the TARDIS with him. And you officially became his traveling companion. However. It was never all sunshine and rainbows. Although it was a rare occurrence, the Doctor would occasionally slip up and call you "Rose" again. He would always act like nothing happened and deny it if you brought it up. It was clear that this Rose person had a major impact on his life so... what happened to her?

~

So. I think you would be wonderful with the 9th Doctor because of your empathy and compassion. You unconditional understanding and empathic nature would definitely be unnerving for the Doctor at first. He feels like he does not deserve a person like you in his life. You are too good and pure. He fears that he will hurt you. So he pushes you away like he always does.

And this is why he needs you. I beleive that you would not stop pursuing him. Healing him. Your compassion and life would be what slowly seals up the wounds of his past and his own self-inflicted hatred.

He will finally be able to see his own worth because of you. And that was the primary reason I had for matching the 9th doctor with you. He is the one who needs someone like you the most.

Also. While you are genuinely empathic and loving, you will not allow yourself to be walked over. As you two grow closer, the 9th doctor will greatly appreciate your quips and sarcasm as it mirrors his own. You wont always be lost and confused like most of his companions end up being. Instead, you manage to keep pace with him. It's refreshing for him, honestly. And he will enjoy the playful banter exchanged between the two of you.

Also your dreams to travel align perfectly with the Doctor's noncommittal wanderlust shared by every single one of his incarnates. Your appreciation for other cultures and ways of life is something he can deeply relate to and will have a blast showing you more subtle cultures that may have otherwise bored his previous traveling companions.

~

Actually, as you two travel the universe together, you slowly grow closer and closer. The doctor begins to develop a kind of dependency on you. Because he only ever feels worthy of this love when he is around you.

Isolation really messes with his psyche. He can't handle being alone with his own thoughts. They constantly remind him of the pain he had caused, jeering and taunting him. They tell him that he will just run away from you. Like he always does.

He probably will try.

Don't think he will get far.

As he opens up to you, he finally tells you about Rose. Who she was. What she meant to him (I'm making this an AU where Rose died somewhere along the way).

And the realization is painful.

You dont just REMIND him of Rose. He is PRETENDING that you are Rose. Because for him that is much easier than coming to terms with her death.

I mean. Can you blame him? You look so much like her. Even down to your height.

All of those height jokes were made because of the way he used to tease Rose.

Your hair, your eyes, even your personality is a painful reminder of her. Which is why is tried to abandon you the first time. It is also why he showed up at your house when he got hurt.

He was running on empty and just instinctually went to the place he knew he would be the safest. At your house. With the person he sees as Rose Tyler.

Honestly it's not psychologically healthy.

So now you have a choice.

Do you want to remain with the guy who is clearly still hung up over his ex? Going so far as to convince himself that you ARE Rose? Or do you think you can work with him. Help him. Heal him and allow him to reconcile with not only her death, but the deaths of his own kind.

I guess that decision is up to you...

Aaand, I am done! Whew. Sorry that one ended on such a downer. Haha. But most of the Doctors are psychologically traumatized and their coping mechanisms are super unhealthy. I would feel like I am betraying his character if I did not find some way to portray that. Anyways. I hope you enjoyed 😁. I had fun writing it.

[pixs-pinings]

Me? Interested in Persona 5? No wayyy...

Warning for long post!

I had this written differently before I accidentally closed this tab, but I recovered the infodump well!

So... Yeah, Ribbon! My Persona 5 SI, my Phantom Thief SI. Still want to work on a possible real name- I wanted to go with a continuation of the plot threads I thought of with my P4 si, but... nah. Two separate SIs. Even if P5 si was also from the real world, I want them to be different for. Reasons.

She would awaken in the same place as Makoto- Kaneshiro's palace. I want to slip her in somewhere, and I feel like that case would feel the most... Natural? After futaba, a lot of shit picks up, and, as seen with Haru, can be a bit awkward. (And... Yes. I'm going to try to make that arc...... Not Suck? Maybe keep Morgana self loathing but...)

As for her awakening itself... She and Makoto have similar reasons! Both of them were previously known as prim and proper students, but then awaken to a sense of Justice, and are able to go all out. After looking a bit into myself, I was like "wow Makoto really is sorta like how I would awaken maybe" because like... I want to fight against injustice and hatred in society, but I'm scared because of the law- and, like Makoto, in p5, I could snap past that. Fuck the law, I want to stop people from being HURT by society's ineptitude. Haha...

Also, a reason for the involvement in the first place- Kaneshiro's reach is... far. Its very possible that people in Kosei were affected- and, in fact, judging by Yusuke being able to gather information, they were. So... Say that one of Ribbon's friends were being used... selling her body, perhaps... Hmmm...

Yes, both Makoto and my p5 SI- can I call her just Ribbon for now?- are third year students at their school. Yes, for Ribbon's backstory, I think I want her to be a Kosei student! Maybe there because of an art scholarship- writing??- or maybe a financial education scholarship, or maybe just that whoever her guardians are, biological or not, they sent her to that school with the money they had. But... Third year. I am 19 irl- and she would be 18 during the majority of the story, turning 19 in that february because surprise I'm a February baby.

Oh, yes, and her costume! She's a magical girl. Supposed to be based off of one- I gave her ribbons and feathers and a poofy dress and high boots with thick soles and gloves... Also, her mask is simple, but... I had the base form of a butterfly, and added on some mask details and also feathers. The ribbons on the lower part of her dress are more noticeable, though. Hence, her name of Ribbon. Unless y'all can think of any better...

As for WHY magical girls? Well, she thought magical girls were cool! Yes, this reflects on me! Ribbon watched magical girl shows ever since she was a young child, and always got this idea of fighting off evil by using bright magic! And punches. And kicks. When Ribbon grew older, while she never grew out of it, she tried to keep it to the back of her mind. She always still kept an eye on one of the magical girl shows- hmm... Beauty Cure? Beaucure? (Yes. Based on Precure.) And it was pulled back to the front with her awakening, because that's always the type of stuff she liked believing in- a magical force of good fighting against forces of evil... OUTSIDE OF THE NORMAL FIGHT AGAINST EVIL SOCIETY TRIES TO DO... Yeah. Mhm. Doesn't that seem familiar.

Oh, yes, I'm going to call the SI by the name of Ribbon- still unsure of if I should use Pix or if I should make up a japanese name that fits a bit closer to my real one, haha.

Her role of the team is... Well, sorta like a magical girl? She has light attacks, which does include the instant kill ones later (points @ magical girls and the series having magical attacks be the magical girl's finishing move), but she also can serve another role... Providing Buffs and giving Debuffs. I mean, magical girl power ups over the season is like a buff... And their attacks debuff the enemy... I would be tempted to also give her some healing things... Maybe later. After all, there are buff moves that are like "gain all three buffs at once!" And she'll get those! So maybe she can also be the status healer...? Dunno. Haven't really watched battle gameplay of p5- even if it's fancy, its... Boring to watch. Oops. Battle dynamics...

As for who her Persona is... I haven't thought of it. I haven't even looked into it either. I was thinking... Her first Persona would be probably an ancient magical girl? Pfft. Funny to say it like that. Maybe a fictional magical girl who was definitely outside the bounds of rules. Maybe villain, maybe hero. Her second persona would... be a goddess. Not the goddess of Magic, since. (stares at Ann.) But. A goddess of something important. Light? Hmm.

Her weapon is... A staff. Kinda a stick, but also it IS something to hurt with. Swing it around, smack someone in the side or head... Use it to adjust your position... Twirling it around... A magical girl doesn't use conventional weapons.

Oh, yeah! Here's where I closed out of the tab by accident. I went to go look at something and my phone pulled a trick on me... Anyway, moving on...

Futaba Sakura is 4'11. Ribbon is 5'. Short squad! Ribbon is irritated about getting teased for it, but is indeed 18- during the story, anyway- and just... Hasn't. Grown. Makoto is 5 inches taller. Interesting.

Ribbon's (outside of battle) role is... well, data gathering, and plan pulling. Makoto thinks of the plans, and can, indeed, push them out to the team... But for group planning sessions, Ribbon is the one listening to everyone's suggestions, and then addressing them... and giving them to the leader to mull over, as well. Make sure everyone is heard.

Oh, idea there... Ribbon also, like me, used to be a theater kid! It helped her grow more used to people around her, more used to speaking, and also technical details on things. Even if she isn't all outgoing, she still shows influences of it with analogies she makes sometimes.

(Spoilers for P5... Brief Warning. Skip to next parantheses for past that spoiler gone.)

During the Phantom Thieves' plans to decieve Akechi into believing he is totally fooling them, Ribbon could easily be very important with that acting experience. While coming up with the plan, Ribbon will definitely state theater terms, backstage, actors, scene changes... And she will definitely help the others get more into character. Staring at you, Ann... For a more believable lie... pull forth a truth similar to this situation and keep that tucked next to your heart... say your lines... and then, when that's over, let it go.

(Spoilers over! Yayyy)

So. Have you guessed who i want to f/o yet? If the answer is yes, congrats, you ain't blind to subtext!

Ribbon's costume is definitely on the lighter side! And... Yes, its definitely pink based. Solid pink ribbons... Light, soft pink dress... A mainly pink mask... I do think the feathers are another color, with those little x marker things that most of the feathers belonging to sharing a similar color, though maybe a different shade. I am... Not good with costume design, though. The accents on her mask would be similar colors to it...

Her hair is black. Darker than Makoto's, yes. She is light skinned, with barely a tan forming on her. Her mask actually covers up her obvious freckles on her face! Her arms, however, still have their freckles showing. (Not in the picture, because i forget about my arm freckles a lot...) (Also not in the picture is the frills on her dress but shhhh)

As for her Confidant? Uh... Hmm... To get to know her... Oh! She can show you her art and writing, sort of brush off her achievements with it because haha not as good as Yusuke Kitagawa's more official art... And her confidant would be helping her tap more into her confident side, whether it be for her own personal projects, or even for her just in society in general! While not as bad as Futaba, she still doesn't like approaching other people... And when that happens, and maybe culminates in her verbally cussing at someone who's been pressing her down for a while now and getting them to lay off her thanks to that newfound confidence. Not a Mementos Target, though she does bring that up but brushes it off as 'just a petty bully thing', but something she deals with herself!

.... Oh, Arcana... Uh. I think... you know how the Jester arcana was like... Another version of the Fool? Wait, the Thoth deck doesn't have an alt Priestess...? Fuck. Uh. Congrats, Akira! You get SUPER DUPER PRIESTESS BONUS. ... Please help

For her Confidant Ability.... Probably something to do with her Magical Girl influnces? The first idea I thought of was like... being able to be a temporary "safe" zone- while in the palace, she could... extend her magical girl light out and create a Barrier that prevents the shadows from noticing her. It will always stay a temporary ability, of course, since otherwise would pribably negate difficulty? But the period would become longer as her confidant goes up. The period of time would be extremly cut down during the times of actually stealing a treasure- after all, the palace ruler is EXPECTING the phantom thieves. No amount of magical girl protecting light would hide that expectation... Or. Something like that.

Also, her last skill. Instead of being like... Making the ability of protecting/anti detecting light last practically forever, its a SUPER STRONG BATTLE ABILITY. What is it? Well... uh... Still have to decide. My current idea has to do with a magical girl blast. Like, activate her light ability right as you get into a battle, and that actually does something- fires a big blast as the battle starts and inflicts damage on the enemy... Hmm. That, or she gets a special version of the all out attack that always kills? Has to be her leading the all out attack, though. What do y'all think...?

Oh, speaking of all out attacks! Hers (or her normal one if I go with the second idea in the above paragraph) would have her landing, spinning around, and doing a sharp "v" pose with her fingers, standing tall and with a grin. Think... Uh... Sailor Moon? I looked up some images and a few I found, with the peace sign arm outstretched, fit that mental image. The other hand would be on her hip, and, of course, she would be winking. Ah, girl vibes.

Yes. I am aware that could be similar to Ann. When i thought of it, i was like "hmmm" but then was like "I do that! and also there's a different between a lean and a wink with the peace sign to your chin rather than a stand/slight slouch and a wink and a peace sign held upward rather than close to the body"

Also, her little line in the background would be "light has prevailed!" In like... Bubbly letters? And it looks like light is shining from behind the letters.

Sure, Ribbon would have a romance route with Akira... but I don't consider that canon. It would make sense that he could POSSIBLY fit my type? But. Nah. Not SUPER attached. Pal at most. Speaking from outside here... In game, with the friendship forming? Maybe so. Anyway, not canon.

Oh my god i just realized Queen and Ribbon have like... Opposite sorta aesthetics. Dark Biker to Light Mage.

Anything else I can think of... Oh, a spoilerly thing.

(I don't believe I can think of anything else to say, so for those who want to be unspoiled on certain things in p5, end of post is the next paranthesis. For others...)

For her reaction to the announcement of Akira's "suicide", it would be something like... Well... A hand to her mouth, and a furrow to her brow... but she doesn't sound like she is going to cry. Instead, she goes, "Ah...", like... Realizing. Like a "hmmm" tone instead of one trying to hold back tears. And then like... Ryuji's scene is after that. And those of you who have seen the scene know what the scene is. So like, if the player was confused by Ribbon, Ryuji smacks them with a direct confirmation.

(And... That's it! Sorry for the long post, I am both unsure of if the read more code trick works on mobile anymore and also am unsure of, if it does work, which version of the trick is the correct one. Because i remember two different versions. Fuck.)

[curiosity-killed]

a hard night

@synergetic-prose​ ahhh okay i LOVE this prompt and also am sorry that this got....somewhat sidetracked and only sort of followed said prompt orz

Pairing: Shiro/Allura/Ulaz Word count: 2045 Warnings: Major character death (fake), PTSD, nightmares

They all have their own ways of handling their scars. In the middle of the night, Shiro will slip out on silent feet to train against the gladiator until his legs quiver from exhaustion and his arms can no longer lift his bayard. Allura will hole up in the command center, monitoring the surveillance both within and without of Atlas — making sure no one attacks and no one disappears. There are nights where Shiro can’t stand the softness, the openness, of a bed and tucks himself into a corner of the room where he can keep an eye on both them and the door. A chair is his only concession to comfort those nights. Nightmares wake them all. But tonight — tonight is a good night. It’s been a long day, filled from the first moment to the last. Ulaz’s shoulders ache with the strain of having been well-used, and the soft pads of his fingertips sport the tender rawness that comes before callouses have had a chance to form. The bricks they used and the tall beams were still rough, and he probably should have worn gloves. Still, it’s his favorite kind of fatigue: one born of rebuilding instead of fighting, hope instead of fear. The industrial showers of Atlas had washed away the dirt and dust of reconstructing from his fur, and Allura had insisted on braiding back his crest till only the very tip was loose to tickle the back of his neck.

Now, curled around Shiro with his ankles tangled in Allura’s, Ulaz has only enough energy to seep into the honey-warm contentment that has settled deep in his chest. Already, Allura’s chest rises and falls with easy long breaths, and Shiro gives him a sleepy smile from where his face is smushed into the pillow, half-hidden. Lifting a hand, Ulaz combs gently through his bangs, brushing them sideways out of Shiro’s eyes. His smile broadens and he closes his eyes, nestling deeper into the mattress and pillow. Taking a deep breath and letting it out easy, Ulaz does likewise and lets sleep slip blanket-like over him. The grass is soft, flattening beneath his boots rather than crunching and breaking off. The fire hasn’t reached here — yet. Already the air has turned thick and grey, smoke a living thing that coils against his suit, forms feeble hands around his neck. If he peers hard enough, he can make out the shapes of the buildings, half-ruined, crumbling in silhouette through the smog. He can’t be that far away. He has to make it. Urging his limbs to move faster, he finds them heavy, sluggish. Silence rings in his ears, the echoes of an explosion he wasn’t there to witness. There’s a kind of pressure deep in his skull that buzzes in the curves of his inner ears, and the edges of his vision are blurry, smudged like fingerprints on a visor. He trips on the long arms of the smoke still rising from the ashes of these strangers’ homes. Kolivan is first. His eyes are still open, dulled and paled against the stark scarlet dried over his throat and jaw. White bone gleams through the ruin of his cheek. Ulaz’s stomach lurches but he stumbles on. There’s no saving his leader, but the cause has always been greater than one soldier, greater than any of them put together. It must go on. He must go on. More bodies follow soon after, some he knows, some he only saw in passing. Some wear masks but others are bared and their faces look so young, too young, barely older than kits. He cannot stop to grieve for them. The time for helping the dead is long past. All he can do now is search for the living. He doesn’t find them. One by one, the broken bodies of the paladins appear through the rubble. Garish red streaks across the white of their armor. Hand prints pattern Hunk’s cuirass and finish at his cheek, too small to belong to his own hand. Beside him, Pidge is crumpled with her face hidden in the rocks. Lance is a little further off, facing away. Ulaz can’t bring himself to walk to the other side, to see the aftermath of the helmet fractured and dripping red just beside the paladin’s lean body. He doesn’t find Keith at all, only the red bayard and the shards of a luxite blade. His hand flexes, curls tight on empty air instead of his own saber’s handle. Rare and terrible is the force that can shatter a Blade. Swallowing, he forces himself to go on. The urgency of before has drained away, replaced with a heavy despair. Desperation is the only thing that keeps his steps from halting completely. He hasn’t seen Shiro or Allura yet. They could still — they might not be — he could — He finds them together — and alive. Shiro’s grey eyes burn violet, quintessence a toxic blood crackling through him with the acrid taste of Haggar’s touch. His left hand wraps around the black bayard’s handle, curled over Allura’s fist. The tip of the blade juts scarlet and wrong from his back, a perfect line to Allura’s arm. His right hand is pressed to her belly, knuckles kissing her skin where the blade of his prosthesis has burnt through armor and undersuit. The scent of burning flesh clogs the air, chokes Ulaz where the smoke hadn’t succeeded. Rigor alone seems to hold them in place, bodies using the last of their fight to make sure that this gruesome sacrifice is complete. When Allura turns to him, it is with jerky motions, mechanical. Her blue eyes burn. “You,” she hisses. Blood trickles dark down her lip, sluggish. “You were supposed to stop this. This is your fault.” He knows enough about Altean anatomy now to know where her injuries must fall, know the source of the thick black-burgundy blood staining her teeth. His mind, inconsiderate beast, turns to that with a kind of detachment, cataloguing the damage done to her as if he were still performing research in Haggar’s torture chambers. A punctured lung, internal bleeding, potential rupture of digestive organs — by rote, it notes them down as if in black-and-white text on a report. “Why didn’t you do anything,” Allura snarls, voice rising in a hoarse call. “Why didn’t you save us?” His feet are planted to the spot, staked into the grass as if they’ve grown roots. Even if he could move, he doesn’t know what he’d do. To touch her would be an insult, a disgrace. She’s right. Her words deserve more than his faltering comfort, his insufficient justification. He should have fought harder, should’ve done more, sacrificed himself before accepting the death of a thousand others. “You failed us,” Allura cries. Beneath his feet, the planet shudders and groans, giving way at last. When he falls among the rubble, the darkness is almost a relief from the hatred in Allura’s eyes. He wakes to the soft hush of Atlas’ air cycle kicking on. Their room smells of soft things, clean fabric, a hint of juniberries, but the smell of death clings to his fur and mind. Swallowing, he unfolds his fists to lay flat over his belly and forces himself to breathe. Long, slow inhales and matching exhales expand his chest, press the warm fur up against his palms. His heart beats a frenetic rhythm in his neck, ragged with remembered fear and adrenaline. He remembers that planet, that mission, that failure. He’d been so much younger then — in heart more than years — and still heady with the arrogance of the newly initiated. Back then, he’d still believed that their sacrifices meant that no one else had to sacrifice, that their deaths meant that no others had to die. And then Kijala Four had happened. His fingers tighten, claws scraping through his fur, and he forces them to relax once more. He taught himself this practice back when he was working under Haggar. Any discrepancies, any odd behaviors, would jeopardize the mission, and so he could not afford to get up and walk the ship’s cold corridors or commandeer a training room until his body was too exhausted for dreams. Any comfort he sought, he found alone and in stillness. The witch’s eyes were ever-present and rarely inhibited by wall or closed door. Like a small creature, he holed up in the darkness and stilled his trembling limbs to keep away from the hunter’s gaze. The mattress dips and there’s a rustle to his left. “‘Laz?” Allura mumbles, his name a mush of sound. “Apologies,” he murmurs, “I did not mean to wake you.” “Didn’t,” Allura says before a yawn splits her words, squeaking on the end. She lifts a hand to sweep back the great tide of white hair tumbling over her forehead. “Atlas thought you were in distress.” Despite himself, Ulaz’s lips twist in displeasure. He should be used to it by now: Allura and Atlas are nearly a single whole, divisible only with effort and never completely, and though Shiro’s connection to Atlas is dwarfed next to his with the Black Lion, his time nestled in Allura’s soul left them bound. By extension, occasionally, Ulaz benefits from a strange sort of benevolence from the ship that offers him rooms at a preferred temperature or pathways opening up to speed his trips around the many levels. Still, he cannot quite accustom himself to the invasiveness of the ship’s sentience and omniscience. “It is nothing,” Ulaz says, stiff. Propping her cheek up on one fist, Allura eyes him in silence for a moment. There’s a keenness, a knowing, to her gaze that tiredness doesn’t abate. “Was it a nightmare?” she asks. He hums, reluctant to give much answer. It was a nightmare in the most basic sense, a terrible dream wrought of his own fears — but it was not only fantasy, was grounded in true failings, in sense memories that linger in his hands and ribcage. He doesn’t want to burden her with the phantasms his mind concocts or the terrible truths from which they’re born. “Would touch make it worse?” Allura asks. That gives him pause, and he hitches up his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “Not worse,” he offers. It’s enough for Allura to give a firm nod and turn around to swing her legs off the edge of the bed. The motion seems to rouse Shiro, who lifts his head to squint blearily first at her and then at Ulaz. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “Nothing,” Ulaz answers. “Just a bad dream.” Shiro’s forehead scrunches up in a frown. It doesn’t ease as Allura steps around the foot of the bed to clamber up on the other side. Ulaz has to shift inwards to make room, and in doing so, realizes that something’s changed about their relative proportions. He twists around to look at Allura and finds her his same height, tall enough to curve around him from back to toes and reach over him to Shiro. “How is that?” Allura asks. Her voice comes out in a warm breath against his shoulder, and he can feel the steady thump of her heart against his back. Swallowing, he gives a little nod. “Good,” he says. She hums and nestles a little closer, tucking her feet between his ankles and her face into the curve of his neck. On his other side, Shiro watches the proceedings with a solemn, confused frown before it eases into a gentle smile. Smallest of their trio, he folds himself into Ulaz’s chest so that his head fits under his chin and his left arm curls around his side. If they stay like this, that arm’s bound to go numb, but Shiro shows no sign of discomfort, and Ulaz makes no move to dissuade him. The weight of their bodies on either side seems to form a kind of gravity, a grounding force that tethers him here and now. He sinks into it, lets his lungs follow the steady rise and fall of their chests, lets his heart settle into a matching rhythm. The nightmares will return someday, will crawl back on broken, bloodied feet. For now, though, his princess and paladin will keep him safe.

[dontmesswithnerdangels]

Character Sheet

repost, don’t reblog !

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME. Castiel (Angel of Thursday) NICKNAME. Cas, Cassie, Feathers, Clarence, Angel, giraffe, about a million others, depending on who you ask. GENDER. Technically, Cas is an angel and therefore genderless. He currently resides in a male vessel and identifies mostly as male out of familiarity and to make things easier on the humans around him. (Uses he/him pronouns, but I doubt he’d be too offended any which way.) HEIGHT. 5′11′’ AGE. Very, very old, but nonetheless fairly young for an angel ZODIAC. I'm not entirely sure how this applies to angels. Castiel does not know his own birthday. (Though it was on a Thursday, obviously.) It was before such things were celebrated, and angels have never participated in birthday celebrations anyway.  SPOKEN LANGUAGES. English, Enochian, a wide variety of others (probably almost all human languages, including several very ancient ones; he’s been around a long time.)

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 ! (I’m mostly actually describing his vessel here, since Cas’s vessel has since become sort of his true earthly form after multiple reincarnations and stretches of time as a human- Jimmy has been in Heaven for a while now.)

HAIR COLOR. Dark brown EYE COLOR. Blue SKIN TONE. White, but somewhat tanned BODY TYPE. Pretty average, somewhat muscular VOICE. Deep, gravelly, serious. However, his “true voice” (as an angel) is extremely high-pitched and screechy, as is characteristic of all angels. Too high for humans to take in without severe pain. DOMINANT HAND. Right POSTURE. Very good. Not quite as stiff and awkward as some of the other angels now that he’s gotten more human.  SCARS. Humans can’t see them, (just shadows of them) but his wings are a real piece of work at this point. Scarred everywhere, messy, missing feathers, really damaged. TATTOOS. Enochian on his ribs making angels unable to track him through normal means.  BIRTHMARKS. None MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Blue eyes, dark hair, trenchcoat and blue tie, black wings

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH. Heaven HOMETOWN. Heaven SIBLINGS. All the angels PARENTS. God 

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION. Soldier/Garrison Captain/Unofficial Guardian Angel/God/Gas Station Worker CURRENT RESIDENCE. Lebanon, Kansas  CLOSE FRIENDS. Dean, Sam, various others depending on the timeline (Jack, Bobby, Charlie, Gabriel, Kevin, etc.)  RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single FINANCIAL STATUS.  Angels don’t have money- when human, extremely poor  DRIVER’S LICENSE. I think he must have a fake one- courtesy of Dean, I’m sure CRIMINAL RECORD. He’s in a whole lot of trouble with Heaven for SOOOOO many reasons VICES. pride, unhealthy food, rebellion, power, self-damning thoughts/behavior, alcohol (on rare occasions)

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. pansexual PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch  PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch (the mun does prefer playing sub though, to be 100% honest) LIBIDO.  Cas isn’t normally super sexual, tbh. Angels weren’t exactly made for that. However, Cas isn’t your everyday angel, and he may be super into it if it’s with someone he has a particular emotional connection with. (He does like new things, and really likes the emotional intimacy and seeing his partners excited.) He developed more of a sex drive after being human for a while. TURN ON’S. emotional intimacy/confidence/touching his wings!!!!/rough play/but also gentle tenderness/praise (he’s so sick of not being good enough, literally, this will melt him)/teasing/roleplay/power dynamics TURN OFF’S. emotionless hook-ups/being asked to hurt others in any way (he does not trust himself enough)/any severe pain to his wings/toilet stuff  LOVE LANGUAGE. Acts of service RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. Cas seldom gets into relationships and takes them very seriously. He cares deeply about the people he loves and would go to the ends of the earth for them, and would quite literally die for them. He tends to be a little insecure about initiating things because he doesn’t have exceptional social skills and is never quite sure when/if he is wanted. Because of his amassed mess of insecurities, any kindness he is shown is taken quickly to heart, as is any demonstration of hatred or cruelty. Cas can be the most devoted lover out there, but if you upset him, he’s likely to withdraw substantially, potentially disappearing for long periods of time after a fight, or going totally silent. He doesn’t always realize that humans like things to be stated out loud either- the “I love you” may be strongly implied, until he is sure it is welcome. If his partner expects him to pursue a relationship in the human sense, said partner may have to explain certain customs and the way a relationship technically works.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Angel with a Shotgun- The Cab HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Spending time in nature, reading, people-watching LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. Mainly left (though technically everyone is both-brained, the psych major mun feels obligated to mention. But I catch your drift.) PHOBIAS. Losing control of himself, abandonment, failure SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. Since screwing up MAJORLY several times, Castiel’s self-confidence has plummeted. He can fake confidence fairly well, and will use that in dealing with other angels, or any enemies. However, he has been tricked and failed and stumbled too many times, and has thus become very afraid of screwing up and failing the ones he loves again.  VULNERABILITIES.  Love, abandonment, rejection, emotion, morality, naivety

Tagged by: Crowley! (@thekingsparty) Thank you~

Tagging: I have a few of these to do, so whoever wants to! If I’m following you and/or writing with you, I’d love to hear about your characters. :)

[echodrops]

So, given Dabi's perceived incompetence, you think his scars are self inflicted? I figured that, if Dabi is indeed Touya, he must have tried to impress Endeavor and show him that he is "worth it". So he probably tried to train himself in seclusion. But with a body meant for ice, he was not able to handle the flames and ended up burning himself and running away, traumatized or something along those lines. Admittedly, it could be a stretch, since we have no details on what exactly happened.

Post is NOT spoiler free, watch out anime-only fans~!

Had a bunch of asks about Dabi in my inbox after my Dabi post but I got distracted thinking about ships… I’m back now and gonna answer a few that are all about that Dabi is a Todoroki theory~

Look man, if he’s not Touya, I will officially be the S H O O K E S T. At this point, the real plot twist would be if he wasn’t! I really think there are just so many signs at this point that I can’t make myself believe it won’t happen. I mean the fact that Horikoshi deliberately drew Endeavor’s eyesight being damaged before his confrontation with Dabi so that Endeavor wouldn’t be able to see him clearly??? COME ON.

But man we’re all going to look so stupid if he isn’t Touya…

Rest under the read more to save people’s dashes:

As for how Dabi got his scars… I don’t have any answers, of course, just my own theories and conjectures based on vague statements and panels in the manga…

I guess first I’d point out that while we don’t know really much about Touya at all, we do know a couple things:

1) He physically took after Rei way more than Natsuo or Fuyumi did. Despite being Natsuo’s confirmed older brother, Touya was a tiny kid. Given that he would have to very close to Fuyumi in age or older than her, the fact that he was shorter than his sister just makes this all the more noticeable. This kind of tininess is usually (although of course not always) a deliberate visual indicator that there was something wrong with the child’s health. Looking at the only two panels he appears in definitely gives the impression that he was a pretty fragile-looking kid who I would not be surprised to hear had health problems (bad fevers from an overpowered fire quirk, anyone?).

2) His posture in this frame is also pretty telling. They all look nervous–it’s obvious they’re being looked at by Endeavor and are uncomfortable with it–but while Natsuo looks a little shame-faced and Fuyumi a little confused, Touya is clutching his hands together in a classic “timid child” pose. It seems likely to me that he wasn’t an especially assertive kid.

3) Then there’s the whole hair issue–is his hair red like the anime or white like the manga? The only reason I could see for not coloring his hair dark in the manga is that Horikoshi specifically uses black ink for the red color of the Todoroki family’s hair–coloring Touya’s hair completely black would make it beyond obvious that he’s Dabi. But still, couldn’t he have used tone like he does for Kirishima’s hair? We know that white hair = ice quirk, so I am very interested to find out whether the anime has it right in using red, or whether the white used in the manga is plot relevant, and we’re going to find that Touya really did have a body meant for an ice quirk…

4) We also have Natsuo’s ominous comment:

To me at least, this statement seems somehow… specific? Like there was some Big Deal™ that immediately caused Touya not to be in their lives anymore, and Endeavor was directly involved in it. Natsuo definitely strikes me as the type who would blame Endeavor for a training accident, even if Touya was training of his own free will, but I can’t personally shake the feeling that Endeavor was right there whenever the Bad Thing with Touya happened and that Endeavor, Fuyumi, and Natsuo all know more about Touya’s fate than they’re willing to talk about. I think it’s important that we’ve never seen a scene of Natsuo and Fuyumi getting any close looks at Dabi either.

6) The kids’ ages are important I think. Shouto is about five years old when he sees his siblings playing soccer, and they all looked about the same age there as in this second screen cap, although I wouldn’t put Fuyumi at 12 in the screen cap above, so maybe not… In any case, we know that Shouto was already in training (~5 years old) and Touya had no major visible scars. So Touya made it to at least 12 years old without doing major damage to his body (although of course it could be under the clothes). Based on that, personally I would doubt a bit that he was training and burning himself in secret, at least not for any extended amount of time.

6) The one piece of evidence we have for figuring out what actually happened to cause the scars is the burn pattern itself, especially on Dabi’s face. One thing that people have often pointed out is that Dabi’s facial burns line up fairly well with the places fire also settles on Endeavor’s face:

Also I’m pretty sure Dabi officially qualifies as BNHA’s biggest glow up. If you compare chapter 67 to chapter 190 it’s like looking at two totally different characters lol

But, more importantly than this, I think, is the fact that we never see Dabi’s fire take this shape in the manga. Although in a couple of scenes his flames have covered parts of his face, we’ve never–not even one time–seen fire specifically come from below his eyes or around his mouth like Endeavor. This is not something that normally happens with his quirk–which could mean that he was copying Endeavor when the injuries occurred.

So what did happen?

I don’t know, but if you ask me for a personal headcanon about it:

In a desperate attempt to protect his mother from being taken away and forced into the mental institution, Touya Todoroki challenged his father to a fight he could never win and pushed his own body so far beyond its limits that he nearly died.

I mean, if sweet baby Shouto had a reaction this intense:

Just imagine the reaction of the children who would have been conscious to see their mother ripped away from their home, possibly violently, possibly forever? With Rei having snapped hard enough to attack Shouto, I can’t imagine that she would have taken well to Endeavor physically confronting and restraining her to force her away… It could have been quite a horrific scene in the house after Shouto passed out from the pain, and what better way to cover up damage to one kid then to blame Rei, who had already damaged the other? This would help lend greater credence to Rei still being in the mental institution too: if the doctors have her on the record for causing or at least provoking the injuries of not one son but two…

Obviously such a fragile-looking child as Touya, who we know was never formally trained, would have stood no chance against an absolutely enraged Endeavor, but if we know one thing about the Todoroki family, it’s that they’re stubborn beyond belief. Endeavor probably batted aside his failure of an eldest son like it was nothing… but Touya refused to stay down. I think, overwhelmed by hatred and resentment, he put everything he had into trying to fight back against his father, bursting with flames too hot for his ill-suited body, heedless of his own pain.

That break in Dabi’s bottom lip is from the unprotected skin splitting as he screamed in rage and agony while on fire. Just sayin’!!

And even after going beyond his limits in every way, to still inevitably be crushed beneath his father’s heel… I can’t imagine the degree of loathing such a miserable defeat would make a child feel for heroes and all of hero society who let down the Todoroki siblings so badly…

If Touya ran from the hospital afterward, we could even be looking at a situation in which Dabi has been raising himself all alone since he was 12 or 13. Hell, he might even have caught the tail-end of Stain’s soapbox speeches about the revival of heroics while living out on streets…

BUT, YOU KNOW, that’s just my imagination running wild. XDD

I’m sure that my headcanon is too exaggerated to be true, but I do think the scars are self-inflicted and that Touya did fight with Endeavor at some point before abruptly leaving the Todoroki household.

Or… he’s not even a Todoroki and he totally gave himself those scars just to look cool or something lolol.

It’s SYMBOLICCCCC.

Okay, being a little more serious, I think it’s mostly being used the same way as that one scene of Itachi in the rain in Naruto:

Holy shit I never thought I’d be looking at a page of the Naruto manga again…

It’s basically a scene used to humanize and show a tiny glimpse of a “villain” character’s hidden depths–is Dabi all evil, or is there some softness underneath?

The blood is definitely supposed to symbolically represent tears, which actively tells the reader “Something about the idea of families hurts Dabi.” Coupled with the fact that he’s also smiling in a way that does not suit the moment at all and talking about how thinking about what Snatch said actually drove Dabi crazy, I think we’re also supposed to be getting the feeling that Dabi is not quite as calm and collected as he seems to be on the surface. We all love to call him the “sane man” in the League of Villains’ sea of crazy, but it’s entirely possible that Dabi is experiencing or has, at some point, experienced a psychotic break and that the almost lazy, unaffected behavior we see from him most of the time is little more than a thin veneer on top of a much less stable inner-mind…

What interests me is how many people (even the BNHA wiki) seem to suggest that these symbolic blood tears indicate that Dabi feels remorse for the families of all his victims… But I wonder if that’s really the case at all.

Does he feel remorse regarding his victims’ families… or only his own? While I think it’s tempting to imply that Dabi feels bad about all the families he’s hurt in general (which would be a good redemption arc flag), I’m actually inclined to think that Dabi is a little more self-centered character than that, and it’s his own family that’s on his mind here, not guilt over strangers he’s never met and never will meet.

I lol’d. Even more than that–by saying this to Endeavor, he’s almost certainly ensured another Dabi vs. Endeavor clash in the future, so like… he basically gave his dad impenetrable plot armor for another 50-100 chapters. XDDD

Dabi, my dear heart, why are you such a dumpster fire???

[pepeangogoan]

Thoughts on Patch 4.3′s Main Story Quests *SPOILERS AHEAD*

Hey it’s been a while! Not just since I’ve done one of these but since I’ve posted anything on this blog in general. Reason for that is largely due to my real life job and having gone on a trip to Germany with a friend recently. It’s been hard to do ANYTHING FFXIV related. But I plan to fix that now by discussing the new MSQs in Patch 4.3. But before we begin:

Behold Pepean’s new look for Patch 4.3! He’s going for something a little bit different this time.

Anyway, as always MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD! DON’T READ ON IF YOU HAVEN’T DONE THE MAIN STORY QUESTS UP TO THIS POINT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Anyway, woo boy have things been an emotional roller-coaster with the story lately. People losing their memories, people who seemed nice turning out to be psychopaths... Though in Final Fantasy XIV that’s just another day at the office I guess. Well, let’s start with the Elephant in the room.

Tsuyu... Dear sweet Tsuyu... I call you that because I want to believe that part of you still existed in there somewhere. Beneath all the anger and hatred... I believe truly what was in your heart was a frightened little girl... I can’t begin to say I forgive you for your crimes as Yotsuyu... but know that... when you were Tsuyu... I loved you. I wished you could stay like that forever... to find a life of peace and innocence away from the the pain this war has brought on you... I hoped that some day I could wear your panties on my face... Wow I REALLY have issues don’t I?! In any case... sadly it was just not meant to be...

I suppose it made sense though from a story standpoint. She was going to HAVE to face punishment for her crimes as Yotsuyu eventually and bring resolution to all we learned about her backstory. Thinking about it, having her “Have amnesia and starting anew” would probably have been quite an anticlimactic conclusion for such a complicated character’s story. Even though part of me hoped she and Gosetsu would start a life as father and daughter together, this was probably the better outcome.

When you think about it... could she really HAVE a peaceful life? It’s brought up when she stumbles into the nearby village. Even with her memories gone... even if she had started life as a Doman citizen... the pain that she caused as Yotsuyu would still have been there. The people likely wouldn’t have forgiven her and she’d have to spend her entire life scorned for something she can’t even remember. Heck, if you want to look at the long term effects, that could then cause psychological damage to her child-like mind... and then we’d be right back at square one. It’s a vicious circle, and I think that’s what Square wanted to show with this scene when you peel back the layers.

Though I will admit: When she regained her memory and went back to her old self I did say to myself “Oh no... the bitch is back!”

But let’s move on to talking about another character that needs addressing:

To me this seemed like the perfect conclusion to Gosetsu’s story. While I think we’ll likely see him again in the future, probably to warn us about an oncoming threat, this felt like it closed the book on his character development. I REALLY liked how his relationship with Tsuyu was handled, particularly with his reaction to her death. He hated Yotsuyu as much as anybody... but when he saw that she truly had lost her memory and become nothing more than a scared lost girl he truly began to care for her. Got to feel sorry for the guy... he’s lost not one but two daughters in his life... His reaction upon seeing her dead body showed that he HAD truly grown to love her as if she were his own daughter. It’s with this act of forgiveness, this act of chivalry that we see that he is a noble and true Samurai through and through. Even her final words about him showed that there was still a part of her that loved him as well. Maybe because he was the first person to ever show her true kindness and love. The fact that a spiritual manifestation of him appears as a guardian during her boss fight speaks volumes about their relationship. At least to me it does. Farewell Gosetsu. May our paths cross again someday.

Alright, you want me to talk about HIM don’t you?

Asahi... this little bastard... this little psychotic prick... Now, I can see many people saying he was wasted potential... and to be perfectly honest... I don’t disagree... They really built him up as if he was going to be a bigger deal than he was. Don’t get me wrong, he was a MAJOR player in the plot while he was in it but... the fact that he meets his end without so much as a boss battle with him... was a bit of a letdown. I like that it was Yotsuyu that took him down ultimately but... at least let us have a swing at him first!

They seemed to be building to a bit confrontation with him with the big revelation that he was Zeno’s disciple all along and his hatred towards our characters for defeating him but in the end... he’s just abruptly killed...

Still, to give him credit: In EVERY single scene with him in during this patch I found myself saying “You bastard... you absolutely bastard!” Just because his end came a bit suddenly doesn’t mean he wasn’t well written while he WAS around. He was a cold-hearted psychopath through and through. He showed how blind obsession and loyalty can be toxic to a person and cloud your logic... something I’m more familiar with than I’d care to admit... For the brief time he was around he was a delightful villain. Just SO horrid and cruel. With every trick he pulled I wished all the more that we could wipe that cold, smug grind off of his face!

So, the idea that Zenos is possessed by an Ascian. Given his dialogue here and his sudden obsession with summoning I think that is likely the answer to how a man can be alive after STABBING HIMSELF. As Thancred says, we’ve seen their powers of possession before with him, so why not with the dead? The most obvious answer to this new Zenos’s identity is Elidibus... but for now it’s best to just wait and see because you never can tell with Square. Still, possession doesn’t quite explain how this body can walk around despite having a huge hole in its neck but... the answer is likely “magic”.

Though this may be somebody else walking around in Zenos’s skin...

... THIS is a very Zenos thing to say! We’ve seen this kind of thing happen before as well WAY back in A Realm Reborn when a Sahagin priest transferred his life into another body when summoning Leviathan. So it’s not that far-fetched to imagine that Zenos’s spirit still lives in another body... the question is: HOW?! YOU STABBED YOURSELF IN THE NECK! HOW IS YOUR SPIRIT STILL AROUND ON THIS PLANE?! All questions to be answered in time I suppose... Are we going to get a Zenos VS Zenos confrontation in the future? Body VS Soul?! This is getting trippy...

Finally one last thing I want to talk about:

... Did... did was just play as Alphinaud?! Did we just play as somebody OTHER than our characters in a battle?! I know we’ve been glamoured to look like other characters before... but this is the first time we’ve ever PLAYED as a NPC in this game... at least as far as I can remember! Don’t really know what this means for the future... probably nothing, but it was still cool while it lasted. I particularly love the “Roleplaying” status effect you have during this moment. A really nice meta joke there Square. Brief and easy though it may have been, this was still an interesting moment.

So THIS dude is the biggest thing to take out of this sequence. I have a few theories who he MIGHT be but that’s all they are at this point: theories. I’m likely wrong as well so we’ll just have to wait and see what his deal is. But it’s clear that he’s going to play a pivotal role in the plot moving forward... especially considering all the Ascian masks he’s carrying... What was his name again?

Shadowhunter?!

Let’s not make assumptions about this guy for now. All we know is that he’s Garlean though not part of the Empire, he knows the Scions, and he has a hatred of the Ascians.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on all the major goings on at the moment. As always if I missed anything out please feel free to ask me about it. Let me know what you thought of Patch 4.3′s MSQs and developments. It’s been a lot of fun doing this again and hopefully I’ll have more stuff as both Pepean and Teral coming in the future.

[jlmnerdery]

Buzz Off! A Dominion War Crossover Parody

Buzz Off! A Dominion War Crossover Short Story:

Prelude: A Series of maddening events.

A loud pop and hiss of sparks flying followed by a truly atrocious smell wafted out of the maintenance crawlspace in Ops.

Chief Miles O’brien: GODDAMMIT! YOU HELLPSPAWNED LIL MONSTERS!!!

The Ghalic cursing of a Chief Miles O’Brien was heard seemingly across the entire station. It resounded up the Jeffries tubes and made the Ops crew cringe.

Major Kira coughed, waving her hand at the smell. It reminded her of a sewage bomb, nasty little treats the Bajoran Resistance had cooked up from rotting refuse and a low charge cell linked to a timer. They had cleared out entire bunkers with those things.

Sisko: His face looking like thunder, as he finally lost all patience or sympathy. “Report Mr Obrien!”

O’Brien coughed at the horrific smell of fried Cardassian Voles, tapped his combadge, “Chief pest control officer O’Brian here, what can I EXTERMINATE.. er I mean do ya for?”

Sisko: “Are you any closer to eliminating the Voles?”

O’brien: “No sir, I just found a clutch of the little XENOS ABOMINATIONS chewing away at one of the primary communications junctions”. The smell was horrible, “At least three of the alien rodents, have fried themselves after chewing into a power relay. I couldn’t find any live ones, but there always more of these things. And lo an behold I found an entire nest hidden down here, happily eating away at communications junction J-23. Right before the thing shorted out and blew”.

Sisko: That would explain the flowery aroma, how bad is it this time?

O’brien: Assuming there is no more damage down here, and that’s a big if, it’ll take me the entire night cycle and most of the next day to replace the components and to ensure no more of these SKAVEN SABOTEURS EXIST!

Dax chimes in, "it is the official policy of Starfleet the Skaven are a myth, a fantasy.

Kira: Her face looking completely unamused. “That’s what you get for lax cargo inspection procedures. The cardies probably shipped us some via federation express. No doubt via Quark, the little troll. She pulls out a short barrled Siaga-12 shotgun, “I am going to ask him, very nicely”.

Ops comes chimed,

Security Chief Odo to Ops.

Kira: OHHH THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD. She racks back the slide on the shotgun, and now has a big Cuban cigar in her mouth and Che Gueveraa beret on her head.

Odo’s characteristically gruff voice sounded even less amused then when he had busted Quark for insider latinum trade fraud last week. “we just found more off our little friends in the replomats power distribution systems. Its offline until a through cleaning can be performed. Quark is still pleading innocent, OF COURSE. The “of course” was exaggerated and drawn out.

Quark: NO, I’VE TOLD YOU EVERYTHING!!! I DON’T KNOW ANYMO AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!....

Sisko: “Keep up the good work. NOW WHERE IS EDDISON?! I KNOW THAT SUNAFBITCH IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS! HE DISGRACED THE UNIFORM, HE COULD DO ANYTHING, EVEN FROM DEATH!!!!”

The Chief could be heard cursing profusely a dozen Earth, Klingon, Cardassian and other dialects as he crawled out of tunnel. He was cover in soot, had minor burns on his face and uniform form the sparks and smelled like an upturned graveyard. He had grown horns on his head as well.

Big demonic ones.

His eyes were filled with an all-consuming hatred.

“If I have to open the plasma flow valves across the ENTIRE STATION to burn the little bastards, I WILL”. I CHOOSE THE PATH OF ENDLESS TORMENT!!! (BGM: https://youtu.be/B08xZ4EB_6o)

WORF: The Klingon strode in, covered head to toe in the blood and skins of Cardassian Voles, hie eyes wide with blood fury and a terrifying grin on his face. Raising the bat’leth of Kah’less the Unforgettable into the air, he roared…

“BLOOD FOR KAHLESS! THE VOLES ARE TRULY A WORTHY ADVERSARY FOR ANY WARRIOR!!!!  THEY SWARMED ME IN MY QUARTERS, CAME OUT OF THE VENTILATION DUCTS!! WAVE UPON WAVE OF THE VICIOUS TARGS!!! I FOUGHT THEM OFF FOR HOURS!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! I OFFER THEM UP TO A NEW GOD OF BLOODSHED I FOUND IN HUMAN HISTORY TEXTS, KHORN! BATTLE FOR KAHLESS, VOLES FOR THE VOLE GOD!!!

Dr Julian Bashir rushed in wearing Tuxedo, an Walther PPK in his hand blazing away. “THE VOLES ARE WORKING FOR THE SOVIETS SIR! WE HAVE TO STOP THEM FROM TAKING OVER THE WORLD!”. He wasn’t even aiming as he fired around the corner and the shrieks of the vole hordes could be heard along with innocent civilians and Bajoran Militiamen firing their phasers at the horde.

End Note: WHADYA THINK?? I got this strange idea after a dream of Buzz Droids from Star Wars attacking Starfleet ships and slowly ripping them apart.

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.

PLEASE COMMENT!

[akaluan]

MCU/Fireborn (TRPG) crossover

So, as @eccentricbirdie well knows (because I’ve been rambling about it to her for over a week at this point) my muse is an evil beast and likes making MCU crossovers with the most ridiculous things ever.

This is something that I’ll probably work on when I get done with Clouded Silver Wings. But for now... I’d like to lay the scene and ramble a bit about this idea, because it’s hilarious to me.

Concept: MCU x Fireborn (Tabletop RPG)

Fireborn, for those who don’t know (it is kinda a niche game, gunna be honest here), is a tabletop RPG about, well, dragons. Specifically, the players are all dragons that have been reborn into the bodies of humans, and with the reawakening of magic around the world, these Scions are remembering their past lives and gaining access to powers they once held as Dragons in the Mythic Era. They even gain the ability to transform into smaller versions of their past selves, given that they gain enough exp and gather relevant Treasure to boost their hoard rank.

The player-group is called a “Brood” -- a group of dragons with a permanent mental connection between them, which in tRPG terms means that player communication when the party is split isn’t metagaming so long as the players are within range of the telepathic aspect of the mental communication. (It’s one of the most hilarious and broken aspects of the game, honestly. My players delighted in tormenting each other just as much as they delighted in abusing the hell out of the ability to metagame.)

A dragon breed is made up of a Minor Breed that defines specifics of a form, and a Major Breed that outlines generics. Powers are dragon-specific abilities that Scions regain as the game goes on and can use in their human form without too much trouble. Legacies are a Power taken to a new level. Aspects are the stats of the game, scored between 0 (can barely do anything in this stat) to 6 (maximum human capability), but there are only four stats and it’s very fluid:

Fire: Active physical

Water: Reactive physical

Air: Active mental

Earth: Reactive mental

I’ve decided to use Skyrim’s dragon language to create the Mythic era names, instead of trying to find appropriate human-language names for them. (I might end up changing some of them around, I’m not sure; I do like what I’ve come up with, but it does produce really long looking names, even if I’m sticking with three syllables.)

So, without further ado...

The Brood

Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange.

(The world will never be the same again, hahahaha.)

Tony Stark:

They called him Shulheim, Sun-Forge, their tongues unable to pronounce his name, their minds constantly tripping over the syllables. He... didn’t mind. Much. He wasn’t here to win friends, or make a home for himself; he was here for revenge, to destroy the beast that had lain waste to his chosen world and driven him to the edge of the galaxy, to this backwater world with it’s strange dracoforms and proliferation of other species. Shulheim was as good a name as any, for one who had lost everything.

Dragon Breed: Interstellar Kin (fanmade Minor and Major Breeds)

Notable Powers: Newton’s Eye (fanmade: gravity manipulation), Child of Fire (core: fire immunity and aura), Metabolic Control (core: control of own body’s metabolism), Clarity (core: enhanced mental insight), Alternate Form (core: shapeshifting)

Legacy: Quickened Mind (core: enhanced Clarity -- Think and react at unearthly speeds)

Breed Abilities: Gaping maw (think snake-like jaws), wingless flight, enhanced sight, articulate/prehensile tail, ability to resist extreme pressure

Aspects: Fire: 4;  Water: 4;  Air: 6;  Earth: 5

Mythic Name:  Shulheim -- “Sun-Forge” - not his true name, but one given to him by  Feykroah [Bruce] so that others could address him

Draconic Form: humanoid-bipedal, 9′4″ tall, digitigrade legs ending in clawed paws, human like hands with short claws instead of nails, medium-length sharp muzzle, forward facing red-gold eyes with slit pupils, no horns, overly massive wings with thin membranes (useless for atmospheric flight, used as solar-sails; membrane can be varying levels of opaque in order to control how much speed is gained), long prehensile tail strong enough to hold a small human in place

Draconic Coloration: midnight blue base color, shading darker at his core (torso, abdomen) and paler at his points, like a reverse Siamese cat. Scattered across his body are speckles of silvery-blue like stars, and his wing membranes are covered in stars and nebulae.

Pepper Potts

She loved her people, deeply and fiercely, but taking up arms? No, she didn’t enjoy war, or death, or the spilling of blood. She much preferred to talk her way out of problems, to motivate her allies and demoralize her foes. But Shulheim was insistent, manic with fear and hatred that she couldn’t sooth, so for him, for the refugee from another world, she would once more bare her teeth and sharpen her claws.

Let the Devourer come. She would teach it the error of its ways.

Dragon Breed: Noble Drake (core Minor and Major Breeds)

Notable Powers: Nobility (core: motivate allies, demoralize foes), Ferocity (core: fight beyond your body’s limits), Flight (fanmade: fly without wings), Child of Fire (core: fire immunity and aura), Alternate Form (core: shapeshifting)

Legacy: Storm Lord (core: enhanced Nobility -- gather a storm and use it against your foes)

Breed Abilities: Enhanced senses (sight/sound/hearing/taste/touch), bipedal or quadrupedal movement

Aspects: Fire:5;  Water: 4;  Air: 5;  Earth: 5

Mythic Name: Faadshuldein -- “Warm-Sun-Safeguard”

Draconic Form: a traditional draconic the sort featured in Western legends (six-limbed, feline/serpentine body type mix), with dexterous front paws tipped in spear-length, raptor style claws; stands about 18′11″ tall at the shoulder, long sharp muzzle, skull crowned in horns, forward facing feline-style eyes, large bat-like wings, heavy whip-like tail

Draconic Coloration: brilliant gold scales with a scattering of silver, especially across the muzzle, metallic blue eyes, wing membranes that shade to bronze along the edges

James “Rhodey” Rhodes

He loved the sky. Loved flight, and freedom, and the ability to go wherever he wanted at the drop of a feather. What he didn’t love was strange dracoforms that fell from the sky, limp and wounded and with a crazed look of pain-fear-hatred in their eyes. He’s only met one dracoform like that, thankfully, and caught the other before he could impact the ground, but...

Well, whatever hurt Shulheim? Is going to have to go through him first.

Dragon Breed: Wind Wyvern (fanmade Minor and Major Breeds)

Notable Powers:  Flight (fanmade: fly without wings), Heir of the Storm (core: electrical immunity and aura), Skin of Stone (core: supernaturally tough hide), Instinct (core: heightened instincts), Alternate Form (core: shapeshifting)

Legacy: Aegis Bearer (core: enhanced Skin of Stone -- immunity to damage)

Breed Abilities: Enhanced sight, wingless flight, bipedal movement, constricting tail

Aspects: Fire:5;  Water: 5; Air: 5;  Earth: 4

Mythic Name: Lokventhur -- “Sky-Wind-Overlord”

Draconic Form: a wyvern in build (front limbs are wings, like a bird or bat), very avian in appearance, stands about 16′7″ at the shoulder; very thin and narrow muzzle and skull, hawk-like eyes, limited grasping ability through front claws (think bat-style wing-fingers for grasping), raptor-like claws on hind feet, sleek feathers covering entire body, long and heavy tail capable of grasping and immobilizing people and objects

Draconic Coloration: base plumage color of coal black, with the edges of body feathers tipped in bright cherry red giving a scalloped look, ember-red eyes that shine orange in the right light, wing feathers are charcoal black on the underside, charcoal-to-ember-red on the top, and the primaries are tipped with cherry red

Stephen Strange:

He didn’t need proof that there were things out there, beyond their little planet; not when he could casually summon things from realms beyond the ken of most living souls. He also didn’t need proof that there were things out there that would happily destroy his world; this, too, he knew quite well.

Advanced warning, however, was a true novelty, as was having companions intent on fighting at his side. He didn’t need it, of course, but it was still nice.

Dragon Breed: Arcane Serpent (fanmade Minor and core Major Breed)

Notable Powers: Spell Engine (fanmade: casting spells is as natural as breathing), Earthstride (core: ability to move through solid material), Summoner (fanmade: call forth creatures from other realms), Crushing Will (core: command and control others), Alternate Form (core: shapeshifting)

Legacy: Gatekeeper (core: enhanced Summoner -- control the boundaries between worlds)

Breed Abilities: Enhanced sight, prehensile tail, bio-luminescent, adroit swimmer 

Aspects: Fire:4;  Water: 5; Air: 6;  Earth: 5

Mythic Name: Krehmulviin -- “Distortion-Strength-Shine”

Draconic Form: serpentine body (with associated serpentine movement, despite having limbs), about 10′4″ tall at shoulder (size is mostly in length, not shoulder-height), snake-like head and eyes, sharp, back-swept horns, short front and hind limbs, human-level dexterity with forepaws, fin-like wings that extend the length of body (think D&D 3.5 Gold Dragon style wings, including flight style)

Draconic Coloration: dark slate blue body scales with bright blue lateral stripes that glow (faintly when at rest, brightly when using magic), wing-fins start as dark slate blue next to the body and fade to pale sky blue at the outer edge

Bruce Banner:

He preferred to keep to himself, traveling around the world and slipping in and out of different human societies; the usual posturing and territoriality of other dracoforms was more exhausting than pleasing, this late in his life. That was a game for the young, not for a dracoform who had once prowled the world alongside the dinosaurs when the number of dragons could be counted on one paw.

But for all his aloof habits, he is still one of the Eldest, and the Earth is his to protect. The Devourer is in for a rude awakening, if the thing believes it will just win.

Dragon Breed: Dire Beast (core Minor and Major Breeds)

Notable Powers: Mighty Leap (core: tall buildings, one leap), Gift of Tongues (fanmade: draconic version of Aesir’s All Speak), Instinct (core: heightened instincts), Ferocity (core: fight beyond your body’s limits),   Alternate Form (core: shapeshifting)

Legacy: Undying Serpent (core: enhanced Ferocity -- inability to die except via extreme circumstances)

Breed Abilities: Vicious bite (ability to bite through any armor), enhanced sense of smell, flightless, 

Aspects: Fire:5;  Water: 5; Air: 5;  Earth: 5

Mythic Name: Feykroah -- “Forest-Hunter”

Draconic Form: basic therapod body plan, akin to a utahraptor in form; about 24′ at the shoulder, utahraptor-shaped skull but with Extra Teeth, large feathered crest atop head that’s usually laid flat, feathered body and miniature feathered wings attached to forelimbs (useless for anything but display), razor sharp spines hidden amongst the feathers which splay out during battle to deal extra damage, larger spine-blades along the tail that can’t lay flat

Draconic Coloration: tan feathers with forest green stripes, head crest is a brighter green, amber eyes

(Doing some hand-wavy magic with the Beast bodyplan; they’re supposed to be like giant cats, but I have Bruce being from the time of the dinosaurs, so I went with a utahraptor style body instead, because they’re equally terrifying predators.)

[jngukie]

WIP Tag

i was tagged by @floofyeol! idk if this is a blessing or a curse let’s find out.

some of these fics have been in drafts for ages? so tbh i don’t even know if i will post them but hey we’ll see. (so assume for now that none of these will be posted—except when stated otherwise with an *)

the first couple will be ships. the later ones are reader-inserts. all are still protected by the Creative Commons license.

slide it up in here: chapter 10* pairing(s): jikook, namjin, yoonseok genre: humour, crack, drama, angst tags/warnings: texting, college au, slightly filthy, innuendoes, Awkward Jeon Jungkook™, slowburn, self-esteem issues, self-hatred, implied/referenced homophobia, everyone is a mess™

SUMMARY

gguki: [image attached] gguki: what should i do with it chimothy: um chimothy: dude idk if i’m entitled to give you suggestions but chimothy: i mean you could always just stick it in the ass???????

or jungkook accidentally sends a stranger a picture of his roommate’s brand new dildo

PREVIEW

the (9)7 wonders of the world

tol: ok here’s the plan dabs 24/7: yugyeom no offence but your plans kinda suck muscle pig: ^^ what bambam said muscle pig: i don’t trust you anymore tol: wow that hurt tol: but i promise you this one will be better dabs 24/7: don’t do it kook tol: it won’t backfire in any way

untilted vhope pairing(s): vhope, namjin genre: humour, fluff tags/warnings: college au, skype dates, profanity, neurobiology/pyschology major!namjoon, ra!jin, music major!yoongi (i think), some major!hoseok, and high schooler!tae, tbh idrk bc i haven’t finished writing it lmao

SUMMARY

When Jung Hoseok signed up for college, he didn’t think he’d end up on academic probation so soon. Hell, he’d never guess he’d have friends who would use him as a fucking lab rat for their atrocious experiments. He definitely did not expect to fall in love with his resident advisor’s little brother—and then proceed to sneak into said resident advisor’s room and hack his computer just to have one more Skype date with the little brother. Without getting caught by said resident advisor. Yeah—he’s a little stressed, to say the least.

→ a continuation of It’s Burning Up in Here.

PREVIEW

He didn’t sign up for this. He thought college would be a great idea—who would pass up the opportunity for ultimate freedom and youthful stupidity? No, he was ecstatic for college—but he definitely hadn’t signed up to be the fucking victim for his resident advisor’s boyfriend’s experiments.

“Hoseok-ssi, please stay still or otherwise this will hurt. A lot,” Namjoon begged as his friend Yoongi tried to hold him down on the fragile coffee table.

“That’s not what your needle’s saying! You said it was a harmless experiment! You said I’d be fine!”

“You will be! I just need practice drawing blood once—”

“You’ve never even done this before?” Hoseok shrieked, writhing some more. Yoongi growled in frustration and flung his entire weight onto Hoseok’s body—and thus effectively snapping the legs of the coffee table and sending them down towards the floor.

His advisor ran into the room then, eyes wide in alarm while holding a skillet filled with half-cooked meat, his creased white apron reading World’s Best Dad! in pretty cursive pink. “What the hell is going on here?”

untitled taekook* pairing(s): taekook, yoonjin genre: fluff, angst, humour, crack tags/warnings: restaurant au, running away, mentions of nudity, exhibitionism, does getting caught dancing naked in your room count as exhibitionism idek, mention of mpreg, but there’s no actual mpreg, i mean it’s the sims it’s not real, many many references to the male organ, but sorry folks no smut (A/N: this is literally what i have in my docs wow i’m such a nerd for preparing ao3 tags LMAO)

SUMMARY

The last thing Jungkook expected after running away to Seoul is to score a private live viewing of Naked_Neighbour_Dancing_In_His_Bedroom.mov—and then proceed to bump into him when he’s not-so-naked. And then also manage to greet him with a slap. It also probably doesn’t help that Nude Neighbour is his new boss. All in all, Jungkook just maybe kinda wants to die. (But of course Seokjin isn’t gonna allow him, so he’s just going to suffer—for now.)

PREVIEW

He sighs, turning his head to gaze out of the window, only to freeze when he realises his view isn’t exactly the most… decent.

Because across from his small studio apartment window is a perfect view of a larger apartment in the building across, and currently, the tenant (he hopes the boy’s the tenant) is enthusiastically dancing through his room completely naked, dinglehopper fully on display. He’s mouthing the words to some song, throwing a finger up in the air as he shuts his eyes and nods his head as though the music (Jungkook thinks there’s music) blasting in his room is speaking to him on a spiritual level.

Jungkook’s face is bright red when he finally breaks out of his trance, and he wishes he wasn’t so bad at reacting appropriately to inappropriate situations so he could at least have saved himself from adding a thirty-second clip of Nude Neighbour to his collection of non-digital memories. He rushes to the window and pulls the curtains close, fingers stiff as he tries to rid his brain of such scandalous images.

At least he was hot.

His face is redder now—if that’s even possible. “Fuck me,” he whispers, and then flushes even more. “Wait, no. Don’t fuck me. That’s not what—why am I even talking to myself. Agh.”

take these words out of my lungs (and set them free) pairing(s): vmin genre: angst, fluff tags/warnings: major character death, suicide attempt, depression, body image issues, depressed!jimin, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, ambiguous original character that appears for like five seconds, high school au

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

three pounds. that’s how much he’s gained since he last stepped on the scale, the dictator that rules over his life. he stares at the numbers again, frowning at the digits glaring up at him. perhaps there was a mistake; maybe the scale is rigged or jammed or simply broken. he couldn’t have possibly gained three pounds in a span of two days. hasn’t he been walking around his neighbourhood enough?

he sighs, stepping off the scale and turning around to flush the toilet before washing his hands. even the cold water burns his skin, and he wishes he could melt through the cracks on the floor. would he slim down then? would he finally be skinny enough?

“jimin!” he hears his mother call, and he forces his way from the sink, sneaking out his parent’s bathroom and into the living room outside. their apartment is small but cozy. jimin hates it.

untitled kim seokjin* pairing(s): platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: anxiety, depression, eating disorder, negative body image perception, lapslock (lower case)

SUMMARY

honestly, he can’t remember what it’s like to live anymore.

PREVIEW

breathe in. breathe out.

three lucky charms. four cereal pieces. seven bits down the drain.

he smiles, staring at the milk-stained sink as the spoon clatters against metal, bowl turned upside down. it’s ugly—white ink staining burnt grey like liquid cobwebs feeding on rust. it looks exactly as how he feels: dirty, wasted, trash. one-seventy-nine centimetres down the drain.

untitled kim taehyung pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader genre: fluff, humour, probably angst bc knowing me tags/warnings: (sor far) nudity, profanity

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

Kim Taehyung has no regrets. Sure, he probably should’ve thought twice before he spent all of his money on BIGBANG merch just to show Jungkook that yes, he’s the bigger fanboy, and sure, he definitely should’ve listened to Jimin when he warned Taehyung that no, he shouldn’t eat three whole pizza pies by himself, but that doesn’t mean he regrets any of his decisions. Even though blowing all his earnings on people he’ll never meet did cause him to starve for a good or so month.

(Thank god for ramyeon.)

So, no, Jimin, he doesn’t regret running out of the shower butt naked when he heard her singing on her way to the second floor of their co-ed dorm, doesn’t regret shouting, “I love your voice!” before she screamed, “Oh my god, you’re naked!” And he definitely doesn’t regret yelling, “Oh, shit!” into Oblivion before sprinting back into the bathroom to resume the hot shower he abandoned.

“For fuck’s sake, Taehyung,” Jimin says to him once Taehyung’s finished recounting the story, the two of them lying side by side on Jimin’s bed. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“I should probably say hi,” Taehyung muses, blinking at the ceiling. “Do you think she remembers me?”

Jimin glances down, and snickers. “With how small your dick is, she probably does.”

untitled park jimin pairing(s): Park Jimin/Reader genre: fluff tags/warnings: (so far) blind!reader

SUMMARY

He is an angel; and she doesn’t need to see to believe. She fathoms his widespread wings as he gently picks her up, worriedly and urgently asking for her health, voice so soft it touches her skin like silk on smooth glass. His eyes must be crinkled in the corners, a smile stuttering through apologies, heart too warm for the human hand to touch. She imagines what he looks like, faintly deciding through his rapid Korean that he must be chesnut if not vanilla, not in skin but in connotation because he sounds and smells and feels like home.

Her pause is a millennia long, and she hears him repeat himself again, the sound of melting marshmallow oozing out of beautiful lips: “Are you alright?”

She produces a smile, feathery and light, eyes glassy and the world continues to remain black. “I’m fine,” she replies, and her voice is cracked from its lack of use; she hasn’t met anyone worth talking to in what feels like a century. Another smile reappears, much strained than what she’s used to, and she picks herself up from where the concrete lay, the dust falling from her voile skirt. “No damage done.”

untitled kim taehyung #2* pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader, platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: i think it’s schizophrenia?, mental illnesses, depression

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

There is a moment when time stands still. It’s fleeting, escaping the moment your fingers curl around it and pull. But it is during this moment happiness enraptures you with its warm hug as your heart thunders against your chest—the steady thump, thump, thump of a snare drum awakening. It is during this moment pain ceases to exist.

But after, everything will come rushing back.

i have more but these are the ones that are decent, at the very least.

to pass the torch on, i’ll tag @minmelly @kinky-koreans @pasteljeonggukk @haneulismykoreanname @rnjmnster and anyone else who wants to do it! (if you don’t, no pressure. good luck to you and your writing!)