#so that they would know him when they brought him aboard on the last day of the war

[onsomekindofstartrek]

I ship Delenn/Susan, but like, in the alternate timeline of the pilot, where Delenn was a trans woman that presented as male in season one and then transitioned at the same time as becoming human in the triluminary chrysalis.

It puts such a different cast on the scenes where Susan is (mostly offscreen) bathing her, teaching her how to take care of her hair and so on. Idk maybe it goes along with a trans!Susan headcanon, which isn’t something I’ve really thought about but actually I kind of love it.

[dustofthedailylife]

It Must Be Love

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: When they realized they had feelings for you...

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mention of injuries (Blade), just them realizing they're completely smitten

A/N: My last fic before my Japan vacation! I got a lot more in my WIP stash that I'll get to after. Excited to get to that when I'm back, or maybe I can finish one or the other fic in the evening on my vacation when I'm in bed. We'll see. Stay amazing until then! <3

BLADE

When you joined the Stellaron Hunters he shot down your every attempt of trying to get to know him and stayed clear of you. He was curt and only ever spoke with you if it was necessary. In his opinion, there was no need for you two to be acquainted. And it would be for your own good anyway.

It wasn’t until you came back gravely injured from a mission and were passed out for days, that he wouldn’t leave your side.

He sat on the armchair in your room most of the time, and was either sleeping or meditating with his eyes closed. He occasionally switched your bandages and cleaned your wounds while insisting he’d be the only one to do it. After all, he involuntarily had quite the expertise with injuries himself.

And when the day you began to stir awake again finally came, and he heard the quiet plea for water come over your parched lips, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about anyone and wouldn’t dare to allow himself to care anymore. In fact, he may have even thought he wasn’t capable of it anymore. But feelings are often beyond one's control or rational explanation. And deep down he had always known that he cared deeply about you. 

He had only steered clear of you because it had been evident to him, that if he allowed himself to care, there would be no going back. Alas, it now was too late for that as well. Yet it did not matter any longer. All he cared about was that you were still alive.

“Never get hurt like this again.” He scolded with a voice seemingly devoid of any emotion, as he lifted a bottle of water to your lips so you could drink. 

But despite the underlying sharp tone in his voice, there was sincere concern in his eyes only a few people ever got to see. And he knew he was no longer able to hide it.

DAN HENG

Himeko brought you along one day and introduced you to the Astral Express Crew as their newest member, a bundle of energy much like March. And everyone seems ecstatic to welcome you aboard. Everyone but Dan Heng. He curtly introduced himself without shaking your outstretched hand, before vanishing back to his room again without another word.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find you attractive, but Alas, he couldn’t allow himself to get closer. One more person on the Express only meant there were more people he had to keep secrets from. Besides, you seemed just as lively and energetic as March was, and if he was sure of one thing it’s that one March was already enough. So that was even more reason to steer clear of you for his own peace of mind.

So in turn he tried keeping you at an arm's length. The only problem however was, that you apparently weren’t deterred by his cold demeanor and practically threw yourself at him at every chance you got.

You would often knock on his door to bring him some freshly brewed tea, rummage through the archive or call him quirky nicknames you came up with. He could only roll his eyes at them, but secretly he began to like them and caught himself smiling whenever he thought of them. 

At first, he managed to remain distanced and only spoke to you when it was strictly necessary, but he soon began to warm up more and more. Until he would eventually find himself beginning to crave your presence every day.

And it was when he found himself looking at the empty chair you used to sit on almost every evening now, that he became aware of his feelings for you. The naggings and nicknames that used to bother him, now made his heart beat quicker and a tingly feeling made itself known in his stomach.

The simple image of your smile made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The sound of your voice always managed to soothe his nerves. And your absence made him feel incomplete.

It was then he had to admit to himself that there was no longer any point in denying it. He had inevitably fallen for you.

JING YUAN

When there was more administrative work to do on the Luofu due to the recent happenings, Qingzu, who was assisting Jing Yuan with the additional workload, proposed to hire someone else to help as well. To be precise, help with caring for the general’s lion, since it was usually Qingzu’s task. But since she was preoccupied with other matters right now, there was a distinct lack of time.

And that’s when you were hired.

You were tasked to care for Mimi in Qingzu’s stead from hereon out and seemed to immediately get along with the animal quite well, too. It certainly put Jing Yuan’s mind at ease to know that his lion was adequately cared for.

One day, when Jing Yuan returned earlier than usual from his duties he found you peacefully asleep on the sofa, your head comfortably nestled in the fur of the equally asleep lion. But he didn’t dare to disturb your slumber and returned to his desk with a smile on his face since he too felt the weight of sleep oftentimes throughout the day.

Once you awoke you practically jumped up when you saw him sitting at his desk already, ushering a shy “Oh, General. I didn’t expect you to be back home at such a time already. Forgive me.”

He just let out a soft chuckle in reply, assuring you that there was no need to worry and that it actually put his mind at ease that you got along so well with Mimi.

After this, he made a conscious effort to come back home earlier more often. And every time, without fail, he would find you sleeping together with his lion in the afternoon sun. Your peaceful expression and the quiet purr of his lion truly was a sight for sore eyes 

And if his lion loved you, what was he supposed to feel if not the same?

GEPARD

Gepard saw you for the first time when he stopped by his sister's workshop. He caught a quick glimpse of you before you vanished into the side room of the workshop again.

Of course, his sister immediately caught him staring. Because he stood there stunned and only stared holes into the door you vanished through. 

If Serval was good at one thing, it was reading Gepard like a book. And she only needed one look at his face to know exactly what he was thinking. Of course, she took the opportunity to tease him about it with a big grin across her face, much to the embarrassment of Gepard who only cleared his throat and diverted the topic, unable to hide the red blooming across his cheeks.

He soon found out that you were a singer and songwriter and that you and Serval sometimes performed together in a local club. And he found himself venturing there on his off days to watch your show. 

Serval introduced you to him and eventually, you began to become closer. Asking him if he would come to your next gig as well. And of course, he did. In fact, he did so often that he had all your songs memorized down to a T now and often found himself humming them absentmindedly throughout the day. 

And suddenly, as one of his subordinates asked him which song he keeps humming all the time now, he became aware of the feelings he harbored for you.

The warm, prickly feeling within his chest. The way his heartbeat quickened, or the corners of his mouth turned upwards involuntarily whenever he saw you, talked to you, or thought of you.

It was undeniable. He had fallen in love in love with you.

WELT

Welt and you were just colleagues. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself of at first. 

Research and worries about your mission often woke you up at night recently, so you often got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. And Welt found you sitting in an armchair in the parlor car one night when he, too, got up in the middle of the night because his thoughts had kept him awake.

You offered him a cup of coffee as well before you sat back down. Each just sipped their coffee in silence. You gazed at the stars outside of the window of the Express while he tried to read some book to keep his mind off the thoughts that had kept him awake.

Yet, he found himself unable to concentrate on it and instead stole glances at you while rattling his brain about what he could talk about with you.

Eventually, you were the first one to break the silence. Initiating a conversation about the vastness of the universe and the thing that are yet beyond any human comprehension. Asking questions no man knew an answer to yet. And he was more than happy to indulge in the conversation. 

You ended up talking until the morning hours that night without the conversation ever dying down. He enjoyed the talk you had so much, he found himself thinking about it for weeks after.

Long deep talks over a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the night should soon become a habit for both of you.

And he came to crave them so much that he even started setting an alarm at night and went to check if you were there again as well. And most of the time you were. 

One night, when he looked at you and saw the light of the stars reflect in your eyes once again, he too had to admit he was looking straight at a star himself.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[moodymisty]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 soon

Author's Note: Hi... I finally finish this part. The last two are actually fairly close to being done, I was just really held up on this one. It's not my favorite, but I just had to get it done.

Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.

Relationships: Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord

Warnings: Hints of nsfw at points, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence blood and bruises and possibly death to say without spoilers

Word Count: 1376

Ever since the moment you met him, Lev has been your shadow whenever Ralkan isn’t around. 

Every time, not long after you leave your quarters, he seems to find you.

Whereas the Salamanders have rigid training regimens they must abide by every single day- though day is a bit of a loose term in the depths of space - it seems the Night Lords are largely left up to their own devices as you travel to their destination.

You suppose it makes sense, daily training wouldn’t do much for them other than entertainment; These Night Lords are clearly the best of the their genestock, brought aboard to show the Salamanders who they were working with.

Ralkan had been extremely displeased with you when you’d called this all a pissing contest. The much younger Salamander in your company at the time had snickered at your joke before getting quickly reprimanded and sulked his way back to the firing range.

But as much as he denied your comment and attempted to dissuade any ill will between the two legions as merely the occasion disagreement, you've heard from around the ship that attempts to keep things amicable however have largely failed. You’ve heard rumors of the Night Lords getting into fights with Salamanders, barking and goading confrontation like rowdy, feral street dogs.

Ever since Lev had an altercation with a Salamander- you don't even know if he was the first one to do so- it seems to have only gotten worse. And you still have at least another two weeks in travel before you reach your destination, with everyone trapped in here like fish in a barrel.

At least the Salamanders have weapons, the baseline humans aboard the ship have been forced to shuffle around and avoid eyesight of any Night Lords, and pray they don't stick out of the crowd.

Your conversations with the others aboard the ship might be brief, but you know that some have gone missing. As if the implications let out by Lev's cohorts at the time of your first meeting hadn't already queued you in on it.

Sitting at your desk in the midst of some monotonous work you glance to your left, leaning over to open a drawer and reveal the contents.

The centerpiece of them all is a Night Lord combat knife. The metal shines, but far less that you would expect it to. It's like it eats the very light that touches it. You kept it hidden, Emperor forbid Ralkan found it, but...

You didn't want to throw it away either.

You could hear the sound of the pipes thrumming as you looked up at Lev, and he looks down on you. A serf passed by behind him at a quick pace; Even quicker when Lev turned just slightly at the neck to watch them and make sure they moved along.

He'd found a moment in-between moments- the few seconds where Ralkan wasn't watching - to find you. Perhaps that should unsettle you. But he's given you the first real conversations you've had in awhile besides Ralkan, and you couldn't help but pause.

Ralkan is a safe embrace, Lev is a precarious drop; But you keep looking over the edge.

"You look tired," He said, looking down at you with lazy eyes. He always looks somewhat sleepy and unimpressed himself.

"I was going back to my quarters to sleep, until you stopped me." He grew a smirk that showed sharp, near overgrown canine teeth.

"Maybe you should tell that Salamander of yours to back off then."

You crossed your arms across your chest like a self-assuring hug and focused on the bat wings stretched across the chestplate of his armor.

"Do you know he always has eyes on you? Even when he isn't around? Even his brothers are watching you."

You assumed he's been having trouble getting a moment where it's just you; Many have, not just him. Ralkan has watched you so intently since Lev started sinking his talons into you, and despite finding comfort in him keeping the Night Lord with unknown intentions at bay, you also find yourself tugging away for just an inch of space.

Unfortunately, that space leads right into Lev.

"...His name is Ralkan."

You swallow a knot in your throat. As much as you knew you could talk to Ralkan, push back against some things he said, you had no idea where Lev's limits are; What words might make him decide you're more fun as toy he can break than one he's gentle with.

"Here."

Lev reached to his belt and pulled a knife from it, tossing it in the air gently to grab it by the blade tip and push it out towards you. You didn't touch it, leaning away and staring at it like it's diseased. It might as well be; You don't know what unsaid intentions you'd be accepting if you took it from him.

"I saw your Salamander gave you something," You assumed he was talking about a small trinket Ralkan had made at the forge for you, one of a few. The necklace that dangles around you neck at all times now was also from him.

A practice with things more delicate, he had said.

"Here's something of my own. Don't lose it."

You hadn't lost it, but it had taken some hiding to keep it out of Ralkan's sight. You knew that if he saw it, the rough and disgusting gift- much unlike Ralkan's delicate one - would be gone in an instant.

Perhaps you shouldn't care, it's from an astartes you barely know, but something about it just makes you want to keep it.

Your entire vision as been Ralkan over these past few months. Especially these recent weeks since Lev arrived. The sight of something, someone else is almost enthralling- no matter how dangerous. You've caught yourself looking at the knife multiple times now, remembering the way Lev's armoured fingers wrapped around sharp edge of the blade as he gave it to you, even once having to slam the drawer shut quickly just before Ralkan entered your room to take you somewhere.

He hasn't caught wind of the knife itself yet, but you have a feeling he knows you're hiding something. He's given you openings to say, but you've declined them all. You assume he knows Lev is somehow finding you and is hoping you'll tell him how, what rat holes he's using to get to you, and it frustrates him that you won't.

He probably thinks the astartes is threatening you to not tell him. Rather than that you don't want to.

You close the drawer, hearing the contents jingle around while sighing.

You'd curse even coming aboard the Flamewrought, but you can't deny the advantages of being here. Your work, the people you've met, though most of those people are gone; Ralkan is almost all that remains. You speak to some of his men at times, but the interaction is always brief and controlled.

“Where’s your Salamander now, little one?” 

You suddenly burst up from your chair, it sliding with a hideous squeal as you hit it with the back of your knees and nearly stumble over. Lev meanwhile stands in the doorway, watching before stepping inward. You take a step backward as his right hand reaches out to slam the door controls and shut it behind him.

“He left you all alone in here?” 

You hold your hands close to your chest as if trying to protect yourself, watching him stare at you with black eyes.

“These are my quarters, he doesn’t stay here.”

Lev scoffs and rolls his eyes. He steps closer, ignoring the way you step back to try and maintain the distance. Seeing him in the halls is one thing; There's a chance a Salamander could see you in distress and help you, or you could scream and try to run, but here you're far out of the way of everyone else by design, and with nowhere to even try fleeing to.

"I'm sure he would choose otherwise, had he the chance. He keeps a very close eye on you, you know. He'd be quite disappointed you left the door unlocked." You do know, quite well in fact, and reiterate as such.

"I'm... Well aware of how through his guardianship is."

He must find either you or the situation funny, and laughs.

"What then, does his Salamander duty and rigor prevent him from going any further? Or do you have someone else already, and he's forced to keep his hands to himself?" He laughs again, but it comes out like an indignant snort.

"A pity, I'm sure it makes him furious having to spend so much time protecting a little thing like you and not even get to enjoy it."

It's cold in this room, always is- the entire ship is chilled, recirculated air - and it makes you able to feel the noticeable heat radiating from his body and his armor as he approaches you.

He smiles, leaning in closer. You know you're out of space when your shoulderblades finally knock against the wall.

Closer again. You can feel his breath on your face, how his long hair tickles your skin. Even closer and his stubble rubs against your skin, burning it.

His lips press against yours and you whimper into his mouth, a noise that makes him moan. Your fear spurs him on and he presses his lips to yours harder, feeling when your hands grab the seams of his armour and either try to helplessly push him away, or at least hold on until he's finished with you. The scar across his upper lip scrapes against yours much like his stubble does- everything about him is rough and jagged. Only when your whimpers get louder and start turning into muffled cries does he finally pull away, his teeth raking over your bottom lip before he pulls them away with a soft ‘pop’.

His smile his bright, like he just found a brand new toy.

“You are soft,” 

He says, twisting his brother’s words from weeks earlier. He has this look in his eyes, bright with curiosity, like he’s enthralled by something so simple. You can feel your heart slamming against your chest as you stand in his shadow, tears wanting to prick at the corners of your eyes. You know you have something he wants, but while he's being gentle, the vast unknown behind his eyes his terrifying. But is that unknown better that suffocating?

Lev seems to think it is, one his his gauntlets gripping your clothing as gentle as the armour allows him.

"I can take you, I'll get you away from him and I can keep you safe, all to mys-"

"Get away from her."

Lev pulls back, turning to see Ralkan standing in the opening doorway. His hand rests on the handle of his chainsword ready to pull the trigger and rev it to life, and the look he's giving the Night Lord is nothing short of hellfire.

"It is one thing to be on our ship, but I thought I was quite firm in my orders to keep your disgusting hands off of her, and keep your distance."

The smile Lev had quickly fades into an unimpressed and angry sort of look, wrinkling his nose. He doesn't move away from you, instead just turning.

"You don't get to order me around. I'm no brother of yours."

That struck a nerve of Ralkan's, you can instantly tell. His shoulders squared and his hand flexes around the handle of his chainsword, just tight enough that you hear the engine start to kick on and the chain's teeth rattle as it threatens to spin to life.

“I am from Nocturne. I am well versed in slaying dragons, a rat like you should be nothing at all.”

Lev rolls his eyes, unimpressed by Ralkan's formality. He finally turns from trapping you against the wall to give the Salamander his full attention, allowing you to scurry off to the side.

But while Lev seems casual his hand rests close to his own blade, and despite the smirk on his face and casual lean he is just as prepared to fight as Ralkan is.

“Even if you do kill me Salamander, it doesn’t change that you’re just hoarding her all to yourself.”

The two and their energies make this room feel microscopic in size, as Ralkan shifts and evens his footing. Lev straightens up slightly, putting his hands closer to the weapons hanging from his hip.

You stand back trapped in here with them, with no chance of racing by without either one grabbing you for themselves.

You can only step back, and hope that it doesn’t escalate any further than this.

[imaginepirates]

An Unexpected Reunion

Essentially, this is a sort of sic-fic for an anon who wanted to see the reader look after James. After his stint in Tortuga, when he doesn't have the strength to care for himself, he ends up on the Pearl, and the reader helps him out. The two just so happen to be previously acquainted—the reader is a pirate James once had in custody. Mild angst ensues.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @wordsinwinters

~3k words

~~~~~~~

If you knew one thing about former Commodore James Norrington it was this: he did not know how to take a break. 

Even now, as you watched him struggle to keep upright, he didn’t quite seem to understand the disadvantage he was at. He wavered, leaning hard on the ship’s rail before trying to stand on his own. He convulsed a little, as if he might throw up, and though you wouldn’t have been surprised, a fresh wave of pity rolled over you. 

You had feared him, once. Done your best to keep out from under his iron grasp of the law. You’d failed, too. Other than Elizabeth, you were the person aboard the Pearl who knew him best. I knew his prison cells, too, you reminded yourself. 

He looked up at you, and you made eye-contact. There was a foggy recognition in his face, and you watched the gears in his head turn as he attempted to make sense of who you were. 

“Am I that hard to remember?” You walked toward him, hoping he wouldn’t fall on you. “I’m offended,” you teased. 

Norrington looked you over with disgust, as if he were in a position to do so. “I arrested you.”

“I’m flattered you recall.”

He frowned. “You escaped.

“I hope that’s not a sore spot?”

Norrington shot you a venomous glare, though there didn’t seem to be much actual hatred behind it. Oh, it had been one for the ages. The escape had been anything but easy, you’d give him that, and most of it had been the opportunity of chance, but you were one of the few, if perhaps the only, pirate to have escaped the young officer. You’d hoped never to see him again, to boast your tale without being  caught a second time. You’d even left the Caribbean for a time to evade him. Now Jack shared your fame, though on a technicality, you knew, and here poor Norrington had to put up with you both. 

You’d never expected to meet him again, and certainly not like this, brought so low. You hadn’t even known the world was capable of bringing a man like him to his knees. 

“You look like you just crawled out of a pigsty.” You frowned, hoping you weren’t right. 

Norrington smirked, an expression you’d never seen on the man, and it was not a particularly pleasant thing to see. “Sparrow employs from interesting places.”

You sighed. “At least let me help you not look like hell?”

“What would you care?” Norrington cast you a suspicious glance, though he let you wrap a stabilizing arm around his shoulders. 

“You didn’t let me look like shit when it was your ship I was on,” you mumbled, somewhat reluctantly. 

In truth, James Norrington had taken shockingly good, if not necessarily tender, care of you while you were his prisoner. It may have been humiliating at times; being ordered to wash, getting inspected by the ship’s surgeon, and having your hair shorn to prevent lice; but it had kept you healthy, and, in Norrington’s reasoning, kept you alive until your due time at the gallows. That, and rendering you incapable of getting his crew sick. Though you had cursed his name every day, you knew he hadn’t needed to go to such lengths. 

Surprise crossed the man’s face, but he said nothing. You helped him belowdecks to a rather empty store room, bracing him on the stairs to keep him upright. You left him a moment, returning with a basin of water, some cloth, and a comb, hoping that it might do something for his raggedy appearance. 

“The wig has to go.” 

James snatched it off his head, regarding the thought with reluctance. “It’s one of the last reminders of home.”

“Which is half the reason you need to get rid of it,” you said, tone softening. You took it from his hands, setting it out of sight. “It’ll only make you more miserable.” You pushed the coat off his shoulders as well; it was well overdue for a meeting with a washing board.

For a while, you stood in silence, James letting you wash his face with the cloth, trying to get mud out of his hairline. He scrubbed down his shins and forearms, rolling up tattered sleeves to expose newly tanned skin. There were scars there, too, old ones and new, and you remembered an occupation in the Navy was every bit as dangerous as piracy was. 

“You gave me one of those.” Norrington interrupted the silence, rubbing his thumb over a small scar on his left arm. “Capturing you wasn’t as easy as planned. You nearly gave me another, too, when you tried biting me.”

You laughed, taken aback. You’d forgotten about it—you lashed out at him when he made the surgeon wash and cut your hair. 

“It wasn’t funny,” he said, but he was smiling all the same. “I thought you were going to take off a finger.”

“Oh, I wanted to. I do hope you aren’t thinking of returning the favor.”

“Does this mean my hair is next?”

“It certainly does. I’m going to have to pull all manner of debris out of it, aren’t I? Maybe I should’ve grabbed gloves.”

James snorted. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

“I could say the same about you.” You moved to stand behind him where he sat on a barrel, taking the comb in your hands and gently teasing knots out of the ends of his hair. 

James’ voice sobered. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you have every reason to hate me. I held you as my captive, and when you escaped, I spent months trying to hunt you down. If you hadn’t managed to evade me, I would’ve been your ticket to the gallows. I might as well have been the noose around your neck myself.”

You sucked in a breath, unprepared for the question. Not that you hadn’t expected it. Why am I helping him? “You were doing your job, I was doing mine. I’m glad you failed.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“Look,” you interrupted. “I’d heard all the stories. When you’re a pirate, and you get arrested, the Navy does all sorts of things to you. You beat us, you maim us, you starve and strip and use us as entertainment. As long as we’re still alive to dance the hangman’s jig at the end, you can do whatever you want to us.” You’d stopped combing, and you could tell, despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face, Norrington was listening intently. “You could have done all sorts of things to me, or let your men have their way.” Your voice grew soft again. “The worst thing you did was cut off my hair. Turns out I had lice anyway, so I probably should’ve thanked you for it.”

James turned to look at you, mouth half open to say anything, but there wasn’t anything to say. His gaze returned to his boots, and you couldn’t help but notice the tightness in his jaw. 

You changed the subject. “How long has it been since you’ve kept a meal down?”

“Too long,” he grimaced. “I’m afraid the rum has done its job.”

“Do you want me to get you something? You can wash the rest of yourself while I’m away.”

James only nodded, but you took that as a good enough sign to go in search of food. Ships didn’t carry much fresh food, but if you could find bread without weevils in it, you might be able to keep him from throwing up. 

You raided the kitchen, tapping biscuits against the wall to loose any bugs that may have burrowed into them. Before you headed back, you rested against the wall, taking a few steadying breaths. You didn’t like talking about your captivity, and you could never fully justify taking care of him. He was right: he might as well have been the hangman and the noose. 

“How’s the former Commodore?” Jack stood in front of you, teasing expression firmly in place. 

“Much better now that I’ve tossed the wig.”

Jack made a face at the mention of the wig. He’d made more than a few comments about how ‘that damned Commodore would be far more handsome without the stupid thing’. “I’m thinking about tossing him out entirely.”

“Jack.” You crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“Why did you agree to let him on, anyway?”

“I wouldn’t say I agreed, love. Agreements aren’t made at gunpoint.”

Norrington still wants him dead, then. “And yet he hasn’t gone through with it.”

Jack shrugged, as if he hadn’t given the matter much thought. You knew better, of course. He turned to leave, but not before throwing a comment over his shoulder. “He’s not a killer.”

By the time you got back to James, he had his hair mostly untangled and was struggling to find a way to keep it out of his face. You stepped in, handing him the bread and braiding his hair back with practiced fingers. There was a weight to the action, and you felt it acutely, twisting strands of long, damp hair together, surprised by its length, wondering how Norrington could’ve kept it tucked under his wig like this, and you knew he felt it too. 

“Eat,” you told him. “And try not to puke on me.”

He stuck the bread skeptically in his mouth, as if expecting it to taste like the bottom of a muddy boot. It was somewhat awkward to watch him, but you were right to keep your focus on him; it wasn’t long before he had his eyes closed against an obvious wave of nausea. You placed a hand on his back, rubbing his shoulder gently in hopes that it might distract him. 

“I must seem pathetic like this.”

“You’ve seen me pretty low, too, so I can hardly judge.” James scoffed, but didn’t pull away from your touch. 

“At least you had it in you to escape. Which,” he turned to you, eyebrows raised, “you never have explained to me.”

“Has that been bothering you all these years?” You couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug, knowing you got the best of a man who was, by all means, smarter than you, and who’d had many more resources on hand. 

“Obviously,” he drawled, though he seemed more amused than embarrassed.

“Well, it was mostly luck. You had me locked up pretty tight.” That was an understatement. Beyond the obvious fact that you’d been behind bars, thick ones at that, there were two guards posted outside the brig at all times. Not to mention the leagues between you and any sign of shore. You may have been a fairly good pirate, but those were bad odds. 

It had been the mailing ship, in the end, that had been your key to salvation. “I’ll forever be thankful that your holding cells had—and still have—one major flaw, not that I’m telling you what it is.” At James look of annoyance, you smiled. “Sorry. Old habits and all that.” Half pin-barrel hinges, you thought to yourself before continuing. “I also, through virtue of talking marines, knew the mail carrier had shown up. It gave me just the blossom of hope, and the opportunity, I needed.”

The door guards reduced from two to one as one of them headed off, presumably in the direction of mail. And why should they have worried? You hadn’t been able to cause any trouble, even when you were taken out of your cell for inspection by the ship’s surgeon. So that left you with one marine to deal with, and one iron door to pop off its hinges, which you did with the conveniently placed bench inside your cell. 

The clattering of the door got the marine running into the room, leaving the door to the brig wide open for your escape. All it took was an elbow to the gut and a knee to the face and the poor man was on the ground. You’d almost felt bad about it. Almost. But you saved your pity and ran like hell, scurrying up to one of the gun decks before anyone knew you were missing. 

“Then came the tricky part,” you mused. “I had to jump out of a gun port without anyone noticing, then scramble onto the mail carrier somehow. By all accounts it shouldn’t have worked.” But something had happened on deck which caught quite a bit of attention, and you were left to plop into the ocean below. “I’d never been so happy to be swimming in my life. I made it onto one of the lower decks of the other ship, through another gunport, and hid in a storage room until it reached St. Augustine.”

James grimaced. “You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get my men into that city.”

You shrugged. St. Augustine was a Spanish city, and you had no doubt tensions between Norrington and the city officials had run high. “I was already out by then. Seems those strings weren’t pulled fast enough.”

“No.” Your hand still sat on his back, though he’d managed to finish the bread. A light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead, a symptom you’d known to expect from an alcoholic, and you reached for the washcloth to wipe it away. “What if they had been?” His tone took on a miserable note.

You wiped the cloth across his face, your free hand gently holding the side of his head still. “Then you would have caught me, and I would be dead.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” You moved to the back of his neck, where sweat had begun to run into his shirt collar. “We led lives that were diametrically opposed. We both knew what that meant. I ran that risk willingly.”

You continued with the cloth, never dropping the hand from his head, and though it may have been your imagination, he seemed to lean into the touch. You wondered how long it had been since anyone had shown him a hint of tenderness—since before his arrival in Tortuga? Longer?

James changed the subject. “Once you’re done making sure I’m not puking on myself, what do you plan to do with me?”

“Do with you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan to do anything with you—or to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You didn’t miss the flush that crept up his neck at your teasing. You found it kind of sweet, if anything, that he continued to have the bashful streak Elizabeth had told you so much about. “I hope you’ll consider staying around more than a week so I can get to know you better, though.”

“You do?” He turned to you, his surprise genuine. It hurt you a little to see, but you supposed it was to be expected. If your roles were reversed, would he be saying the same?

“You’ve been given a unique opportunity, Ex-Commodore. You have the chance to start over with a group of people who don’t particularly like you, and you have the chance to make a home with them. We can be a close-knit group, you know, us pirates.” You smiled. “I’d take that chance if I were you.”

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice. The admiralty wants my head.”

“Better give them a good reason for it, then.”

James laughed at that, and some of the heaviness in the air dissipated. He looked markedly better now that he’d relaxed and some of the color had returned to his face. He could even be handsome, you supposed. You hadn’t let yourself think of it during your capture, though he had looked dashing in that uniform, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you heard multiple women had eyed him with eager interest back in Port Royal.

He’d been a different man then. You couldn’t help the serious tone that crept into your voice as you spoke. “You’ll take better care of yourself after this, yes?”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice in that, either. I can’t really make things worse.”

The words did nothing to assure you. “You owe it to yourself, you know.” Your hand had fallen from his face, but you placed it there again, drawing his eyes to yours. “No matter what happens to you, no matter how low you think you’ve gotten, you still deserve your own care.”

James looked too lost for words, instead turning away shyly with no little amount of shame. 

“Hey,” you softened your voice. “You’ll learn. Here, with us. Most of the crew have spent their entire lives looking out for themselves. And we’re the lowest of the low; the poorest, the drunkest, the most battered and beaten and worn. We still take care of ourselves, even when we sometimes wash up in the brig of a Naval ship. We’ll teach you how to quit carrying shame.”

James looked back up at you, nodding. He kept your hand in place with one of his, callouses from his palm brushing against your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair with your other hand, gently carding through dark tresses, and when he closed his eyes, you could feel him suppressing tears. 

He took a steadying breath, bracing himself before he could open his eyes. “Thank you. For all of this. I hope I can repay you for it, someday.”

“Given the shitty circumstances under which we tend to look after each other, let’s hope not, actually.”

He smiled wearily, and you moved to sit on a barrel across from him. The voyage ahead was long and likely not without its dangers, and having Norrington as a friend through it all didn’t seem like a terrible prospect.

As you talked on, sharing stories as sailors did, you knew he’d make it. Of course he would. A man who had the dedication to chase you across the Caribbean for months had it in him to live with you for a few weeks. You’d already survived each other once. 

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 13: Shared Sake, Shared Secrets

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.3k

Whereas life had been miserable trying to find Whitey, finding your uncle was faster, easier, and far more painless. 

You only slept for one or two hours a night, but ate plenty to keep your stamina up, and drank as much water as you could. It felt like a fair tradeoff. You had to hope it was.

Your child must’ve understood your desperation, because it never once complained. A part of you worried that you had put too much stress on it and something was wrong, but that was a problem for another day. 

The Grand Line was kind to you, not giving you any issues or storms to navigate. You barely even saw any pirates, and once you got into the New World, people ignored you due to your flag. Even amongst pirates, there was a code to be upheld. Only the evil or the stupid would bother a member of the Whitebeard Pirates right now. 

Once a day, when you saw an island, you stopped and searched for the News Coo. On the third day, you discovered Ace’s execution would be in ten days at Marineford. You didn’t stop again after that. You were wasting too much time. 

One day later, the vivre card inched towards a ship on the horizon. You could see the flag of the Red-Haired Pirates, and your body finally relaxed. You were almost there. 

You knew that Yasopp had already spotted you, and had likely already told his captain of your arrival. You clipped his vivre card back into your stack and prepared for departure. 

“There she is!” Shanks called out, throwing down a ladder for you to climb up as your small sloop sailed in next to his. “The most beautiful girl on the Grand Line!”

“Uncle Red!” You gave him a wave and grabbed the rung of the ladder, climbing up to meet him. 

When you reached the top, he helped pull you aboard and wrapped you in a tight embrace. 

“You’ve grown!” He laughed. “The last time I saw you, you were just a little moody teenager. And now look at you!”

The rest of the crew crowded around you, all giving you hugs and high fives. Things almost felt normal. As if you were just running a quick courtesy call for your father, just like old times. 

“Sit down, have a drink!” He cheered, grabbing you a tankard. 

“I brought sake,” you said, handing him the jug. 

He admired it, his eyes sparkling. “East Blue!” He cut his eyes to you knowingly. “You must need a favor.”

You grinned nervously. “You know me so well, Uncle Red.”

“If it’s about Ace,” he sighed. “I already warned your father that this would go south. I can’t offer any more assistance after he refused to heed my warning.”

“You talked to Pops?” You asked, your brow furrowing in confusion.

“I told him what you and Ace were doing would end badly. Recommended that he pull you guys back, but he disagreed. Said it wasn’t fair for me to-“

“Hang on,” you interrupted. “Pops didn’t want us going either. We went against his advice.”

Shanks looked at you, slightly surprised at this information. It was clear your father had claimed your mistake as his own, even against a fellow emperor. 

“Let’s drink, and then we can talk.” He poured some of the sake out into a dish and handed it off to you.

“Drink my portion for me,” you offered, holding your hand out to decline. 

You could feel the air change with your refusal. It was suspicious for you to decline your own sake on an enemy ship. Everyone on the crew watched you, nervously eying their captain’s drink. 

“Come on now, girl,” Shanks said, still holding the drink out to you. “I’ve never known you to refuse a drink.”

You shook your head. “I can’t, Shanks.” The realization came crashing back. You were alone. 

Tears filled your eyes as your hand moved to rest over your stomach, and you could see understanding cross over Shank’s face. 

“You’re pregnant,” he whispered.

You nodded, wiping your tears away. “Ace is-“

“Who knows?”

“Just you, Ace, and Whitey. My dad and Marco know too, I think.”

“Whitey. Do you trust her?” His voice sounded urgent. 

“With my life,” you said, softly sniffling as you held back more tears. 

“Good. Because with the information you told her, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Shanks sat the drink down and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is quite a nasty trap you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Please-“ you let out a sob and pressed your forehead to the deck, bowing to him. “Please help me.”

“Hey! Cut that out! Raise your head!” 

But you kept it there, glued to the floor. You wouldn’t raise it until he agreed to help.

“Kid-“

“I’ll do anything,” you sobbed. “Please just help me get him back.”

“Oi, Captain,” Lucky whispered. “She’s begging you.”

“You’re a strategist, so let’s talk strategy.” Shanks grabbed your shoulder and gently guided you back into a sitting position. “What are you proposing?” 

“Pirates will come after us while we head to Marineford,” you said. “They’ll see us and know they can overwhelm us while our eyes are focused on Ace. My biggest worries are-“

“Kaido and Big Mom,” Shanks said, nodding along. “I can’t fight both of them, you should know that.”

“I don’t think Big Mom will be an issue, actually,” you admitted. “One of her children is about to get married. She’ll be more focused on the wedding and her already established territory rather than fighting us.”

Shanks chuckled. “Even in distress, you sure do stay up to date on current events. So, Kaido then?”

You nodded. “He might be occupied with things in Wano, but-“

“He always wants more,” Shanks agreed. “What else do you need?”

You shook your head. You were asking for more than enough already. You should’ve brought more sake. 

“Come on, kid! I know there’s more we can do!” He sipped on the sake, letting out a satisfied sigh. “East Blue sake is worth more than Kaido. So tell me, what else?”

“Captain, I think-“ Beckman started, but Shanks shot him a look to silence him. 

“I can’t ask anymore,” you said. You were certain Beckman was going to say the same thing. Asking Shanks to hold off Kaido was already asking too much. You couldn’t ask anything else. 

He laughed and took another long drink. “Then we’ll meet you at Marineford after we hold off Kaido, and we’ll go from there.”

“Shanks-“

“Do you doubt me and my crew?” He asked, looking at you. “We’ll meet you at Marineford.”

You nodded, tears flooding into your eyes again. “Thank you.”

“You need some sleep,” he said. “Take my room. I’ll call your father.”

“No!” You yelled. You knew your father would be here tomorrow morning if he found out where you were. 

Shanks raised an eyebrow, curious at your desperation. It took him a second to realize, but he began cackling, the whole crew joining in with him. 

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” He wiped a joyous tear from his eye. “Oh, kid. You’re in so much trouble.” 

“I need to do what I can,” you said, grabbing your bag and standing to take your leave. “I’ve got other people to go see.”

Something pricked your neck, and you rubbed at the sting. At the source of the pain, you found a small needle buried halfway into your neck, and you could feel your vision begin to get blurry. 

“No-“ you whispered, trying to push away the exhaustion. 

“You need sleep,” Shanks said, his voice sounding distant and far away. He picked you up, holding you against his chest as he carried you inside. “Just rest for a bit.”

You tried to fight it, but you were no match for Yasopp’s sleep darts. 

--

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep  @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5

[rowiewritesstuff]

Is it possible for a tfp shockwave crushing on a cybertronian scientist reader? and he starts courting her without even knowing :)

TFP Shockwave X Cybertronian! Scientist! Reader

Okay what do you call the room where they eat? Because cafeteria sounds super goofy.

You were one of the most wanted on the Nemesis. You were kind, intelligent, and yet ruthless. You were one of Megatron’s most loyal followers- and yet you still called him out when you saw scrap come out of his mouth. You and Soundwave were probably the only ones allowed to do so. 

When Shockwave came aboard the Nemesis, you were excited. Finally, another scientist to help out! Knockout was okay, but he was better at breaking things than creating.

You introduced yourself to Shockwave as the head scientist of the Nemesis. He was first unsure how someone so bubbly could ever have the role of head-scientist for the Decepticons, but he realized the utter lack of general scientific intelligence on Earth. 

“I suppose I’m the second head scientist now, huh?” You grinned at him. 

Shockwave merely nodded at you, unsure how else to react to your general bubbliness.

Shockwave soon introduced you all to the Predaking, who you were in awe at. You praised Shockwave up and down for his creation. You assisted him meticulously with the rest of his work. He grew to see you as a partner in science- one that could actually keep up with him. Not many could do so. 

He didn’t realize what his feelings were for you at first. He’d never felt anything like this before. He thought that maybe he was sick, so he went to see Knockout- big mistake on his part.

“Oh?” Knockout had a shit eating grin on his faceplate. “I never thought someone like you could have a crush!”

Shockwave tilted his head. “Crush? Is that a disease?” 

A bark of laughter came from the red mech. “No. You have feelings for them.” Knockout patted the larger con’ on the shoulder. “Good luck, though- almost everyone has their eyes on them.”

Shockwave felt an uncharacteristic wave of irritation at the fact others wanted you. He went back to work, trying to ignore all of the feelings. ‘Illogical’ he thought to himself.

One day, he noticed you hadn’t refueled- so he brought you a cube. While he didn’t want to admit it, he adored the bright smile on your faceplates. 

A while later, he noticed that your favorite tool had broken- so he got you a newer, better version of it. You were so grateful that you hugged him. If he had a face, it would have been a bright blue.

One day, he was walking past the cafeteria. He looked in to see a Vehicon leaning over you. “Come on, just one date! I can be pretty romantic, ya’ know.” 

Shockwave was about to come over and pull you away when you abruptly stood up. “Sorry, I’m spoken for. I do appreciate the invitation, though!”

Everyone was shocked. Who had managed to snag you? Shockwave felt a pang in his spark that he couldn’t describe hearing you had someone. 

Your optics landed on him from across the room as an adorable grin plastered on your faceplates. “Speaking of my date! Come on, sweetspark!” You pulled the shocked mech away towards the lab. 

Everyone stood in shock, except for Knockout. “Finally! It’s like watching paint dry.” 

“Wh-when did we begin courting?” Shockwave stuttered- something he’s never done before.

“Uh, you brought me two gifts sweetie. Did you not mean it like that?” Your eyes looked up at him saddened.

“It was intentional.” He lied. “Come on, we have to finish the calculations we were working on.”

“Alright!” you cheered as you grabbed his servo in his. 

He didn’t know how this happened, but he hoped it would last.

[hanjicores]

quit playing games with my heart

synopsis: gojo’s a gamer and so are you. in fact, you’re both so good at it, you reach top rankings in international competitions, and that’s how you notice each other. but romance is more than just a game — or is it?

cw: fem reader, rivals

author's note: welcome to the first chapter of my first story! i’m nervous but excited for you all to read and i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it! comments and any criticism is welcomed, thank you ♡

wc: 719 (seven hundred nineteen)

the long hours, the many restless days, if you didn’t know any better you’d think that it was utterly useless to be doing this for so many months.

although, fate would have it that your determination and dedication had in fact gotten you into another international gaming competition.

you arise from your mesh, pink chair to stretch your legs. sitting for hours on end numbed every part of your lower body and always leaving your hands glued to a keyboard and mouse threatened your joints with arthritis.

when you had the time you’d usually go for a short jog while fumbling with a fidget toy. you were only in your mid 20s and felt the consequences of gaming all day and all night.

except that this was your job. you in fact earned money from streaming video games you played and entering gaming competitions, so it was inevitable that you’d feel all these effects. it would be no different from having a normal job now, would it?

this year though, this year had to be different. you had to win this competition to prove to yourself that you are fit to do this for the rest of your life. placing second is not going to happen this year.

you were going to place first and beat gojo satoru. you were going to show him what it felt like to come in second every. damn. time.

the next few days were absolute hell. you put yourself in training mode to prepare you for the competition. minimal sleep, maximum hours on game, getting just enough hydration and nutrition to get you through to the next day.

relief crashed over you as you plopped down into your first class seat aboard the airplane. you fumbled with your seatbelt to get it fastened because you were already feeling the consequences of gaming day in and day out.

your eyelids had start to slowly close shut as you finally got some hours of rest before landing in tokyo, japan.

in the early morning of the day, your plane had finally landed at the airport. you sat up in your seat and stretched your arms straight up into the air. you let out a soft sigh as you brought your arms back down in front of you to unbuckle your seatbelt.

you were never one to rush off the plane so you patiently waited in your seat as most of the passengers had deplaned, then followed suit.

the only thing on your mind at the moment was finding the nearest place for food. you approached a small coffee cart in the terminal hallways and got yourself a small mocha latte with a matcha muffin. you scarfed down the muffin and slowly sipped away at your latte.

japan was like a second home to you since you were here whenever you got the chance to be in a gaming competition, and to tell the truth, it was almost every chance they held a gaming tournament. you knew you were one of the best top players in the world so securing a spot for yourself was child’s play.

you hailed a taxi to your hotel which was nearby since the competition was being held about an hour and a half from your place of stay. the convenience this time around was such a blessing to you so that you could leave just at the last minute.

the taxi pulled into the entrance of the hotel and you thanked the driver before exiting the vehicle. you dug through your carry on to grab your id out of your wallet.

as you sauntered for the front doors of the hotel, a tall figure had bumped into you and knocked you down to the floor.

"my bad. are you alright?"

that voice. you recognized that voice. before even looking up, you glanced at the large palm reached out towards you and disregarded it, managing to stand up on your own.

"oh, how nice it is that i'm staying at the same hotel as you, satoru." your words full of acidity, but your face showcasing a wide smile stretching ear to ear.

gojo snickered as he retracted his hand to his glasses to lower them on his button nose, exposing his azure eyes that glistened like the ocean when the sun shines down on it.

"it is, isn't it? i think this'll be very, very fun."

[sunnyhvnny]

What if maegor's wife died of childbirth after giving him an heir but she didn't get a chance to be crowned as queen? Basically like jane seymour's (henry VIII's wife) history

So we’re hopping aboard the angst train.

Tw: death

Maegor feels numb as he sits in his chair in the small council room. Lords that are far beneath him are bickering about something and he doesn’t have it in him to listen.

Just yesterday he had to set fire to her funeral pyre as he held the newborn son she had died giving birth to. The whole day no one spoke to him as he refused to put his son down. He couldn’t bear to part with the last remaining ember of her.

Today, though, he listened as people mourned her. He heard as they refused to call her a queen. He knows that he was t able to crown her but she was still his wife and still bore him a child. It wasn’t her fault that she was too heavy with his babe that when they married she couldn’t stand through a whole coronation.

At night, he whispered promises of how he would put a crown on her head and everyone would be forced to give her the respect that she was due. He’d stroke her swollen belly and talk of their child and how they would inherit a kingdom.

He knew his other wives had difficulty in the birthing bed but for some reason, he wasn’t worried about her dying in it.

He is brought back to the present when his Master of Coins calls his name. He agrees with whatever the man said, not asking for him to repeat it, hoping that he’ll be able to leave this room that feels like it’s suffocating him the longer he sits there.

Eventually, the lords agree to something and he ignores everyone to find his son. When he enters the nursery, the servants and wet nurse bow and rush out leaving him alone with his child.

When he picks up the small babe and looks down at him, he sees his wife. He remembers the songs she would quietly hum to her belly and the sweets she claimed the babe wanted. He thinks as he looks down at his son that he will always remind him that his mother was a queen. That it didn’t matter that a crown was never placed upon her head or that people never called her one. She was his wife and she bore him a child and he loved her. To him, she was the only one of his wives that deserved the title of queen.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

You Say Bark, I Say Bite

Prompt Day 1: Open Mic Night | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Smoking | Tags: Pre-S4, Pre-Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin

"No, no, no," Steve says, waving his hand in front of him. He's not doing this. 

"Steve, please," Robin begs, "it's just one night. For me. You love me." 

There are so many other ways they could spend a Saturday night that don't involve listening to shitty musicians. They'll all suck. He knows that. They've done this before, and he's never heard anything he's liked. 

"Steve. For me," she pleads, giving him the eyes. 

He sighs. He was always going, but he's not happy about it. And he wants Robin to know that. 

"Tammy Thompson sounds like a Muppet," Steve says.

"You've said," Robin mumbles, annoyed. 

That's the whole reason they're here in Indianapolis tonight, at some under twenty-one club, listening to teens and college kids play shitty music. To hear Tammy Thompson nasal her way through a song or two.

Someone brought a goddamn flute. To an open mic night. A flute. These people are all weirdos. No talent to be found.

Then the little stage is suddenly bustling with movement, bringing in actual instruments and equipment. Okay, maybe they're getting somewhere. This has to be better than another douchebag with a guitar.

Oh, no. 

That's definitely a douchebag with a guitar.

"Is that…Eddie Munson?" Steve asks, cutting Robin a look. 

"Well, duh," Robin says, totally unbothered by this very weird turn of events, "he has a band, you know that."

He knows that? He doesn't know that. He knows Eddie Munson is a dealer. He knows Eddie Munson is a freak. But he didn't know Eddie Munson played the guitar.

"I didn't fucking know that," Steve says, confused, wrinkling his forehead.

"They play at The Hideout every week. Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Goodie. Corroded Coffin. You know that. Everybody knows that. Eddie is always hanging up flyers everywhere."

News to him. He doesn't know any of these guys. Who the fuck is Goodie? That's not even a name.

"I think you're making shit up. I don't recognize any of those guys. Like, not at all. Did they go to Hawkins? While I was there?"

Robin looks at him like he's an asshole. Okay, they must have. 

"They gotta be way younger," Steve finally says, indignant. "I know Eddie. Because he's been a senior for the last five years."

She gives him a withering look, "Three years. Last three years."

Like that's better. 

Eddie is quietly helping the drummer get his shit set up as fast as they can, and Steve watches. This should be good. This will be way more entertaining than Tammy Thompson. Because he can't fathom what Eddie Munson might think is good music. God, Steve hopes he tries to sing. 

He's positive this will be worth the cover charge, for sure. A trainwreck.

It's not a trainwreck. Eddie Munson falls back, and the black kid takes the mic. Okay, he didn't expect that. He expected Munson to be front and center.

"Who's the singer?" 

"Jeff Williams. His sister was in your class," Robin hisses. 

Oh, okay. Molly Williams was fun. She wouldn't give him the time of day when he tried to get her to go on a date with him, but fun. He didn't even know she had a little brother.

They start playing a song, and Steve doesn't recognize it.

Jeff shouts, "All aboard!" and laughs as the drummer starts clicking his sticks together, then playing, and it's okay. Fine. 

Then, Eddie starts playing the guitar. 

Goddammit. 

Steve hates to be wrong, and hates that this is really working for him. Eddie Munson looks at ease, happy, and kinda hot. Steve's never seen him look like that at school. Not once. Munson is snarky, snappy. Always quick to bite back. Funny, for sure, but Steve would avoid him, because Munson never shied away from trying to make Steve look stupid at every fucking turn. 

But he can play the guitar, apparently.

Robin nudges his shoulder, "They're good, right?"

He nods, not looking away. They're good.

They play another heavy song, but it's Queen. They're doing a metal cover of Bicycle Race, and that amuses Steve, he likes Queen.

After they're done playing, Steve makes excuses, and slips outside into the alley. He's pretty sure Eddie Munson isn't going to stay to watch this other shit.

Eventually, there he is, guitar case in hand. Steve thinks he'd like to ride him like a bicycle, and that's a new thought.

About Eddie. Not about men. 

"Oh, hey," Steve says, leaning against the wall of the alley, smoking a cigarette he bummed. Robin will kill him, but he needs an excuse to be out here. Like he wasn't waiting. Even if he totally was.

"Harrington," Eddie says with contempt, "what brings you out here with us freaks?"

"Robin," Steve says, and Eddie gives him a look.

"Buckley's really friends with you? I thought that was a terrible rumor."

Steve pretends that doesn't hurt, and just nods.

"Too bad, I like her," Eddie says, and this was a mistake. What the fuck was he thinking? Eddie Munson will just give him a tongue-lashing, and not in a fun way. He's an idiot for thinking otherwise. Steve isn't this hard up. 

"Okay, well, you guys looked good," Steve says, pushing himself off the wall. 

Eddie laughs, incredulous, "You thought we looked good?" 

"Sounded," Steve corrects. 

"You, King Steve, thought we sounded good? I've been to your house parties. You don't listen to metal. Do you even know who Ozzy is?"

Steve doesn't, and shakes his head. And Eddie's been to his house? Since when? Nevermind. Doesn't matter.

"You guys were good compared to all that other shit I had to sit through tonight. You sounded like, you know, actual music. I guess." 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, like he can see right through Steve. 

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit.

Steve suddenly feels like he's in big trouble. Trapped. Backed into a corner.

Eddie smiles and takes a step towards him, and it's predatory.

Steve swallows.

Oh, he's definitely in trouble.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, head on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🎤

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my tag, right here!

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th - June 2024

What gives you the motivation for not giving up on Wander Over Yonder?

Well, for starters, when Craig McCracken brought up the uncalled-for cancellation, he also brought up the existence of…

The Plans

Here’s what Craig said in his Tumblr post from March of 2016:

“About a year ago we presented a pitch for a season 3 arc that promised to bring our characters together in new, unexpected, and hilarious ways. And just as S2 evolved from S1, we had a really exciting approach to evolving S3 even further. We had plans for new characters, the return of old characters, and even a bit of backstory! We were all really excited about the new direction and so were our bosses at DisneyXD and TVA.”

“Unfortunately, the higher up bosses of bosses of bosses at Disney decided not to continue with the show. It's not that they didn't like Wander, they just felt that 2 seasons and 80 cartoons was enough and they didn't see the need to produce any more.”

“For the record, this decision had nothing to do with the ratings performance of S2. Truth be told, we were informed that we wouldn't be continuing before S2 even premiered.”

If what he said is to be believed, the mediocre performance of S1 on Disney XD made the “higher up bosses of bosses of bosses” think WOY shouldn’t continue after S2, so they decided to cancel it five months after the pitch, one week before The Greater Hater premiered. Big mistake. After nearly a decade, Craig still keeps the plans for S3 under wraps, but his talk of S3 is enough to pique my curiosity. He piqued it even more when he brought up Star Force Enforcement Force in 2021. Truth be told, he knows way more about that third and final season than he let on.

At first, I thought S2 would wrap up the show nicely. Boy, was I wrong - it wrapped up S2, but not the whole show. Once I checked out The End of the Galaxy, I knew right then and there that one more season was planned, because in the end credits, I saw…

The Cliffhanger

I will admit, I found the last couple of minutes anticlimactic. Dominator spurned Wander’s friendship, Hater is still cuckoo for conquering (much to Peepers’s delight), and the main four are practically back where they began. I reiterate, it wrapped up the season nicely, but not the whole show, because what I’m about to describe is indicative of the show’s unfinished business.

Dominator walks off in angry defeat, trying to peel an orange (or open a jar of jam if you prefer, assuming you looked closely at what she grabbed), and she grumbles, “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” Unbeknownst to her, she passes by a crash-landed space capsule with its door unhinged. Green lightning flashes, ominous Hater-themed music plays, and simian screeching is heard and fades into Hater’s evil laugh.

How is this anything less than an indicator of unfinished business? If stopping the show here is not a bad move, I don’t know what is. I’m positive English primatologist Jane Goodall would not be pleased with the decision to leave an ape stranded in space with no one around to help him. The question remains: who would find that space ape? Wander and the passengers aboard the Star Nomad or Star Force Enforcement Force? Only Craig and those who worked on the pitch with him would know and so would the bosses of Disney XD and DTVA. There’s also something that was on my mind after I watched the season finale. I shall now tell you about…

The Missing Pieces

I’m, of course, referring to parts that were absent from the episode and left unexplained. We’ve got the other villains, most of whom were last seen in The Bad Neighbors. Emperor Awesome made a silent appearance in The Sick Day, and that was it. As a certain @koskela13 indicated in a post 8 years ago, the villains never mustered up the courage to help the heroes fight against Dominator. There’s also Buster, the planet-sized puppy dog whom the Ballzerians call home. Since Beeza and the Ballzerians were among the refugees, he had to have fled from Dominator’s galactic onslaught. I found long ago that he’s supposed to be all right, but where he is remains to be seen. Same goes for Janet the Planet and her moon, Maurice; however, it was said that they were on their honeymoon, hence their absence in S2. Another thing that I think was left out was Wander getting to sing/play his banjo. Think about it, if the crew had wanted to stop after S2, would they have had Wander perform a glorious reprise of an upbeat song right after Dominator’s downfall? That was never done. It’s pretty obvious.

Moving right along, another thing that keeps me motivated is…

The Fan Content

Over the years, I came across countless fan pieces to make the Internet aware of the show’s existence, such as @wanderin-over-yonder’s calendars. It’s possible to come up with WOY-related activities, original characters, and meta gags.

Master Yisuko

Dr. Otmar Vunderbar

In case you haven’t guessed by now, the possibilities are endless.

I would expand more on the Star Nomad, but I’m sure you can find the information in my previous posts. As long as we’re talking fan stuff, let me refer to…

The Supporting Characters (and their VAs’ Longevities)

Apart from the five major characters, The End of the Galaxy had at least ten other characters speak solo (King Bingleborp, Destructor, the Cashier, Prince Cashmere, Neckbeard, the Lost and Found Guy, the Black Cube, Mittens, Major Threat, and Michelle). All the others barely had a chance to shine. For that reason, I put my effort into showcasing as many of them as I could in my fan fiction, The Eye on the Galaxy. What’s more, some of those characters are performed by voice actors over the age of 50. Stella Starbella was voiced by June Squibb, who was in her mid-80s while WOY was running. Today, she’s a nonagenarian, and if her performance in Inside Out 2 as Nostalgia is any indication, it’s not too late for her to reprise her role as that character. We might have until 2030 to revive the show, assuming June lives to be 100.

By the way, Major Threat was said to become a recurring character in S3, and we’ve yet to see him actually interact with Wander long after he put his days of villainy behind him.

Now I wish to bring up…

The Luck of the Other Shows

A vague and unconvincing reason for WOY’s cancellation was that two seasons/80 episodes were enough. I mean, really? Disney never felt that way about Fish Hooks, which I believe has three seasons and 110 episodes. Also, they allowed Star vs. the Forces of Evil to run for four seasons, putting it well over 100 episodes. And how about Big City Greens? Although not as frequently brought up as Gravity Falls, Amphibia, or The Owl House, it recently managed to get a whopping five seasons. They’re treating it like it’s the new Phineas and Ferb, although there’s no merchandising or presence in the parks. When I compare WOY to the aforementioned shows, it’s clear to me that it had the worst of luck. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if those other shows had pitches for later seasons. We can’t stand idly by while the plans made for WOY remain shelved. It just wouldn’t be right, y’know what I mean?

One more thing…

The Other Fandoms of Shows With Unfinished Business

I’ve noticed the presence of fans of shows that still have more to tell, including, but not limited to, Sym-Bionic Titan and Glitch Techs. One show that’s being resurrected as we speak is Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM), which ran in the 1990s for a measly two seasons and, just like WOY, was left on a cliffhanger (in this one, Snively re-emerges in a different outfit and is raring to take his uncle’s place and put a stop to the Freedom Fighters, and behind him stands Naugus, who somehow managed to escape the void). Fortunately, a group called Team Sea3on are working on a S3 premiere titled “Return to Robotropolis.” You can find this group on just about any social media platform - their determination to right the wrong done to the show is truly inspiring.

Did I mention shows like Hey Arnold! and Samurai Jack got closure after years of being neglected and incomplete? The same thing could happen to WOY if we persevere. Invader Zim, which also only got two seasons, got its overdue closure (I think) in the form of a Netflix-exclusive movie. If a season is too much work, fewer episodes or a two-hour TV movie should suffice.

And I think that’s about it for now. I hope all this information was enough to keep you all motivated! Fight on for fairness, my friends, and to those of you who think of The End of the Galaxy only as a SEASON finale, I thank you.

#CanceledCartoons

[cozzzynook]

Hot Rod getting upset because Optimus is letting Megatron and Soundwave bond with him in exchange for the war to end.

Optimus most likely only allows this to happen when there is truly no other way to end the war and its the most peaceful option. He doesn’t want to do this but he can’t let more lives extinguish because he doesn’t want to sacrifice his sparkling when so many have lost theirs.

He tells Hot rod who is genuinely and visibly upset but he agrees because he wants the war to end as well.

He doesn’t speak to Optimus save for agreeing and saying he wants to spend his last days of freedom and being alive with his friends and to tell no one until he’s already over there. Because he doesn’t want looks of pity or whispers to his face or behind his back.

He tells Optimus not to tell his brother Bumblebee because he’ll be crushed and doesn’t need to know the real reason he’s leaving. Not yet, if it can be helped.

Hot rod doesn’t look at Optimus after that.

He understands the position his creator is in but he knows further to the surface than he cares to admit that leaves him in tears. Is that if this were Bumblebee their creator would let the war continue but like himself Bee would agree to end the war and go off on his own. Hot rod would too if it wasn’t an order. But it is.

His own creator did care more for one sparkling than the other, he’s always known that but it still hurts to admit.

Hot rod spends his days high on organic zappers and modular stimulants.

To most he was just partying like the rest who received news of an agreement being reached and the war ending.

He spent his time with friends and a mech he was secretly falling for. He was sure the mech didn’t care the same way he did but sometimes it was hard to force himself to believe that when he always saw the warmth in the mechs optics aimed towards him.

When it was his last night as a free mech he interfaced with them one last time before he passed out.

Hot rod left a kiss and a shedded piece of plating from his frame for the mech and cleaned himself off in his hab where he laid staring at the ceiling.

The morning came too quick and with it his freedom in the sunrise behind him as he was escorted to the decepticons side and brought to aboard the Nemesis.

He’d taken an organic modular stimulant to relax and numb himself.

He wanted his death to be as painless as possible.

He was sure it’d wear off quickly once whatever torture began but he would at least be numb to the stares and emotions.

Entering a hab instead of a cell was honestly worse.

If this was the fate his creator left him he was glad he didn’t look at him or even acknowledge him as the last time they would see each other.

He just wishes he could’ve hugged his bitty brother one last time but if he did he’d break down and cry.

His bitty brother…better himself than Bee.

That thought kept him strong as he thought of the life his little brother could live. Hoping to see it was a bolt brains dream but at least he would no longer survive and could be happy. Truly happy with the stupid seeker that was only decent when with Bee.

“Welcome, Hot rod. It is our utmost joy to see you have agreed and accepted our conjunxing proposal.”

“Just get it over with.”

His vox was blank, accepting, void of the life he usually carried and not at all what he was known for.

“The rites take time and you deserve a proper ritual. We all do.”

“Hot rod: presumes we are to torture him.”

Soundwave was far too intelligent to not see it and he didn’t really care for it being broadcast so soon. The sooner the better.

“It’d be nice if it’s s quick. Or I’m at least unconscious. so long as it’s not interface, I won’t fight however you choose to end me.”

And he meant it.

Anything was better than that.

“We are not here because we wish to torture or force you. We are here because we want this war to end and we want to have you.”

“Hot rod: admirable, self-less most situations, caring, loving, carrier at spark and understanding. Future: bright. We: would like to be apart of that future. Side: with you.”

“This is old fashioned but it has worked. The war has ended. Both sides have freedom and peace once again. Our bonding can come at any time when you’re ready but the deal has been made.”

“Stipulation: if not returning emotions in fifty years, peace treaty holds.”

“And you are free to go.”

“Fifty years…my creator picked fifty years..”

“That was our stipulation. As decepticons we hold laws too, contrary to autobot beliefs.”

The anger and hurt in his field was lashing and the two took steps back at the recoil as Hot rod stood there seething with betrayal and rage that fueled his optics to almost leak.

The two could spew what they wanted. He didn’t believe they truly wanted his spark for a nano klik. He rather choose interface and get on with his life than ever subject his spark to another. Let alone the two of them.

He must’ve stood there longer than he realized because when they came to touch him he backed away into a fighting stance. More wild and like his days living on Nyons streets long before his creator returned for him.

Another sign this was his fate.

“Stay the frag away from me,” wild, instinctual, venomous and completely different than what they’ve ever heard or seen of him. Considering Soundwave has hacked cameras and they’ve constantly watched footage of him, they knew.

They weren’t scrap for brains.

They knew things would take time.

A lot of time.

And yet, they still weren’t prepared for it to hurt this much.

Even still, they would bare their own suffering as Hot rod bared his.

For they would have his spark floating besides theirs before fifty years were up.

If not.

They would have to let him go.

And that was something neither could fathom.

—

Please idk if i could do a part two lol

[ghostofskywalker]

Where You’re Meant To Be - 3

Will Turner/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,836

Summary: After being taken prisoner aboard the Flying Dutchman, you resent the men who have accepted your soul as repayment of another’s debt, especially the Captain. It doesn’t matter one bit that he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, not at all.

Flower and Meaning: frangipani || the strength to withstand tough challenges

Chapters: one || two || three || four

Note: part three of my august work for the @yearofcreation2023​! i decided to post the last two chapters of the fic together, so there’s a link to the fourth chapter at the end of this one :)

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Will Turner Masterlist

After the moment you shared with Will on the deck (where you were interrupted just before your lips had met for the first time), you tried your hardest to return your relationship with him back to a friendly norm. Neither of you said anything about those few charged seconds, and if asked you would certainly deny any passion they may or may not have cultivated, but you couldn't forget that feeling even if you tried.

There was one thing that kept you on this track though, and that was the fact that Will kept true to his promise. Within a few days the Flying Dutchman was approaching the very same port that you had left from, and you would be allowed to return to your normal life. It wasn't the work itself that had you so excited (because if you were honest, it was nice to not have to deal with drunk and rowdy patrons all the time), but just the feeling of returning back home, even if part of you did in fact enjoy the freedom that the open sea offered.

Tortuga was an ugly place, and you could hear the cacophony of drunken men wandering the area when you hadn't even gotten off the boat yet, but you were still more than happy to be home.

It was the middle of the night, so no one else was on the deck as Will readied a small rowboat for you to take to shore. "I hope that one day you will find it in heart to forgive me for keeping you on the Dutchman as long as I have," he said, and you could see him glance wistfully towards the shore. Now, after all that he had told you about himself and his reason for being on this ship, you understood why.

"I have already forgiven you," was your response, a small smile crossing your face. Long gone was the image of him in your mind that appeared the day you were first brought aboard, of the proud and vengeful man who had no heart and the audacity to ruin your life. Now, he was forever ingrained in your conscious as the man who allowed you to sleep in what you had a strong suspicion was the only bed onboard and who you almost kissed in the moonlight while you learned to how to steer a pirate ship.

A matching smile crossed his face at your words, but no more words were exchanged before you were rowing your way back to shore. When you were being brought towards it all that time ago, the Flying Dutchman was a terrifying vessel, looming over other boats in the port and constantly shrouded in its own inexplicable mist, but now it seemed so much friendlier, so much smaller than it actually was. Maybe it was the fact that you were no longer a prisoner, maybe it was your attraction to the captain. But you did know one thing for sure; you were getting closer and closer to dry land, and that was an exciting thought.

You liked to imagine that Will was watching you as you moved to shore, keeping track of the boat until you were nothing but a speck on the beach. You watched from the sand as the Dutchman sailed towards the horizon, eventually disappearing completely from your view as it fell back below the waves.

Your home was thankfully exactly as you had left it, and you threw yourself onto your bed with a sigh of joy. You would inevitably have to explain your sudden disappearance to the people in your life, which at present included only your employer. There wasn't really anyone else, as the bright and happy feeling of hope you felt towards the man who you had once loved had shriveled and turned to dust the moment you realized the way he had tried to stave off his inevitable damnation by offering you up as a sacrificial lamb. But you supposed that the joke was indeed on him, because he did not yet know what (and who) was coming for him, and for a moment or two you allowed yourself to take joy in his imminent doom.

***

Days were different now, in a way that you couldn't quite explain. To any outsider, your routines before and after your short stint on the ocean were exactly the same, but there was something about your life now that felt dull and boring. Even the chaos of the saloon wasn't good enough to satisfy your newfound desire for excitement and adventure, and you spent every waking moment trying to make sense of things.

After tossing and turning for nights on end, you found yourself getting out of bed and stepping outside to stare up at the stars. Your surroundings were much louder this time, and you could hear the repugnant sound of someone throwing up on the street just two doors down, but you looked upward and tried to forget where you were.

The realization hit you moments later, as you stared up at what seemed like the very same sky that you had observed while stuck on the Flying Dutchman, as you tried to remove the restraints from your wrists and escape what you now know to be the very place you wanted to return to more than anything else.

But of course, you had no idea how to find the ship again, and you certainly had no idea what you would say to the crew if you ever did set foot on the deck. Honestly, you had no idea how to articulate that desire to yourself, let alone anyone else.

Deep down, you knew the true reason for this sudden ache: but you ignored the image of Will's smile that flashed through your mind and instead focused on the feeling of elation you had felt when on the ocean. The feeling of the ocean winds on your face was not difficult to get lost in, but it was a only part of the equation.

Still, you had made your decision.

Over the next few days, you became much more interested in the tales of the various pirates that came through the establishment, encouraging them to tell you their stories about traveling the open ocean. And under the guise of curiosity, you always asked the same question. "Did you see any other pirate ships while you were out sailing?"

Your results, while numerous, were decidedly inconclusive. Pirates were notorious for embellishing their stories, and it was more than likely that many of them were considerably inebriated for the majority of their voyages. A few whispers crossed your ears about curses and myths on the high seas, but there was nothing you could reliably say was evidence of the Flying Dutchman.

Until one pirate seemed to see through your line of questioning, asking you to sit down as you passed by to hand him a second bottle of rum. "Why do you really want to know about other ships?" he asked. "Looking for one in particular, are we?"

He had the look of someone who had traveled the seas for a good amount of time, with hair that seemed somewhere between well-kept and unruly and eyes that seemed to constantly be looking for a way out of the situation, just in case anything went wrong. "Maybe I am," you said, not wanting to give up your life story to this man you didn't know just yet. "Why, do you know something?"

"Wouldn't know if I did unless you told me what you were looking for, dearie."

You paused, wondering what you should say. The worst case scenario here was that you ended up prisoner on yet another pirate ship because you stupidly thought he was going to help you find Will again. But the tantalizing idea of this man actually staying true to his word and helping you find the ship you wanted was simply something that you really couldn't resist.

Against your better judgment, you decided to risk it. "I'm looking for the Flying Dutchman. Does that ring a bell?"

Immediately, the man's smile dropped. "Why on earth do you want to find that? Usually that's one people don't want to be anywhere near."

"I need to bring a message." Short, sweet, and kind of true, you supposed that was better than 'I'm in love with the captain.'

"To who?"

You scoffed. "I don't see how that's any of your business, especially given that I don't even know your name."

"It's Jack Sparrow missy, and don't you forget it," he said, and you just rolled your eyes in response. "Now, why are you looking for that ghost ship?"

"I already told you," you said shortly. "Now, can you help me find it or not, because I don't take kindly to people wasting my time."

"Give me a moment, I'm still deciding. What's in this for me?"

You paused, trying to think of something that wouldn't mean much to you but might convince this strange man to help you. Finally, you had a proposition. "Two bottles of rum."

"Deal."

You didn't have much to pack, so it wasn't long before you were on the boat with Jack Sparrow and his crew, who were all friendly, if not a little weathered. You were standing on the upper deck of the ship with Jack at the wheel, looking out at the open ocean as it gleamed in the daylight.

"Hold this," Jack instructed, handing you a compass. Confused, took the small object from him, watching as the arrow spun in circles a few times before finally settling on a direction. Jack seemed to know what to do from there.

"Can I steer the ship for a while?" you asked.

"Have you ever steered a ship before?"

"Yes." Okay, maybe you were embellishing a little, but it was technically true.

Jack looked at you like you had suddenly grown a second head. "And where would someone like you have learned to steer a big old boat like this?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. "Will showed me how."

But much to you confusion, the pirate didn't ask who you were talking about. Instead, he nodded as a look of understanding crossed his face. "Ah. So that's why you're so desperate to find the Dutchman."

At this point, it was no use trying to deny anything. "You know him?"

"I traveled with him for a bit, before he was cursed obviously. Personally I think you could do better, but I suppose to each their own."

Taking the second half of his comment with a grain of salt, you felt a glimmer of hope that you might actually be able to find the ship, if Jack did truly know Will Turner. You knew that you would eventually be able to find the answer to your question (and hopefully the ship that you sought), but in the mean time, you would just have to be patient.

- end of part three -

if you want to know when i post a new fic, follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library​ :)

read the next (and final) chapter here!

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Welcome aboard

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me...

Ugh I'm sorry if this one's bad, I tried :(

Warning(s): fem reader, poisoning, possessiveness from all three boys

Ghost pirates; a problem all merfolk have to deal with. While most ghost pirates have been dead so long they've made peace with the merfolk- some are even quite friendly- there are certain crews that refuse to give up their life of piracy.

You enjoy hanging around sunken ships, as you've always found human construction, specifically human construction from many many years ago, interesting. The way they constructed their vessels to overcome the harsh conditions of the sea... the intricate details carved into the wood... how ever so interesting their weapons were...

You didn't know that those intricate details carved into the wood would be the last thing you'd see while alive.

You were doing as normal, swimming around, investigating shipwrecks... and suddenly, you were caught in some kind of net. Oh, but that's fine... merfolk get caught in fishing nets surprisingly often, they're usually let back into the sea with a "Sorry for the inconvinience!"

However, that was not the case today. There were two people you saw, both wearing outfits reminicent of the pirates of the olden days, covered in coral and barnacles, as if they had been underwater for years. The shorter one was a dirty blonde with blue eyes, and the taller one had white hair and yellow eyes.

"Well, would you look at that?" The dirty blonde one said. "An honest-to-goodness mermaid! I bet her scales would sell for a good price."

"What do you think we should do with her, Ruggie?" The white-haired one asked.

"Take her aboard, of course! Whatever we end up doin' to her, she'll be quite useful to us." Ruggie responded. "Oi! Someone get the captain!" He yelled to the rest of the crew. "Leona's gonna want to see this~"

You were terrified. You'd heard stories of this... back in the days of pirates, if they happened upon a mermaid, it was almost certain they'd take her aboard and cut her apart and sell her scales...

Are you going to die...?

"This had better be good." Someone grumbled. He seemed to be the captain Ruggie yelled about earlier, he was wearing an eyepatch and had a scar underneath it.

"Check it out Leona, we've got ourselves a mermaid!" Ruggie said, showing you off. The captain, Leona, gave you a once-over.

"Throw it back."

"What?! Look at her! Don't you realize how-"

"Money doesn't matter to us anymore. Nothing does. I said, throw it back."

"Y-yes! Please listen to him!" You pleaded. "Please, I-I don't want to die yet!" You were crying. You were so scared that you didn't care how they viewed you- you just wanted to get out of this situation. Though, Leona's opinion of you changed when he saw you cry and plead to be let go.

"On second thought... bring her aboard. Don't de-scale 'er just yet though." Leona said, drawing his cutlass and pointing it at you. "Welcome aboard the Savannah's Claw, mermaid~"

Days go by.

Days of sitting in a wooden tub of water beneath the ship's deck, constanly fearing for your life.

You were forced to get to know the crew as the days went on. Three moreso than the others; Ruggie, Jack, and their captain, Leona.

Ruggie would tell you tales from when he was alive. He'd talk about how much money he and the crew would steal from other ships, all the pillaging he did, how he got into piracy, the thing's he'd seen, the mutiny and marooning he organized with Leona(which was aparently how Leona became captain)... he'd stroke your tail and tell you how much money he'd get from selling it if he were still alive.

Jack was the nicest. At night, he'll bring you above deck and allow you to observe the sea. Jack was the one who brought you food and even alcohol occasionally. But it's not because he likes you or anything! It's just common courtesy to allow the living to stay alive, you know??

Leona... Leona would tell you how much he wanted to touch you. Yes, he could touch you as a ghost, but he wasn't able to feel you. Leona told you that if you were alive when he was, he would've made you his wife. He scared you. Much like Ruggie, he'd tell you about all the acts of piracy he did in life... he told you how in life, he'd never once taken 'one of your kind' to sell, and how you're the first mermaid he's ever taken aboard the ship. You found it hard to believe him, though...

If you'd really listened to what the three of them were telling you, you would've known what was going to happen to you.

Last night, Jack gave you something.

You drank it without question. It was in a regular bottle, and tasted normal, it didn't smell weird... there was no reason for you to believe anything was wrong with it.

You woke up to someone pulling your hair.

"Hey, mermaid, you awake yet?" A voice you immediately recognized to be Leona asked.

"O-ow-! Well now I am..."

"Ooh, it feels nice. It's been a long time since I've felt a mermaid's scales!" Ruggie said, stroking your tail as he's done before. but that was when you noticed something was wrong.

"Wait... why can I feel you touching me...?" You asked. Since the trio were ghosts, you could never feel them touching you- and vice versa, they can't typically feel your body when they touch you.

"Oh, you noticed?" Ruggie asked.

"You're dead, mermaid." Leona told you, smirking.

You sat there in shock and silence for a moment. You're dead? No, that can't be!

"Yeah, I uh... sorry for poisoning you." Jack apologized. "It's just... I'd like if you could be a part of our crew forever, you know? I thought if you became a ghost like the rest of us..." Jack quieted down, sounding almost embarrassed or nervous about killing you?

"I'm glad you did it." Leona said. "Now she can be mine, forever."

"Woah woah woah, Leona, I understand you're the captain, but you're crazy if you think she's just for you." Ruggie shot an angry glare to Leona. "She's for me, understand?!"

"If we're really talking about who's she is, I'm the one who poisoned her, so logically she should be mine!" Jack interjected, pointing to himself.

...how are you supposed to accept this?

[medlilove]

So, I have been playing with an au/oc with ToS and hired a Botanist character. But somehow I have extebnded a few bullet points that explain why Bones was last to meet him on the ship to like, a massive, rather mundane fic that has given me the chance to explore how the different characters interact with each other. All before the Botanist even shows up, in fact, I keepo adding things to put it off.

The scene was initial made to be a rather uneventful first interaction. But it just got longer and longer

and longer

The Botanist Part One 🌱🌱🌱

Bones' thoughts on The Botany Department weren't great. They didn't really do anything. Yes, it could be argued that his general disconnect from the department stemmed from his distaste for Dr. Daniel Yvonne, who was a very uninspired man. Here he was, exploring a strange new world every month or so, full of life completely unknown to science, and what did he do? The bare minimum needed to submit the paperwork. McCoy felt that the man would be just as inspired working in the basement of an Earthside insurance office, opening mail.

McCoy couldn't understand why someone would take on such an incredible role as that on the USS Enterprise, and do so little with it. He often complained loudly to Kirk in confidence that the department's resources were being wasted and the man should be kicked out. 

There was so much out there, yet Yvonne was just ticking boxes. Sending his poor team out to the planets to collect minimal samples while he remained in his lab. The situation was exacerbated by the fact that the lab and medical spaces shared the same deck on the Enterprise, and often crossed paths. 

Although McCoy and Chapel snarked and sniped at each other on a regular basis, often alarming new patients, they had the same care and ambitions and had more in common than not, especially regarding Dr. Yvonne. Nurse Christine Chapel was another crew member who McCoy could mutter openly over his dislike of how Botany was run. One of the few things they agreed on in fact. Chapel hated how cold and unsocial he was to his team, whom she had grown to know quite well.

It, therefore, came as quite a surprise to everyone when Dr. Yvonne had a complete mental breakdown one morning after a particularly dangerous planetary expedition, in which one of his team, Sacha, was nearly eaten by a giant carnivorous cactus. He broke all the glass in his lab, spreading all sorts of spores and seeds everywhere, and tried to jump out a (very sealed) window. Chapell got to him first and sedated him, a little too enthusiastically, not that Bones would have done it any differently. McCoy had a suspicion that it wasn’t so much Sacha’s wellbeing he was worried about, but the sudden disruption of standard protocol and additional paperwork. 

And thus, Dr. Daniel Yvonne was sent Earthside on the next available shuttle, looking rather glassy eyed and sweaty. That, of course, left the Enterprise needing a new Head of Botany, and with Sacha recovering from the cactus attack, and the only other member of the Botany Department being Edwin, who was only 22, they asked the Federation to assign a new member.

There was a planet a few days away that had a research station on it. Dr. Alfred Nahdi accepted a temporary replacement role on the Enterprise, and would be with them for around six months.

He was brought aboard three weeks after Dr. Yvonne's departure. The federation had assigned him with the go ahead from the Captain. Therefore no one really knew much about him.

McCoy wasn’t available to be at the customary meeting party in the transporter room when Dr Nahdi beamed on board. Turns out, just an hour before the new botanist was set to beam on board, one of Scotty’s engineers, Phoebe Carrilin, had fallen three flights while in the engine room, broken her neck and landed on her head. While not technically life threatening in that day and age, Dr. McCoy needed to take particular care putting her back together, due to the intricacies of the spine and the severe swelling that she had suffered. 

Kirk had explained McCoys absence when showing Nahdi around and to his labs. Some medical emergency that Alfred would rather not know the details of, he was a little more squeamish than he’d care to admit. As they exited the elevator and walked down the wide corridors of the primary science level of the enterprise, Nahdi noticed that the Medical Space was completely sealed off. Made sense, if some major surgery was taking place. The automatic doors didn't respond to them passing by. There was a strip of red light along the borders of it, that Nahdi recognised as an indication to only disturb for serious medical emergencies.  He wondered what kind of man was behind that door. 

He had arrived late in the afternoon, so the senior management meeting, to introduce him to who and what everyone did, would be, thankfully, scheduled for the next day. 

After settling into his quarters, Nahdi wandered back to his lab to spend a bit more time poking around and seeing what, if anything Dr Yvonne had left. The science floors appeared to be dead quiet this time of night. Almost everyone was off duty, and unlike engineering, rarely needed staff on rota 24hrs. He was enjoying the quiet hum of his new home. He walked up and down the isles of planters, vessels and canisters. The lights were kept low, and a fine mist filled the space. Making it humid, yet very comforting. The Enterprise had amazing resources, but he noticed that the lab was not fully utilised. There was so much potential. He couldn’t wait to get started.

He lingered for a while just inside the door, analysing the large screens displaying complex calendars and rotas, learning the names of his team. Sacha, Edwin, and Evangeline….just three? Doing some quick maths on the rota, they must be on at least 50 hours a week each, surely that’s not right? He felt a pang that was simultaneously sympathy and pride. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts at the distinct sound of a door opening a little distance away.  He heard a man and women talking softly in the corridor. He couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but the tone was familiar, friendly, yet serious in tone. The woman’s voice seemed reassuring and the man’s tired and almost annoyed. He said something then, while giving out a small laugh of exasperation which made the women give out one small laugh then say something indicating instruction. Nahdi didn’t move, suddenly feeling very self conscious about potentially intruding on something personal. Mortified at the idea of them suddenly spotting this rather tall and broad man they had never seen before standing randomly in a door that was half glass, therefore fairly visible. That would make quite an awkward first impression.

He couldn’t help himself, Nahdi moved his head very slightly and glanced down the corridor.  Just in time to see a blond Nurse turn back into the medical lab, and just caught a figure of a man in the science blue, closing the elevator door at the end of the corridor. His face was hidden by his palm rubbing his eyes as his other hand absentmindedly pushed the elevator button a few times. All Alfred could determine was that he seemed a little skinny, shorter than he (though most people are) and potentially around his age. That was the CMO, he’d bet money on it.

Nahdi thought that the man might have squinted up and seen him in the last blink of the moment, but he couldn’t be sure. 

The surgery had lasted five hours and Carrilin would be on her feet the next afternoon. 

It was around 20:00 when he was finally done. McCoy swapped out with Chapel and went straight to bed without eating, having just enough energy to pull off his uniform. His dreams swam with intricate, fragile puzzles and a strange tall bearded figure watching him from a glass fronted door.

[amour393]

see after scrolling through the beloved jay walker tag I'm now thinking of the bad!skybound ending where nadakhan wins and everything is terrible, in which

Instead of the whole "I wish this never happened" shtick, jay wishes for nya to be healed. he can't risk losing her

Naturally, though nya is healed, nadakhan twists it so it doesn't lift the delaara curse

Nadakhan takes over and fixes up djinnjago to be his palace and stuff, fixing the ninja as his centerpieces

I feel like he wouldn't kill jay though

At first, he wants to

Wants delaara to kill him

Wants him to watch as it's nya's hands, but not her eyes that finally end him

But then he decides against it

Jay has caused so much trouble for him, caused the destruction of his realm, the betrayal of his crew- death would be far too merciful, he decides

I think he would reinstate jay to his status when he was prisoner aboard the misfortune's keep, except I think nadakhan would make him serve delaara

At first jay isn't too extremely opposed, at least initially

At least he still gets to be around nya, he figures

Maybe he can save her, remind her of who she really is

he soon learns it's far worse being around her when its not her, when shes nothing but a shell, than it ever could be without her

Delaara is cruel- I mean, she likes nadakhan, she has to be, and she knows how to hurt jay

The third time he tries to save nya, to remind her of who she is, she plays along, and when he finds out it was all fake, losing that hope hurts worse than he ever thought it could

Jay only tried to escape once, and when he failed, nadkhan brought Ed and Edna before jay and turned them into statues

Guys that was not in the original plan this just gets more and more depressing

one day there was a rescue mission launched to save jay

It's a combination of the elemental masters, old friends and allies-

It fails miserably, and nadakhan turns them into statues before Jay's eyes

Jay likes to pride himself on optimism, but that's the day he lost the last of his hope

He stopped hoping people would save him- he couldn't take seeing anyone else he knew frozen before his eyes

Eventually he starts to think he deserves it all

It's his fault anyway, right? He made the first wishes. He kept the secrets. He couldn't save nya then and he certainly can't now

So eventually Jay's resigned. This is his life until nadakhan and delaara get bored of him and finally put him out of his misery

Ok ok so I have this headcanon/theory that delaara possessing nya is exactly that- a possession. It looks exactly like when bansha briefly possesses misako in grave danger- and I feel like it's the same thing

One day jay trips (because he's exhausted and overworked and broken) and he spills water all over delaara

It's not enough to fully break the curse, but it's enough that the green eyes flicker and when jay looks at delaara it's nya who looks back, her eyes warm and brown and scared, he's never seen her this terrified

She manages to unlock his chains and choke out a gasping "run, jay, please run, I cant- I can't- jay, help-"

Not to make this feel like a fic but GUYS I CAN FEEL IT I CAN FEEL THE-

She hissed, recoiling at the water, Jay already gasping his apology, daring to glance up at her-

But it's not Delaara. It's not. He knows those eyes, he does, FSM, he thought he'd never see them again but-

"Jay," she shudders out, Nya shudders out, falling to her knees and wrestling Delaara's keys into the vengestone locks. "Jay, run, please, I-" she gasped, fingers curling in against the wooden floor. "I can't- she's too strong, Jay, I can't-"

Running is the last thing on his mind, as he rushes forward and he grasps her hands and tears burn his eyes and her lifts her head but she pushes him away because "I can't stop her, Jay, get away from me, you need to go, please run, RUN-"

He falls back and Nadakhan appears as Delaara wrestles back into control

Anyway anyway ANYWAY WHAT IM SAYING is that now he can't leave. He can't even try. Nya is in there somewhere and he can't leave her. He can't

The scarse times that Jay gets water are now only when he's far away from delaara

And this is all a prison for nya too because she's locked in her own head, watching as Jay- sweet, dorky, anxious wreck with a sharp tongue and a heart bigger than she's ever seen Jay- is forced to live in absolute misery, as he's hurt, as he's cut off from his power, as he watches his loved ones fade and fall one by one, as he looks up at her with so much hurt

They're sixteen. Sixteen

Anyway. I don't know how this ends its too sad to think about. Yeah

Give jay a hug

Sorry?

[respectthepetty]

I will never speak of this or acknowledge its existence

Phee had exactly one picture of Tan.

And if Tan knew it existed, he would have burned it.

Phee had lost count of the pictures he had with the other boys. They had taken so many in the time they had known each other. They were always smiling with their arms around each other. Some pictures he had taken. Others were Jin’s doing.

But not one of those pictures included Tan.

None of the other boys directly asked Tan why he wasn’t in the pictures. Honestly, Phee didn’t think most of them even realized that Tan wasn’t in them or maybe they thought Tan was self-conscious. He came across as timid because that’s how he wanted them to see him. Phee knew Tan was confident and assertive, but these boys couldn’t know that. Either way, Tan strangely never seemed to be around when they took pictures.

Phee thought it was because Tan didn’t want to be spotted in a photo by someone who knew him as New. He asked Tan about it that night, but Tan quickly dismissed the claim. He was high, which began happening more frequently than Phee cared to acknowledge, but Tan said more when he was high. Information would never flow from Tan regardless of how high he was, but he wouldn’t just stare at Phee like he normally did when he was sober. So that night, Tan responded that he had no friends to remember him as New. He said it like it was a common fact. He had spent so much time studying to get a scholarship that he never had time to make friends. Then, when he was abroad, he spent so much time studying to maintain the scholarship that he never made friends.

Phee was in Tan’s room as Tan was tearing through the cookies Phee had brought over on account of Tan being high. The last time they had smoked, Tan had described these soft chocolate and orange cookies he used to eat when he was abroad, which made Phee’s stomach rumble since Tan spoke of them with a warmth Phee hadn’t expected Tan possible of possessing for food. Phee had ordered them the same day Tan spoke of them and decided today was the day to deliver them. They were different than he thought they’d be.

But so was Tan.

Tan had given Phee a key to his room a few months ago, so he had let himself in while Tan was working at his desk. He didn’t know why Tan had given him the key, but when Tan handed it to him one random Tuesday after school, he simply said, “Just in case,” as if that was enough explanation. Phee guessed it was because he was at Tan’s a lot, planning and thinking. Tan never went to Phee’s house, no matter how many times Phee invited him. And he never gave a reason. Most of the time, he didn’t even give an answer. Whenever Phee would ask him over, Tan would simply look at Phee in a way that made Phee embarrassed for asking, as if Tan was silently reminding Phee that they weren’t the type of friends who hung out at each other’s houses just for fun. As if Tan was reminding Phee that they weren’t friends. Yet it didn’t deter Phee from asking again, and again, and again. He liked to believe that one day, Tan would actually accept. The invite? His friendship? Him.

Phee was high.

So was Tan who was quietly enjoying the bizarre cookies and busy rewriting notes on some subject he already knew everything about. Phee’s mind was left to wander until Tan remembered that Phee was in the room with him. This happened so often that usually, Phee would text the guys in the group chat which Tan never responded to, or watch a video on his phone about stuff Tan didn’t care about. But that night, after Tan confessed to never having friends, Phee sat in his chair next to Tan and examined the space he had sat in so many times before. Posters of the human body and chemical formulas decorated the walls. Tan’s desk was covered with containers and assorted models. When Phee's eyes roamed back to Tan for a moment, Phee briefly thought this must have been who he was aboard. Tan, sitting there with his cookies and his notes, offered a glimpse of New’s world. Phee quickly continued his silent observation of Tan’s room in hopes of finding more artifacts of New.

He noticed the only pictures in the room were attached to the board Tan used to pin his notes of the boys which he glared at when he was planning and thinking. Beyond the few items Phee had spotted, there was nothing else in the room that showed who New was. Then again, New no longer existed, and Tan was busy eating cookies and rewriting notes.  

When Phee finally reacted to Tan’s statement about not having friends (much too late for it to matter, but time was never of importance in Tan’s room), it was merely in his head.

Tan is Non’s brother.

It felt so obvious. He had known this, but as he sat there, the realization rolled over him as if he was confronting the truth for the first time.

Phee’s room said something about him. It had clothes thrown everywhere. It had pictures of his family. It had little items that showed his interests. Jin’s room said something about him. It had pictures of the guys. It had posters on the wall of movies he loved. It had little figurines on his shelves. Just like Non’s room.

And, ironically, that’s why Phee had made the connection in this room devoid of time and apparently devoid of Tan.

He hadn’t realized Tan had dozed off at his desk curled over his notes, but as soon as Non popped into Phee’s head, he had been so consumed by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed anything else. Phee had made the comparison before he could stop where it was heading. This happened each time Non slipped into his thoughts, which was too often . . .

because Tan is Non’s brother.

Phee tried to shake the thought out of his head, but that made all his other thoughts emerge from their watery depths causing him more confusion. He wanted to turn off his brain because he knew where this was going. He was high, but he hadn’t realized just how much until all those thoughts called to him in hopes of dragging him underwater.

Yet Tan was sleeping peacefully at his desk.

Just like Non would.

Non and Tan were both smart, but Phee had picked up on other little things Tan did that reminded him of Non. Non got lost in his work as easily as Tan did. Tan was as passionate and stubborn about his work as Non was. Non’s face gave his feelings away often, and surprisingly, so did Tan’s. They were small facial changes, but Phee always noticed them. Just like he noticed that both boys rarely smiled, but when they did, it was a look of pure joy. Like when Tan was eating these weird orange cookies.

And they both kept their secrets.

“He had an apple,” Phee whispered to Tan.

That was it. That was his response to Tan’s earlier confession about having no friends, but it wasn’t loud enough to even stir Tan from his hazy slumber. He should have felt guilt for almost waking Tan up. He should have felt sadness for thinking of Non in that moment. But instead, he felt exposed.  

Because Tan is Non’s brother.

Non didn’t have a picture of Tan in his room. Or on his phone. Non didn’t have pictures of his parents either, so Phee wasn’t surprised Non didn’t have a picture of him, not really at least. Non had a picture of Phee looking out at the water with him, but nobody would know that was Phee.

But Non had a picture of the boys.  

And he had an apple.

They had eaten an apple the day Phee gave Non the red bracelet. Phee asked Non to be his boyfriend, yet Non hadn’t answered him. Phee kept asking again, and again, and again until one day, Non finally accepted. And when Phee went to apologize to Non at his house, he found a shattered picture of the boys instead. He knew of them, and he hated them. Then, he saw the picture of the apple, and his hate shifted inward where it had nested and expanded. He thought about it often. He wrestled with it. Non didn’t have a picture of him, but he had a picture of those boys. Phee knew those boys, but none of those boys knew Phee. How would they? Non didn’t even have a picture of Phee. No. Non had their picture.

And he had a picture of an apple.

That meant something. That’s what Phee had to remind himself. It meant something.

Non had a picture of those boys

and an apple.

It was Non’s secret.

After Non disappeared, his room remained frozen, devoid of time, telling the story again, and again, and again. Non didn’t have friends; he had secrets.

Phee was Non’s secret.

And here Phee was again, a secret. Tan’s secret.

Tan had no friends. He said it with such ease. The boys with their pictures plastered on the board weren’t Tan’s friends. Those boys weren’t Non’s either, yet both brothers had their pictures.

But not Phee’s.

The guys thought Phee and Tan were hiding a secret. They thought Phee and Tan were sleeping together. They constantly questioned Phee and Tan’s closeness. They joked that Phee and Tan were lying. Jin accused Phee of hooking up with Tan since they were never invited to Tan’s. But every time, Phee reminded them all that there was no big secret. Phee was Tan’s friend. Nothing more. They were just friends.

And he believed that. They were the only two who had loved Non. They were there for each other. They were connected by their loss.

But Phee wasn’t Tan’s friend. Tan didn’t have friends. He had made that clear. Tan was like Non. They didn’t have friends. They had secrets.

And Phee was one.

Everyone had secrets. Tan and Phee were in this situation because of everyone else’s secrets. That’s why Tan couldn’t tell anyone who Phee was. He couldn’t tell this group of boys that Phee was the reason the charges on Non were dropped. Tan couldn’t tell them how he knew Phee. Tan couldn’t tell them who Phee was, not to Non, and not to him.

Phee could walk away from all of this. Tan had told him that from the very beginning when Tan had come up with this plan. When Tan had said that Phee could leave whenever, Phee believed it was Tan’s way of trying to keep him out of danger, which is why they had to keep quiet, but now he knows better. Tan's admission that he doesn’t have friends brought Phee clarity.

Because he is nothing to Tan except a secret. Tan doesn’t need Phee, and if Phee decided to leave, Tan wouldn’t lose anything. Tan made sure of that. Tan planned for that.

There was a time when Phee truly believed that if told Tan how he felt, he would be free. Not only of these feelings, but also the anger he felt. He knew he could leave Tan, but that would only rid him of Tan, not these feelings. He was never naïve enough to believe Tan needed him, but he thought Tan at least cared about him, and that belief is why he didn’t confess to Tan. He knew Tan would be so disgusted by Phee’s feelings that he would see it as a betrayal . . . to their plan? To Non? Why would Tan see it as anything else when Tan only saw Phee as a secret to be used for that fucking plan?

Because Tan is Non’s brother!

Phee had felt this way for longer than he was comfortable admitting. At first, Phee dismissed his feelings. He ignored them because he knew his feelings weren’t about Non and that made him feel guilty. That’s why he tried to not think about Non, but that was the root of these feelings.

Because Tan is Non’s brother.

And it started with all those little things that Tan did to remind him of Non. It was the simplest answer. The only reason Phee felt the way he did about Tan was because Tan reminded him of Non, and Phee had loved Non. He loved the way Non got so lost in his work that Phee had to remind him to take his meds. He loved the way Non was so passionate about his projects that he wanted to finish them no matter how much effort he had to put in. He loved making Non smile, and he loved that he could see Non’s emotions on his face, even when he knew Non was lying to him.

And these were all the things he loved about Tan.

He loved that he knew how Tan felt because it was written on Tan’s face. That’s why he wore Jin’s uniform to school. He wanted to see how Tan felt. He easily admitted that he had sex with Jin, but he didn’t tell Tan how he was so angry at Jin that he couldn’t even look at his face. Phee let Tan believe whatever he wanted just so he could see the raw emotion on Tan’s face, but when the emotion finally showed on Tan’s face, Phee had to look away. Tan’s expression was one of disgust, but not for Tan himself. Tan was questioning Phee’s loyalty, to their plan, to Non.

Because Tan is Non’s brother.

Tan never thought of himself. Tan had been so lost in planning and thinking that he didn’t even remember his birthday. His real one, not the one he put down on the forged documents to get into school. But Phee remembered it. The first time, Tan’s parent had sent him a message and some money still believing he was abroad which served as a brief reminder that Tan once had a life of his own. Tan didn’t celebrate even after the message came through. He immediately shot off a response to them and kept working on his notes, but Phee mentally noted that day. So here Phee sat a year later, with these damn chocolate and orange cookies that he ordered specifically for New’s birthday restraining himself from caressing New’s hair as he slept.

He wanted to keep New safe. He wanted to protect him. He wanted to save him.

Just like he had wanted to save Non.

But he knew none of that was possible because New is Non’s brother.

New was going to follow through with this plan no matter what happened to him because New is Non’s brother, and they don’t know when to stop until it’s too late. Non wouldn’t let Phee help him. He kept his secrets. And New was the same. Phee couldn’t protect Non, and he knew he couldn’t protect New. Phee failed Non, and he couldn’t keep New safe, not from these boys, and not from himself.

So instead, Phee took his picture.

He had brought his camera in hopes of taking a birthday photo of New with his dumb cookies, but once Phee realized New had forgotten his birthday, Phee kept the camera in his bag. In hopes of fighting the reckless urge to stroke New’s relaxed face, Phee quickly grabbed the camera from his bag and awkwardly took a picture. Phee didn’t even inspect the photo. He had already begun placing the camera back into his bag when he realized a partially eaten cookie was next to New’s hand, which meant it would likely be in the picture. The bite New had taken out of it revealed the orange jelly inside, and it gave the cookie the appearance of a gemstone beckoning Phee to hold it. Phee knew he should leave it where it was, but the idea of sharing this gem with New forced him to move, so he carefully grabbed the cookie with his other hand as to not disturb Tan and placed it in his mouth.

The cookie was just as strange as it was when he had eaten the others. The textures were conflicting. The cookie was soft. The chocolate was hard. Yet the orange, the orange . . .

Would be the feel of New’s lips. It would be the taste of New’s mouth. It would be the scent lingering on New’s breath.

Phee immediately shoved the camera back into the bag and turned to leave. New didn’t even budge. For a moment, Phee hesitated at the door. He wanted to move New to the bed like he done countless other times, but Phee knew if he got New into the bed, the weight of New’s body mixed with Phee’s current state would drag him down into that bed with him and all his drowning desires.  

So he opened the door and left New behind.

---

He wasn’t sure when sleep finally came to him that night, but when it did, it brought Non and his red bracelet. They were by the water in their spot with a small bag of apples settled next to them on the blanket they had spread out. Phee’s head was resting in Non’s lap. Phee looked at Non’s hand which was gently placed on his chest, and admired the red bracelet that adorned his wrist. When Phee went to intertwine their hands, Non playfully avoided the gesture by grabbing an orange cookie from the spot where the apples had previously been mere seconds ago. When Phee looked back up to Non’s face, New looked back at him in the red shirt he had on the first day they met, offering him a bite of the cookie.

---

Phee would remember that dream every time he looked at the picture. In his haste to take the picture, it was slightly blurry, but he still foolishly printed a copy of it and hid it in a book in his room because he wanted something tangible. He wanted something to hold. He could’ve left the picture out. His father never came into his room, and Tan would never come over, so there was no chance he would see it. It was common for the other guys to take photos of each other sleeping after a night of partying. They jokingly shared the photos in the chat. If any of them saw it, they wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Then again, they probably wouldn’t even realize it was Tan.

But this was Phee’s secret to keep.

This was his secret to protect.

This was his to save.

Phee had exactly one picture of New, and if Tan knew it existed, he would have burned it.

Because New was Non’s brother.

But New couldn’t exist.  

So neither could Phee’s love for him