#── like toy soldiers . piers

[knot-ee]

Piers did precisely what he excelled at, minding his own business. Despite being a capable soldier and perhaps because of such, he never liked being the bleeding limb in a crowd, and, frankly, no one had ever paid much attention to him in the past. Perhaps his call sign should have been ghost for the ease in which he blended into situations, though ghost was likely more appropriate for a person who was ruthless and intimidating; Piers did not have those qualities. Shadow was more fitting in truth. Being raised by a quiet, demure house wife and a loud, drill sergeant of a father, he learned at a young age that silence was more powerful than brash words and a egocentric appearance.

In hindsight he should have just purchased a six pack from the local liquor store, yet he was feeling oddly social... even though being social really just meant drinking in silence surrounded by strangers. How did people do it? Laugh so openly and make friends. it was easy for civilians, but even in a bar that primarily served those who served in the armed forces, most of the patrons spoke jovially with their friends. Piers finished his pint, left an all too generous tip on the table, and stepped into the night shinning with early snowflakes.

He didn't even don his jacket properly when the question hit him. It felt like a snowball to the face or an icicle sliding down his back. Who was the person talking to? Eyebrow rose in a high arch to demonstrate his confusion as he looked to the left and to the right; there were only two other people on the sidewalk, a couple walking hand-in-hand. Piers had been called a pretty boy and cute in boot camp. Naturally, it was just a way to antagonize him. He was not the kind of man people openly complimented much less called him cute. He was dumbfounded and had to snap his jaw shut in order not to look like a fish out of water.

“ I, umm, I... Are you serious? ”

Who was this person anyway? Piers looked the stranger @hauntsect up and down but found no familiarity within the features. It really did feel like prank, but Piers wasn't nineteen anymore, and only his teammates knew him in the city. Cute. Cute. The word drilled into his head, and suddenly it wasn't the cold turning his cheeks pink. Nervously, he scratched the back of his head at the brunette hairs, trimmed and up to regulation. He cleared his throat and attempted to look both his age and his standing. He was a soldier, and soldiers should never stumble over their words.

“ ...Sure. I've never had this happen before... ”

[thenihilistofthevoid]

Quickly setting course for the uncharted but thankfully inhabited island as they were guided into the port, the dock has... Marine soldiers? No, there was something wrong with their profile, they were too blocky, made out of wood... Toy soldiers shaped and dressed as Marines, with a key in their back as they stood at attention with their rifles, the others guiding the ship in.

The clockwork marines had surprising dexterity for supposed toys and acted on their own without orders. A man walked up the pier with a large umbrella, big enough for two. He had dark hair, pale skin and wore a forest green velvet frock coat, a white dress shirt with a wingtip collar, loden green high-waist trousers, a floppy battleship grey cravat with a bronze pin, and double breasted waistcoat of silver paisley-brocade with 10 brass buttons as well as black boots. Clearly quite a fancy dresser.

"Please, forgive my little joke. My island isn't affiliated with the Marines in any capacity, the nasty brutes. Let's get you all indoors, I'm sure the hotel has a roaring fire to get you warm and dry in no time, perhaps even some rum to ward off a chill." The young man offered, being a couple years younger than Shanks as he offered his hand to the redheaded captain.

"It's rare that we have any visitors here." He promised, before turning to the human-sized ragdoll with soaked red hair and a blue chequer dress who'd accompanied him like a secretary. "Miruru, make the arrangements. These men are our guests. Wake up the cook." He ordered, a touch imperiously as she bowed. "At once, Toymaker!" She nodded, walking off in a squelchy manner due to soaked stuffing.

Checkmate

(A starter for @n4kama Shanks Muse)

The storm had been getting worse, the waves whipping up to one-hundred feet high as it threatened to capsize the ship. Staying out in these sea was dangerous, as the navigator spotted a small island only a mile away. It might be their best bet as the lighthouse shone upon them from the island, there seemed to be some sort of settlement there. Lightning struck the air and illuminated all in an eerie glow, they appear to have been spotted as swinging torches illuminated a port. It was unmarked on the maps, but it'd be easy to miss something this small. At best, it was 3 miles wide, off the normal shipping lanes and the reason it might not be marked was a former uninhabitated status. Certainly wasn't uninhabited now. "Captain, should we set course?" The Navigator asked Shanks.

[hankwritten]

Disapprobation

Demoman/Soldier, 3k Warnings: Mild Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia

n. Moral disapproval; condemnation. Tavish’s life has a lot of shouldn’ts

Tavish’s life has a lot of shouldn’ts

For instance, he really shouldn’t be risking life and limb to meet up and have drinks with some barmy American he met at a projectile weapons convention. He shouldn’t be breaching contract over a bloke who’s got so many screws loose he could open up a hardware store, shouldn’t be sneaking around when the best case scenario is a few good laughs and the worst case scenario is losing a multi-million dollar salary.

He shouldn’t keep his lunch in the same place he keeps his potassium chloride. He shouldn’t drink so much, but he’s heard that one so many times anyway it’s hard to pay attention to. The voice of self-preservation is constant and buzzing, putting a churning in his gut, reminding him that he could be making friends with folks who aren’t a walking death sentence. He shouldn’t be going out for ribs. He shouldn’t be accepting invites to Las Vegas for the furlough.

He definitely shouldn’t be pressed into the mattress, another man’s tongue in his mouth.

The hotel bed creaks as Jane kisses him harder, and he thinks, oh god he wishes he could just not think. Their bodies are hot pressed against each other, their fancy jackets gone for the evening as they’re down to their undershirts as insubstantial barriers between skin on skin. Jane is heavy on top of him, and he shouldn’t like how that feels, to be held down while he and his best friend suck the air out of each other’s lungs. Jane has each of his wrists pinned to the sheets, and he shouldn’t like that either, how Jane’s taken control, how Tavish is slowly letting himself come undone.

There’s this plop at the loss of suction as Jane lifts his lips off Tavish’s and onto the Demoman’s neck, whisper-hissing, begging, praying, “Tav, Tavish. Oh god Tav.”

It’s slippery where time is now and where it was minutes ago before he was like this, before he was craving Jane's everything. It happened because they were laughing or maybe fighting or maybe…no they just tripped. They tripped and Jane landed on Tavish, and it wasn’t different at first. It just knocked the wind out of him. It wasn’t until Jane was chuckling and trying to push himself up that they had stopped, that they’d locked eyes and Jane’s smile had slowly fallen away, a mask lifted to something underneath. It was hunger, small and fiery at first when Jane’s eyes openly raked Tavish’s body, not disguising the fact as they took in his state of undress since—unlike Jane—Tavish had been successful at getting out of his dress pants. The hunger had grown hotter, burned brighter, a bonfire as someone kept shoveling more on, and Tavish drank in being looked at like a dying man in the desert. He’d never been desired like that, not in his entire life, and when Jane finished his tour of Tavish’s body he couldn’t suppress the hitch in his breath when their eyes finally met again.

He’d swallowed when Jane leaned closer. He’d closed his eye as Jane had pressed that first, tentative kiss against him.

Now his back arches, shoving his stomach up into the human canopy above him. His nipples are hard and he didn’t know they were so damn sensitive until they scrape against the solid plane of Jane’s chest and he whimpers. He shouldn’t be doing that either. He’s a damn mercenary, a Demoman, and he shouldn’t...

“God Tavish,” Jane’s muttering in his mouth in-between rough kisses. “I fucking. I love you. Want you so damn bad.”

And Jane must be a fucking mind reader because those words are a switch in Tavish’s brain. He can’t censor the moan that comes out of him, no matter how weak, how pathetic he sounds as his hips jerk upwards. Jane is moving his arms, and it takes him a second to notice that Jane is taking time to pin down both his hands with one of his own, and his free one now slides down until it can toy with the edge of Tavish’s undershirt.

“Jane…”

It’s the only thing he’s said in ages. He shouldn’t be saying anything at all, let alone confessing what’s coursing through his system, revealing how I want you isn’t quite right but I want you to want me is just so damn conceited. So the only thing he can do is breathe Jane’s name in a plea.

The roaming hand snakes up under his tank, the pretense of attire gone as the too-cold fingers press against unbearably hot flesh. Jane further displays his mind reading powers tweaking Tavish’s nipple with his thumb, clawing out another gurgle from the Demoman.

It’s so dangerously similar now, edging so close to fear, the shouldn’ts piling in his head as his breath increases. He tries to lift his arms and can’t. He tries clear his mind and can’t. He tries to make his voice behave where his body will not, as Jane’s knee begins to move up-

“Jane,” he yelps, only this time he says it in panic as his eye snaps open and he jerks upward. “Shit Jane- shit we need to stop. We’ll- shit.”

Jane freezes. The constriction around Tavish’s wrists lessons, and then disappears entirely and Jane rears back onto his haunches. Tavish wriggles until he’s against the headboard, panting heavily.

“Holy shit,” he coughs.

“You alright Tav?” Jane is looking sideways at him, but not in the way Tavish is expecting. The expression on his face is inscrutable.

“No. No! Of course not, we almost just-” The ghost of Jane’s body is on him, the memory of seconds ago where his hand was so close to Tavish’s waistband. He tries to shake it away. “If I hadn’t said something just now, we would have both crossed some damn lines.”

“Uh. Yeah. Probably.”

Tavish looks up and is bludgeoned upside the head with understanding. He realizes why Jane’s expression is so damn weird: he’s not ashamed. He’s not ashamed in the slightest.

“Jane,” Tavish says cautiously. “You know why we can’t do this, right?”

This when they’re still half-undressed on the bed together, breathless and sweating and the only thing keeping them back is Tavish’s self control. No one else’s. He’s alone at the wheel and Jane’s only refraining out of personal respect, not any sense of how screwed they are.

Jane squints at him. Thinking hard, peering deep into the soul he sometimes claims a RED can’t have, (and at the next drunken moment declaring that if it existed, it would be the purest, bravest soul in the damn world.) “Because you are…no longer in the mood?”

“Because we’re in enough trouble as it is!” Tavish throws up his hands. “Do you know how bloody condemned we are? Already RED and BLU can catch wind of us at any moment, I can’t go into half the places you can in this blasted country, and we want to add shagging each other in our Vegas hotel room to that bloody list?”

Jane’s forehead wrinkles, his features that Tavish has only ever seen go soft in the past few minutes now toughening up again. “Were you not…wanting that?”

“Fuck, Jane of course I wanted it,” the admission falls out too quickly. Too late to grab back and saying it aloud is its own line crossed. Having already failed to keep it packed down, he tries to at least get to his point. “I just shouldn’t.”

Jane stares at him blankly.

“Right. Of course.” Tavish presses the heel of his palm against his forehead. “Look at who I’m talking to here. Man who’s never suppressed an impulsive urge in his life.”

“It is not an impulse Tav.” Jane almost sounds…offended. Or something like it, as though he's irritated he has to make such an obvious correction. “It’s not an impulse if I’ve thought about doing it nearly every day since I’ve met you.”

That desire, that hunger Tavish had seen. He knows Jane has looked at him before, can now recognize it for what it was, those eyes flickering at him sometimes with the smolder beneath. It feels unwarranted. He feels undeserving, that Jane has been fancying him for months, and he diverts, “if that’s what you want, there’s a lot better sheep in the field.”

Jane narrows his eyes. “Gross.”

“Ach it’s an expression-” Tavish huffs. “Look, if men are to your tastes, you can find a hookup that’s a lot less dangerous. You don’t have to lower your standards just because I’m…around.”

“My tastes?” Jane scoffs. “What do you know about my tastes, DeGroot? Every time we go to the pier, you get me the wrong flavor of ice cream—even when I tell you exactly what kind to get.”

“I told you lad, they were out of ro-”

“My tastes,” Jane carries on, “are rocky road and handsome Scotsmen. So you can take that to the bank and sign it.” Jane crosses his arms.

A new, cool feeling runs down Tavish’s spine, the freezer-burn of fluster. “Jane,” he groans, running his hands over his scalp, craning his neck backwards until Jane finally falls out of his vision. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“I don’t understand why it’s can’t be easy. I love you. You, uh…” Jane trails off. “Like me. I think.”

Not since they stopped groping each other has Tavish wanted to touch him this bad, to assure him that he wants what Jane had given him, wants his hands, his mouth, to feel him again-

Tavish lets out a strangled cough, hard minutes of trying to cool off down the drain. Jane notices his state, the dilatation in his eye, and that only adds to his embarrassment. “Ach, please Jane. It’s not that simple. I just need you to listen, just a few minutes.”

“Fine. I will listen. But then you have to listen while I tell you what I think.”

Tavish allows it. He starts, “doing...” He waves his hand, disturbing the humid air between their still cooling bodies. “This, would be risky. More dangerous than anything we’ve ever done.”

“Un. Like. Ly,” Jane scoffs. “We’ve been sneaking around for ages by this point, and we’re damn good at it. Face it maggot, you didn’t want retreat with your tail between your legs until sloppy makeouts came into the picture.”

Tavish folds his arms. “I was thinking about it before then too. That we should break it off.”

“Ah bub bub bub!” Jane points out gleefully.

“It’s ‘bup bup bup’.”

“Quiet. You thought about it, but you didn’t actually do anything. So what is it Tavish? What’s the difference between then and now?”

An awkward silence hangs between them.

“…C’mon lad, don’t make me say it.” Tavish tries to look away, but he can still feel the solar rays of Jane’s glare socking him in the jaw. “Ach, it’s- what we got here isn’t right Jane. It’s not a natural thing for a pair of mates to do.”

“Ha! Natural?” Jane laughs. “I don’t buy that ‘natural’ crap from hippies and I certainly don’t buy it from you. I do not care about how natural the devil’s lettuce is! I do not care how much natural they cram into those granola bars, or how much fiber will help my bowel movements! Natural is for suckers.”

Tavish stares at him, long and hard, and finally, finally something small and brittle inside him crumbles away just enough that he’s hit with a weak chuckle. “You know, sometimes I don’t know how crazy you really are, and how much is just insight disguised as malarkey.”

“Good,” Jane smirks. “Keep it that way.”

“But still we need to-” Tavish rubbed his eye. “We need to think about this. It feels like I’m the only one here who’s trying to keep us both from getting killed.”

“Why?”

“Well someone has to, and it certainly isn’t going to be you.”

“Why?” Jane is angry now. “Why does one of us have to be holding the goddamn reigns? I didn’t ask you for ribs because I thought you would keep me back, I asked you for ribs because you broke that cop’s back and it was the most glorious display of patriotic strength I have ever seen!”

“Patriotism for where, exactly?” Tavish asks tiredly.

“You damn know well where. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

So Tavish doesn’t deign him with anything, just sits there massaging his head. He knows his rationality is eroding. That Jane is sitting here chipping away with his donkey’s indifference, his stupid, (literally) hardheaded attitude that Tavish can’t just turn away from.

“So,” Jane says. “I listened. Now you listen.”

“I barely got a word in edgewise,” Tavish complains.

“And they were all bad words. Now,” Jane sits crosslegged, stripped in the half-light coming in from the window, painting him radiant. “It’s clear you have some hangups about your latent bisexuality.”

Tavish puts all the power of a two-eyed stare out the focus of his singular optic, hoping the pure concentration gets his disdain though.

Jane carries on. “It is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Ach, it's just that...I shouldn’t have wanted…shouldn’t have even…”

“You and your damn shouldn’ts,” Jane frowns.

The frustration, the embarrassment, all the waves of different emotions Tavish has been put though are washed away in the new torrent of shame. “Ah fuck.”

“Tavish,” Jane says sternly as Tavish begins to clutch his head. “I have been dying to put you in a supportive yet comforting hug for the past twenty minutes. Permission to embrace you?”

Fuck he could use a hug right now. He could use Jane right now. He nods.

He leans in to the enveloping warmth as Jane holds him in a touch that is scored all different than before, yet the same strange intimacy he’s starting to suspect relates to what Jane said before that knee-shaking I want you so damn bad. That he didn't say that in the heat of the moment or because he feels sorry for the sad Cyclops that happens to be his friend, but because he genuinely wants this as much as Tavish does.

Oh god does Tavish want this.

“Tav, has that stupid voice in the back of your head telling you not to do things ever made you happy?” Jane asks the back wall over Tavish’s shoulder.

“Kept me safe,” Tavish sighs.

“That’s not what I asked, private,” Jane reiterates. “Has it made you happy? Has it ever actually helped you find the man you’re supposed to be?”

Tavish thinks long and hard, bringing his hands up run shaky fingers through Jane’s hair. “No,” he admits. “I don’t think it has. You?”

“Me? I crushed that voice years ago under the heel of my American-made double buckle combat boots. Like a goddamn ant.”

Tavish snorts. “Figures.”

They stay like that, holding each other, for a long time. They stay like that until the neon pizza sign across the street winks off, until the digital clocks on the matching nightstands read long past 4am.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Tavish admits finally.

“Fair. Even if you did, I wouldn’t listen. You’ve changed your mind so many goddamn times tonight I’d tell you you’d have to sleep on it first before I believed you.”

“I have not,” Tavish laughs. “Just…there’s a lot. And I’m scared. I’m scared every day RED or BLU’ll find out and we’ll be…” He sighs. “I guess it wouldn’t matter at that point if we were friends or…anything else. We’d be dead either way.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Tavish leans back and finds it in him to grin at this stupid, crazy, reckless man that is certainly going to get them both killed. No, no he’s not going to think like that anymore. They’re in this together, and they’d share the blame just as much as they shared each other.

He squeezes both hands to the side of Jane’s face and says, “I love you too, you crazy, crazy Soldier.”

It’s worth it to see the light flare up in Jane’s eyes, the dopey grin that springs to his face. “Well, then that makes you just as crazy as me.”

“Aye, I suppose it does.” He presses his forehead to Jane’s. “We’re already doing a spicy shimmy on what’s taboo and what isn’t. I suppose we shouldn’t give a damn what’s considered crazy.”

Jane’s face is so beautiful, the only shame being how long shouldn’t has kept that realization at bay. But Tavish quashes it, watching as a new question forms in Jane’s brow.

“I know I told you to sleep on it but,” Jane bites his lip. “Can I stay here? While you do that.”

Tavish likes Jane's warmth against him. He likes him here, where their atoms are pressing out against each other in the closest the universe can approximate as touch.

“Aye. Come here.”

They lay down on Tavish’s bed, and Jane rolls around until he’s nestled in Tavish’s arms. As their breathing slows, in sync then out of sync then back again, Jane says, “even if you weren’t freaking out, it’s a good thing you stopped us when you did. We don’t exactly have any condoms.”

Tavish’s jaw locks, and he quickly scoots his pelvis back a few inches. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he snarls into the nape flush with his nose.

“Maybe. I’m craaaaazy, remember.”

Tavish hates him, and loves him more in that moment than he ever has. If this is the night where he’s cut everything off, where he’s chosen this Soldier over the world’s approval, then so be it. He makes a little mental image of an ant, and steps down.

[theloneliestshipper]

I don’t know if this applies to the prompts you opened, but I thought I would ask if you could write something where Leia and Boba have to go to Kamino for some reason?

It would have been much easier to do this within one of my existing AUs, but you didn’t specify and so I came up with an entirely new story. I hope we’ve both learned a valuable lesson about the arbitrary restrictions I place on myself :P 

AO3 Link

Boba had never had much use for politics, but fifteen days of discussion on the future of the Kamino cloning facility had soured his view completely.

By his count there was an even split between the people who wanted Tipoca City razed and the people who wanted to continue using the facilities to clone organs and as a research facility for other forms of genetic engineering.

No one seemed particularly interested in what the clones wanted, which was one of the many reasons Boba had resisted attending the conference on Kamino.

The other was that walking the halls of his childhood was...strange. It no longer looked exactly the same, but every time he turned a corner it seemed possible that time might dissolve and his dad would be standing there, waiting for him.

Come on, Boba. Let’s go.

And yet when he turned the corner he was forty-five, scarred by sarlacc’s acid and still, somehow, just a clone.

He had one unlikely ally. Leia Organa was now a Senator and a member of the Bioethics Committee. She had approached Wolffe after the first day, who had then dragged Boba into the conversation. “I think you’re right,” the former princess had said. She was no longer young, but she was still just as beautiful. “I can’t say so publicly because committee members are supposed to be impartial observers of these proceedings, but I agree with you. Whatever the future of this place is, clones should have a representative voice.”

She didn’t recognize him at first. When he pointed out their previous acquaintance, she took the news surprisingly well. “It feels like a million years ago,” she said. They were walking through one of the observation tubes. “What was it like, growing up in a military barracks?”

“It was different for me. I trained, but I had my own room. Toys. I fished off of those piers. It was home.”

They went back to his room and talked about closing statements and what committee members were on the fence for most of the night. The next morning was supposed to be the final session, but Boba found himself pulled into a private meeting with the Chancellor instead. One of the other committee members was there. Gith Ha’llor. Leia had labeled him “unpersuadable.”

When Leia arrived she seemed as confused by this sidebar as he was. “What’s going on?”

“Please sit down. All of you.” Chancellor Mon Mothma sat with them and nodded to her droid assistant. “This conversation will be on the record pending a full investigation. I’ll get right to it. There has been an allegation of collusion that must be addressed before the final session.”

“Collusion,” Leia repeated, looking at Senator Ha’llor.

“Senator Organa has been obviously helping the clone delegation since the beginning,” he insisted. “There’s no other explanation for it.” He gestured at Boba without looking at him. “This man is a bounty hunter and the rest of the clones are retired soldiers. Their procedural success is largely due to Senator Organa’s interference.”

“Leia?”

She straightened her shoulders as if she were preparing to fight. “Chancellor, I find it blatantly offensive that Senator Ha’llor presumes that bounty hunters and soldiers cannot learn senatorial procedure.”

Mon Mothma turned to Ha’llor. “Gith, what evidence do you present to support this?”

“She has been seen in their company multiple times outside of sessions. And just this morning she was seen leaving Boba Fett’s quarters. Why else would she be there if she wasn’t telling him what to say?”

Leia glanced over at Boba and then looked away, her expression distracted. Boba understood the danger immediately. If she admitted to collusion, it would bias the committee against anything he had to say.

“I don’t wish to disrupt the entire conference,” Ha’llor continued. “But the committee must be made aware of this infraction and Senator Organa must withdraw from these proceedings.”

The chancellor cleared her throat. “Master Fett, do you have any-”

“Fine,” Leia interrupted. “I was ‘colluding’ with him, if you want to call it that. I would rather call it none of your business.”

Ha’llor gaped at her like a deflated balloon. Mon Mothma looked at Boba and then pursed her lips in a silent “o” before continuing in the measured tone of someone who was very aware that they were being recorded. “Leia, are you stating on the record that you are having an affair with Boba Fett?”

“It’s not against the committee rules,” Leia responded quickly. “Even though in certain circumstances it probably should be. I was in his quarters last night. I left early in the morning when I thought no one would see me.”

She finally turned her gaze to Boba with some trepidation, which was understandable. It wasn’t as if she asked him for his permission before branding him as an adulterer. “You need me to confirm that?” He asked the chancellor. “For the record?”

Mon Mothma looked to Ha’llor, who still appeared shaken. “No. No, I suppose I...if it’s not against the rules.” He stood. “I should go prepare for the session. Chancellor. Senator.” He gave Boba one last withering glance. “Master Fett.”

“TC-82, you may stop recording.” The chancellor sat back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “I see no reason for this to go any further than this room, but I cannot promise that Senator Ha’llor will be so circumspect. You may have placed yourself in a compromising position, Leia.”

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “For the record, and by that I mean off the record but for your information...Han and I have separated.”

“I am glad to hear that, for the sake of your new...endeavors.” Here she looked at Boba with a bemused smile. “I hope that this has not distracted you too much from your work. I am quite looking forward to your final address to the committee.”

“I’ll be glad when it’s over,” Boba said bluntly as he stood. Leia was looking up at him, a hint of chagrin in her eyes. He appreciated her quick thinking, but there was no way he was going to let this go without a little teasing. “Dinner tonight?”

Was he imagining it, or was there more color in her cheeks? She drew in a quick breath but she was perfectly composed when she spoke. “It’s a date.”

“Then I’ll see you later.” He brushed a gloved finger under chin and nodded to Mon Mothma. “Chancellor.”

He probably would never enjoy politics. But giving a speech no longer seemed like such a difficult task. Not with dinner to look forward to.

[agent-cupcake]

hiya i’m not sure if your requests are open but if they are could i please have them yandere prompt 7 with caspar!! i adore your work

7. “I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it!” 

There was no name you could think to call yourself, no direct consciousness to cling to. No person living in the confines of your weightless head. There was nothing but an endlessly rolling sea of fog, your head cresting the waves every so often to grasp at a memory of a life you couldn’t remember.

You were a child, standing on the pier with your father —he was a naval engineer, the best in the Leicester Alliance— as you looked upon his newest warship. She was a beautiful creature, this ship named Claudia, everyone said so. You weren’t so sure. It was her face, you thought, her front —the bow! it was called the bow because ships always had different names for everything— was fixed with a frightening metal face. And she smiled. Not for you or your father or for the dozen others who had come to see this modern marvel. No, Claudia smiled for the enemies, for the Almyrans. Claudia, beautiful Claudia, would approach them with a scary bronze grin, Claudia would smile as she killed them. 

You were a girl, twirling in your new dress made of imported fabrics shipped in from the Empire on the eve of your first ball. You felt beautiful, weightless, ready to leave behind your childish toys and frocks and join the adults in their courtly games. But these games were dangerous, and not all smiles were honest. Makeup tears ran down your face as your mother told you —wiping the blackened tears from your cheeks so as to avoid staining the beautiful fabric of your new dress— to smile even when it hurt.

You were a woman with a face drawn and pale as you followed the evacuation orders of the ruling Duke Claude von Riegan. Imperial Troops were marching to take Derdriu. And they would win, everyone knew they would, even if all the Alliance soldiers armed themselves and formed defensive lines to keep them at bay. All of the fine naval weapons your father had spent his life creating were useless, now. No smiles, bronze or otherwise, would greet the Emperor when she conquered.  

You were a survivor, emerging from the war relatively unscathed and as a newly sworn part of the new Fódlan government under the command of Emperor Edelgard. Maybe that would have scared you, or made you go red with shame, but there was a smile that kept you from falling to those feelings. A true, warm, reckless smile. He had a name, you knew it. He had a name and a voice and warm, warm hands. 

Hands that had caught you when you fell, when you were dizzy and unstable as heavy black inkblots invaded your vision and pulled you under. What happened before the dark? What name had you called, whose hands had caught you?

You knew it! You knew, you knew, you knew-

“Caspar?” you managed to gasp out, trying to claw out of the fog and into the world using the name as an anchor. A warm, warm hand grabbed yours as you flailed, holding you still. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy and unfocused. He was blue. Blue eyes and hair, a color that was all at once soft and electric as it blurred in your vision. You could remember the color, from before the dark, before the falling. Before-

“Hey, relax, you’re okay,” he said comfortingly, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your hand. You groaned in response, your body heavy and head fuzzy. It was too much for you to support yourself, your limbs wilting back into the seat and corner wedge of the wall. The familiar sway of a horse-drawn coach trundled beneath you. Your body ached in a thousand places from the uncomfortable position. And yet you couldn’t find the energy to move, to consider what was happening. “It’s fine if you keep sleeping, we’re not there yet.”

You groaned again, the words you wanted to say not finding cohesion in your own brain. Sleep sounded nice. Sleep was inevitable. So you let it wash over you, fading out of whatever reality you’d managed to find and into the grasp of memories unearthed by his voice. 

Now there was a new feeling, one that was very distinctly yours. It was sinking, drowning, dark, and cold. It held like chains, trapping you in the dark.

You were newly engaged and laden with the heavy weight of news you so badly didn’t want to voice aloud. Beside you sat the man with the brilliant smile. Caspar von Bergliez, that was his full name but you only ever knew him by the first because he had absolutely no regard for station and you enjoyed the thrill of ignoring propriety. He had his own heavy, horrible news.

“You’re leaving?” you asked to clarify, eyes wide with shock and panic. The salty breeze of the ocean air blew a fresh gust, bringing another wave of the familiar fishy, wooden scents from the docks, but there was no comfort in it.

“Yep, I got orders to leave tomorrow. I guess there’s some sort of dispute in Enbarr I’ve gotta go check out.” Caspar shrugged casually. “I’m not sure what it's about but it seems urgent.”

“Will you be coming back?” you asked, a hint of desperation in your voice. It was strange how quickly the terror had taken hold in your heart, considering that you knew he would have to leave eventually. But leaving now of all times, right when you needed his brilliant smile the most.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Caspar said. “Thanks to you, I got my work here done in half the time I expected.” He smiled, as if not seeing the tragic irony of your help allowing him to leave sooner. “That’s actually why I wanted to meet with you today, ‘cause you’ve been such a big help.” He paused, uncharacteristically taking the time to consider his next words with a crease between his eyebrows. “I was wondering if maybe you could come with me... If you want to. We make a pretty great team, if I do say so myself, and I’ve been needing someone to keep me organized and stuff.”

You stared at him, jaw loose on the verge of dropping. Caspar wasn’t the type to lie, and you doubted any motive he’d have to make up something like this. Shock faded into something like anger. Not at the short notice of the invitation or the casual way he proposed it, although those were perfectly valid complaints. No, you were angry as you wondered why couldn’t he have asked you earlier?

“I can’t,” you said, but the wind caught your soft words and pulled them away. Swallowing hard, you averted your gaze, unable to look at Caspar directly. “I can’t do that. My father has... Arranged for me to be married. That’s what I wanted to tell you today.”

“What?” Caspar asked, his body tensing in a way you could feel through space between you. “You’re gonna say no, right?”

“I can’t,” you repeated. “Lord Pendleton is doing my family an honor by agreeing to the match.” You spoke the words you’d heard a hundred times from your parents with great care, a sick feeling in your stomach. Even saying the name  — soon to be your name —  was difficult, like a mouthful of medicine you had to force down your throat.

“Him? But you don’t even like that guy!” Caspar said. His voice was raised too loud for comfort in the relative peace of the breezy afternoon, making you flinch. Tears stung at the back of your eyes at this horrible arrangement of events, but you forced them back. Your mother told you to smile, no matter what. The one you mustered was a bitter, fragile thing, full of false humor.  

“That’s not the point of arranged marriages,” you said, forcing an even voice. “And I don’t dislike Lord Pendleton. By all accounts, he’s a fine man. His family has been working with mine for years. And, besides, everything has already been arranged. I can’t just break it off like that.” Not without making an enemy of both his family and your own, at least. Despite that logic, guilt formed a knot in your chest on top of the selfish pain. Denying Caspar when he was looking at you with such earnest eyes was harder than you’d have ever thought, but you raised your gaze to meet them, to plead with him. “You understand, right?”

Caspar frowned, his shoulders slumping a bit as the burst of passion faded. He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it…” He sighed, running a hand over his face, into his hair. It was already tousled by the wind, but now the longer bits stuck up. It was cute in a way you absolutely loathed noticing. “If I had asked you before, would you have said yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” you agreed without hesitation. That made his frown fade a bit, although the thought didn’t bring you much solace. It was little more than an empty prize, a chest of fools gold. 

“Yeah, cause you like me way better, right?”

And again, you answered without thinking. “Of course I do. You’re… You’re a good man,” you told him. “You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had.” You deflated with those words, a hollow feeling in your chest. In contrast, Caspar’s chest only seemed to swell.

“Aw, I like you a lot, too,” he cooed, a strangely unaffected response to such a deeply personal confession. “A lot, a lot. And you know what? I have a feeling things are just gonna work out.”

Sending a sideways glance at Caspar, you felt a melancholic burst of affection. Maybe innocent was a strange word to describe a fully grown man, and perhaps an inappropriate one if you were to get right down to it. Condescending, infantilizing, and certainly unbecoming of the Minister of Military Affairs. And yet, it was the only description that came to mind in your hours with Caspar. He wasn’t innocent in the way of white flowers and doe eyes, but in an innate, childish way that gave light to his beaming smile and a captivating animation to his endlessly energetic attitude. And, yes, he was innocent when it came to women. Happily oblivious, or perhaps too distracted by everything else to be preoccupied with such things. Right then, it hurt. If he had offered marriage, perhaps you could have said yes. If he had shown any sign of romantic affection, maybe you could have justified taking his offer.

Heart sunken deep, you looked out to the ocean where clouds were building on the horizon. Not storm clouds, but the thick type that would bring a pointless oceanic gloom with them. You related to them far more than Caspar’s sweet optimism. “I hope so.”

You were a child and your father was carrying you in his arms, cradled to his chest while you pretended to sleep so he wouldn’t put you down. He smelled like the ocean, sawdust, and the achingly familiar scent of the cologne your mother liked so much. But, no. That wasn’t true, you weren’t a child and it wasn’t your father who was carrying you. Your body ached in the way it had only begun aching when you reached adulthood. The smell was wrong, too. Sweat and linen and leather.

Then there was a bed beneath you, a place you could finally lay flat. Still, the discomfort persisted, your brain relentlessly struggling against the dark and muscles falling slack. It was the thirst that finally got your eyes open and stiff body moving. The moments between wakefulness and the press of the cup to your lips was a blur, you couldn’t even remember seeing the water beside your bed. It was sweet, soothing your throat with each desperate swallow. Some of it dribbled down your chin, nearly choking you. Still weak, so weak, your fingers let the empty tin cup fell to the floor. Then your eyes closed again, ignoring the dozens of little pains you suffered. 

"Oh, so you are awake!” Your eyes opened to the familiar voice, watching him enter the tent. A tent? “That’s good,” Caspar said. “I was starting to worry you’d never open your eyes.”

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, the words coming without thought as your mind swam, too disoriented to focus on any of your larger concerns. It looked and smelled like the earliest hours of the morning when he had opened the tent, the air thin and bitter with a creeping chill.

“About twenty hours? Give or take some, yesterday was pretty hectic,” Caspar answered, looking up as he thought. Then he smiled, sitting on the edge of your bed and stretching, throwing you a sideways grin. “Did you know that you snore? I didn't know girls did that. It was pretty cute. Reminded me of this cat I used to take care of.” His tilted. “I kinda miss that little guy."

“Twenty hours,” you repeated, knowing the words had far more significance than you could give them. Fog clouded your brain, panic barely finding its way through when everything all felt so unreal, so far away. The water hadn’t done much to ease the sour, sandy flavor weighing down your tongue. Your body sagged, your head aching. Everything was so uncomfortable you could hardly stand it. Fear of the unknown, of the confusion, was beginning to take hold. “Last I remember I was… You were there?” you asked, looking at him helplessly. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Hey, don’t panic, everything’s okay!” Caspar said, looking a little panicked himself. “We’re an hour out from the old Empire border. It’ll be two days more of traveling before we get to Enbarr.” His face scrunched unhappily. “I’ll have to teach you how to ride long distances so we can make better time when we travel from now on. Traveling so slow is the worst.”

“We left Derdriu,” you said, cold with horror. Memories were slipping into place, more relevant memories. “I snuck out to see you off and... You poisoned me?”

Caspar frowned. “Believe me, I didn’t want to!” he emphatically told you. “But I was worried you’d make everything all complicated again. I knew you were gonna feel too bad about leaving to come with me without some... Help. Besides, it’s better this way. You’d be completely wasted as Lord Pendleton’s wife. He’s a chump and a coward.”

“So you kidnapped me?” you asked, overwhelmed and nearly breathless on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” he said.

“It’s not that simple,” you protested, a hand rising to your head to halfheartedly massage your temples.

“See? You think too much, it makes everything so complicated. Now that you’re already gone, you don’t have to feel bad about leaving.”

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, your eyes closing. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, a reminder of all the time you’d spent asleep, getting farther and farther away from your family.

“You like me, don’t you?” he asked. Your eyes opened. Caspar looked pleading, a tad desperate. Oh, so innocent. It made your heart ache, it made your empty stomach twist.

“Of course I do,” you said, choking on the words. He relaxed slightly.

“Yeah, that’s good. I’m glad,” he said, nodding. Awkward. 

A moment passed, Caspar looking intently at the tent wall with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. It wasn’t enough time for you to think, only to feel a washing sense of distress and fear. 

“Listen,” he finally said. “I know that I can be kinda difficult and reckless. I’ve even been called annoying, but you don’t ever make me feel like that. I didn’t realize what I felt until you said that you were gonna get married. I realized that the idea of you with any other man made me angry. Livid, actually. I kinda wanted to leave and fight Lord Pendleton right then and there just for thinking about marrying you.” Caspar’s posture was hunched, his eyes down and cheeks blushing bright red. “This is so embarrassing... I swear, I didn’t want to do it like this.” He finally looked up, his jaw set as if he was readying for a fight. “The thing is, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, protecting you and taking care of you. I know you didn’t want to marry that guy and that you’d be miserable, so even though it didn’t make me happy to do it like this, I had to take you. You understand, right?”

"No, I don’t,” you said, your voice a pinched, parched sound. Some part of you wanted to laugh at the horrifying juxtaposition of his confession and the situation, the morbid way they complimented each other. “I don’t understand why you would do this at all.”

“I’m trying to help!” Caspar said, pleading once more. “You like me way more than that guy, you wanted to come with me!”

“Why would you think that any of this is what I wanted?” you asked, meeting his shout with a shrill whisper and gesturing around the tent. Slowly, bit by bit, Caspar’s expression faltered, as if your unhappy tone was only just now invading in on his mood. It left you feeling cold. You had always known Caspar was a bit oblivious, but this was something else entirely. He truly hadn’t given a second thought to this, any of this. He thought this was for the best.

“Please don’t be upset,” he begged, moving towards you with imploring, innocent eyes. Then he smiled, and it was the worst one yet. So genuine and sweet, you felt as if you could actually see the love. Love. Caspar smiled and reached out to you with his warm, warm hands. “You had a problem, and I fixed it!”

[the-peachpit]

ENDER MIRROR

No Romantic Relationships

Fandom: DSMP

TW: Past Abuse

“Damn it,” Tommy breathed out, “Ah fuck it!” he pulled up his fishing pole seeing the third empty line, not even a hook attached to the end. “You fuckers!” The blonde shook his fist at the river.

“You’re too loud,” Ranboo set his pole to the side letting it lay on the wooden dock they had built, “You’re scaring away the fish.”

Tommy threw his fishing rod to the side, “Stupid fucking fish.” He pulled his knees up to his chest resting his chin on them.

He caught Ranboo tying another hook to the end of his line without even asking-Tommy groaned. He was done fishing was frustrating and no fun he could think of a million other things he’d rather do.

“You swear too much,” Ranboo concentrated on tying a small metal hook to the end of the clear wire.

Tommy had already stabbed himself five times with the hooks not even trying to attach them to the line one of them was from a bad cast. He had brushed them off before now looking down at his fingers he noticed two of the red marks where the hooks had stabbed the tips of his fingers. Ranboo had offered him one of the Band-Aids he carried around for Michael and secretly Tubbo. He turned it down a little dirt was good for a wound, it’s what Wilbur always said. Wilbur never carried Band-Aids. Tommy closed his hands into fists-well not after they left home. A stick from a hook was nothing he couldn’t shrug off.

“Earth to Tommy,” Ranboo held the pole up waving it towards Tommy.

Tommy snatched the wooden end, “Would you stop waving that thing around. Can we go do something else? You don’t even like fish.”

Ranboo cast his line, “Tubbo isn’t a big fan either, “He scrunched up his weird enderman mouth the small slitted sides caving in, “But he enjoyed fishing.”

Tommy snorted, “There’s no way Tubbo would be into this it’s so boring!”

“He thinks it’s relaxing,” Rnaboo’s green and red eyes were on the water.

Rolling his eyes Tommy watched trying to focus on Ranboo’s line almost transparent against the gentle current. It was swallowed up and then released searching for prey.

“I can’t picture him standing still this long,” Tommy let his feet dangle off the end of the wooden pier the water gently lapping to graze the bottoms every once in a while. “But I don’t really know Tubbo much, anymore do I?”

“That’s literally the exact opposite of why I brought you out here,” Ranboo leaned forward his shoulders scrunched up by his ears.

Tommy looked at him cocking his head to the side.

“Stop acting like I replaced you, it’s getting old,” Ranboo turned his head.

Green and red eyes that were split across the middles starred at Tommy. He looked annoyed but more annoyed than when Tommy would be loud and obnoxious and annoyed that felt familiar. Ranboo actually looked upset with him-Ranboo never looked upset with anyone, not genuinely.

“Tubbo married you,” Tommy gagged at the word married, “Can you get more replaced than married?”

Ranboo laughed but Tommy couldn’t see what was so funny. He watched the man sitting cross-legged keeping his delicate skin far away from the water. Instead of his regular suit, he wore a black tank top that almost matched half of his skin and black shorts. If he weren’t an enderman hybrid he’d look boring. Tubbo didn’t really like boring people though.

“The second you came waltzing back I was getting myself ready for a divorce,” Ranboo wheezed.

Tommy raised a blonde brow, “Why?”

“I knew what Tubbo was doing,” Ranboo shrugged, “He was replacing me, he had you to elan n his whole life, and suddenly you were dead. He couldn’t cope and I was there to fill a hole. When you came back, and he stayed I was just as surprised as you.”

Tommy shrugged, “He likes you a lot, and I guess,” he deflated his shoulders sagging, “I guess I don’t totally hate your guts anymore, but you’re always on thin ice.”

“Noted,” Ranboo nodded, “You know,” he leaned back on his palms, “You’ll always know more about him than I do. His scars are the biggest mystery to me, and I don’t pry, but I wish he felt comfortable talking to me about them. They keep him up at night sometimes itching, and sometimes his body aches in a way he can’t get out of bed.”

Tommy looked back down at his hands the scars running across his fingers and palms-he was covered in scars. Small reminders from head to toe of a life he lived too long ago. His skin wasn’t a map like Techno’s-but it was close. He found them mostly on his arms and legs-the biggest addition was to his forehead. Where Dream had bashed his skull open. Tommy grew his bangs long the white streak prominent-he didn’t think he’d ever get them short again.

Ranboo pulled up another empty line, “Tommy,” his voice was soft losing the playful edge, “Are you okay?”

Opening his mouth Tommy felt his heart thump against his ribs, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gentle hands held the translucent wire Tommy watched the wisps of steam rise from Ranboo’s hands. Even the small drops of water hurt his sensitive endermen skin. Ranboo returned Tommy’s confused look, “I think it’s pretty obvious, you never talk about your past with malice, but you went through so much.”

“Bit dramatic don’t you think?”

Ranboo looked out to the river, then back to Tommy, “Do you not,” He cocked his head to the other side swaying his long white and black bangs along with his floppy ears, “Do you not realize you’ve been wading in tragedy for years?”

“You’ve lost me Ran,” Tommy shrugged watching the river spotting a stupid salmon.

“You’re a child soldier for starters,” Ranboo frowned.

“L’manburg was our dream.”

“It sounds more and more like Wilbur’s dream every time I hear you talk about it.”

“Come off it, Tubbo can tell you-“

“We’ve talked about it,” Ranboo cast his line, “You two were bonded over being brainwashed into thinking you were bigger than you were. Wilbur sunk his claws deep into you being your brother.”

“Wilbur was,” Tommy looked down at his hands. Why was his skin so hot?

“Killed,” Ranboo said the word effortlessly, “By your own father who was never around- in front of you.”

He was blunt. Was that really what happened? It wasn’t that simple, there were layers he was skipping things. Tommy was there he saw it all it wasn’t bad.

“I was happy Ranboo when we were building L’manburg,” Tommy back peddled the conversation.

“You always reminisce in those days. Was it the last time you were happy?” Ranboo asked.

Tommy felt the heat creep up his neck, “That’s fucking stupid, I’m always happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Ranboo’s voice rose, “You died a month ago-like permanently in hell died. You came back fine.”

Tommy could hear his heart in his ears and desperately tried to breathe louder to prove to his throat it wasn’t closing.

“I-I,” Tommy stuttered, “It was all my fault. L’manburg, Wilbur-if I was better it could have been avoided. If I wasn’t me, maybe we’d still be in L’manburg and you’d be married to someone who wasn’t reliving dying in the middle of the night. I ruin everything. I started a war I couldn’t finish. I watched Wil change and didn’t reach out and he died. I betrayed Technoblade and hurt him. When Dream beat me to death, I thought I deserved it, the world would be free from Tommyinnit. I’d be free from hurting.”

Never putting it into words before Tommy felt the weight of his actions from the past few years. All he did was cause trouble, his father knew it, his brothers knew it, even deep down he knew his best friend knew it. Everyone always got into shitty situations because he ran his mouth thinking it was clever. The first day Tubbo said Tommy was quiet Tommy felt pride, being quiet meant being better. Sitting on that bench where an empty grave sat built by the only person who really cared Tommy dug his nails into his palms. Anything to not feel swearing the grave was his new beginning. Anytime Tommy felt too strongly he would dig into his palms until he could trace the crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s not your fault? None of it was your fault alone.”

Spinning his head to the side with wide eyes when he heard Ranboo shift Tommy thought the worst. Ranboo was toying with him, trying to get into his head before killing him. Maybe by pushing him into the river, holding him under. Lifting his arms in front of his face bracing for impact-he’d stopped fighting so long ago. Strong arms that could have easily broken his neck, strong arms had ended his life, but now they encircled him. With no malice, they embraced him tensing Tommy’s ragged breath made him feel like he was choking. Pressed against soft cloth Tommy was certain he’d be smothered. He accepted it his fight long gone. Stiffly Tommy sat in a hug, not one that was too tight like Wilbur’s when he told Tommy he could do better. Not uncaring and lazy like when Dream would visit in exile. A hug. Simple and gentle. Slowly Tommy felt a bubble rise from his chest. It traveled along his windpipe expanding as it broke to the surface.

A tear fell stinging its way out of Tommy’s bright blue eyes that had lost their shine. A singular warning to the start of a flood. It felt good, reliving to feel the wet cool water slip down his jaw. The bubble burst and Tommy did something he’d never done. Not when Wilbur yelled, not when Schlatt yelled, not when Sam yelled, not when Technoblade, not when Dream or anyone screamed at him. He took every blow with a smile for years being above it all. He didn’t know it was being stored away in his heart festering into his self-doubt and anxieties. It was the force suffocating him. As he cried into Ranboo’s shirt he finally felt like he could breathe. The bubble in his throat bursting as he screamed back at everyone who assaulted him verbally or physically.

He was scarred by unkind hands and instead of bandaging the wounds, he let them fester with mud, dirt, and hatred because he thought he deserved it. Finally feeling peace for the first time in months all it took was him dying for everyone to finally feel free. When he came back it all felt so painful and finally, he’d be what he always dreaded-alone. However, Tubbo and Ranboo accepted him so easily back into open arms. Invitations always felt like a trap to Tommy, but they were genuine. Caring for him gently making sure every hour he was holding it all together. He held it together for them. Being told he was allowed to not be okay, to feel and cry, it was crushing like a wave. Yet relieving as a cold drink on the hottest summer day. Tommy was free from the clutches of every pair of hands that circled his throat, held a sword to him and his friends. He wasn’t a hero gilded in gold expected to save or protect anyone. He was free to be anyone in a future that was stretched out bright in front of him in a small nation.

After what felt like hours but was realistically twenty minutes Tommy pried himself away from Ranboo worried his tears may have burned the man. To his relief, the enderman hybrid was unharmed protected by his clothing. Gently Tommy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before looking back out to the gentle river. He pretended every current that whisked by was carrying every one of his fears away for the last time.

Looking back down at his hands Tommy saw the red pinpricks from the hooks.

“Hey Ranboo,” Tommy flexed his fingers, “Can I have some Band-Aids?”

Ranboo nodded digging into his pockets, “Sure thing.”

It was never too late to heal

[purplesurveys]

1010

survey from diggitydoo

Have you ever felt a baby kick? Yes, when my mom was pregnant with my brother. What color pants/shorts are you wearing? I’m only wearing a duster gown; no shorts underneath. I just got it last night, actually - my mom wanted to donate clothes to victims of a recent fire incident in Manila and so she asked my sister and I to sort through our closets for clothes we were willing to give away. My sister ended up giving away a comfy-looking duster gown that she never even wore and even smelled brand new to boot. It ended up in my hands, ha. But apart from that we gave away a lot of stuff that aren’t old uniforms or costumes (which is what most people tend to ‘donate’, ugh), so we just hope they end up with people who really need them. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Last night I went on our org’s Discord server and we played Jackbox games for around an hour or so. It was my first time to socialize again after around two months and I really, really needed that moment. I even met the org’s newest roster of applicants for this semester, which was neat. :) What was the scariest moment of your life? Men terrorizing me or near-car crashes I’ve had.

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? The name is familiar, but that’s the most I know.

Pancakes or flapjacks? I guess pancakes, since I don’t even know what flapjacks are. What kind of computer are you on? It’s a laptop. Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what's your favorite dish? For sure. Pork buns or minced pork with eggplant. With century egg on the side, yum. What are you usually doing at midnight? Either passed out or desperately trying to sleep because I don’t want to lose any more hours of sleep and risk being cranky for the whole of the next day. Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? No. The worst thing that’s happened was being someone’s ball date (and unbeknownst to me, they apparently had feelings for me at the time) while I was already with someone. If so, how did it turn out? He figured it out by himself, which I still feel bad about. But the timing was super off and I just couldn’t find a moment to sit him down and set the record straight...ah well. It was just super complicated at the time. Give me your brief definition of love. My favorite love-related quote is “Love never says ‘I have done enough’” and for the longest time, that has been my guiding principle when it comes to it. Definitely a tad bit cheesy, but telling myself that over and over makes it easier to continue loving the people I care for and be patient with them when they’re being asses. Gab included, then and now. What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? It differs for everyone but I’m a thigh girl through and through. What kind of shoes do you wear? Uh...various ones? I have sneakers, flats, heels, flip-flops, probably a couple more kinds that I can’t place at the moment. What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Resorting to physical violence. I was a kid constantly exposed to violence in my old home, and at the time I genuinely thought that’s how most things were settled or pacified. I still feel like shit about it to this day, and my backstory isn’t an excuse at all; but the past is the past and I’ve been trying to make up for it by being a much more gentle angry person in the last few years. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? Nope. Do you like the smell of coconuts? For some reason I can’t stand anything coconut (which is a damn shame considering I’m Filipino) but I love dishes with heaps of coconut milk in them, like curry. That’s the one coconut-related thing I enjoy, but otherwise I’ve never learned to appreciate the taste and smell of buko juice, coconut shavings, coconut pies, and everything else coconut. What is the heaviest you think you can lift? From what my old PE class showed me, around 70 to 80 lbs. Do you take Tums? Idk what that is so I guess I don’t. Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? I’m not sure if I’ve been to a pier before. I bet it feels wonderful and freeing and I’d love to visit one; but I also can’t keep myself from associating piers with the recurring image of Jennifer Connelly’s character standing on one from Requiem for a Dream. How about under one? No. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? Not sure if it was 11 or 12, but it was definitely one of those years. Do you feel that way around anyone now? Yeah, if they allowed me to see them. But I’m shut out now so I haven’t had that sensation in a while.

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? No. Do you ever sing to yourself? Sure. I’m sure most people do every once in a while. What is a sound that relaxes you? Ocean waves have never failed. How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? ‘Main goal’ sounds so overwhelming; I make it a point to avoid one overarching goal and instead make little goals and plans here and there depending on where I am in life. Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? Never heard of it. What is your main heritage? Filipino. What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? I hate pickles. What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? Mozzarella and feta are my faves, but I love cheese and am willing to be adventurous when it comes to it. If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? Eh, they can stay in the sea where they can actually survive. I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to keeping fish as pets. How about a farm animal? Probably pig. So, do you have hoes in different area codes? No, and ew. What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? Haven’t been exposed to a lot of new music lately and the songs I do get to hear on the radio whenever I drive are actually pretty good. This totally doesn’t answer your question but my favorites so far have been Birthday by Disclosure, Kehlani, and Syd; and Plain by Benee, Lily Allen, and Flo Milli. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? Any Kanye song I like. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? Not wanting to go into another downward spiral. Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? Extremely rarely. I only do when there’s a new slang I’m completely unfamiliar with. Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? Stupid for the most part. I find them too immature or vulgar, but that’s one of the points of the website so I guess I’m just not in their target audience lol. What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'transformation'? Uh, the Transformer robots.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? My cousins’ toy soldiers.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? Eh, a few times. If so, what did you do? I’ve been pulled to drinking sessions here and there when I really shouldn’t be drinking because I had an important test tomorrow or something else was happening the next day that was just as significant. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? Teeth, I’m pretty sure. I’ve had braces, needed a tooth extracted, gotten a cavity, and gone through a severe toothache.

Do a lot of people check you out when you're in public? Idk I never look around because being aware of it would just freak me out and make me feel like I’m naked. What is a good name for a turtle? Would depend on their personality. And this applies to all kinds of pets, at least for me. I don’t decide on their names until I have a good grasp of their attitude. Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? Stereotypical Filipino mom and valley girl. Do you like having your ear nibbled on? Sure. What makes a good kisser a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person so I’m not the best judge for this; but I always like it when my lower lip is tugged or grazed on. How many times a year do you have a family thing? This is a little vague for me. Do you mean get-togethers? Giant-ass reunions? Movie nights? Game nights?  What are the best things to put in a smoothie? I only like one kind of smoothie and it’s sold by a local joint – and I think I’ve already shared this before but that smoothie of theirs that I like has “apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk,” according to their menu. So I guess those are the best ingredients for me, ha. Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? When I find something extremely delicious, yeah. What do you dislike most about where you live right now? For the most part I can’t wait to get out of suburban residential villages. I’d love to finally experience living in a condo in a super busy and active city. Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? Yes.

Are you watching your weight? Not really. I’m trying to gain pounds though, if anything. I haven’t eaten much in the last two months. Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? I trust y’all with my life, so that’s one. Apart from Tumblr, the best friends I made were probably the people in the AJ/Punk fandom, back when I had a stan account on Twitter. I don’t remember most of their names now and we fizzled out pretty quickly when both parts of the ship left WWE, but I look back on that period with fondness. Those people made high school a lot easier for me. What makes your best friend your best friend? She doesn’t care whether I’m on top of the world with happiness or completely self-destructive and crying my eyes out; she has always been present. Do you have a drunk uncle? *rolls eyes* We don’t wanna open up that can of worms... Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? Nope. What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? Based on personal experience and not to come off as sexist, but it’s liking wrestling. I have never met a girl in real life who has even the most remote interest in pro wrestling or can tell me who Hulk Hogan is. And the ones I’ve had discussions with - from shallow/casual to in-depth - have all been guys. Seeing girls who are into wrestling is like finding a rare Pokemon, at least in real life. What is the girliest thing you do, if you're a girl? Idk. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? Probably the spork tattoo of Josh, a crew member from Good Mythical Morning. It’s just a line tattoo. Of a spork. On his arm. But he managed to make it so goddamn fascinating lmao; and apparently, as I learned just now, it has a pretty touching backstory to it too, which makes it a million times cooler. Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? I’ve never finished any of the crafts I bought. Never finished a coloring book page much less an entire coloring book, a painting, a gem painting...it’s something I’ll have to bring my butt to do one of these days. I can’t imagine how fulfilling it would feel. Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? I eat the whole thing but I honestly find Oreos too sweet and I’ve always much rather preferred Oreo-flavored stuff instead of the actual cookies.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? My mom. If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? She’s fed me for 22 years and gave me an education, I guess. Though it’s something I appreciate more so than like. Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? Probably as a dumb kid, when historical context wasn’t a thing to me yet. I still wince thinking about it, but I suppose what matters is being better and more responsible moving forward. Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? Angela and to some extent Andi. 

If so, what about them do you like most? They are both understanding when it comes to me - almost to a fault. What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? When you say ‘hotdogs’ here, it refers to the sausages itself. The sandwich kind of hotdog isn’t super popular here. What is everyone else in your house doing right now? My siblings are still resting in their rooms; my dad is preparing for work, I think. What is the most money you've ever had at one time? Something like P10,000 or P15,000 when my mom needed me to pay for something in cash. How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? Idk, maybe 10 minutes. I won’t be fast, that’s for sure. Look down. What do you see? My legs and the pillow I’m sitting on. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Right now, probably my failed relationship. I haven’t gotten to the sharing stage yet and remotely thinking about it gets my voice all shaky. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? Paramore. What kind of mood were you in most of today? It’s only 7:52 AM. My only mood so far is just woke up. Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? Yeah. Because people in this damn house never knock. Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. The word ‘ariba.’ What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Break my trust. So simple but it packs a punch. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Idk if I’ve ever been that aggressive. When I want to do something destructive towards someone I always end up asking what it would feel like if the action was done to me, and it’s always been enough to sway me away from doing the thing. How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? Sad. How about the last person (your last ex)? Same person. What is the best invention ever invented? Air conditioners.

What is something that needs to be invented? Portable air conditioners. What always makes you burp? My burps come randomly. What are you doing tomorrow? It’s my last weekend before my new job, soooooooo...I’ll be bumming around for my last two days of freedom.

[bluebellhairpin]

Marvel Headcanons - Road Trips

A/N: I’m a horrible person. But at least my procrastination of my asks is being for-filled in a way that still sprouts content. - Nemo

Summary: The Avengers and their S/O go on a road trip. Gods? Mutants? Aliens? with them, what could go wrong? 

Masterlist  

Loki Laufeyson

Bruh. You go on a road-trip with this guy and you’re gonna really wish you d i d n ‘ t. 

Tricks. So many tricks. This guy can’t drive a car, he has nothing to do except play tricks. Look At That Face, no remorse, no mercy. You gotta be strong af to survive a trip like this with Loki. 

bUt he does buy you all the food. And all the stuff you like. In mass amounts. (“(y/n), you said you liked this sweet packet stuff right? Ah, good. I brought five boxes so we don’t run out.” ) Like five whole boxes

So what’s it gonna be? Trickery for food? Yay or nay? Yay, definitely yay. 

Peter Parker/Spider-Man

You will not sleep. Y’all get too hyped up of junk food and adrenaline to sleep for more then half an hour at a time so POWER NAPS ALL THE WAY THERE AND BACK

He video’s everything. He says it’s to show May and Tony when you get back but we all know the truth. Its so he can get one of those cool old-style videos of you No shame that boy has.

He lets you pick all the music, as long as it’s not AC/DC because he had an experience with Tony that involved ‘Thunderstruck’, hacking and his suits earpieces that lasted a over a week that we s h a l l n o t  s p e a k o f e v e r

But overall it’s a really cute trip. So cliche. So romantic. So amazing.

Tony Stark/Iron Man

Loves every second because it’s with you and after everything he’s been through that is all he needs and wants.

He has playlists, cars, hotel reservations, restaurant reservations, food stops, food stashes, sights to see. All these things are ready before you even suggested getting away for a couple days. 

Turns into a sappy, flirty mess. It’s almost like the trip turned back time to when you both first met and the only problem he had was making a new missile to sell to some place in Afghanistan.

He’s just so ready for a break, low and behold please give i t t o H i m

Steve Rogers/Captain America

Road-trips with Steve are done on the back of his motorbike and you can fight me on this. Mostly because he likes it when you wrap your arms around his torso so yeah fight me again.

Despite the trip being a road trip you both spend a lot of time at stops and motels instead of on the road. He likes taking things slow, since he hasn’t gotten to do things slowly for over four years after he woke up. He’s very grateful if you let him do this.

He lets you take lots of photo’s of him whether you’re good at it or not doesn't bother him. Even frames one you took of his silhouette because it looks that good to him. 

 Becomes addicted to cocktails after the second road trip because “they’re so colourful and come in so many flavours, (y/n) have you tried this blue one yet? Look they have one named after me-” 

Thor Odinson

He gets so hyped and excited. 

He really loves travelling and learning about earth more like you teaching him about earth stuff so he’s so optimistic about the whole trip and that attitude rubs off on you so you end up coming home all happy too.

He brings lollies/sweets/candy with you and lemme say you are bouncing off the walls the whole damn time. One time he got so hyped on sugar he almost summoned lighting. 

You take Loki sometimes. He pretends he doesn't like it, but he does. He thought we wouldn’t notice but we did. So Loki ends up being the ‘bored’ third wheel while you and Thor stuff your faces with sour worms, chocolate, and gobstoppers.  

Bruce Banner/Hulk

He’s gets so soft, and that makes you soft, and then you come back and your combined softness makes everyone else so very soft.

He worries about Hulk coming out and ruining the trip and the car but you constantly tell him and reassure him that it’s fine and you’ve managed to hone the ability to calm Hulk down when things get out of hand.

Needless to say he relaxes almost completely and w o w you didn’t know he sung that well.

And damn when you come back he’s like a changed man. Shyness? Almost gone. Reluctance to join conversations? Hell N a h. He almost becomes Tony 2.0 but only around you because “No one will believe you (y/n)”

Clint Barton/Hawkeye/Ronin

Clint almost l i v e s for road trips with you. I say almost because he lives for you.

You hunt down carnivals so he can win you all the prizes. The others aren't even surprised when you come back with a carload at stuffed toys anymore.

You also stop at a number of piers and sit at the end with fish and chips and some beer and just talk. Life. The future. The past. That one slice of pizza that tasted better than any others you've ever eaten in your entire lives.

You guys just do so much stuff. And its all so wholesome and pure and s o f t. 

Peter Quill/Star Lord

Did someone say road trip? Peter has all the tunes.

So much as touch the radio/speakers without his knowledge and you're preparing yourself to (possibly) walk home. He doesn't care if you're the other side of the country. You will walk.

He's a sucker for staying up and stargazing with you. He'll point out all the planets he's been to, and all the ones he wants to take you to later.

While Stargazing, be prepaid to have him jump up and pull you to him if a 'dancing song' comes on. That can range from the 'Livin La Vida Loca' to 'All of Me’. It's amazing. 

Scott Lang/Ant-Man

He's a dad. He knows how to keep others and himself  entertained on long trips.

Magic tricks. Snacks. Music. Jokes. Everything and anything you can think of to pass time, he's got it ready and waiting.

Sometimes he takes Cassy with you, and honesty things become more fun (if that's at all possible). Which means, for you, more food, music from your childhood, and embarrassing stories about Scott that Cass had managed to get hold of.

Overall it’s pretty cute going on road trips with Scott, that and it’s never ever boring. 

T’Challa/Black Panther

He’s a king, and a very busy one at that. So when you manage to pull him away from his duties he treats you extremely well. 

First he takes you to a certain county (Once it was Singapore (that was a very luxurious trip), another time Hawaii, etc), then he gets a hire car and takes you wherever else you’d like go.

Every time, every trip, he finds a Starbucks. He collects the cups and brings them back to Okoye. He does it to spite her. You know it.

He gets much more relaxed on the trips, and always comes back being able to deal with his duties much better.

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier

Wow okay first off, Bucky loves road trips with you. 

He manages to persuade Tony to lean him one of his fancy older cars and takes you along the coast in that. He’s a coast road trip type of guy.

He really loves the beach, the only thing that gets in his way is the sand and salty water getting in the joints of his arm, but he says he can “just take it off, don’t worry darlin’.” so yeah it’s r e a l l y not a problem. 

If he can't get a hold of one of Tony’s old cars, he gets an old pickup truck/ute and camps outside on the back with you and watches the stars and has old 30′s/40′s music playing from the radio. It’s pretty cute. Like him. 

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler

Mate. This guy has no idea what he's doing. 

Once he tried to bring, like, a whole ass record player because he was worried there’d be nothing to dance along to. Seriously, Kurt, we have a ca r a d i o for that. Precious Baby Boy.

He’s also pretty young, so be prepared to have lots of contraband School food (sour lollies, chips, etc) stashed everywhere in the car. This boy will eat all the junk food he can lay his three-fingered hands on. R E S T R A I N HIM. 

He'd probably take every opportunity he can to cuddle you or take you hand in his. He’s not quite used to doing ‘normal’ stuff like this, so the fact he’s doing something like that with you means a lot. 

Doctor Stephen Strange

He’s, um. He’s not used to this sort of thing either.

He’s been this arrogant, selfish, self-absorbed neurosurgeon for as long as he can remember. The most social and intimate thing he’s used to doing is ‘faking it’ with some random to make him look good.

BUT, sudeNly with you he kinda turns to a charismatic, sweetheart gentleman that will actually take you wherever you’d like to go. France? Okay. Brazil? Just south a little. China? Food’s great there. Russia? We’ll take ice skating lessons before we go. 

He can’t actually leave NYC for long, but he will spend as much time with you on trips away because they help him relax and it’s n i c e.

[isamajor]

Catloversshipping Drabbles (Giovanni x Nanu)

A translation of the first part of the drabbles I made for @istadris‘ last birthday ! ♥

1. Silence

It had been months, almost a year already, without any news, without anything. A radio silence that didn't look too good . Although he had learned of Team Rocket's apparent walloping and disintegration after the shut down of their base of Celadon City, and the missed stunt on Silph Co. Head Office, Nanu was mad at this beast of  Giovanni to not giving any sign of life. He couldn't imagine a man so proud and full of panache like him choosing any other path than reconquering his lost power. So Nanu waited, scrutinizing the slightest hint of a rebirth of Team Rocket.

2. Anger

"Who gave you that black eye?" Nanu shrugged. He raised his eyes at the one who dominated him of his imposing stature and met only a hard, icy, steel gray look. Giovanni seemed quite furious: against Nanu who get beaten up like a rookie by some random oaf, and against that guy he hoped had made his prayers, as he was going to cast his feet into the cement before throwing him into the Olivine's bay. Because no one has the right to touch Team Rocket Boss favourite toy.

3. Attraction

You could easily get caught up by Giovanni's magnetism: he was tall, good-looking, with a velvety voice and a charisma almost as big as his ego. He found it normal to grow attached to him, to want to follow his footsteps, to be desired. But what could the latter find in this old skinny and grumpy tomcat that was Nanu? Deep down, Giovanni would respond : glowing eyes, a sharp and vicious spirit and a kind of thrill, a feeling of absolute insecurity when he was nearby.

4. Jealousy

He felt a furious heat rising in his ears and his jaws clenched in rage as he watched through his binoculars what was happening in a luxurious suite of a hotel in Saffron City. Nanu had been assigned to monitor the local mafia leader, who had become his favorite target for some time. But he had bitterly regretted having accepted this mission order if it was to witness ardent shags between the latter and this handsome soldier, the new leader of the Vermilion Gym.

5. Separation

The ocean was gray and restless, the driving rain soaked the pier's concrete. This cold and sad, washed out atmosphere filled Nanu with a bittersweet feeling, a sense of tenderness like he had rarely experienced, and an emotion quickly showered by the icy, painful abyss of separation. The more he stared at the bay of Maile, the more he felt like returning to Driftveil City, when both of them laid themselves bare and had finally accepted their feelings after decades, but making their needed distance infinitely more cruel. .

6. Temperature

Nanu didn't like the cold, harsh climates were bad for his joints and he didn't like having to wear multiple layers of clothes to feel warm. His native archipelago offered him quite perpetual warmth, and the old cop was grateful for the Alolan climate. The nights he considered "cool" in Ula'Ula were hot and heavy for Giovanni, who was native of a less tropical area and had difficulty withstanding the damp heat, even without  any clothing. He would never have imagined that he could feel gratitude for a partner who would stick his frozen feet against his legs.

7. Secret

He was naked. And the other was completely clothed in front of him. He felt vulnerable, helpless, with no armor to display except his frail build. And yet, from the way Giovanni looked at him, it was like if he was undressing him again, as if he was removing his skin, flesh and laying his soul bare, and Nanu hated it. And Giovanni was delighted by Nanu's dirty look. A naked man has no secrets to hide, and under Giovanni's leather gloved fingers, the old cop would soon reveal all his secrets.

8. Inheritance

All his life, Giovanni was educated to take over from his mother. Even if he had proved to be a more than talented trainer, his path had been set for him. He learned political science and economics, languages and management methods, all the tricks of the underground business, the knowledge of his men and how to get out of delicate situations with clean hands. He took a certain liking to this. To the point of ousting his mother, when the time came.

Giovanni followed with a glance the frail silhouette, spattered with blood, silently coming out of Madame's apartments.

9. Future

People quickly forget. This world is going forward as fast as a Ninjask, and in a few years, all will have forgotten the events of bygone days, wars, gangs, all that. Team Rocket will only be a vague memory and him, its leader, will only be an anonymous person that the world will have forgotten. Only then, he could find rest, finally would get back to his son and try to make up with him. He could take with him the grumpy old man who had made his soul quiver, and they would leave to live in Unova, or Kalos, or anywhere, to give some time off to their old bodies.

10. Emptiness

His worst nightmare was coming true. He was alone. He had lost his prestige, his fortune and even his family. He was on the run after the shut down of his organization, without possibilities of contacting anyone, a price has been put on his head. He felt empty, lost. He had nothing left and the world no longer seemed to need him. Even his own son had distrusted him. Giovanni contemplated for a long time the waterfall which crashed below in a deafening roar. But in the corner of his mind, he heard a sly snicker : he was wrong, someone was still waiting for him.

[knot-ee]

🖤 BLACK HEART 💄 LIPSTICK 🎀 RIBBON BOW 💭 THOUGHT BALLOON ☀️ SUN (Ahem don't mind me, just sending these over again for Piers and Horangi, feel free to ignore if you want!)

🖤 what would he say is the darkest thought he's ever experienced? what do you think caused him to have that thought? has he ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it?

Walking into his debtor's building and killing every piece of shit in there. Loan sharks are just bottom feeding gangsters in Korea, and he used to get in DEEP with them. They took advantage of him, and he was stupid enough to keep gambling. He never actually did it because he knew he wouldn't get out alive and his family would get fucked over for his mistakes.

💄 has kim had any romantic or sexual experiences that made him realize something about himself?

Several, actually. The first was accidentally finding two of his male classmates holding hands and realizing that it seemed nice. He didn't out them. Another time, he was getting busy with his first girlfriend and couldn't get hard. She looked prettier with clothes on than off. Yes, she was incredibly mortified and pissed off. One time he got hard while sharing a futon with his friend because he smelled good after his shower. This all happened before the age of sixteen. When he had sex with another man for the first time, he was the bottom despite his reluctance; he ended up loving it.

🎀 how confident is he with his physical appearance? is there anything about it that he is insecure about? is there anything about it that he is happy about or gives him confidence? how does he think people perceive him based on his physical appearance?

This is a complicated matter. He was extremely confident as a teenager. He was always in shape and surpassed his classmates with looks. After getting in debt and gaining some fucked up scars, his confidence hit rock bottom. He had to terms with his appearance in his late 20s and now into his early 30s. He does think his scars are ugly, but he doesn't think he is necessarily is ugly. As long as he cover most of them, he's got massive rizz. He does wish he was taller. Traveling around the world and his non-Korean team members make him feel fucking tiny. He's certain people think he looks like a thug or loan shark what with his muscles, tattoos, and scars.

💭 is there something or someone he finds himself thinking about more often than other things? if so, why do you think he does this?

Unfortunately one of the things he thinks about most is gambling. Betting on something risky, beating his opponent, raking in the win. He's not desperate for money; it's just the act of gambling and winning. Considering his sex drive he thinks about sex A LOT. His mind really revolves around high risk situations, training, combat, and sex. He doesn't really have healthy hobbies and relationships.

☀️ would kim describe himself as more of an introvert or extrovert, or is he somewhere in between? how come?

Extroverted for sure. He loves talking and making short term friends. Loves drinking with strangers. The only time he's quiet is when it comes to matters of military/contract work. He keeps his mouth shut and eyes open until he can figure out who he's dealing with.

🖤 what would he say is the darkest thought he's ever experienced? what do you think caused him to have that thought? has he ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it?

Piers is fairly stable and a little religious, so he really hasn't had many dark thoughts. At least what he would define as dark. He's not prone to violence and greed. However he did once or twice imagine beating the shit out of his dad. He immediately stopped these thoughts and was overwhelmed with guilt. He only imagined something so violent after his dad acted up like an abusive and drunk asshole. He would never actually do this.

💄 has piers had any romantic or sexual experiences that made him realize something about himself?

Several things in his childhood made him realize he was gay, but he was slow on the uptake hence the several things. Nothing romantic just sexual in terms of watching porn if that could be considered an experience. He hasn't been in a relationship so nothing romantic has ever made him realize something about himself. As for actual sexual experiences... it's more like he figured out he didn't like certain things in the bedroom as opposed to realizing "something about himself". Once again, he hasn't had much experience even in a sexual manner.

🎀 how confident is he with his physical appearance? is there anything about it that he is insecure about? is there anything about it that he is happy about or gives him confidence? how does he think people perceive him based on his physical appearance?

Piers considers himself extremely average. Not ugly but not handsome. He think his forehead is too big. His brow bridge too prominent. His face generally unfriendly. He thinks it would be nice if he looked cuter or happier, but he wouldn't do anything to alter this. This is something he doesn't really put too much thought into unless he gets rejected by someone. Nothing about himself makes him happy; the thought seems silly. He likes his shape because he puts a lot of work into being fit. He's fairly confident about it but it's more about the hardwork than having muscles for show. He thinks people perceive him as unfriendly and square-headed.

💭 is there something or someone piers finds himself thinking about more often than other things? if so, why do you think he does this?

He thinks about work. He's a workaholic and a slight perfectionist. He always thinks how can I be better, how can we be better. Beside work Piers also thinks about ever finding the right person, how to attract the right person, and... Chris Redfield. He's foolishly enamored with a man he can never have.

☀️ would piers describe himself as more of an introvert or extrovert, or is he somewhere in between? how come?

HMM. Somewhere in between? He would LIKE to interact with more people, but doesn't feel like he quite fits in. If they're civilians, what does he talk about? He feels like his life dominates his life so it's hard to connect with people. He's not usually the first to speak or strike a conversation, but he can keep up with interactions if there's something worth contributing.

[alystayr]

Playlist musicale 2021 (1/2)

Liste des chansons (playlist 2021 - part. 1)

Mise à jour : 30 juin 2021

playlist 2020 (part.2), playlist 2020 (part. 1)

playlist 2019 (part.2), playlist 2019 (part. 1)

playlist 2018 (part. 2), playlist 2018 (part. 1)

playlist 2017 (part. 2), playlist 2017 (part. 1)

playlist 2016 (part. 2), playlist 2016 (part. 1)

playlist 2015

0-9 #

A

AC/DC - Demon Fire (2020)

Bryan Adams - Summer Of '69 (1985)

Alabama Shakes - Hold On (2012)

America - A horse with no name (1971)

Angèle - Balance Ton Quoi (2018)

Archive - Fool (2002)

Jean-Louis Aubert - Bien Sûr (2019)

Asaf Avidan - Different Pulses (2012)

B

George Baker - Little Green Bag (from Reservoir Dogs) (1969)

Band Of Horses - No One's Gonna Love You (2007)

The Beatles - Strawberry Fields Forever (1967)

Jeff Beck (feat. Imogen Heap) - Blanket (2007)

Bee Gees - Stayin' Alive (from  Saturday Night Fever) (1977)

Chuck Berry - Darlin' (2017)

The Black Keys (cover John Lee Hooker) - Crawling Kingsnake (2021)

Black Pistol Fire - Morning Star (2016)

Black Pumas - Colors (2019)

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - What Ever Happened To My Rock And Roll (2001)

Black Sabbath - God Is Dead? (2013)

Blind Melon - No Rain (1992)

Blondie - Heart Of Glass (1978)

The Blue Stones - Black Holes (Solid Ground) (2015)

The Blues Mystery - Back to the Dirty Town (2013)

Blues Traveler - Run-Around (1995)

Blur (Feat. Phil Daniels) - Parklife (1994)

David Bowie - Survive (1999)

Jacques Brel - La chanson des vieux amants (1967)

Brigitte - Battez-Vous (2010)

C

Francis Cabrel - Peuple des fontaines (2020)

J.J. Cale - Durango (1997)

CAN - Vitamin C (1972)

Cats on trees - Sirens call (2013)

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Distant Sky (2016)

Tracy Chapman - Give Me One Reason (1995)

Joe Cocker (cover Randy Newman) - You Can Leave Your Hat On (from  9½ Weeks) (1986/1972)

CocoRosie - Did Me Wrong (2020)

Cœur de pirate (feat. Loud)   - Dans la nuit (2018)

Leonard Cohen - Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye (1967)

The Cranberries - Animal Instinct (1999)

Creedence Clearwater Revival - Fortunate Son (1969)

Sheryl Crow - If It Makes You Happy (1996)

D

Eddy de Pretto - Bateaux-Mouches (2020)

Lana Del Rey - Chemtrails Over The Country Club (2021)

Depeche Mode - Freelove (2001)

Détroit - Null And Void (2013)

Dinosaur Jr - Freak Scene (1988)

Dire Straits - Expresso Love (1980)

E

Eels - Earth To Dora (2020)

Eminem  (feat. Anderson .Paak)   - Lock It Up (2020)

Endless Boogie - The Artemus Ward (2013)

F

Piers Faccini - Foghorn Calling (2021)

Mylène Farmer - Fuck them all (2005)

Léo Ferré – Les anarchistes (1969)

Feu! Chatterton - Monde Nouveau (2021)

Foo Fighters - Walk (2011)

Maxime Le Forestier - Saltimbanque (1975)

Foster The People - Sit Next to Me (2017)

Franz Ferdinand - Michael (2004)

Fugees - Ready or Not (1996)

G

Peter Gabriel - Mercy Street (1986)

Serge Gainsbourg - Requiem Pour Un Con (1968)

France Gall - Evidemment (1987)

Genesis - Invisible Touch (1986)

Girls in Hawaii - Found in the Ground (2002)

Goldfrapp - Ooh La La (2005)

Jean-Jacques Goldman - Comme toi (1982)

Grand Corps Malade & Louane - Derrière le brouillard (2020)

Juliette Greco - Le p'tit bal perdu (1961)

Greta Van Fleet - Age of Machine (2020)

Guns N' Roses - Sweet Child O' Mine (1987)

H

Bill Haley & His Comets - Rock Around The Clock (1954)

PJ Harvey - Dress (1992)

Murray Head - Say It Ain't So Joe (1975)

Heartless Bastards - Revolution (2020)

Bernard Herrmann - Taxi Driver (theme) (1976)

The Hives - Hate to Say I Told You So (2000)

The Hollies - Long Cool Woman (In a Black Dress) (1971)

Hollywood Undead (feat. Hyro The Hero) - Comin' Thru The Stereo (2021)

Romain Humeau - Echos (2020)

I

IDLES - Mr. Motivator (2020)

Interpol - Stella Was A Diver (2002)

Iron Maiden - Hallowed Be Thy Name (1982)

J

Michael Jackson - Black or White (1991)

The Jesus And Mary Chain (Feat. Hope Sandoval) -   Sometimes Always (1994)

Quincy Jones - Soul Bossa Nova (1962)

K

Kaleo - Backbone (2020)

Kansas - Dust in the Wind (1977)

The Killers - Caution (2020)

The Kills - The Search For Cherry Red (2020)

Kings Of Leon - The Bandit (2021)

Kiss - Heaven's On Fire (1984)

Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way (1993)

Kyo - Le Graal (2014)

L

Led Zeppelin - Since I've Been Loving You (1970)

Liars - Sekwar (2021)

Limp Bizkit (Feat. Lil Wayne) - Ready To Go (2013)

Louise Attaque - La plume (2000)

M

Mad Season - Wake Up (1995)

Manu Chao – Clandestino (1998)

Laura Marling - What He Wrote (2010)

Memphis Slim - Born With The Blues (1972)

Metronomy - Walking In The Dark (2019)

Mickey 3D - La mort du peuple (2005)

Steve Miller Band - Jet Airliner (1977)

The Mission - Wasteland (1986)

Moby - Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? (1999)

Mogwai - It's What I Want To Do, Mum (2021)

Moondog - New Amsterdam (1997)

Morcheeba - Sweet L.A. (2018)

Motörhead - Till The End (2015)

Jason Mraz - I'm Yours (2005)

Muse - Supermassive Black Hole (2006)

N

Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile (1999)

Nirvana - All Apologies (1993)

Noir Désir - Aux sombres héros de l'amer (1989)

Claude Nougaro (cover Chico Buarque) - Tu verras (1978)

O

Oasis - D'You Know What I Mean? (1997)

Of Montreal - The Past Is A Grotesque Animal (2007)

The Offspring - Why Don't You Get A Job? (1998)

P

Panaviscope – Sham (2020)

Pigalle - Dans La Salle Du Bar-Tabac De La Rue Des Martyrs (1990)

Pink Floyd - Us And Them (1973)

The Police - Synchronicity II (1983)

Pomme (cover Mylène Farmer) - Désenchantée (2020/1991)

Iggy Pop - Dirty Little Virus (2020)

Portishead - Chase The Tear (2009)

Portugal. The Man - Feel It Still (2017)

The Pretty Reckless - My Bones (2021)

Q

Queen - The Miracle (1989)

Queens of the Stone Age - Go With The Flow (2002)

R

The Raconteurs – Broken Boy Soldier (2006)

Rammstein - Du Hast (1997)

Chris Rea - The Blue Cafe (1998)

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Suck My Kiss (1992)

Lou Reed (cover The Drifters)  - This Magic Moment (1995/1960)

R.E.M. - What's The Frequency, Kenneth? (1994)

Renaud - Mistral gagnant (1985)

Rival Sons - Too Bad (2019)

The Rolling Stones - Star Star (1973)

Royal Blood - Typhoons (2021)

David Lee Roth - Just Like Paradise (1987)

La Rue Ketanou - Le Capitaine de la Barrique (2014)

Olivia Ruiz - De Toi A Moi (2003)

S

Santana (cover  Fleetwood Mac) - Black Magic Woman (1970)

Shocking Blue - Venus (1969)

Simple Minds - Mandela Day (1989)

The Sisters of Mercy - Emma (1987)

Slayer - Raining Blood (1986)

Sasha Sloan (feat. Sam Hunt) - when was it over? (2020)

The Smashing Pumpkins - Disarm (1993)

Patti Smith - Rock N Roll Nigger (1978)

The Smiths - Barbarism Begins at Home (1985)

Sonny & The Sunsets  - Too Young to Burn (2009)

Regina Spektor - One Little Soldier (from Scandale) (2019)

Spoon - The Way We Get By (2002)

Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band - Backstreets (1975)

St. Vincent - Los Ageless (2017)

Stereophonics - Bust This Town (2019)

Sub Urban - Cradles (2021)

Superbus - Mes Défauts (2010)

James Supercave - Better Strange (2016)

Taylor Swift (feat. Bon Iver) – Exile (2020)

System Of A Down - Spiders (1998)

T

Téléphone - Au coeur de la nuit (1980)

Têtes Raides - Tam Tam (2007)

Charles Trenet - Je chante (1937)

Tool - Schism (2001)

Tina Turner - The Best (1989)

U

U2 - Angel Of Harlem (1988)

V

Van Morrison - Country Fair (1974)

Laurent Voulzy - Rockollection (1977)

W

Tom Waits - Wrong Side Of The Road (1978)

Weezer - Beverly Hills (2005)

The White Stripes - Hotel Yorba (2001)

Amy Winehouse - Fuck Me Pumps (2003)

Woodkid - In Your Likeness (2020)

Wovenhand - Crook and Flail (2016)

Shannon Wright - Division (2017)

X

Y

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Heads Will Roll (2009)

Yes - Roundabout (1971)

Z

[atomicstardust]

Iron Bear

AO3

~~

The Asset took two months to stop calling itself it.

It-He was a fragmented mess of memories and seven decades of instinct to kill.

After the helicarriers fell, after all the anchor points were ripped away (even if that anchor was HYDRA), after he was free…

He found himself lost.

He almost died at first, no resources, the remnants of HYDRA still desperately trying to repossess him. Most survival instincts were concepts to him, like eating. 

Over time, he managed to get the money to survive, first stealing, and then working under the table because he was strong and there’s always someone who wants boxes moved. 

He knew what credit cards were, he knew how Europeans and Americans counted to three different, he knew what Pokemon were, he knew how to make himself small, to survive, to hide.

But not being a it instead of a he was still a work in progress. 

~~

A few months later, he was staring at some ducks. Animals, at least, were reassuringly the same shape, even if bananas tasted completely different. 

He didn’t have much else to do, he had enough money working in back-alley restaurants and at car shops for cash and he was moving on once the morning rush started and he was just another face in the crowd. 

“Hey, Mister.”

There’s a moment where he just breathed, ignored the memories of kids he’s hurt in the past, and then he looked down at the boy standing beside the bench. His dad is on the pier, talking into a phone and doesn’t seem to care where his son wandered off to. No one else is paying attention. 

“What?” he rasped. He hasn’t actually spoken in 17 days, words are something that doesn't come easy to him, even after all this time. 

“For you.” The boy said, tucking a strange red and gold teddy bear into his lap. “He protected me, now he can protect you too.”

“A…bear.” There’s static filling his brain. Command not recognized.

The boy puffs up in indignation.

“S’not just a bear! It’s Iron Bear!”

“Iron Bear?” He was startled at the absurdity of the statement, and the feeling of soft faux fur on his flesh hand. 

“Yeah, they made it because of Iron Man, ‘cause he helps people.” the boy said, “And Tony Stark would want me to help people, and you look sad, so you should have it. I’m named after him actually, ‘cause he helped my mom once.” The kid caught himself rambling and blushed lightly, “Uhhh…so what's your name?”

“James,” he said after a long moment. He wasn’t Bucky Barnes anymore, even if he wore his face. Bucky had died sometime after the training started. 

“Antony!” The kid spun around and darted back towards the man, calling a goodbye over his shoulder. 

James stared down at the red and gold bear in his lap and went to go look up Tony Stark. 

~~

The bear stays in his backpack, through Italy, through Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia and Romania. 

~~

It’s been a year, four months and thirteen days since the helicarriers fell and James walked up to Stark Tower, stepped inside and found a bench to put his backpack down and wait. 

He had a feeling that he was clocked before he even stepped foot inside. The agents instantly focus on him, half starting to move closer, half starting to put themselves between the civilians and him, ushering them out of the lobby. It’s impressively fast, but then again these are trained field agents that are playing civilian security. 

He made eye contact with some of the agents but doesn’t move and within four minutes the lobby is cleared and he’s got guns aimed at him from a careful distance away. 

He doesn’t speak, the agents say nothing, and within the next two minutes the elevator at the back is opening and Tony Stark stepped out, strolling over to the ring of people around him and coming to a stop at the edge of the circle. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Tony Stark said, seemingly perfectly at ease among all the surrounding agents. “Pretty sure there’s a star-spangled super-soldier that would love for you to be knocking at his door, not mine”

James remembered the reports he’d seen and searched up, of the HYDRA reveal, and the SHIELD deaths when every bit of information was thrown onto the net. 

The list of people on Insight’s list, Tony Stark one of the top ones. 

Iron Man and the Iron Legion making headlines from rescuing agents undercover.

The Maria Stark Foundation vanishing known retired agents and families somewhere safer. 

The toy held out to him and ‘they made it because of Iron Man’. 

“I heard that you helped people.”

[floralcalaveraa]

                      plotted starter for @mononezu​

                     The runaways are the ones running the night. They are collected behind a closed door that is tucked between unvisited buildings, drawn by the hintful sight of neon lights whenever an opening peeked and the sound of a muffled version of an ongoing performance. Drawn by the idea of experiencing the night in the most unforgettable way possible.

Pasio was a spacious region, no doubt that there were those who reinvented territories to satisfy what they craved for. And the place that becomes relevant for this story? A night-club for the party-lovers, those that hollered like wolves, and those that cannot stand sleepless nights. Guzma was one of them. One what? A party-lover, a wolf, or an insomniac? Should it matter? He was nothing but an unnamed face amongst the others, but he was all the same as them; they were enraptured by the modern interpretation of Apollo, the god of music. Eyes gleamed with the reflection of Piers in them.

He does not know his name, what he was like, or why he sang. The only thing he knew was that he was damn good at singing, and much more, they were under the same roof … at the same point in the universe’s lifetime ... Why was he thinking like this when the room was so loud? He does not know, much less, understand himself. Maybe it’s the music that has him soulful.

Maybe, Guzma thinks, he would be the one with answers.

Putting all his faith in one person is the most effective way to experience the worst letdown. Pair that with the reality of the rockstar on stage, before a series of adoring fans, and his ambition of seeking him seems far-fetched. Oh well, the underdog part of him says, then more than ever you should get to him. The distance between them attracted the boss even more.

While the crowd cheers, Guzma attempts to get near. It is a show of shoving and being shoved, of drawing himself near the wall and avoiding those that take advantage of the show for less than agreeable deals, and overcoming the climatic part — the security. They stand like toy-soldiers, acting as a divider for the singer from the frenzy audience … In truth, this wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was having to miss out on Piers’ last performance. These security guards? They too are mesmerized like the rest. Should Guzma even bother tiptoeing it backstage? No, but the exaggerated side of him said yes, let’s tiptoe like a smooth criminal in a cartoon.

. . .

Here he was, in the anteroom of guest star rooms. None of them had no labels, no indication of what each room was for. He was left with loneliness and awaiting, for only the universe knows when his spectacle reaches its final moments. Right when he was about to light up a cigarette, the sound of heels drew near and the sight of that brazen hair was unmistakable. It was the rockstar that stole the night! When Piers enters his room and trusts the door behind him to close, Guzma intervenes with a set of fingers, before swiftly opening it some more for access. To which he then lets it close, a sneaky entrance just to have a moment with him.

Selfishly, Guzma takes advantage of the shadowy parts of the room staying in complete silence, like a snake waiting to strike at the right time. Enough to see the other do something other than singing --even if it’s just sitting and take a sigh, or gaze at his reflection in the mirror-- but not long enough to catch something intimate or private. (Guzma wanted to discover those parts of him himself.)

                     “Hey, chu have a real nice voice.”

A murmur that hopes to not intimidate vibrates from his throat. This low setting of his voice was accompanied by a tame series of gestures; he pours a small shot of whatever bottle the artist would have in this room with a small smile, a display of casualness. This looks like a guy that appreciates a good drink, why not serve him something. After the tiny cup glides across the table like if this was a bar, the Alolan continues a bar-like setting when he sits on a stool not too far and proceeds to recline on the counter behind him.

                     “Chu do private performances?”

[hpdabbles]

Kindness and Remorse Part 2

The thing about being a toddler again is that Dudley finds it all rather embarrassing. He can’t walk correctly, his vocal cords are the bane of his existence, don’t get him started on the nappy changes and maybe worst of all, he had limited ability on his surroundings.

His parents, who he can’t help but resent, try their best to smother him in love and toys. He has to fight to keep Harry within arms reach, throwing the strongest tantrums his little body can produce the moment they so much as try to separate them. 

Dudley knows his mother is hurt by the way he squirms out of her hugs or the lack of smiles his father receives when the man makes funny faces at him. It feels like a cheap attempt to re-buy his love and he knows, on some level, that to these two people it’s not a son well into his mid-thirties their hatred and intolerance have pushed away but a toddler that doesn’t like mommy or daddy holding him.

But oh, do they try. They love him to bits even when he’s being difficult and always speak to him with such adoration it would be heartwarming had he really been a baby. 

There are times where he almost allows himself to start to forgive them but then Vernon sneers at Harry causing the poor little boy to start sobbing and Dudley remembers why he cut them out of his life.

It’s not easy, those first few weeks. Despite how hard he tries, and how many temper tantrums he throws some things he can’t stop. He managed to let allow Harry to sleep with him but it’s not every night and they are always quick to baby talk him into understanding the freak can’t be allowed in the good beds. 

He can’t stop the hissed words, the quick slaps and sneers they aim at Harry. He can’t make Vernon or Petunia return the toys they rip out of the little one’s hands. He can’t stop them from locking the boy, while he stands behind a playpen frustrated he can’t get the stupid thing open so he can let his cousin out of the cupboard. 

Even getting food or clothing is hard. Try all he might, stumbling around on his pudgy baby legs isn’t enough to reach the clothes or the food cabins. The moment the Dursley couple realizes what he attempts to do- “Oh my little angel is just too curious. No, no, no Diddy, you can’t go in there”- they start to buy those annoying baby gates and installing them at all major doorways. 

Nothing is more frustrating than being a mentally thirty-six-year-old man and losing to baby proofing of all things. 

Still, there are some small victories here and there. He shares the toys which bring him no joy with Harry, and the baby’s green eyes light each time. He always finds some excuse to hug his cousin or hold his hand. The temper tantrums do sometimes allow Harry to spend the night in his crib, safely tucked away in his arms.

Wherever Harry goes Dudley follows even if his parents are a physical barrier, he just makes himself so fussy they crumble after three or more hours of screaming which means Harry doesn’t spend too much time with them. 

Harry smiles at him too. Which makes all of this somehow worth it, if only so the baby has something to smile at.  

Weeks turn to months.

 Dudley does his best to make sure his parents understand that Harry is his favorite playmate, and there are times where they try to rip that away but he makes life very difficult for them each time. It’s not long that he starts to babble in broken sentences, and he stumbles a lot less when his legs start to get more strength. 

His speech is coming along better, by the time he’s two and three months old he’s able to make simple sentences. He tries to avoid bigger words because while he hates being talked down to, standing out for being gifted could mean he be place in higher schooling. 

Which means he won’t be able to help Harry. So he sucks it up and watches what he says, making sure to keep an eye on the telly for baby channels and repeat baby books his mother reads to him. 

He’s doted on by all of his parent's friends, who all coo and congratulate Petunia for such a smart and well behaved little boy. He guesses they like the fact he doesn’t grab everything in sight and actually stays where they tell him to. Heaven knows that when Daisy and Josh were tots it was like herding cats and there were nights where he passes out exhausted after trying to keep them from running around. 

All in all, he’ can say he’s nicely balanced. Some days he’s an angel and others he’s a screaming banshee. No one really bats an eye at it, thinking his good behavior out weights his bad. 

Dudley makes a face each time his mother starts spreading her lies about Uncle James and Auntie Lily, however, and sneers when the people of Privet Drive eat it up. It makes him sick to think their name is being dragged through the mud when they were murdered protecting their little boy.

“Oh, how dreadful. Drunkards dying in a car crash and then leaving you their problem? You must be so strong” says one lady. Dudley can’t remember her name but he’s fairly sure she lives at Eight Privet Drive.

Petunia preens just as Dudley stubbornly says  “Harry not problem”

Miss. Eight looks down at him with surprise on her face. “What was that darling?”

“Harry not problem.” He repeats daring her to say otherwise. Petunia hastily moves the conversation along with a quick  “Kids say the darnedest things don’t they?” even as his mother shoots him a long look. Dudley barely reframes form curling his lip back at her.

He looks around the little party that his parents have thrown for the neighborhood. They claim it’s to be friendly but Dudley knows that it’s his father's attempt to make good connections and to flaunt Harry’s money. Recently they bought a new state of the art grill which was wowing the group men surrounding the laughing Vernon.

The adults are scattered through the yard, some teenagers are giggling hunched over a table on the far right and much younger children who appear around Dudley’s physical age have all piled around the sandbox. There are four of them, and it takes him much longer to realize he knows two. It’s Piers and Dennis. 

He’s always known they were friends since young but had he really known them this long? The last time he spoke to Piers was when the man got married and moved away to Wales with his wife. Dennis was said to be released from jail in five more years with good behavior.

Seeing them now, felt odd. 

Staring at them he didn’t notice Petunia give Miss Eight a knowing smile before she gave him a gentle push.  “Why don’t you go over and play with them Popkins. No need to be shy.”

“Okay, mommy.”  He was halfway across the yard leaving the two cooing women behind when he realized something terrible. Where in the world was Harry? Stopping in the middle of the party, Dudley twist all around filling with distress at the lack of wild dark hair and green eyes, grabbing the attention of one of his father’s co-workers.  “What’s wrong, little fellow?”

“I no find Harry.”

“Is Harry one of your toys?”

“He’s cousin.” Dudley looks up at the man, his eyes tearing up without him meaning too. Curse his emotional body. “I no find him.”

“He’s inside, probably up to no good. He doesn’t behave well in crowds you see.” Vernon cuts in, smile tight against his co-worker's rapidly growing concern. His father's face pulls slightly and he adds on as if though it’s a great misfortune. “He’s mixed you know. His father was a gypsy.” 

Dudley faces clouds over in rage at the implication his father is attempting to make and he quickly gets very angry at the way the other man’s face twists with distaste. First of all, that’s not even correct. Uncle James was Indian, and gypsy is a fucking slur which is supposed to be about Romanian people.

Romania isn’t even on the same continent as India! 

Kicking both men in the shins as hard as his little body could, out of childish spite, Dudley bolts before he starts sneering at them for their close-minded awfulness. He hears his father apologize profoundly and it’s worth the stinging pain in his toes.  How could he forget how racist his father was? How racist all of this Drive were? 

He rushes inside, through the back door mumbling angerly under his breath. He needs to find Harry, the boy is only two now and he could get hurt if no one was watching him. 

Dudley finds him sitting in front of the washing machine in the kitchen. Harry is playing with some broken tin soldiers that his father had given him from Vernon’s old things. Pursing his lips, he tries to calm his rage as Harry happily babbles away to the little figures. 

Their tiny things, and if he were to swallow them, Harry could chock. Making up his mind he wanders over which caused Harry to see him for the first time. The toddler's face lights up, as he waves his tiny hands happily at him.

“Dudley, come play?” Harry asks offering the half-melted blue lieutenant to him with a cheerful smile. Dudley’s heart melts just a little and he pushes away his anger to sit down. He takes the toy in his hand before giving his cousin a stern look. 

“Play. No, eat.” He demonstrates the no putting this into your mouth by shaking his head when he makes the blue lieutenant tap against his lips. Harry repeats his head motion with a quick “No eat.”

Satisfied, that he understood, Dudley joins in on the game which turns out to be making the little soldiers jump up and down every so often. Harry is content with smacking his hands against them and making noises that could be considered sound effects. 

As they are playing, Dudley gets bored rather quickly and lets his mind wander. He hopes he can convince the boy to go draw with him instead since this toy waving is getting rather old, even if Harry waving the toys around rapidly is downright adorable.

Harry is in some of his old clothes but they don’t quite hang off his body as before. While before Harry used to drown in fabric, the clothing is now just simply lose in certain areas. Dudley is also happy to note that while he may have lost a few pounds, Harry is a little more filled out then he was the when he was a baby last go about. This time around Dudley isn’t nearly as chunky, mostly due to not demanding sweets from his parents as much. He’s thinner but he still has more meat on his bones then Harry or the other kids.  

Once upon a time, he would think about how disgusting his body was and how maybe that had something to do with him being cruel as well. After all, more than one person pointed out that he started to get nicer around the same time he started to lose weight. 

Tiffiny had been quick to beat that out of his head.  “You were mean because you chose to be mean. Your weight had nothing to do with it. It’s called coloration does not mean causation, darling.”

Sometimes he forgot his wife was raised by two therapists when said field was considered a joke. Other times, it just made him happy she was able to communicate her thoughts and emotions easier. She taught him a lot of neat tricks to do so himself. 

“Dudley? Come. Mommy and daddy outside” Harry says suddenly, standing up. He motions with his tiny hands to the noisy adults as he wabbles away into the yard.  Getting up and going after him, Dudley suddenly gets hit with a startling nauseating realization. 

Harry thinks the Dursley are his parents. He doesn’t remember Uncle James or Auntie Lily. Right now Dudley is most aware of them and he barely knows anything at all. Heck, Harry probably doesn’t even know he’s half Indian. 

....In his past, Harry didn’t know anything about that part of his culture, did he? Not a single thing. It makes the abuse they put him through more disgusting, adding a whole other layer.  How long did Harry feel out of place? Since in the future-past, it was said cousin that told him about Uncle James, at one point Harry had to learn what he was missing out on didn't he? 

Reaching out he grabs Harry's hand feeling very very sad. “Not mommy and daddy. Auntie and uncle.” 

His cousins stare at him for only a second and the baby bods his head obediently used to Dudley correcting him.  “Auntie and Uncle.” 

Giving the little hand in his hold a squeeze, he tries for a smile and it rewarded with another in return. Harry squeezes back his hand before they release hold. Together they go out in the yard where Petunia has been calling everyone’s attention for some cake. Dudley makes sure to pass his plate to Harry, after sitting the boy down at the sandbox. He keeps half an eye on the toddler who smears the treat half on his face, eating with his fingers in joy. 

Mentally, he starts to think of a way to help Harry learn more about his heritage. He has to admit that it will be quite hard when he knows next to nothing about it. Heck, he doesn’t even know what part of India, uncle James was from or what religion he took part in.

Did wizards even have religions? The Weasleys celebrated Yule and Daisy did say that Hogwarts did have Chrismas Feast but was that religion-based or merely festive based? Would Harry want to part take in these kinds of celebrations or would he prefer the Indian ones? Heavens was there a difference between them?

This was giving him a headache. He’ll think about it later he decides because right now he needs to focus on making sure Harry has fun while eating without chocking.  Just as he thinks that fate tests him. He looks upwards, asking for some patience when Harry drops his plate and attempts to still eat it covered in sand. 

“Harry. No, eat!”

“But Dudley.”

“No, eat!”

Harry's face scrunches up causing Dudley to mentally groan. He recognizes a two-year-old tantrum, after raising two children. Not to mention the party was long from over. Around them, people were throwing his cousin nasty looks, shaking their heads and doing nothing to stop the boy from eating the food on the ground. They're just feeling mighty tall for allowing it aren't they?  He sneers back at them the same moment Harry starts crying.

The adults' faces stiff and most turn up their noses.

What have they never seen a little boy cry!? Look away number Two! Look away. 

He feeds the rest of his slice to Harry to get him to calm down. After everyone leaves his parents lock up Harry in the cupboard for “embarrassing” them at the party and Dudley exhausts his lungs with all the screaming and crying this causes.

He’s straight-up dizzy from his tantrum but sadly his parents aren’t willing to let Harry out this time. He can hear the poor thing crying from his room well into the night. He wishes he could get out of his crib and go down there. Help him fall asleep because he knows Harry doesn't like the dark. The toddler always eyes Dudley's nursery night light with big green eyes the same way Josh used to be amazed by him shaking his car keys.

Or at least give him a teddy to hold on to since Harry was a cuddle bug to the extremes. 

He falls asleep thinking about how terrible it is that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t change terrible people unless they want to. His parents will continue to choose to be monsters it seems. He couldn’t wait for the day Harry got away from their toxic behavior. 

Unknown to him, his desire to just help Harry through the night bleeds through the floorboards and makes the little boy a soft large pillow that functions as a makeshift mattress. He calms down quickly since the pillow smells a lot like his beloved cousin. Suddenly his little cupboard is lightened up by dancing teddy bears and shaking keys above his head and the toddler watches them until his eyes lids are too tired to remind open.

In the morning, the pillow and lights disappear in a swirl of silver sparkles before Pentuina or Vernon could see it.   

[adelar-ward]

Arcana cast parenting

Answering the ask about "main 6 having a baby". I coudn't find out how to tag ask answers so i'll just post it the usual way. Here's some about parenting – feel free to send more asks (nsfw is okay), i'm always happy to share:

Julian:

•  Is a big mama bird, always worries and hovers and double checks. Gets panicked when baby's crying and thinks he fucked up something already.

•  Provides a lot of help and does a huge part of babysitting yet still tells you that you must be tired and should get some rest even if it is he who barely stands on his feet.

•  Constantly brags to Mazelinka about the child and just won't shut up about it.

•  Confers with them very seriously when they're, like, 3 month old and obviously don't understand. It's more talking to himself, honestly, but he always adresses the baby anyway.

•  When you go for a walk, eagerly puts on a sling though it ruins his dramatic image completely, and looks adorably proud. Also he always carries baby things with him and can get just about anything seemingly out of nowhere if needed.

•  Heals every tiny scratch and bruise they get with his magic, also knows a lot of little rhymes and sayings to make it heal better and not hurt.

•  Dad jokes!

•  Takes them to theatre rehearsals so soon enough they know every actor and tried on all props.

•  Almost died laughing once when he saw his 3,2ft child wearing his coat and an eyepatch.

Lucio:

•  Pouts whenever thinks you pay more attention to the baby than to him so please be aware that you basically have two whiny babies instead of one.

•  Was going to hire a lot of people to care for the kid but not a single one seemed to satisfy him.

•  Spoils the child rotten with gifts and letting them do whatever they want and behave however pleases them. Just doesn't bother to correct them. You'll have to teach the kid to behave all by yourself or you'll get another Lucio, and believe me only one is enough for this world.

•  Buys all kinds of toys no matter their stereotypical target gender - soldiers, wooden swords, dollies and plushies because his child must have a choice. Will actually be the first to support kid's coming out of any sort and use whatever pronounce they want, because they have every right!

•  Never declines solo babysitting whenever you ask but will go on about how hard it was later and you must praise his efforts and tell him how great he is even if you just left him with the baby for 2 minutes or you're in for a pouting for your lack of appreciation.

•  Grows to actually enjoy babysitting and do it willingly once the kid is old enough to communicate and play games. Their favourite game is makeshift performances about Fearless And Unconquerable Count Lucio's glorious victories over countless hoards of his miserable foes (the child is always Lucio, of course, and Lucio is always hoards of miserable foes. You're welcome to join foes hoards and be defeated, too).

Asra:

•  Just takes the child (however little) and goes "off to see the world" (well, rather, outskirts of the city and nearby groves and fields), sometimes forgetting to leave a note and giving you a heart attack. Has everything for baby care for a day though, so it's not like it's bad for a baby... They'll probably pick up Asra's wanderlust though.

•  Magic tricks performances every now and then! All kinds of flashy and most entertaining things like butterflies and glowing bubbles and magical flowers growing everywhere. However often he does it, it doesn't seem to get old.

•  Never worries about broken and burnt things when the child's own magic starts to manifest, just laughs and jokes and tells them funny stories about his first magic failures.

•  Tells about his past but colours it pink like it was full of adventures and only great things, because every kid wants to live alone in a secret magic cave under the pier and make friends with mermaids, but he never tells them how hard and scary and lonely it was most of times.

•  This is when he forgives his parents finally and becomes very close to them again, and what they've missed with him, they're happy to catch up with their grandchild. The child adores them, too, and begs you to go visit again, like, every day. Salim and Aisha are a huge support with teaching the child magic or just taking them off your hands whenever you need to travel or spend some alone time with Asra.

•  New squeezing buddy for Faust! Plus they can understand her words, too, so they wrap her around their neck like a scarf and enjoy carrying her around and playing word chain games.

•  Bonus points if the child looks like little copy of you.

Muriel:

•  Makes a lot of wooden figurines for them, one of every animal he can possibly think about, so they can paint them together later. Muriel's work is neat and fine and the child's paintings are clumsy, but he has a whale of patience for them.

•  Teaches the kid to recognize herbs and trees and animals and mushrooms so they naturally become a pretty decent herbalist at a young age. Of course he also teaches them how to survive in a forest and find their way home, just in case.

•  Gives them their own little place in his garden to grow something and they proudly observe every day how it grows.

•  Lets the child name new chickens and smiles a bit wheneven he has to call them by these names because they're funny sometimes, like Sir Chickington the Brave.

•  When the kid's hair is long enough, learns how to braid them and quickly becomes surprisingly good at that. They braid a few strands of his hair, too, and he doesn't undo it.

•  His bedtime stories are always short and animal related, with animals as heroes (and Sir Chickington the Brave as protagonist) and local human count as main antagonist who is always defeated and looks really stupid in the end.

•  Secretly sews some myrrh into all of child's clothes because he's afraid like hell that they might forget him.

Nadia:

•  The child has only the best things possible – food, clothes, toys, teachers.

•  As a royal kid, they must sleep in their crib or their tiny bed, but sometimes, especially when you're off for your magic buisiness and she sleeps alone, she sneaks barefoot and snatches the baby to take them to sleep with her.

•  Lets them play with her hair when they're very little and lets them try to do her hair when they're older. It comes out clumsy and disheveled and Portia has to fix it or redo it almost completely but Nadia assures them they did most of the work and Portia helped juuust a little bit.

•  You both teach the child to read, and thanks to that she decides to finally do something about a poor education system in Vesuvia, builds schools and hires teachers (mostly from Prakra), allowing everyone who's willing to learn.

•  The kid learns a lot from her sisters, every one of them shares what they value most, and now that Nadia sees it from aside, she understands that they were never mean to her in the firsh place, it's was just a bit overwhelming.

•  Always listens to the kid and takes their opinion into consideration, never undervalues or waves is aside because of their age.

•  Enjoys being a parent much more than she thought she would, but maybe it's because it's you and not Lucio she has a baby with.

Portia:

•  Whenever baby won't sleep, she puts Pepi by them and Pepi purrs them to sleep in no time.

•  Shows them all palace secrets, one at a time, making a hell of a big mysterious adventure out of that, which the child loves and anticipates.

•  Often dances with child's feet on her feet.

•  Secretly snatches pastries from the kitchen for them. Not that she couldn't just take everything openly, it's just more interesting that way.

•  They will team up against you and will tease the shit outta you! Though it's never mean or offending and if you put up teasing fight you three end up laughing the world away.

•  Encourages their friendship with servants and always teaches the child there's no shame in a hard work, shame is not to do anything at all. Naturally, the kid quickly becomes everyone's little helper, running around with messages and lightweight things, always getting sweets and pats on the head, loved by every servant in a palace.

•  Calls them by their small name with "-yusha" in the end.

•  Also dad jokes! She's Ilya's sister for a reason.

•  You couldn't believe it was possible but she's even more beautiful and bright and funny when there's three of you (or four, because she's likely to have twins).

[sjrresearch]

An Interview with Warwick Kinrade, Wargaming Author and Rules Designer

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

Warwick Kinrade is a long-time rules designer and author of the award-winning Battlegroup WWII series of miniatures rules. At 49, he is someone who’s made a real splash with many of his rules projects, from Normandy Firefight, Battlegroup WWII (now exclusively available through Plastic Soldier Company) and the Cold War-based derivative, BattleGroup NORTHAG, and now, the “Soldiers Of..” ancient rules (though I hear it’s expanding into Napoleonics!). 

He’s done a lot in the universe of miniatures, and we expect more out of this prolific giant! I wanted to touch base and see what he was up to. 

We’ll talk to his partner, Piers Brand, in the near future!

Jason Weiser: So, how did you get started in writing rules? Was there an “aha” moment, or did you fall into it?

Warwick Kinrade: I have always written games, from age 10 playing D & D, to board games, to writing my own Wild West RPG aged 12, it was something I was always doing for fun. I first got paid to do it as a Games Developer for GW, a job I started in 1996. 

JW: How did Iron Fist Publishing (IFP) come to be? Can you talk about some of your previous works?

WK: IFP was simply a business deal so that Battlegroup would be 50/50 owned by myself and PSC. It came to be at a meeting in a cafe near King’s Cross in London. I had Battlegroup ready to go, and PSC and myself agreed to go halves on costs, etc.  Before that, I’d worked for GW as a writer. The first game I worked on for them was Epic 40,000, then I did lots, but mostly 40K supplements. I wrote the Imperial Armor books for about 6-7 years. 

JW: Can you tell us about Nam ’68?

WK: Yep, it’s a squad-level skirmish game for the Vietnam War. A bit different, in that it is a narrative-driven game, with one player as the umpire/referee and all the others (1-3) as the US platoon. I’ve very much concentrated on making it an anti-insurgency war, all ambushed patrols and search sweeps. Not much in the way of stand-up fights (though some). The VC generally has the upper hand, lurking in wait. It all ties in to its campaign system, a 12-month Tour of Duty for your platoon.  A bit unconventional, as far from a tournament game as you can get. No points values at all.  Not that I’m against points-based systems… just nice to try something different. 

JW: What are your favorite works?

WK I’m proud of all the games I’ve written. Battlegroup is the biggest, but I love the ‘Soldiers of…’ games I’ve done so far. Not surprising really, I only write the games I want to play. Picking is like asking which child you prefer… impossible to say.  

JW: Is there a period of history you want to write rules for but haven’t?

WK: Yep, most of them. I have a pull towards doing early Rome, the Punic Wars. I’d love to do a sci-fi game one day (many plans, none yet to come to fruition). Make it proper good. That’s one for the future.   

JW: Can you tell our readers what goes into rules writing?

WK: I take my advice from Stephen King. If you want to write, read. That would be my first step on any project, get some books and read them, make notes and jot down ideas as you go. Also, for game mechanics, keep an eye on other games, not just miniature ones, but card games and board games too, even computer games. I love an interesting mechanic, a neat way to use dice or counters. Not enough of that in most wargames’ rules. It is very conventional in how rules are structured. I personally favor card-driven rules these days. 

Also, it is more work than you think. It takes time, and you need that time to play lots too. Nothing like the furnace of the tabletop to hone rules. When you’re playing, it’s not to win. It’s to push the rules and try and break them or bend them out of shape. To find oddities or things that don’t feel quite right. Also, if you have 20 good ideas for your game, be prepared to cut about half of them. That’s a hard bit, but you can’t get wedded to anything. Cut it… and save it for another day. 

JW: Has desktop publishing and PDF only supplements changed the face of the hobby. Has it affected the quality of the product we see today?

WK: Well, desktop publishing makes it all possible, but I’m no fan of PDF rulebooks. Useful, but I hate working from PDFs myself. Old school, I like a book, preferably hardback. Wargaming is very much, for most, a cottage industry. Working small is the only way for most. If PDF is all you can do, then do it. 

JW: What are your favorite historical periods, and why?

WK: WWII, Crusades, ACW… but mostly WWII, just because well, it is the largest, most important event in recent human history. A bottomless pit of interesting stuff for gaming, plus loads of tanks! The war was fought with tanks.

JW: You and your partner, Piers Brand, are known advocates of 20mm. Can you tell us more about that?

WK: When I started WWII gaming, it was all there was. 1/76th or 1/72nd kits and some 20mm models. 15mm had not happened, 28mm was almost nothing. There was no choice unless you did micro-armor… and once you’re committed, collecting and painting big armies, lots of terrain etc., then you’re never going to ditch all that work for something else very similar but a bit smaller or larger. 20mm is still the best compromise between detail tank models and table size. They are just the best models going. 

JW: What other hobbies do you pursue to unwind?

WK: I’ve been a re-enactor, Vikings, for 20+ years. Two big hobbies are enough. Like everybody, I watch movies, I especially like hunting down foreign war films and read. I avoid watching junk TV or playing computer games (much). Time thieves… I use the time for painting models, far more relaxing. 

JW: What do you see for the future of historical miniature wargaming?

WK: Big question… the biggest technological change coming must be 3-D printing. Models you can make yourself. Maybe it’ll get good enough to be able to print really nice models, already in base coats for painting, Little khaki men with pink faces and hands and black guns… how great would that be? As the price comes down, I think 3-D printing your own armies and terrain may well be the future for collecting toy soldiers. It is, though, very much a ‘greying’ hobby. Clubs are full of older guys. That slightly worries me. I think computer gaming has become all-powerful for the next generation, it might be the death-knell of our old-fashioned analog hobby. But, hey, I’m going to carry on anyway. 

JW: Anything else you’d like to mention?

WK: Err, I’ll do the quick plug then. For 2021 I’m working on Nam ’68 as mentioned and a new ‘Soldiers of’ title, Soldiers of Napoleon… a huge project, but well in hand thanks to the [COVID-19] lockdown. They’ll be the first horse and musket rules I’ve done, and it’ll be card-driven like the other ‘Soldiers of’ games, but not the same—a new, different game. WIP so far is good fun. 

--

At SJR Research, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse SJR Research’s service on our site at SJR Research.