#Brave New World AU

[dazais-guardian-angel]

With today's entry, I was rather surprised and confused that Johnathan seemed to turn around so quickly from the absolute pit of despair he was in yesterday, having newfound determination and energy when he's seemingly been completely hopeless and inactive for weeks now (and for good reason). Not that I ever thought he'd completely given up, but there's definitely been a slow decline in how descriptive his journal entries have been to reflect his declining mental state (more robotic, less of his actual feelings about things), and today was a sharp contrast; it feels more like the early entries again. I thought, well, his mind is probably just so cracked at this point that he's looped all the way back around to being bold and energetic again, because by now he's desperate enough to throw caution to the wind: he either succeeds doing something extremely reckless to escape, or he fails and meets his end in a far better way than if he just waits for his fate by Dracula's hands.

...But having thought about it and reading other posts, I realized (probably stupidly obvious as it is) that his sudden change in mood probably has to do with what happened to the baby. Despite how scared he's been all this time, yesterday he didn't hesitate for a single second to try to save the baby once he realized from the previous incident what was happening, not thinking about his own life at all. And then he despaired when he couldn't save the child, the first time he's mentioned crying in the book at all, and then he had to witness the mother blaming him for her baby's death, and being killed herself for trying to rescue it. Now, the day after that horrific and heartbreaking failure, he's suddenly more determined than he's been in ages to escape. Maybe that was a turning point for Johnathan, and lit a fire under him... maybe he's clinging to the need to escape not just for himself and the people he loves anymore, but for the vain hope that he can put a stop to Dracula's schemes somehow once he gets out, because he doesn't want to let any more children die :' )

[insert-the-4thwall-entity]

I just had the idea ever -

So you know that Brave Police J-decker (and the rest of the Brave series) take place in a retro-future setting aka what people during the 80s-90s thought what the 21st century would be.

What if,..

What if BPJD took place in the ACTUAL 21st century aka what we're living through right now?

It would be the same, but with some, but not alot of major changes (like the ending), BUT the Brave Police would have to deal with our world's bnllsh1t. Outdoors and on the internet. Also Decker will become a world wide hit amongst us humans on all types of mass media and he will become internet famous for having incredible social skills and able to debunk any myth, stop any and I mean ANY internet drama before it could escalate and being able to identify if something was made with a "primitive ai"(the ai we have to deal with).

So yeah, the idea ever

[st-peculiar]

I’m remembering the Lovelace and Jacobi friendship thing they had going on the Urania and oufgh

[theseverence]

@aurea-fide asked:

He's standing on the edge of Pirriks throne, his hands gripping onto the table and his shoulders shake. It's not often he feels this way. His face shifts and he buries It into his hands and he wonders what he did to deserve -- a raspy breath escapes his lungs. Oh, light help him.

Pirriks makes his way to his throne, slightly hunched over, one arm still bent over the healing wounds. When he sees Jorvek there, he straightens up to not worry his mate, and steadies his breathing, then comes over.

For a moment, Pirriks isn't sure what to do when he sees Jorvek's weird state. He touches the baron's shoulder, slightly nervous - what if his mate is going to have another breakdown? The Kell is not sure he can deal with that in his state.

But he can't just leave the other to fend for himself, no matter what it is.

"Jorvek?"

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brave New World: Part 12

A/N: Trigger warnings for mentions of misogyny, sexism towards women, forceful confinement

It was the sharp cry that pierced the dark wing that had initially woken you up. It was a sharp and startling sound that broke you from your slumber, drawing you upright in your bed with a sudden jolt.

Immediately, you reached for the sides of your bed and curled your fingers in the sheets as a method to ground yourself. To hold yourself to the thin and old mattress, one with springs that were poking through your equally thin nightgown.

You have recently been thrown into a new yet seemingly endless, hellish environment. The move from a private room to the shared room was necessary to make space for another influx of omegas who had been brought to the facility.

Through the thin walls of the shared women’s ward you were thrown into, it was glaringly obvious that some pregnant omegas, used as surrogates and breeding machines, had given birth early.

There was an urgency to give birth before the due date, a necessity to try to save both mother and child from a fate that was unfair for both of them, however, the child would fare much better than she would.

“Shut up! Shut up!” One of the other omegas on this crowded floor raised her voice harshly, caring neither for the other woman in another room nor the consequences that would come to the poor mother.

You reacted quickly and threw the blankets off you, stumbling and falling to your hand and knees due to the process of them administering more drugs to your body. As your knees and hands had banged against the creaky wood, another sharp cry had been heard through the walls of this place.

Your weariness had made you crawl, initially, and as you traversed your way to the next rows of beds, that same woman screamed again, thrashing against the holds that kept her in place.

You could see her struggling, the latest douse of serum altering her brain chemistry and inducing temporary psychosis. Despite her aggression toward the mother and child in the birthing unit, you wished the other omega luck on getting past this debilitation. You knew full well that if she hadn’t recovered from this aftereffect, she would have been thrown into one of the many pleasure houses and used as a toy.

If she hadn’t recovered, she would be discarded as if she was nothing more than a heat receptacle for alphas.

“Please, you have to be quite. Please, if you don’t they’ll come down on all of us!”

There was a steady thud of her back against the bed as she violently rocked herself back and forth, creating her own despotism hold of her world as she saw it. She was so far in her head and in her madness created by this last bout of the serum, she hadn’t realized that rocking back and forth as violently as she had would create more hell for you all.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She screamed three more times before another omega had risen to her feet, stumbling just as you had, and started toward the bed.

With the one omega woman behind dealt with, you felt secure enough to rise to your feet after reaching for one of the rails of the metal bed. Your hands gripped the end of the footboard, and you slowly pushed yourself to stand, your legs and feet aching to the point where it felt like they were burning.

Still, despite the aching in your bones, you pushed yourself further. You took every step cautiously, fearing that at any point one of the guards would come for you, for all of you, to deliver swift punishment. It wasn’t just you that would suffer for being out of bed, rather harsh consequences would come to every omega.

Even those that were sleeping.

“Shut that thing up!” there were hurried whispers in the room that followed an outburst, the direct order coming from the oldest omega in the room and focused on the woman in a mental break. “Shut her up, or we’ll all get it!”

You paid no mind to the order and focused on getting out of the room you were in, to head to the birthing ward. While you had known the door would be locked and access was denied to you and anyone else in the room, you also knew that one of the panels on the left-hand side of the wall was fabricated and easy to remove.

With the thinness of the walls and this falsified covering, you could easily slip from one room to another, and once you’d gotten to the other room you could help the omega who just gave birth. Or at least you could attempt to help, you could attempt to console her and her child, make an effort to extend what little kindness you could while being trapped here.

“I said shut her up!” The oldest omega yelled again, her voice carrying as you removed the panel and began to slip into the crawl space, keeping yourself as small as possible in order to make your way from one room to the other.

A shiver ran up your spine when your feet hit the other panel, the cold metal piercing your skin through the soles of your feet. The sensation was temporary, it had evaporated the moment you kicked the panel loose and managed to pull yourself through, coming into the other room.

You struggled to stand, a shake to your knees and thighs had almost made you tumble back to the floor, your hand already outstretched before you caught yourself.

The newborn was hastily wrapped in a thin blanket, squirming and still squawking with a great set of lungs that would have aided a career in entertainment further down their life. You had heard the omegas in the other room struggling to stop the maddened omega from raising too much of a complaint while this poor woman had just given birth.

Your approach was slow and calculated. You didn’t dare try to cause another sound to alert the betas and controlled alphas who ran this facility. You were already on their radar, already someone they wanted to study and watch, an omega who they had wanted to get rid of.

“Please,” she pleaded with you, simpering soft voice almost a wail, “they’ll take my baby. If they hear…”

The chirp of an alarm somewhere else in the facility prickled your skin, your stomach bubbling with unease and caution.

“Shh,” she rocked her child, her eyes wide and her lips parted with every attempt at quieting her child, “please…please-!”

“You’re a breeder,” you already knew she was and yet, it felt as if this reality was just hitting you, “they’re supposed to be coming for you but-”

“�� I gave birth early, without medication. Without-”

Your heart nearly leapt from your chest as another bang had resounded somewhere in the building, a ghostly echo of something nefarious happening somewhere else. You stepped closer to her, hands shaking and your eyes growing wide in size, unable to truly think or react to what was going on around you.

Women, omegas, restrained to beds with what had once been softened cuffs but had now become rough, were lining the room from one end to the next. They were laying on nothing more than tufts of stuffing bound in thin canvas, a state that even cattle wouldn’t be permitted to lay on.

“They’ll take my baby, help me.” The omega was whimpering, and it wasn’t until now that you’d realized she was weakened by giving birth.

It hadn’t been until that moment that you’d even been aware that she was bleeding. The tang of copper hits your nose, mixing disgustingly with the smell of mildew and stale dust.

“You’re dying.” You crept closer and sank to your knees beside her bed, your hands curling against the cheap canvas bed. “You don’t have time.”

“Take my baby,” she turned to look at you, eyes losing their light and her breathing becoming shallow, “don’t let them have her. Don’t let her fall to the fate.”

“I can’t, don’t give her to me. I can’t take her. I can’t keep her, I can’t-” you stumbled over your words, fumbling as you tried to speak and make your case for not taking the child, for not taking the baby to be punished.

“Find someone, please promise me-” the babe was pushed into your arms, instincts leading you to cradle the child, and with a purpose thrust upon you, you rose to your feet and balanced tenderly.

“Thank you, Y/N. You,” the omega heaved, desperately fighting for breath, “you’re my family…my sister-”

Hours bled into days, and days had shifted into the next week.

While your heat had come and gone, while you had been marked and mated, you had never let go of the expectation that you would become pregnant. It was what you had been altered to do, to become a vessel for pups to boost the population that was faltering.

Whether it was this reality or the one you had escaped from, the result was the same. Your body and your DNA, your every genome, was geared toward fertility and pregnancy.

Even now, you could feel it.

Even now, only a week after you had been marked and mated, you knew your body was flush with life. You had narily placed your hand upon your belly, still unaffected by your growing child, and knew you were expecting.

If it hadn’t been the nesting you had done when you expressed your anxiety about being a mother, to the empathy of your mates, then this would have been every indication that it had happened.

Your stomach turned once, just once, and your sense of smell had increased with the changes in your body, and you knew. It was obvious, it was painstakingly clear that you were now doing what they had always intended you to do, only now it was by your choice.

Now, you have the decision to keep the child while in a safe and loving environment.

It’s the soft rapping on the door that audibly announces their presence on the other side of the door, but it’s hardly the first indicator that they were going to find you. With your new heightened senses, already increased from the serum before you were pregnant, you already knew.

It was their scent that carried, it was the sounds they made as they walked around and throughout the cabin. It was the soft mumbling of Bucky as he reiterated his annoyance and temporarily forgetting where he put things, and Steve whispering to himself as he sketched or painted.

You could hear it all; you could smell every shifting difference in the cabin.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve was the first to speak, the first to come and sit beside you.

You had negated to look at him immediately. Instead, you curled tighter on the outdoor chaise, tucking the blanket you took up and under your feet. You pressed yourself against the back of the lounger before you tucked your chin into your chest, and then you spoke.

“I’ve been thinking. A lot.” You spoke to them, addressing Steve verbally, and Bucky physically.

“Are you okay?” Steve was on your right, Bucky was on your left, both had been figuratively shielding you from a nonexistent threat. “Omega-“

“I’m pregnant.” Stagnant silence, unwavering quietude and the bubbling intensifying gleam of hopefulness and want had clashed in the middle, as if two beasts had represented the two sides of an emotional state of mind, with teeth and claws.

“Y/N,” Bucky crept in, a smile bursting on his face with eyes wide and vibrantly pulsing, “omega…this is everything we’ve ever wanted, this…”

Their happiness was unbounded. Their dreams of becoming fathers and having an omega was finally and wholly a completed reality. Puzzle pieces that hadn’t been set had finally clicked into place, with everything they’d wished and longed for becoming theirs.

There was a short time between you three wherein Bucky and Steve had let their raw emotions out to air, their happiness and loving statements settling upon you like the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze of summer.

It was further removing the corrupted chill you felt had been running through your veins, extinguishing the final clutch the organization, that wanted to make you a possession, had on you.

With Steve and Bucky, you were freed. Your baby was safe, your baby would grow up happy and healthy in a world that cherished it.

And you.

“I want this, I’ve decided. I want this baby, but…” you bit down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into your flesh while your eyes had become instructed by fat tears. “You may want to get that.”

The phone rang clear through your ears, a sharp yet melodic chime breaking the conversation, and you waited with bated breath as Steve walked to his phone and picked up the call, eyes locked on you.

“Cap,” Sam’s voice hit your ears, and you knew, “we need you back here.”

[mismaeve]

Brave New World

For the Six Sentence Sunday by @fellowshipofthefics, I figured I could share a snippet from my upcoming series + a moodboard that I finished today. Hope you'll enjoy! I'm very excited about this story. It's a modern AU for Thranduil x OC Lily.

Thranduil remained silent while he thought on her words and the bitter memories that they had summoned, a life that he had worked so hard to forget, flashing right before his eyes as if it had happened yesterday.

“Yeah,” Lily breathed out in agreement, assuming that he was silent because of the atrocity that she had implied.

What would she say if she knew?

Thranduil blinked away the past and cleared his throat. He wanted to say something, offer her some comfort but what could he possibly say that would make a difference to her?

“Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about it,” Lily said after a moment, her tone firm and decided. Thranduil understood her wish only too well.

[quaintnecromancer]

"Are you alright?" @imprisonedbybrokenmemories

Lost in Wonderland | @imprisonedbybrokenmemories

The displaced and disoriented necromancer looked around for the source of the voice, unsure if what he was hearing was real or just a figment of his imagination. So much of this place looked and sounded like it couldn’t possibly exist! It was completely different from the eerie forest he called home, yet had a similar feeling of being slightly detached from the rest of the world. Add to that the fact that he’d hit his head as he fell down that rabbit hole (what the fuck kind of rabbit could dig a burrow large enough for a human to fall through?!), and was currently trying to magically recover from a concussion. Surly did not even begin to describe the Witch King’s mood.

“Who goes there?” he demanded through gritted teeth, back firmly pressed against the gnarled tree he’d been leaning on. “Reveal yourself before I start hurling curses at anything that moves!” Tough talk, coming from someone who was currently seeing double…or was it triple? Either way, he was hoping the bluff would either draw this person out of hiding or send them running. No, the young man clad in well-fitting black robes was not alright in the slightest.

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — out in the desert.

Martin remembers, with great clarity, the first time Citizen Brown took him to the “satellite office.” 

He still hadn’t quite gotten over the novelty of being in a car– as his assistant, he’d accompanied Citizen Brown on some of his rounds, of course, but he’d never been in one for this long– and he’d never been outside the walls of Hill Valley before. Almost as soon as they were out on the open road– and it was really open– he remembered his shoulders falling and taking in the deepest, biggest breath of the fresh air, the free air, he could. 

Then he’d remembered he was in Citizen Brown’s car– sitting next to him!– but when he looked back, an apology at the ready, Citizen Brown had just given him a smile.

“Just wait,” he’d assured, in that low, level tone of his, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “you haven’t seen the best part.” 

And he’d been right. The desert was breathtaking.

He’d never realized there were so many stars or noticed how rich the smell of sun and earth and life really was. The thunderstorms were electrifying and awe-inspiring, the days were long and hazy while nights were crisp and bright, and he could rest without needing to look over his shoulder, sleep without feeling eyes glaring at him from a fuzzy CRT screen, monitoring every move. 

It was perfect, especially now that they were hiding his guitar here, too. 

Out here, he could understand why Dave and Linda had left and never looked back, never came back for him in the three long years they’d been gone. If he and Citizen Brown didn’t have to go back– if Citizen Strickland wouldn’t come looking for them and spoil everything– Martin doesn’t think he would, either.

He smiles as he watches Doctor Brown’s reaction to seeing the secret lab, greeting all the inventions and tools like long lost friends. Evening is settling in and there’s a chill in the air, but Martin doesn’t mind; he just draws his Junior Brown Brigade letterman jacket tighter around himself and lets the warmth of the moment take care of the rest.  

When Doctor Brown seems to settle into a familiar rhythm, looking over Citizen Brown’s notes and muttering to himself, hand fisted into his hair, Martin feels the familiar itch in his fingers as he looks at his guitar in the corner. 

He feels the bounce in his toes, the melody unfurling in his head, the beat filling his chest and threatening to burst out any way it can if he doesn’t do something about it soon. He curls his hands into loose fists, flexing them in an attempt to be still and unobtrusive as he weighs his options. 

“Sir– I mean, Doctor Brown?” He grasps his left wrist behind his back, squeezing. “Would it, uh… Would it be okay if I practiced…?” 

Doctor Brown swivels around in his chair, surprised. Almost imperceptibly, as the situation registers, his jaw tightens, and Martin freezes, before the scientist’s expression morphs into one of concern and tenderness.

“You don’t have to ask my permission, Marty,” he returns, kindly, “Where I’m from, you play your music all the time! It helps both of us think. Anyway, I could do with something with a little life in it after that hellish, egotistical panopticon we’ve just escaped from.”  

“Something with a little life in it,” Martin hums, smiling as just the right song pops into his head. “Alright. I got it.”

He grabs the guitar, flicking the amp on, tapping his foot in time before beginning a bouncy riff, fingers strumming the strings as if it’s second nature. As his hand shifts up and down the fingerboard, something inside him knits back together.

“Better stop dreamin’ of the quiet life, ‘cause it’s the one we’ll never know,” 

Before he can stop himself, he’s singing quietly, the lyrics spilling out of him.

“And quit runnin’ for the runaway bus ‘cause those rosy days are few, and…”

The chords become more confident, his hand remembering a dance he’d thought he’d forgotten the steps to.

“Stop apologizing for the things you’ve never done,”  Proud and more than a little taken aback as his voice soars, he grins at Doctor Brown, who, to his amazement, grins back, tapping his foot along to the beat.

“‘Cause time is short and life is cruel and it’s up to us to change 

This town called Malice!” 

Martin imagines his music, now free, filling the lab, filling the desert, the notes reaching all the way up to the thousands of stars in their sky and the millions and billions beyond. 

[igknightedart]

Don't think I ever posted these but the other day I wanted to design my OC Dreadringer in the TFAUs of a few different friends!

The one on the left and on the right are both the @lost-world-of-gaea incarnation of Dread, envisioned as an Autotrooper captain turned Black Leopard in @necromastersdomainstuff's Brave New World AU and the one dead center belongs to @agathaarts' WaR (Wreck and Rule) AU!

I think the leading idea with that one now is that he's a Shockwave clone that achieved singularity and remolded himself after Optimus to do...a lot of things to try and make right in his progenitor's name, tbh. WaR Shockwave is the /worst/

[weireir]

Little girl’s room got raided by G.U.N. and they found a threat to public health in her closet - a flower. 🫢 Could be spreading a virus! Time to take the girl to a re-education facility to erase her dangerous love of nature!

[m0dernchr0n1cles]

Photograph of RHONDA MONEYPENNY

Found in the desk of JAMES BOND

[ogjnogththeworldeater]

I just finished the story for Blade in the Crowd and was thinking about an epilogue and suddenly a sequel idea emerges I will never be freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Shameless self-plug

[dicklessthewonderclown]

people have been asking me questions relating to books that i have so many Thoughts on and i’m quite literally going insane /pos

[analyticallyminded]

tag drop 3/?

verses (part 1).

[theseverence]

@aurea-fide

It’s unusual for the Kell to go to any of the teams’ quarters, so when the door opens and Voliks’ crew sees Pirriks, they look rather spooked. He ducks under the doorframe, his hands folded on the small of his back, looking suspiciously calm, which doesn’t make anything better.

They can never tell what is worse - loud rage or the calm before the storm. Each of them quickly recounts everything that they might have done wrong to at least know why the Kell is going to throw a fit, but he simply passes by them and knocks on Voliks’ door.

“He’s not in there, Pirrikskell.” Talik says, instinctively making himself look smaller behind the table. Pirriks gives him a glance, then a nod. “I am, aware. Thank you.”

To say their jaws dropped at the ‘thank you’ is not enough, but no one says anything anymore.

When the door opens, the Kell looks down, seeing just the person he wanted to see. “Will you, walk with, me?” He asks, clearly tense.

[analyticallymindedaa]

tag dump bc tumblr ate all my tags part 4