#Except even that is really hard for me and requires significant prompting from someone to be able to use

[2boldlyqueer]

swap "going nonverbal" with "verbal shutdown" and this is me as fuck

you ever go nonverbal but like... online? too fatigued to reblog anything with tags or interact with people

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Secrets in the Springs

Document link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WDYCocrod_P7bcyH9DIaacjpIXv9I8r-UEkdmWANdxw/edit?usp=sharing

Sapphire, Pyra, Mythra, Nia and Poppi spend an evening relaxing together in Mor Ardain’s famous hot springs, where a couple of secrets begin to reveal themselves. In the process, Pyra makes an important decision. (1650 words) Replaces the XC2 cutscene “Secret in the Springs” from the start of Chapter 4. Content warning for some description of an old significant physical injury.

Tag list (use this to be added to it!): @softskiesahead | @dragonsmooch | @thatslikesometaldude | @lilacslovers | @insomniaships | @goldenworldsabound | @setzale | @candyforthebrain | @elf-and-a-heart

This is a piece I originally posted to my old blog, but I’ve updated it slightly to reflect some changes to the storyline and figured it would be good to post again! Don’t worry, it’s mostly much happier than the previous writing I posted here - especially once you get to the end, hehe~

Reblogs are appreciated, but by no means required! Comments should be on, and there’s also a transcript of the document under the readmore!

The sandstorms from earlier in the day had thankfully settled down - the evening was still very warm, but a soft wind drifting through Alba Cavanich made the heat much more pleasant. Behind the inn that rested on Smùide Mountain, the group had taken the opportunity to relax in the local hot springs - Rex and Tora had gone earlier in the evening and appeared much more refreshed for the experience, but now it was the ladies’ bathing slot, and all of them were eager to spend the evening enjoying a relaxing bath together.

Sapphire in particular was not used to the arid conditions on Mor Ardain’s Titan, given that her homeland within Uraya was a much more subdued and watery kingdom, so she also relished the opportunity to try out the hot springs. By the time she had gotten ready, Poppi was already happily playing about in the springs, while Nia had her back to the entrance and only her head was above the water. Finally, Sapphire tentatively poked her head around the corner of the changing room, so that it was all that could be seen from within the baths themselves.

“It’s just us here, right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry!” Nia turned her head to smile, though Sapphire did think she looked somewhat nervous. “The inn seemed pretty much empty when we first got here, so I don’t reckon anyone else’ll be coming in.”

Poppi nodded in agreement. “Probability of interruption from other people very small. Therefore, is perfect time for all to enjoy springs together. The water very nice temperature, even for Poppi!”

“Hang on.. Should you even be in the bath?” Nia had turned back to face the mechanical girl, and was now looking at her with a tilted head to show confusion. “Won’t you rust or something?”

In response, Poppi shook her head and kept smiling, eyes bright as ever. “There no problem. Poppi made from special alloy. No rust or need for oil!” The faint orange glow of her leg joints was visible even through the water, showing that she was kicking them back and forth in her usual manner.

Sapphire smiled at this, only to then jump when she realised Pyra was standing right behind her. Except it wasn’t Pyra - where she expected to see kind red eyes instead lay cold golden ones, and the familiar short bob of red hair was replaced by flowing blonde strands.

“Wh- Mythra?!”

“Yeah?” She looked unamused.

“Sorry, mate, you really startled me there!”

Wanting to give Mythra some space, Sapphire stepped out from behind the entrance to the changing room into the proper springs area, prompting Poppi to look surprised and Nia to turn around because of that. Although she still had a towel around her body, the other girls could now all see several swathes of what looked like very old grazes on Sapphire’s arms and the backs of her legs. They seemed to have healed, yet still appeared somewhat serious.

“Wait, what happened to you?!” Mythra was first to speak up, sounding more worried than she ever really had. Her usual short temper still shone through, however - she seemed almost annoyed for not noticing the injuries beforehand.

“Oh, these?” Sapphire raised her arms halfheartedly, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Don’t worry. These are just left over from.. how I got to Uraya. Don’t worry, most of it’s all healed up by now. So nothing’s going to mess up the water or anything, I promise.”

There was a silence.

“..I guess I never told you guys about that, huh.”

“No, you didn’t. Not that I was awake for, anyway.” said Mythra.

“You don’t ‘ave to tell us if you don’t want to, though.” Nia added. “Only share what you’re comfortable with.”

Sapphire nodded. “Thanks, Nia. Um.. this isn’t exactly the place to go all in-depth about that kind of thing, so, ah.. I’ll just say that, from what I know, my parents and I were on a ship crossing the Cloud Sea when it capsized and got washed into Uraya’s Titan. A bit like you guys did, I guess, though there was.. a lot more of an impact. Honestly, I don’t even know how I managed to stick around long enough for Dad and his mercs to find me on one of their checkups.”

“Oh.. Are you sure you’re okay? That must have been hard..” continued Mythra, still looking worried. There was a flash of glowing energy, and suddenly Pyra was stood in her place, looking even more concerned.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Sapphire! Nobody should have to go through such a horrible thing..”

“Pyra, please, I’m fine! It’s okay!” Sapphire said, a little too suddenly - quickly realising her mistake, she hastily tried to recover: “I- I really appreciate that you care so much, but, I promise I’m fine. Come on, let’s just enjoy the springs together.”

As she turned around to put her towel on the rocks behind her before lowering herself into the blissfully warm water, the true extent of Sapphire’s injuries became clearer - the old grazes were nothing in comparison to the massive streak of half-healed scar tissue covering most of her back and shoulders. Parts of it seemed to somehow reflect the low light from the torches and the glow of Poppi and Pyra’s Core Crystals, as if there were tiny specks of something shiny in there.

Nia’s worried expression had returned. “Saph, that really doesn’t look good.. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes!” She still seemed slightly on-edge, but being in the water was clearly very relaxing for her. “I already said, it doesn’t really hurt. I’ve had all this for as long as I can remember; it’s just how I am. Trust me, it was a lot worse when I was little.”

“Poppi worried about Sapphire..” said Poppi, sounding sad. The stillness of the water and the glowing lights visible under its surface showed that she wasn’t playing about anymore.

“Aww, it’s okay, Poppi!” Sapphire turned and smiled at her again. “I’m fine, honestly!”

Pyra still wasn’t convinced. “You’d tell us if you weren’t, though, right..?” She crouched down at the side of the water and reached over to take Sapphire’s hand in her own.

“Of course I would, silly. Come on in, the water is amazing..”

This made Pyra feel more at ease, and she happily took the chance to sit next to Sapphire, who in turn was all the more grateful to be able to enjoy Pyra’s natural warmth in close proximity. Another silence then settled, though this one was much more natural, and the girls were able to take the time to properly enjoy the heat of the water and relax in the hot springs.

Eventually, never the quiet one, Poppi had something to say.

“Poppi has question for Nia.”

“Huh?”

“Why does Nia have-?” The artificial Blade’s inquisitive tone was quickly interrupted by none other than Nia herself, who at this point was almost entirely submerged in the water.

“Oh, I know what you’re gonna say, I think. Don’t- don’t worry about it.”

At this point, Mythra returned, automatically shifting away from Sapphire as she turned to face Nia herself. “I had noticed, too. It’s true, then, that you’re..?” She trailed off, not knowing how to properly word her own question.

“Mmm.. yeah.”

Mythra nodded. “Do you want us to keep it a secret?”

“I was.. a little bit embarrassed about all this, but.. Yeah, if you could, that’d be grand. Not like I could hide it here when it’s this dark, anyway. As long as you guys are all okay with me being here, then-”

“Of course, mate!” “Poppi is fine!” “Why wouldn’t we?”

The chorus of reassuring voices brought her an incredible comfort.

“Thanks, guys.”

==========

Later that evening, once everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, Mythra noticed within herself that Pyra seemed nervous.

“Something wrong?”

“What? No! I mean.. We share memories, so you’d know if something was wrong, surely?”

“I guess that’s true. But, you seemed like you were coming to a decision of some kind. And I mean, I don’t really wanna pry if I don’t have to.”

“Haha, thank you for that.. And, you’re right about the decision. So, um, Mythra - what do you think about Sapphire?”

“Uh.. she seems pretty nice? But she isn’t someone you want to make angry, given how mad she was at Malos and Akhos. I wasn’t awake yet for all that time you two spent journeying through Uraya, so this was kind of the first time I’ve gotten to interact with her properly. I can’t say I was expecting you to get into a relationship, but.. You two make a good fit for each other, even if she is a little more energetic than you tend to be.”

“You really think so?”

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right.. Sorry!”

“Why’d you ask that, anyway?”

“Well, it’s just, um.. It was so great for me to know that she’d be able to come with us after we left Uraya. I know she’s probably still worried about Vandham, but.. if his injuries have really been patched up as well as they seemed to, then he should recover without too much of a problem, right?”

“Yeah, Nia said Dromarch was able to get him stable once I took Obrona out and the ether came back.”

“Right, that was it. And, um.. Since we’ve been here in Mor Ardain, I’ve been thinking about something, and.. after that time we all spent together tonight, and being around her like that, I think I’ve figured it out. Sapphire is the person I really want to be with, for the rest of my life. ..However much longer that even ends up being.

I have no idea how I’m going to go about it, but..

I think I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

[yaboylevi]

“Let’s talk!”

In this post, I’d like to examine why the words chosen to sway and stop Eren in chapter 133 didn’t resonate with some readers, as well as with Eren.

Disclaimer #1: This isn’t a justification of any kind. I merely tried to look in a critical way at the individual parts, because while reading them, I felt a disconnect with what the 104th thought could get to Eren.  As I read, it felt obvious that what they were saying wasn’t gonna work. So I asked myself, Is Isayama such a bad writer that all his characters say is so obviously inappropriate or ineffective, or is this on purpose? (I still don’t know the answer)

Disclaimer #2: I realize that the 104th was suddenly brought in front of “Eren”, so they were surprised, and didn’t have time to sort through their reasonings, but I’d also say they have had plenty of time before. Also, maybe the suddenness of it all was actually a good thing, so we could see how some of the characters really felt.

Let’s start with Jean:

“We’ll figure out the rest from here” and, after Eren says he won’t stop, “Why not? Are you saying you can’t trust us?!”

First of all, Eren has been feeling like he was partially* pushed to this outcome, because in 4 years they couldn’t figure out what else to do to save the island in the long term. They still cannot come up with anything better than “we will be left alone for a while”, so Jean’s words offer an empty promise. It has been established that Eren won’t settle for “a while”, he wants a “forever”. Never mind that a temporary solution would still require for Historia and her kids to be sacrificed.

*Eren also feels like it was his own fault, due to “his past self wishing for everything to disappear”. We are still not sure what this means exactly, and if it is true (I’m thinking of Paths shenanigans here).

Then, Jean talks about “trust”, particularly in comrades in arms. This is a topic that has been explored repeatedly since the beginning of the story, through Levi’s “make a choice” speeches, and Eren’s harsh experiences. Basically: when Eren decided to trust in his friends and comrades, in the forest of Giant Trees, Levi’s squad got killed, Eren captured, Levi injured. All in all, it resulted in many losses, and Eren has felt a deep guilt for that outcome ever since those events, all the way through Uprising Arc and probably even later on. No matter that it wasn’t his fault, he felt that it was. So the next time he had to decide whether to trust in himself or in his comrades, he decided to trust in himself. The story also calls back to the time he “chose wrong”, as if it wasn’t an obvious parallel already.

Eren is rewarded with his friends safe and sound.

So it is no surprise that, as much as Eren - I believe -  would love to trust them, experience told him that he cannot, or the price to pay will be their lives. Eren has been entrusting the SC to find another solution to the Rumbling for 3-4 years, and in the end Marley was close to declare war on Paradis. Eren isn’t averse to trusting his comrades, he just feels like he cannot, not on this one choice. (Albeit I think he’s trusting them to do the choice of stopping him - but there is something he needs to do alone).

When it comes to Connie, I feel like bringing up Sasha’s death wasn’t the best of choices. Eren feels guilty about that. He broke down in such a helpless, desperate way, that I find it hard that Connie’s words would absolve any of that hatred and guilt he must be feeling. “We are the same” - both Eren and Reiner have acknowledged this about each other, and if it has even a bit of credibility, then no amount of apologies for not understanding them, or forgiveness for what they did, is gonna make them feel any better about the death and destruction they have both caused and feel guilty about. 

It was when Reiner threw himself to the ground and refused to accept Eren’s understanding and forgiveness that Eren reiterated they are the same, after all.

Hence why Connie’s words couldn’t have had the desired effect. (Also, guys, look, the “let’s band together against a common enemy is RIGHT on this page...lol)

Now, Armin’s words.

To me, it seems like he doesn’t really know what to say. Or rather, he tried every idea that bounced in his head at that moment, without a clear strategy. He didn’t have time to form one, and besides it’s difficult to decide whether to use an objective approach or an emotional one when it comes to your best friends. But even then, I felt like the reasonings, and reasons, he brought up, failed to reach Eren in a significant manner. And by this, I don’t mean that Eren wouldn’t want to just drop everything and hug his friends... we all know he would, under normal circumstances, because there is no doubt he loves them deeply... but it seems to me he has resolved to push his own feelings down and just...move forward - which is in a direction away from his friends.

Armin starts with logic, “Eren has brought so much destruction that nobody will interfere with the Island for centuries”. Except, Armin has no proof. On the other hand, Eren has probably seen that there are still enemy forces advancing in their attack of the Rumbling, so if he were to stop the Rumbling now, they’d attack Paradis. “The island is fine now.” It isn’t. I think Armin is aware that this was a lie on his part.

Armin immediately realizes that’s not good enough, and that he’s wrong, and Eren knows, so he switches to the emotional route. 

“We were wrong. We forced you to this point”. It would not resonate with Eren, because Eren is too aware of the fact that what he is doing is not because his friends never understood him. As bad as they acted toward their friend, they aren’t the cause for this war. The Rumbling exists because there are people who were ready to destroy Paradis.

This prompts Jean to bring up another elephant in the room: “Eren is doing this for our sake”…which isn’t wrong, but telling Eren he doesn’t have to do it for them just won’t make Eren stop. Eren has repeatedly stated that he wants them to live, and be free. Armin has just reminded him that if Eren stops, that freedom will be crushed, along with their lives. Eren, of course, cannot accept that.

After Eren refuses to stop, Armin gets in full desperation-mode, saying they will be forever together. This is untrue, and I am not sure Armin fully realizes in the moment (how could he not, though?), because Eren will die in 4 years, Armin in 9. Besides the more pressing matter that the island can be attacked again, if Eren stops.

Lastly, “Don’t go any futher away from us than you already have”.

This is a sentiment that Armin shares with Mikasa, since all the way back to the Clash of the Titans Arc. At the time, they thought back on how Eren was always rushing forward, leaving them behind. Mikasa’s argument, in chapter 133, also touches on this. I said “argument”, but it’s more like a confession. The chapter is called Sinners for a reason, after all.

So yeah, Mikasa.

Amongst all the ineffective argument that were brought up, Mikasa’s words are the ones that took me aback the most, honestly. I am not sure if I am interpreting this right, but she sounds like she’s okay with falling to Eren’s level, as long as she can be with him. Nothing new here, but more specifically, the worst sins Eren has committed, for example killing innocents and children, which is what Mikasa focused her horrified shock on in Liberio, she is willing to do herself. That’s how you share a burden of sins, by taking part in committing them. And that’s what she acknowledges. What she wants. She says it quietly because she seems ashamed of that. Because she wanted to be like Eren, to stay close to Eren, and to share his sins, she killed and enabled Eren. So now that she has “committed the same sins”…? She has conquered a spot next to Eren? So he should stop and come back. This seems to be her line of reasoning. This is horrifying, I understand why she didn’t have the courage to yell it.

We know that Eren’s fear is that he may have enslaved her to his will, and whether he still believes it or he has just a few doubts left, seeing Mikasa admitting to something like this, must have reminded Eren of exactly why he wants Mikasa to be separated from him. ‘Cause this isn’t healthy.

Eren surely can’t feel any better by knowing Mikasa had followed that logic - maybe unconsciously. If he tried to be firm and cruel once to get her to “abandon” him, it can only get worse.

The second part of Mikasa’s little speech isn’t any better, as far as situational context goes.

In the text, Mikasa has embodied the concept of family in regards to Eren, just as much as Armin instead embodied their childhood dream of freedom.

And sure enough, Mikasa repeats what she told Eren in Liberio: “Please come back (home)”. Well, at least the Japanese version is the same, lol.

It is (still) her wish (it seems like nothing has changed in 30 chapters). But other than that, it brings up memories of Liberio, and of Mikasa’s disappointment and pain for Eren’s actions. The fact that Mikasa is willing to forgive (or better, accept) everything just because it’s Eren, may make Eren feel like she’s still not free from his influence. He may be feeling as if he brought her to accept killing innocents as something that can be partially overlooked…And I doubt it is what he wanted.

Besides, it seems that the story wants Mikasa to learn to let go as well. If Mikasa has kept on trying to keep Eren close, and it’s now become even as explicit as saying, literally, “come back home”, that “itterasshai” at the beginning of the manga counters this need and seems to imply Mikasa (who I suppose is the girl saying that) will learn to let Eren free to “go far away from her”.

“Itterasshai”, in Japanese, is a wish for someone to be safe on their journey, whenever they go out, with the expectation that they will come back. Mikasa is soflty smiling, meaning that she is okay with Eren “going out and away”. Meanwhile, the Mikasa who costantly repeats that she wants Eren to come back, to stay close, is a Mikasa who suffers and cries.

And finally, Levi. What a lacklustre moment.

It feels like Levi believes no word can sway Eren (he isn’t wrong, but still…).

Levi has never been averse to “talking it out”. He has always mostly resorted to talking, before anything else, when it counted. With minor characters such as Dimo Reeves, but mostly with regards to Eren: when the first Levi squad was about to attack Eren, Levi tried to talk them down; whenever Eren was in doubt or set on hating himself, Levi reasoned it out with him, with heartfelt little words that hit Eren’s core at the right angle. Even when Eren was out of his mind and high on adrenaline, fear and rage on the rooftop in Shiganshina, Levi opted to try and talk to him first.

The point is, he has always tried to understand Eren so that what he ended up saying, it would help the situation or resonate with Eren, or so he hoped.

This time, he doesn’t say anything of the sort. He merely admitted, in a very roundabout and lacklustre way, if not a bit too parodic for my tastes, what everyone else has said: that he would forgive Eren if he stopped now. Which isn’t bad, per se, but it’s not even close to what Levi used to be, or how he used to approach Eren.

Where Eren’s friends have missed out on what their words could achieve, potentially, due to a mix of not understanding Eren fully, and a concoction of feelings (panic, desperation, frustration) making them spout things that had no significant influence on Eren in that moment, Levi on the other hand didn’t even try this time, even though he has always done so before.

I am not sure if it’s because of Isayama’s total disinterest in Levi’s character as of late, or if it’s due to Levi himself not caring anymore - albeit it doesn’t seem the case, because he has kept on trying to find alternatives to killing Eren, so I don’t understand why he didn’t even try...

...unless he already knew it wouldn’t have worked out how Armin&Co wanted (and here I have conspiracy theories but let’s end it here lol).

Anyway, I hope this wasn’t too boring, I just felt like breaking down the scene a bit. Let me know what you thought of the various things the characters said in Paths, and if you agree with me, or if I am the only one who was disappointed by the scene, lol!

[taxicabinmemphis]

Prince Charming - Chapter 5

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six

Word count - 3,332 Pairing - Intrulogical, Prinxiety, Moceit (I’m deleting the pre bc I have decided to have a chapter with them getting together) Warnings - some characters are a lil insensitive in spots but I wouldn’t call them unsympathetic, creativitwins angst, swearing, food mention, self-deprecation bc they’re all wrecks, pining, and then there’s Remus-typical behavior (body horror mentions, sexual innuendo/mentions of sexual stuff, and other stuff heh), if there’s anything else that should be tagged or put in the warnings, tell me!

After a hearty and delicious meal of spaghetti and meatballs with a side of broccoli, the sides had all retired to get ready for bed. The adventure had gone terribly late, so dinner was later than they’d ever had it.

Logan stopped when he reached the door to his room. Yes, he knew that the next logical course of action would be to enter his room and get ready for bed, perhaps read a book as his stomach digested dinner, but he couldn’t help but remember how quiet Remus had been at dinner. He was never quiet.

His mind flashed back to what Roman said to Remus when they left the Imagination, and Logan clenched his left hand into a fist. Roman, while always striving to do what he saw to be the correct course of action, could also be awfully insensitive. Especially when he didn’t even know he was doing it.

Logan promptly turned on his heels and walked towards Remus’ room.

He ended up meeting the side in the hallway outside his room. Remus was walking alarmingly slow and seemed to be contemplating something.

“Remus,” Logan called, a good fifteen feet behind him.

The creative side jumped in surprise. He turned to face Logan, eyes widened. “Oh, uh, Logan! What brings you to the dark and hellish end of the hall?”

Logan fiddled with his tie nervously. “I came to ask you about something, Remus.”

Silence followed Logan’s statement, prompting Remus to speak. “Well? Fire away, my sexy robot!”

A pink dusted Logan’s cheeks at the nickname. “Yes. Umm...are you okay, Remus?”

Remus blinked. “Of course I am, Nerdy Wolverine!”

Logan frowned. “I believe that’s a falsehood, Remus.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Really? What can I do to convince ya? Rip my heart out and dissect it?”

Logan shook his head, adjusting his glasses. “No, none of that. Just...I remember what Roman said back when we exited the Imagination. It wasn’t kind, but he also had no cruel intentions. However, I could see that it...affected you. Are you okay? Do you require someone to...talk to?” Logan hoped he was doing this right.

Remus sighed and threw his hands in the air in resignation. “I might be okay. Does it matter?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Remus. It does. You are a part of Thomas’ mind and it is important that you are functioning properly.”

“Functioning…” Remus gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Look, Logan. Ultimately, I am fine. I can intrude on everyone’s well-being just as I could three hours ago. You can go to bed, you don’t need to worry.” He paused. “Why do you care, anyway?”

Logan frowned. “You are a side, essential to Thomas creating and acting like himself.”

“You don’t know that,” Remus disagreed, shaking his head.

Logan closed half of the distance between them, concern written all over his features. “Of course I know that. I can logically ascertain what exactly your worth is as a side, especially considering I spend a significant amount of time with you.”

“Maybe all that time you spent analyzing my contributions in preparation to shoot them down has clouded your judgement, Logan,” Remus replied, spitting out Logan’s name like it repulsed him—when in reality, it did nothing of the sort.

Was that really how Remus thought of Logan? Someone who only listens so he can later tell someone else why everything he said was wrong? Logan tried to be kind like he did with everyone else, and many of Remus’ ideas interested him. He gave him honest opinions, criticisms, and scientific observations on anything Remus pitched him. But did Remus only see him as an instrument of the intrusive side’s demise?

“Remus…”

“No, Logan, please,” Remus interrupted. “Don’t pretend to care.”

“When did I ever say anything about pretending?!” Logan exclaimed abruptly, widening his eyes and putting a hand over his mouth when he noticed his volume. Logan did his best to erase the surprise from his face and compose himself, clearing his throat and making sure to lower the volume of his voice before continuing. “I apologize for the outburst, Remus. However, you seem to have perplexed me with everything you have said so far during this conversation. Presently, I believe the statement to question is your most recent one and I will state that I am unaware of any action I took that would give you a reason to think I was engaging in a deception at your expense.”

“Oh, Logan, you know. Just drop it and go to sleep,” Remus said, turning around and waving his hand in dismissal.

“No, Remus, I’m afraid I don’t know,” Logan said honestly. “That troubles me. Could you elaborate, please?”

Remus turned around slowly. “Maybe you think you don’t know, so I’ll enlighten you.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve been assigned to listen to me. You have to listen to my crazy bullshit whenever I think it up. In return, I listen to your criticisms, opinions, scientific analyses, notes, whatever. Even when you go insanely far in depth into a topic I might’ve brought up with one of my...contributions, as you call them. It’s a trade, a deal. You have to listen to me and then I listen to you because it’s the least I can do. Neither of us would’ve chosen it on our own, we both hate it, and you know you have better things to do. Don’t pretend to care just because some extra time together allows you to know more about me than you should.”

Logan processed what Remus said, staying unmoving only with the exception of blinking. This is what Remus thought of their arrangement? That he hated it, that he thought Logan hated it, that he forgot Logan was the one to suggest the arrangement in the first place? Janus’ words at the end of their sword fight rang through his head. Logan had been scared that Remus, the one side who listened to him, only did so out of courtesy. And he did. Logan’s fear was a reality.

“You forget that I suggested this...arrangement, as you call it. I was the one who pitched it to Thomas. I chose to do this, and do I have anything better to do? That’s subjective, so I don’t know. I am sorry this arrangement you hate so much has ended up being a prison rather than a way to save Thomas distress while not repressing you at the same time, so if there’s anything I can do to make the experience more pleasurable, I am open to hearing it. However, you are also mistaken that I hate it. I do not, I am incapable of such emotions. Though--”

“No you’re not,” Remus said, voice having a shocked tone caused by Logan’s previous statements and admissions.

“Sorry, what?”

“You’re not ‘incapable of such emotions’, you’re not some heartless robot without a soul. You have feelings, Logan, and I’ve seen them,” Remus elaborated, shock slowly dissolving from his tone.

“That’s ridiculous, you even called me a robot-”

Remus shook his head. “No. I’ve seen you interested by anything remotely scientific I bring up, I’ve seen you as burnt as black toast after I’ve talked to you for a particularly long time, I’ve seen you immediately after a conversation with the others when you have a desperate need to be listened to because they refused to, I’ve seen you embarrassed, I’ve seen you flustered—yes, I caught you burying your face in your hands today—and you just said you care about me. Even though that likely isn’t true, you have demonstrated care for Patton, Roman, and Virgil as well. Even just one of those examples is enough to prove you have feelings.”

Logan was silent for a few seconds, his weight shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at Remus himself. Accepting that he couldn’t argue with most of Remus’ statements without communicating a falsehood, he decided to argue over the only one he could. “I do indeed care about you. It’s not just Patton, Roman, and Virgil. How could it be, considering only you listen?”

“I…” Remus tried to think of a good response. “I bother you. I wear you out. I give you all these terrible things to go through, forcing you to pick them apart like a medical examiner does with a rotting corpse, despite how disgusting and terrible they may be. I occupy way more of your time than I should, and I guess I’m sorry for that, so how could you care? I wouldn’t.”

Logan didn’t quite know how to respond. He wasn’t aware Remus thought so lowly of himself. He contemplated his reply.

“See? It’s not that hard to-”

Logan raised his hand as a demand for silence. Remus shut his mouth, only complying out of surprise. He waited as Logan carefully pondered what he would say next.

“Falsehood,” Logan said gently, starting his response. “None of those things are true. You shouldn’t be suspecting such things either, considering you have no way to know your effects on me. I want to say I wish you hadn’t said that, but I couldn’t do so with honesty, since my real wish is for you to never have thought—much less, believed—those falsehoods in the first place. However, I am considering your previous behavior and would postulate you do not believe me as I have not done anything to prove your statements are falsehoods. Would I be correct in saying this, Remus?”

Remus took a moment to respond, still processing Logan’s response. “I..uhh...yeah.”

Logan nodded. “First, you do not bother me. To bother someone is to trouble or annoy someone by interrupting or causing inconvenience. Considering that I volunteered to be in your company—which immediately debunks anything related to interruptions—and that my time with you makes you cause less inconvenience, you neither cause interruptions nor inconvenience to befall me. You don’t trouble me either. I spend time with you so don’t trouble anyone. And, everyone annoys me. So even if you did, which I don’t find to always be true, you wouldn’t be alone in that regard. You don’t wear me out too often either. Working with you only requires my ears and my brainpower, neither of which take much out of me since you rarely say anything that troubles me or forces me to contemplate problems that drain me. When you do, the reasons are typically seeded in my scientific curiosity for something you might’ve brought up, which is something I can in no way blame on you. To be candid, your company can be a relief, especially after dealing with the others.”

“That makes less sense than glow-in-the-dark lungs.”

“I’m not finished,” Logan stated, trying to be as kind as possible. “But if you would like me to restate what I just said-”

“No,” Remus shook his head. “I understand what you said...it’s just...how? How is that the truth?”

Logan’s face softened. “I am Logic, Remus. Many things that would normally affect a person or another side in a certain way will affect me in different ways or not at all. Your contributions don’t bother me as I am aware of their detachment from reality and get less disgusted at them than the others. And you listen to me, which is a far cry away from being a nuisance.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Remus said, shrugging.

Logan gave a small smile. It was hardly visible, but to Remus, it was as if Logan was grinning. Remus relished in the sight, hoping he could see it again soon and wishing it was something he could gaze at every day till the end of time. Logan never smiled, and Remus causing it made him all the happier.

“I am pleased to hear that you understand that I care for you,” Logan said, voice quiet and gentle. “Now, back to my original question. Are you okay?”

Remus turned his head to the side. “I was hoping you’d forget about the question.”

“Yes or no?” Logan pressed.

Remus took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “No.”

Logan nodded, taking a small and cautious step forward. “Do you require someone to talk to?”

Remus opened an eye and peered at Logan. “I don’t need anything, Pocket Protector.”

“Would you like someone to talk to?” Logan rephrased.

Remus shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to listen to me.”

“I already do.”

Remus gulped. “Alright. Yes, I suppose I would.”

Remus took a moment to gather his words, facing the floor but eyes flicking up to look at Logan every other second.

“Well, you were right,” he started. “About Roman, I mean. It was his comment. I know it’s kind of silly-”

“It’s nothing of the sort, he was out of line.”

“-But it still hurt. And yeah, he said none of us besides him were heroic and charming or whatever instead of just me, but still. It was directed towards me, and...he’s not wrong. I’m the resident villain. He’s the hero. I’ll never be heroic, or charming, or romantic while he can go and sweep Virgil off his feet. I guess his comment was just a wake-up call,” Remus continued. “I know he didn’t mean it to be mean and he’s just nowhere near being self-aware enough to take note of his insensitivity, but I still let it affect me. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

“It’s fine if his comment got to you, Remus,” Logan said, taking another small step forward. “Roman says things like that sometimes without knowing what their consequences could be, and so it likely did mean nothing, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be able to hurt you, or that you’re wrong for letting it. But you also have to acknowledge that he’s wrong, and not view it as a wake-up call of sorts.”

Remus frowned, making eye contact with Logan. “What do you mean? I’m the evil murdery green side who will pull your teeth out and string them on a necklace if you’re not careful. Of course he’s right.”

“I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. Anyone can be a villain in the eyes of someone else. However, any establishment that a certain person is a villain ‘factually’ would be incorrect as the concepts of good and bad are arguably meaningless and any action can be seen as wrong or right in the eyes of another human. There is no truth in opinions, only preference.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“You may be a villain in Roman’s eyes, you can be a villain in your own eyes if you so choose, however, there is nothing that can or will establish you as a villain for everyone forever.”

“So to Roman, I’m a villain,” Remus said slowly, trying to understand.

“Maybe, he could have just been exaggerating,” Logan said quickly. “He also sees everything as very black-or-white, which I imagine contributes a great deal as well.”

Remus nodded slowly. “And I can see myself however I want.”

“Though I’d prefer that you see yourself positively or neutrally. A negative self-image is never good.”

“And you…” Remus trailed, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t care for labeling those types of things. I do see you as a positive influence on my existence if that was your question.”

Remus grinned brightly. “That answer is better than fermented semen!”

There was an awkward silence between them.

“Do you honestly believe you can’t be heroic, charming, and romantic?” Logan asked quietly, not wanting to scare off the intrusive side.

Remus stared, surprised by Logan’s question. “It’s not an opinion, Logan, it’s fact. I’m a duke, not a prince.”

“And royal status dictates those traits?”

Remus shook his head. “No...I’m just not those things.”

Logan frowned. “Do you want to be?”

Remus took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to reply without confusing the nerd. “No. I know none of them fit my personality, and I don’t want them too. Especially charming. But...it might be nice to experience once. To prove Roman wrong and that it isn’t impossible for me to have the traits of a hero.”

“There are no specifically assigned traits to heroes, Remus,” Logan said, tightening his tie. “However, you can act however you want within the bounds of acceptable reality.”

“I can?” Remus asked, a smirk on his face. He started to take a couple of steps closer to Logan but stopped a good four feet away.

“Yes, you can,” Logan replied, voice quieter at Remus’ confident advance. The logical side shuffled his feet back, only moving a couple of inches.

“Do you think I’m heroic?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Do you think I’m charming?” He took a step closer.

“I-I don’t-”

Remus took another step, a larger one, closer to the logical side. There was likely only six inches between them. He stared deep into his eyes, a fiery passion for the visually impaired nerd burning hotter than any star Logan could name.

“Do you think I’m romantic?”

“I…”

Logan’s words died in his throat as he met Remus’ eyes. Remus, who was intrusive, offensive, bad to the bone, impolite, occasionally funny, interested in certain sciences, and strived to learn whatever Logan could teach. Remus, the only one who ever listened.

“You can if you want to be,” Logan said quietly, finally able to speak but never louder than the volume he was currently speaking at.

Remus hummed and pulled Logan flush against him by the waist.

“Remus?” Logan asked nervously.

“What is it, my bashful brainiac?”

“Do you really hate our arrangement?” Logan asked quietly, the question so painful to ask but the answer was something he needed to know before anything else happened. “And do you only listen out of courtesy?”

Remus sighed, running his free hand through the logical side’s hair. “Not one bit. And you are the most interesting person I’ve ever spoken to.”

Logan let another small smile cross his face and glanced at his feet.

“So I can be romantic, hmm?”

Logan nodded.

Remus smirked. He swept Logan into a dip—one arm around Logan’s thigh, lifting his leg into the air, and the other arm around his shoulders. Remus gazed lovingly into Logan’s shocked brown eyes and admired the red face of his nerd, giving the side a second to process what he did. He then dipped his gaze to Logan’s lips and flicked his tongue across his own.

“May I?”

Logan gulped before nodding.

Remus immediately crashed his lips against Logan’s; the simple nod of Logan’s head acting like a lamp that just turned on and Remus’ lips being their loyal moth.

Logan was still shocked from previous events when Remus’ lips met his, his eyes still open. Remus didn’t hate him, which was a plus, and now Remus was expressing romantic interest in him? He couldn’t believe it.

Yet, it was still happening. Logan closed his eyes, put a hand on the nape of Remus’ neck, and deepened the kiss.

It was something both were desperate for, something they had both wanted for ages—no matter how long they were aware of their romantic feelings for the other.

And so they dissolved into the other: Logan melting wherever Remus’ hands met his body, and Remus putting his desperation and need for Logan on clear display as he kissed him like he never would get to again. Remus got to be romantic, Logan was treated like a beautiful princess, and they both felt so incredibly loved.

The kiss eventually had to come to end, so when they both remembered they had to breathe, they pulled away and opened their eyes. Remus kept Logan in a dip and looked down at him like he was the loveliest thing to ever walk the earth. This only reddened Logan’s cheeks further. Remus gave him the fondest, most loving smile he could muster.

“I suppose I can be romantic.”

~

Taglist: @the-sympathetic-villain​ @justanotherhumanstuff​ @thistledown15​

~

This was technically the end of this story, but I do have a Moceit themed sequel that I have decided will just be chapter six. After that, hopefully it’ll be done! Hope you liked this chapter. Sorry, I meant to get this to you on Thursday but homework piled up and I just had a bad day Saturday so it’s coming to y’all now. (Also um you may have guessed but the image of Remus dipping Logan popped into my head and inspired this fic. It was 18k longer than expected)

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Sharing Is Caring

Arima regarded the contents of his teacup. Or in truth, what had been the contents of his teacup.

Should I get some more? The party wasn’t even close to slowing down. He glanced up to where Kinshiro and Atsushi sat side by side, hands intertwined, heads leaning close together. Sometimes they whispered to one another, sometimes they just gazed into each other’s eyes, as if the rest of the universe conveniently stopped existing when they did.

He was happy for them. He’d hoped for them to make up with one another for a very long time, long before evil space hedgehogs and transformation rings and everything else.

But that didn’t mean things weren’t going to change – Kinshiro had Atsushi now to make tea for him, to remind him to get home at a decent hour and not work himself to death. Arima made a note to himself to let Atsushi know of any favorites he might not yet know for Kinshiro.

Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to the refreshment table. As far as he could tell, no significant dents had been made in the food spread out here. There was a punch bowl but he ignored that, heading over to where he could brew himself a good cup of tea.

That required going to the small kitchenette behind the table. He’d stored several of his favorite teas here and now regarded each box, trying to decide which one he was in the mood for right now. Something that wouldn’t get him ready to sleep but wouldn’t keep him awake when he wanted to sleep.

He’d just made his choice and started getting the water ready when a soft footfall alerted him to the fact someone else entered the kitchenette. His first thought was that it might be Kinshiro – Kinshiro always turned up when he started to make tea, for whatever reasons.

But this time he turned, a greeting already on his lips, along with a gentle teasing in mind for Kinshiro actually removing himself from Atsushi on their wedding day, he saw instead Yufuin En, his formal clothing already rumpled, his hair mussed, and stifling a yawn.

“Hey,” En raised one hand. “Got anything to drink in here?”

Arima blinked a few times. That hadn’t exactly been what he expected, and he tended not to be surprised by anything. Then he mentally shrugged. It wasn’t as if En were in any way threatening to anything except perhaps a pillow and even that was more in the sense of falling asleep on it than anything else.

“Only tea.” He measured out the tea leaves and hot water. He hadn’t expected anyone else to find his little hiding hole but there was plenty to share if need be.

En eyed the boxes, a hint more sharpness there than Arima was used to seeing in him. “Mind if I make a cup?”

“Go ahead.” Arima agreed at once. “I didn’t know you drank tea.” At least he didn’t remember seeing it. But it wasn’t as if he watched En every second of every day.

En blinked sleepily – as if he blinked any other way – and glanced around the kitchenette. Then he turned back to Arima. “Isn’t there any coffee here?”

Coffee? Arima hadn’t even thought about coffee. Both Atsushi and Kinshiro preferred tea and he’d picked out a variety of other drinks as well, but coffee hadn’t crossed his mind. He slowly shook his head.

“I’m terribly sorry. I should have provided some.” He prided himself on being able to answer every need but here he’d forgotten a common beverage, and it was something that someone wanted.

En shrugged a little. “That’s all right.” He started to turn around – presumably in search of coffee – and Arima made a rather sudden decision.

“You could have some of my tea if you like.” It had just reached the perfect point of steeping and he could always make more if he needed to.

En turned back at once. “What kind is it?”

“It’s kabusecha,” Arima told him. He’d always enjoyed that flavor; a nice balance of savoriness and rich taste.

He could tell that En was considering it even before the other man moved over to him.

“What’s it like?”

That was all Arima needed in order to start detailing the benefits and virtues of this particular type of tea. He’d always enjoyed so many different varieties and he’d never needed to discuss them that often with Kinshiro, since Kinshiro knew as much as he did, or more. But to talk to someone who listened as deeply as En did? That thrilled him as little else had in a long time.

To his mild surprise, En listened to every word he had to say. At least up to a point. He was about to launch into a detailed explanation of what made this type of tea different from others when En mutely held out his hand.

Oh. He’d almost forgotten he’d offered for En to actually have some. He held the cup out and En accepted it, sipping carefully. Arima put a leash on his enjoyment of tea and tea talk and hoped that his unexpected drinking companion would enjoy it.

“It is good,” En agreed after the first couple of sips. He started to hand the cup back and Arima quickly shook his head.

“That’s all right, you can have that one. I’ll make a fresh one for myself.” He had nothing against sharing cups, but he found it far preferable to let En have this entire full cup and then make one for himself.

En didn’t argue about that, but enjoyed his tea instead. His eyes didn’t shift away from Arima the whole time as he puttered about to get his fresh cup going.

“You’re going to miss him, aren’t you?”

Arima guessed at once who he meant. It wasn’t as if there were many other options. “Yes. But it’s not as if we’ll never see each other again.”

En nodded. “Same way with me and Atsushi.”

Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Arima had thought of that before. He’d always taken care of Kinshiro, at least until he and Atsushi started to seriously see one another. Atsushi had taken care of En, until he’d had Kinshiro to lavish affection on.

A tiny whisper of a thought moved in the back of his mind, but he refused to pay much attention to it. Now wasn’t the time.

Instead, he picked up his cup and stated out. “Well, I wish them both the best.”

En fell into place beside him as he headed back to his chair. There were a few people out there dancing, and Arima smiled to see the newlyweds among them. He settled down and sipped at his tea, well aware of En’s presence, and not at all surprised to see Akoya dancing with both Ryuu and Io. The three of them looked as happy as Kinshiro and Atsushi did.

A quick glance around the room told him where everyone else was – Yumuto stood by the refreshment table, chatting with his brother. The twins weren’t that far away, satisfying themselves with adoring looks at Gora. Wombat nibbled at something Arima couldn’t see and decided that he didn’t want to see.

There, thankfully, wasn’t any sign of any evil hedgehogs wandering around. Zundar wasn’t someone that Arima ever wanted to see again.

“Do you think if all of that hadn’t happened, we’d be here now?” En asked.

Arima shrugged. “It’s hard to say. They might have made up sooner – or not at all.” Though truthfully, the thought of Atsushi and Kinshiro never making up at all made his stomach churn. Kinshiro had never been happier to Arima’s knowledge since the reconciliation. The thought of that not happening…

“Interesting to think about, though. Trying to take over the world lead to them getting married.” En leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Makes you wonder what else going on that we call bad could lead to something really good. And if it’s happened before.”

Arima wondered if En meant something bad leading to good or someone trying to take over the planet. Probably he meant both. This was En, after all. That was the kind of thing that he usually meant. It intrigued him, truth to tell.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought En might be right – and he found himself wondering exactly what could come from sharing a cup of tea.

The End

Notes: This was also written for SilvorMoon, in response to a tumblr prompt of one character sharing their drink with another.

[scaredandbored]

.ok i caved and wrote spones. academy au spones. with a really, horribly out of character spock. was this purely self-indulgent? yes. i’m not even 100% sure what im doing with this story, only that its spones, they share a dorm, and its going to be a gross, borderline self-insert fic lmaoooo. playing fast and loose with the academy’s curriculum because i’m a lazy piece of shit who won’t research the actual structure. also, idk if it even counts as slash, because it contains what i consider flirting, which is ACTUALLY just bickering and academic/scientific discussion combined with gentle physical contact. let me have this. 

additional note : i snuck in some pining at the end! so it’s definitely romantic! ha! (it’s not worth it dont bother)

additional additional note : i fucked up a perfectly good spones fic by trying to add jim but it turned into McSpirk 

Collectors poke and scalpels ring

(title from billy corgan’s poem “a wax seal”)

warnings : don’t read this spock is so badly written in it.

                 blatant abuse of the comma, oxford and otherwise

                 someone gets burnt but it’s not severe and it’s off of tea 

                 cursing. a lot of it. 

words : c.6’000 (i’ll count properly tomorrow, it’s hard to get a word count on mobile)

If Leonard was being completely honest with himself (which he tried to be, dammit), his studying had stopped being productive at some stage between midnight and one a.m, but he’d be damned if he was going to grant his smug-enough-already roommate an “I told you so” by going to bed. Not that Spock would use such colloquial, illogical language. Resisting the urge to groan, Leonard let his head fall to his desk, confident the pile of pages he had accumulated while studying for his assessment in Standard Procedures in Classifying Non-Humanoid Life-Forms would muffle the thud enough to prevent upsetting his roommate’s meditation in the bedroom next to his. Walls were thin at the academy, that was the whole reason he’d had to turn down Jim when he’d requested Leonard to bunk with him for their second year in the academy. Bones loved the kid, he really did, but if he wasn’t blasting his frankly awful study music through the whole night, he had someone over from wherever he’d been that evening, and Bones had come to learn (quickly, and unwillingly), that Jim was loud in bed.

Making the decision to go make a coffee (not with one of those godawful replicators, but with some decent coffee beans that his younger sister had brought as a present on his birthday, for which he’d had to actually purchase a grinder and coffee press for afterwards, but it was the thought that counts), Bones couldn’t help but miss the all-nighters he and Jim used to pull together in their previous year at the academy, using each other to keep awake and motivated. The kid’s taste in classical music left much to be desired, but he didn’t seem to mind Bones’s preferences, so they’d throw on the med student’s study playlist on Jim’s maybe-technically-banned-but-no-one-is-going-to-snitch-on-us-because-we-all-have-one-Bones-relax speaker and bounce flash cards off of each other, explaining things to one another, and sharing notes. Jim had always been very much an aural-oral learner, unable to retain information unless he had explained it to someone, or had it explained to him, and while Bones definitely did not mind helping his friend out, he’d always been a more individual learner, preferring to take his notes and summarise them, re-writing the most important points until he had them ingrained in his subconscious. Which was all well and good, except it was a pain in the ass of a technique that only became more frustrating when it was employed in a long night of cramming.

Quietly, Bones took his mug as well as the rest of the required paraphernalia from the almost-bare shelf in the equally almost-bare cupboard he and Spock had voted to dedicate to Bones’s “illogical need to entertain guests with a strange variety of baked goods paired with one of two hot beverages” and Spock’s “ostentatious pots and probably poisonous concoctions”, all while chiding himself for reminiscing about study sessions. Of all the stupid shit he could reminisce about at the ripe age of twenty-two, study sessions with a friend he could easily invite over to join him was probably the one of the most stupid. Bones was forced to pause and evaluate his situation as he realised that all his quiet tip-toeing about in an effort to leave Spock’s meditation undisturbed was probably null and fucking void, seeing as he had to manually grind the coffee beans, which would indubitably create enough noise to irritate those over-sensitive ears. Not that the vulcan could feel irritation. Fucking asshole.

Rolling his eyes at his own cankerous mood, he began to prepare his coffee, keeping half an ear on the sudden rustling noises from Spock’s bedroom as the disturbed vulcan did god-knows-what before coming out to lecture Leonard. Or to glare at him. Or condescend him. Maybe criticise him on how late he’d left it to study for this godforsaken exam. Or maybe Leonard was projecting onto his poor roommate, who he’d only known for the better half of a month. (During which, the cranky bastard side of his brain argued, said roommate had made his distaste for human culture and illogic clear, his particular dislike (it was dislike, regardless of whatever “vulcans don’t feel” bullshit he was trying to pull) of Leonard thinly veiled, and his disinclination to speak to Leonard in general blatantly obvious.) Most likely Spock would simply head into their shared living area to procure a cup of his noxious evening teas before returning to his meditation, not stooping so low as to acknowledge the source of the disruption to his nightly routine. Leonard’s mission to caffeinate himself was not under threat. It took more energy than Leonard would ever admit to quell the disappointment that bubbled up at the thought of Spock just ignoring him.

It was stupid-o-clock in the morning, of course the vulcan wasn’t going to engage in a full-blown academic conversation with him, what was he thinking? Bones haphazardly plopped the filter over his mug just as the kettle came to a boil, doggedly ignoring the squeak of Spock’s door and the sound of his bare feet against their tile floor.

“It is not recommended for humans to ingest beverages of such a high caffeine content at this hour.” Spock’s voice breaking the eerie silence of the late hour was enough to make Leonard’s usually still hands jerk, splashing his knuckles with the hot water. He managed to suppress a hiss of pain, determined not to let the vulcan see any weakness.

“It’s not generally recommended amongst humans to get your medical degree at Starfleet Academy, yet here I am, Spock.” Griped Bones, turning to face Spock with his mug in hand, the eye contact he made intended as a challenge. Try and stop me, Pointy.

Spock raised an eyebrow, which alerted Leonard to the vulcan’s significantly slower than normal movements. The damn vulcan was sleepy, he realised. In an infuriatingly adorable way, Spock blinked slowly twice before responding, a significant delay in his usual response times to Leonard’s taunts. “On the contrary, an education in Starfleet Academy is highly coveted amongst humans; its expansive curriculum makes its graduates highly sought after in careers outside of the academy. I see no logic in your statement.”

Bones rolled his eyes, knocking back half his coffee in a matter of seconds, and burning his tongue in the process. “I don’t see the logic in continuing to hold conversations with an individual you find so distastefully illogical, Mr.Spock.” He passed the strange traditional vulcan teapot out to his roommate along with the decidedly terran-style mug Spock seemed to prefer using.

Spock offered three more of his slow, dazed blinks before responding with a tilt of his head that was slightly more pronounced than the one he tended to make during the day. “Distasteful? I do not believe I have ever said as much, McCoy.”

Bones gave a single, barking laugh, shaking his head as he began to move back towards his bedroom. “Careful, Mr.Spock. Keep up the flattery and you might say something you regret.”

“You are studying?” Spock called after him, just as Leonard was closing his door.

Leonard watched Spock as he shuffled around their kitchen, preparing his tea, his normally purposefully brisk steps reduced to a half-asleep stumble. His roommate gave no indication of having spoken to him. “In my usual, time-consuming way. Yes I am, Mr.Spock.”

Spock did not face him, but the delay in his response was still significant, for the vulcan, “You study using this highly inefficient method only when learning independently, correct?”

“What is it you’re getting at? There’s only so many hours in a night, and some of us have work to do.” Growled Leonard, his prolonged view of the back of Spock’s house robes frustrating him. Their arguments were much less entertaining and all the more aggravating when he couldn’t look Spock in the eye. Spock attempted to answer while turning to face Leonard in his sleepy daze, forgetting that he was halfway through pouring the boiling water over the strainer, effectively dousing his front in the scalding liquid. There was a brief pause where Spock blinked down at the front of his robes, while Bones processed what had just happened before jerking into action. “Get that glorified dressing gown off of yourself, Spock!” He whisper-shouted, determined not to wake the entire residential block. Spock just blinked at himself, then at Leonard.

“It is burning.” He deadpanned, prompting Bones to roll his eyes and cross the room in a few quick strides.

“It’s boiling water, Spock, of course it’s burning.” He hissed tapping the lapels of the robes. “You need to get out of this so we can get you under some running, room temperature water, try and stop any blistering.” Spock finally seemed to register what was going on and began to unwrap the ties of the robes, turning away from Leonard as he did so. Leonard noticed his roommate look uneasy at the prospect of being shirtless around him, and decided to leave him to it. “I’ll go run the shower, you dry yourself off a bit and run any part of your arm that got caught in the stream under the tap. I’ll call you when the shower’s the right temperature, ok?”. Leonard waited for Spock’s nod before bolting off to their shared bathroom to start working. 

So much for his productive night studying. It was starting to look like he’d be playing nurse for Spock until the on-campus medbay opened at five am. He was just beginning to realise exactly how fucked he was for the exam the following day when the door to their bathroom creaked open slowly. “Nearly there, Spock. I don’t recommend using any of your pungent herbal shit, we don’t want anything getting into any burst blisters or anything.” 

“Your alarm is unwarranted, Leonard. There is no lasting damage done to my person.”

“Congratulations on your medical degree, Spock, didn’t realised you’d discovered a fast track. Y’could’ve told me.” Leonard drawled, not taking his eyes off of the shower, his wrist under the stream of water to monitor the temperature. 

“You know I have done no such thing.” Spock huffed, his less alert state loosening his restraint enough to allow for such blatant emotionalism. 

“Sarcasm, Spock. Somethin’ you’re gonna have to get used to if you plan on launching into the void canned in with a bunch of humans once we graduate.” Leonard was angling for a mild version of their normally acerbic exchanges, but Spock didn’t seem willing to take the bait.

“If you insist I must bathe in tepid water, I will comply, but I trust you understand the state of my health is my concern alone, and you have no power to forbid me from assisting you with your studies.”

“Bold of you to assume I want your assistance.” His final attempt to goad Spock fell just as flat as his others, and he gave a defeated sigh. “Please stay in until your skin’s returned to its normal complexion, alright?”

Spock gave a half nod and stood to the side to let Leonard pass out of the bathroom, which he did a mite faster than was strictly necessary. Sighing as Spock closed the door, Leonard began weighing the benefit of trying to study against the fact he was just worried enough to be distracted from anything too difficult. Leonard scoffed. “Who am I kidding, everything in this module is difficult enough to make me want to rip my fucking eyes out.” He continued grumbling incoherently as he made his way back to his room, throwing a dirty look at the mess of teapots, mugs, and cafetieres as he walked past it. Spock would have a hissy fit. Or, the closest thing the teachings of Surak would allow to a hissy fit. “Goddamn, green-blooded, neat-freak.” Leonard groused, frowning at the state of his room.

Leonard often consoled himself for his lack of cleanliness within the confines of his bedroom using the fact he very rarely sullied shared living areas. He liked to think of his room as a sort of nesting area; cluttered, but cosy and homely. Spock thought the state of his room was indicative of his disorganised mind and illogical outlook on life. He looked around his room, trying to decide how to partially tidy it most effectively before Spock got out of the shower. 

Ultimately, he decided to leave anything that could be passed off as studying material (including, but not limited to the notes Jim had left behind on Starfleet-approved mixed martial arts) and to gather all clothing into one pile behind the door. He had just finished that and was contemplating moving some of the collection of unwashed, half-empty mugs he’d forgotten about into the sink when someone cleared their throat at the threshold of the door, causing Leonard to jump. “Goddammit, Spock, y’could’ve killed me!” He snapped, subtly kicking the sleeve of one of his hoodies behind the door. 

Spock’s eyes followed his foot as he attempted this subterfuge, which lead him directly to the pile of clothes. He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Leonard. “I was unaware the human heart was so poorly designed that even one belonging to a relatively fit for duty, young man was susceptible to cardiac arrest caused by unpredictable scenarios. It leads me to wonder why Starfleet consists mostly of such an inept species.”

The adorable, sleepy Spock had disappeared, leaving the sharper, more alert, more dangerously attractive Spock that Bones was going to have a hard time not coming onto over the next year. “I think I preferred you when y’couldn’t string together a sentence.”   

Spock’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he stepped purposefully towards Leonard’s desk. “You are hardly the image of a functioning officer after your rest cycle has been disrupted, McCoy.” He quipped, pouring over the notes Leonard had been working on before the whole tea-spilling fiasco. “You have been repeatedly transcribing the same five notes for upwards of an hour, if you maintained a constant rate of words per minute.” 

Leonard shrugged, striding over to his desk to snatch the notes back defensively. “What of it?” He snapped, picking up his pad of paper (not good for the environment, but he’d loaned his PADD that he usually used for revision to Jim a week ago and wasn’t due to get it back until that weekend) and old-fashioned pen that used to belong to his mother. 

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard’s odd behaviour, picking up the textbook that had started to slip down the back of the overcrowded desk to leaf through it. “It is a highly inefficient method of study. Particularly given your current time constraints.” 

“Spare me the lecture, Spock. It works, and that’s all that matters.” Leonard drawled, having already resumed his scribbling, desperately attempting to commit one of the longer definitions required for the exam to memory. 

“That statement has no grounds in fact, nor does your extension based on the untruth follow any semblance of logic.”

Leonard uttered a string of curses in his native tongue, making Spock consider taking Earth English classes on the side, if only to aggravate the med student in his own native tongue. Not that Spock would ever admit to such irrational motivations.  “Dammit, Spock,” Leonard’s familiar growls in Standard had less venom than they usually did this early in their verbal sparring, a fact that drew Spock’s concern sharply onto the med student. “,either sit down and help a guy out, or get out and let me be. Ain’t that hard.” Spock eased himself down onto the human’s bed carefully, sitting cross-legged beside him with the textbook balanced carefully on his knee.

“I have heard you listening to music whilst studying on previous occasions. I have noted you do not tend to do so while I am meditating, however, I am doing so now. If it assists you, I would recommend you indulge.” Carefully watching the human for signs of distress while he spoke, Spock decided another snip at him would not hurt him. “Your human focus is dismal enough without depriving it of the stimulus necessary for it to operate at an acceptable level of efficiency.”

Spock watched with mild satisfaction as Leonard threw his archaic study materials down in a small rage, his eyebrows practically dancing as he spluttered furiously for exactly 3.2 seconds before responding coherently. “Why, you listen here, you green-blooded son-of-a-bitch, y’ain’t doin’ much good in this here bedroom, so you’ve got about three seconds ‘fore i throw you out!”

Spock unfurled himself and stood, but he didn’t make a move for the door. Instead, the stoic bastard moved back to Leonard’s desk, sorting papers into piles as he systemically searched the surface for something. Finally, he picked up Leonard’s music device: a miniature PADD his younger sister had constructed for her first set of practical engineering exams, programmed to run audio files only. “A’ight, give it here.” Leonard stretched out his hand, palm up, waiting for Spock to hand it over. Spock took a moment to briefly page through the audio files Leonard had equipped the tiny device with, the corners of his mouth turning down fractionally. “Somethin’ the matter, Spock?”

“I was under the impression that humans preferred to listen to classical music whilst studying?”

“That is classical, Spock.”

“I do not recognise it.”

Spock looked up just in time to watch the furrows between Leonard’s brows deepening. “Well, it’s classical, terran music, not vulcan, so I don’t suspect y’would.”

Without thinking, Spock said, “My mother made sure I was acquainted with many kinds of classical terran music as a child. I expected to recognise at least one of these songs from the information she provided me with.”

“Your mother liked terran music?”

Spock didn’t even pause to consider the trust required for him to offer an insight into his personal history. He just did. “My mother was human. I am only half-vulcan.”

“Might be half-vulcan, but you’re still a whole pain in the ass.” The rapidity of Leonard’s answer set Spock totally at ease, and the vulcan allowed himself to relax slightly in the presence of the human. “Y’still’ve done absolutely fuck all to help me, and I really do need to study. Y’can stay if y’want, but I can’t be shootin’ the breeze with you all night, y’hear?”. Spock’s look of confusion at the idiom was enough to send Leonard back on the defensive, and he was about to launch into a strong verbal eviction from his room when something almost-but-not-quite-clear quickly swept over Spock’s eyeballs. “What in the fucking HELL was that!” He shrieked, immediately grabbing his training tricorder from under his bed and scanning Spock, studies forgotten.

Spock’s alarm was only notable in his shoulders, which tensed as Leonard crowed into his personal space to a degree that would’ve been considered improper on Vulcan. Spock did not make any movement to rectify this situation. “McCoy?”. Leonard was muttering to himself as he scanned Spock for a third time. “Leonard?”

“What was that, Spock?”

“I am unclear on what it is exactly you are referring to.” Spock maintained solid eye contact with the Leonard, concern for the human’s mental well-being bubbling under his cool exterior. Leonard blinked, twice, incredulously, before putting his hand on the junction between Spock’s neck and shoulder, which was covered by his turtleneck. He looked at though he was going to say something before he went extremely pale and spluttered incoherently for a few moments before beginning anew with his tricorder scans. “Leonard?” 

“Spock, something’s happening to your eyes.” He growled in response, pressing at the junction where his hand rested. “Turn your head, I want to scan it from another angle. Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, anything out of the ordinary?” 

“Nothing. The level of confusion I am experiencing is within normal parameters for my interactions with you.” Spock felt a wave on content pass over him when McCoy stopped scanning for a second to glare at him, before shaking his head and resuming his activities.

After a few minutes, he withdrew the scanner, dragging a hand down his face. “Spock, I don’t suppose vulcans happen to have a second pair of eyelids, do they?” 

“Have your anatomy classes failed to cover that of vulcans?” Spock narrowed his eyes, deflecting from the fact that he didn’t actually know if the second eyelid was still a functioning part of vulcan biology. He’d learnt about it as a vestigial organ, but his hybrid nature had fascinated many scientists back home. One of the reasons he had decided to leave for Starfleet; Spock had hoped to avoid the invasive poking and prodding done in the name of research. That being said, the soft poking sensation of Leonard’s fingers through his shirt was far from uncomfortable, and Spock felt strange when the sensation stopped. 

“We do, but the piss-poor files the VSA are willing to relinquish to us mere humans are so fucking full of redaction and contradiction that all we’ve left to work with are a few vague diagrams and thoughouly unhelpful paragraphs on the composition of vulcan blood.” Leonard took a step back from Spock, restoring the traditional respectful distance between them. Much too distant for Spock’s liking. “You’re sure you’re not going to die in the next few hours until we can get you to the sickbay tomorrow?”

“I do not need-”

“Spock, you’ve not only burnt yourself-”

“It is superficial at most, and does not require-”

“-but you’ve just discovered what might maybe be an eyelid but could equally -for all we know- be-”

“-medical attention. Your anxiety is unwarranted and your focus on your studies has waned to what could prove to be a detrimental degree if you do not-”

“-a malignant growth of some sort, you have to go to find out if that thing is hurting you or not at least-”

“-cease your illogical fussing and resume.”

“-and I- Spock are you even listening to me?” Leonard’s gradually increasing volume finally peaked out, and Spock raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Ah. shit, the neighbours.” 

“At this hour, we can hope they are in a deep enough sleep not to have heard-”

“Are you kidding me Spock, I practically screamed-”

“If we continue in this vein, you will lose what little volume control you posses. Please sit down once again and I shall try and gauge how much you have prepared for this test already and we shall start from there.” Spock’s eyebrow lowered itself slowly as he relaxed once more, Leonard sitting down on the bed close to the headboard, making it easy for Spock to sit relatively close to him without making it look like anything but a logical decision for optimum viewing of the human’s notes. Not that it wasn’t motivated by logic. The fact his side was pressed soothingly to Leonard’s was a pleasant bonus. “That eyelid thing is a bit strange, you’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Spock levelled him with a flat stare. “I shall visit the nurse tomorrow if you cease this discussion.”

Leonard shrugged and dropped his head down and began working on a list of things he felt confident on for the next day in an attempt to hide his smug smile. It didn’t work, but Spock didn’t say anything. 

A few hours later, they had taken a break from Spock’s relentless verbal assessments for Leonard to give his brain a chance to process the points they had been drilling and for Spock to asses the data he had collected on Leonard’s rate of retention of information to try and streamline their next bout. Except Leonard’s head had dropped onto Spock’s shoulder, and the heat from where their sides were pressed tightly together was relaxing Spock into a borderline meditative state. It was only when his chest started to vibrate lightly when Spock snapped himself back to reality, confident he had not woken his study mate with his unfortunate vulcan habit. Hubris was not a trait vulcans were capable of possessing, so Spock classed his slide in judgement as a calculation error, not as a result of unfounded pride.

“Were’y’... purrin’, Spock?” The human’s voice was muffled by Spock’s turtleneck, so the flush high on the his cheeks went unnoticed by Leonard. 

“It is... an unfortunate, involuntary response of Vulcans.” Was Spock’s clipped answer, suddenly awake and almost frantically pouring over the notes he had made on Leonard’s progress. 

“Mmm, sounds like more of y’all’s goddamn cagey nature. Outta be somethin’ your doctor outta know.” Leonard slowly picked himself up off of Spock’s shoulder. Spock felt irrationally irate at the loss of contact, despite the fact their sides remained pressed together. “Ah, shit. How long was I out?”

“Twelve minutes.” Was Spock’s response, glad to have moved on from his embarrassing lapse in control. Leonard’s response wasn’t forthcoming, so Spock chanced a glance at his roommate, only to find his mouth wide open, eyes closed, and seemingly struggling for breath. Spock’s basic first aid training kicked in, fully aware that humans, much like vulcans, required a constant supply of oxygen, and he began to thump at Leonard’s back, the angle much too awkward for him to apply the force necessary to dislodge whatever may have been blocking the med student’s airways. Except, the med student seemed to have cleared his airways on his own. And was using his perfectly clear airways to yell at Spock.

“The hell’re you doin’? Coulda seriously hurt me with that goddamn “superior vulcan strength” you won’t shut up about! Ain’t a fella allowed t’yawn in his own damn bedroom?”

Spock quickly stood up from the bed, and Leonard watched as the relaxed stance the vulcan had had previously completely vanished. “You appeared to be in respiratory distress. The training I have thus far received in first aid on humans required the first thing to do in such a situation would be-“

“Dammit Spock, I’m a med student, I know what t’do when someone can’t fucking breathe! I, oddly enough, was breathing just fine!”

Spock’s chin lifted fractionally, the last of his near-tender demeanour hardening. “Incorrect. Your chest ceased to rise and fall regularly, you had opened your mouth for maximum oxygen intake and yet you did not inhale, and the distress weakened you insofar as you were forced to close your eyes.”

Leonard looked at him, incredulous. “I yawned.”

“I do not understand. Does this correlate with your -“

“I yawned, you thick-skulled-“ Leonard stopped and took a breath, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Don’t worry, s’just an unfortunate, involuntary response of humans.”

Spock recognised he was being quoted, but unlike previous, malicious quotations made by various humans (including this patprticular one), his roommate did not seem to be trying to get a rise out of him, so he decided to retaliate. “That is the nature of most human responses, voluntary or otherwise.”

The outraged eyebrow that was slowly creeping up Leonard’s forehead was completely undermined by the sleepy grin that was taking over his entire face. “I’m not going to get much more study for this assent done, huh?”

“Assessment?”

“Yeah, the thing we’ve been studying for.” Leonard looked confused, but Spock’s head tilt betrayed his own befuddlement. 

“You referred to it previously as an exam.” His arms crossed his chest, marring his perfect posture slightly. It looked to Leonard that, despite his confusion, his roommate was more relaxed than he had been. 

“Yeah, an exam, an assessment, no difference, is there?”

Spock would later deny the look he gave Leonard was ‘incredulous’, Leonard would exaggerate his expression into one of absolute shock when retelling the tale to Jim the following evening. “There is a considerable difference, Leonard. Considering the brevity of this particular elective, the only grade that might impact your final score will be the final examination. Assessments in such a relatively insignificant elective will not affect your final grade in any serious manner.”

“It’s a matter of pride, Spock.” Leonard smiled, shaking his head. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Spock glowered down at his roommate, the expression so slight that Leonard didn’t notice it at all. The silence strung out for a moment longer than absolutely necessary before Spock sat down at the foot of Leonard’s bed. “Pride is illogical, McCoy.”

Leonard snorted, shaking his head. “Pride and spite are the only things that keep me going, take ‘em away and I wouldn’t do a thing.” 

He watched as Spock’s eyebrow crept upwards, his head tipping lightly towards him. “Your finger brushed my collarbone earlier, when you touched my robes.”

Leonard went a bright red, and his respiratory distress seemed genuine this time. He leapt off of the bed, putting the distance of the width of the room between them. “Fucking shit, Spock? Why didn’t y’tell me! Fucking touch-telepathy, that was probably stupidly invasive, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit! I’m sorry. I’m fucking dense, I thought- I don’t know what I was doing, shouldn’t’ve gone near you-”

“Calm yourself Leonard-”

“And now you’re too polite to call me out on it, goddammit, we had lectures on proper conduct with vulcans, fuck-”

“Leonard.” Spock had stood and walked over to the human. Leonard was shocked when Spock put his hand on his shoulder. “There is no offence taken, do you understand?”. Leonard seemed to have lost his voice, but nodded. “I only brought up the incident because I sensed only concern and concentration from you through the contact. There was no bitterness, no concern for your pride or reputation. You saw your patient and thought of nothing but how best to administer effective and efficient treatment.”

Leonard had not made any indication of wanting to brush off his hand, so Spock decided to return to the personal space he had occupied while Leonard had been scanning him earlier. Leonard blinked several times, eyes crossing slightly to stare at the tip of Spock’s nose, only an inch, maybe less, from his own. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he swallowed hard, once. Spock’s nose had never looked so kissable. He shook his head- not an appropriate thought to be having while Spock was, wait, what was Spock saying? Leonard could hear him speaking, but his brain wasn’t processing the words correctly. Or at all. He thought maybe he was complimenting him, or maybe trying to get Leonard to explain his dry, almost self-critical comment. Hell, Spock could be reciting Shakespeare for all Leonard knew. Or cared. The vulcan’s voice was deeper than it was normally, more like it was when he had been sleepily pouring his tea earlier, less like it had been for their shared life up until today. The vibration of this deeper voice reminded him of the purring, the utter relaxation and warmth that had accompanied those vibrations, and... and Spock was still talking and Leonard still had no idea what he was saying because his mouth was moving very nicely, had his mouth always moved that nicely?

“BONES!” That voice would pull Leonard out of any dazed stupor he could possibly fall into. That voice, with that tone always meant one of two things. Jim needed his help, or Jim had done something he needed to confess to that would probably piss Leonard off. “BONES? YOU HOME?”

Spock had somehow managed to perch himself on the edge of Leonard’s desk, textbook and notes in hand, pointedly not looking at Bones. Rolling his eyes, Leonard walked out into the living area. “What the fuck have you done, Jim?” 

“Bones!” Jim practically bounced over to the med student, which meant he’d absolutely fucked something up that was going to piss him off. Clapping his shoulder playfully, Jim used the momentum of his bounce to swing himself around Bones, heading for his room. “You’re not going to believe what a weird mix-up there’s been, man! So, look, I-why, hello, Mr.Spock!” Jim glanced over his shoulder with an “i-cannot-believe-you-got-the-hot-guy-we’ve-both-been-crushing-on-into-your-room’ look on his face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes comically large in mock disbelief. “What’s a hot guy like you doing in a dingy place like this?” He had turned his impish gaze back on Spock, gesturing vaguely around Leonard’s room as he mentioned the ‘dingy place’.

Spock’s face remained impassive, not betraying the flash of amusement he always felt when the younger human flirted blatantly with him. “Vulcans’ core temperatures are, on average, actually lower than that of humans.”

Where Leonard would’ve snapped back a witty counter attack in order to incite a fascinating debate, Jim simply leaned right into the lewd implications only he could draw from such a droll, basic fact. “Are you saying that you think Bones and I are hot, Mr.Spock?”. The man had far more confidence in his charismatic abilities than any other human Spock had seen knocking their own glasses off of their face when discussing something passionately with a lecturer.

Spock was about to fire back a response -noting in the back of his mind that of the friendships he had deliberately built with a select few humans in the hopes of appeasing his mother, the ones he had formed with Jim and Leonard, though not particularly strong yet, brought him a feeling of completion- when Leonard came into the room, red-faced and rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Jim, you’ll make him uncomfortable. Vulcans don’t flirt, that’d require expression of emotion.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard, mildly puzzled. Had Leonard not recognised their discussion before Jim had arrived for what it was? Was his respect and admiration of the medical student not clear?

“What is it you’ve done, Jim?” Bones had leaned himself against the door frame, staring fixedly at his ex-roommate, who was glancing between Spock and Bones with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

“Well, I was going to apologise for a stupid thing I did, but seeing as it wound up with all three of us in a room with a bed, I’d say no apologies needed.” Jim couldn’t keep a straight face delivering that line, his flirtatious demeanour crumbling into pure giddiness. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. S’just weird seeing the two of you together, it’s like you guys exist separately in my mind, and seeing you getting cosy in Bones’s room is just so wacky-“

“Jim!” Bones’s bark made Jim laugh even harder, and Spock allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly as Jim’s merriment grew and Leonard became more and more flustered. These humans affected Spock more than he’d care to admit, and watching them interact brought a sense of contentedness over him. “It’s fucking crazy o clock in the morning, what in the hell could’y’ve done that y’need to confess so bad?”

“Small scheduling error, Bones, no big deal! In my defence, I didn’t realise how late it is, I was reading this really cool book that Galia’s sister sent her, so far it’s been absolutely gripping, can’t put it down-“

“Jim.”

His blue eyes darted around the room nervously as he giggled anxiously. “You don’t have a test tomorrow, Bones, I do. I fucked up and logged it in the PADD you’d loaned me instead of my own PADD, so I guessed you got a reminder and I know your memory is shit outside of your studies, so I figured you’d be up cramming-“

“Jim-boy, what’d you just say? Because if you said what I think you said, I’m going to-“

“Leonard, I would not recommend engaging in a physical altercation with Jim. He has considerable more experience in such matters.”

Spock felt a shiver down his spine as Leonard’s dangerously icy glare turned on him. “Are you sayin’ y’don’t think I can take ‘im, Spock?”

“That is not what he said Bones! C’mon, how bad was it? You got to bond with your roommate, and now my two best friends are on speaking terms, at least. Sounds like a win-win to me!”

“I’m gonna need the two of y’all to get the fuck outta my room, if I’m going to get any sleep at all before tomorrow.” 

Jim’s smirk got even more mischievous, the glint in his eye almost dangerous. “Maybe we’ve planned for you to get no sleep tonight, Bones.”

“I resent your implicating me in your antics, Jim.” Spock was definitely grinning, goddammit! There’s no way a vulcan could manoeuvre their mouths any further into a vague smiling shape.

“You’re not denying it-”

“Both of y’all need to shut up and go to bed, it’s late.” Leonard groused, having had enough of Jim’s playfulness, which was a bit too much for how late it was. Also, the thoughts and feelings he was invoking in Leonard with his meaningless teasing were enough for him to overthink on for the rest of his life. Jim’s pout made Bones fully aware of just how much he wouldn’t mind kissing his best friend, which reminded him of how close he had been to doing just that to his roommate, which reminded him of how it was just his fucking luck to be attracted to the two people he most defiantly shouldn’t be attracted to. The two most unattainable people on campus. He was probably a sadist. Jim sat next to Spock on his bed, and Spock had turned to mutter something in Jim’s ear. On his bed. He was absolutely a sadist. 

“That’s a good point, Spock. I think it’ll be difficult to strong-arm him into spending more time with the two of us as well.”

Spock had the good grace to look up at Leonard with what could be interpenetrated as an apologetic expression. “Those were not my... exact words.”

“I’m a med student, not a socialite, dammit!” Jim was sitting very close to Spock, they looked so right together it was sickening, and Spock was clearly mooning over Jim, and Bones... Bones needed to sleep. Now. “I’ll come over to your place tomorrow after I get out of the labs at six, Jim. If Spock comes, he comes. I don’t care.” He did care. A lot. 

“Seeing as two of us live in these quarters, it would be more logical for us to reconvene here, would it not?” 

“Nah, Jim’s got a better replicator.”

“I’ve also got better taste in holos, so...”

“You absolutely do not-”

“I don’t think watching documentaries counts as a relaxing night in-”

“I shall be there, eighteen-hundred hours.” Spock interrupted, his expression doing nothing to ease the daydreams determinedly banging at Leonard’s subconscious as he looked between the two humans. That odd eyelid-thing slid open and shut twice, which Leonard probably shouldn’t have found cute when he didn’t know whether or not it was hurting Spock. But he did, nonetheless. 

Jim clapped Spock’s shoulder, which stopped the eyelid blinking, and resulted in a rather cat-like freezing of his entire frame. “Excellent!” Jim jumped up, bouncing out the bedroom door. “It’s a date, gentlemen!” And he was gone before Leonard’s outraged spluttering could hold him up. 

“It’s not a- dammit, we’re not- Spock-”

Spock stopped to place his hand on Leonard’s shoulder, deliberately making eye-contact. “To borrow Jim’s turn of phrase, ‘it’s a date’, Leonard.” 

And that rendered Leonard totally speechless, left staring mutely at Spock’s retreating back. What the fuck kind of emotional fuckery had he gotten himself into?  

[theawkwardterrier]

Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling?

Steggy Week, day 6 Prompt: Tropes and Cliches

Summary: Five times Steve and Peggy faked a relationship, and one time they didn’t.

AO3 link here.

i.

The fact that it is not at all her job doesn’t stop anyone from assigning Peggy the task of bringing Private Rogers to his lodgings for the night. She understands that things are a bit chaotic after the assassination this afternoon (and she certainly has her own sorrow about losing Erskine) and that working with Rogers requires a high clearance level. She also knows for a fact that there are people (men) of lower rank who could escort him, and yet she’s been ordered to do it.

“Thank you for this,” Rogers says. It’s the first thing she’s heard him say in a long while, certainly since they were put into the car with orders to return to SSR headquarters tomorrow morning for testing. “I’m sure you had other things to do.”

“I do,” she acknowledges, not willing to demur for his comfort or conscience. “But I’ll get to them as well. We’re putting you up just a few blocks from here, so as long as you don’t require me to plump your pillows, I’ll be through in plenty of time.”

He smiles a little, and she’s strangely comforted that the man she’s started to know is still in there. “No pillow plumping, but if they give me a room with ugly wallpaper, we’d better hope you’re willing to fight for a new one.”

She hadn’t expected such a directly amusing response. She laughs, but it stops abruptly as the driver of their car reports, “We’ve run into the police barricade.”

“Of course.” That the HYDRA agent had been undercover rather than storming the SSR facility hadn’t mattered to Senator Brandt, nor that it was better to keep these things as quiet as possible for public good and as an espionage tactic. He had demanded police presence in the surrounding area, as if hundreds of Nazi spies might suddenly decide to throw off their masks and attack.

The policeman shines his flashlight into the window on Rogers’s side, waiting for him to crank it open. “Evening, fella,” he says, taking a quick glance over Peggy and the driver but focusing on Steve, still disheveled in an undershirt and too-small pants. “We’re on the lookout tonight. You know about that trouble by the water?”

Sounding tired and yet as if he can’t avoid taking an impertinent tone, Rogers replies, “I heard a little something.”

The officer bristles at the way Rogers doesn’t seem impressed or intimidated. “Well then I’m sure you know it was a big problem, big enough for a United States senator to take a personal interest. We’re all taking it real seriously, so I might wonder what a man such as yourself was doing looking so disordered, sitting in such a fancy car next to a pretty lady.”

At this point, he seems a bit baffled about exactly what he’s accusing Rogers of (are they meant to having a torridly romantic assignation, or spying?), and Rogers is starting to look as if he’d like to give him something specific for which to arrest him. Peggy nearly wants to let him, but she decides better of it; she doesn’t have the time to clean up a mess, and considering the effects of the serum, even a single punch might do some significant damage.

She can’t very well mention who Steve is in specific, and even mentioning that he is a soldier is touchy: if someone took a good look at his technically uniform pants, it would be hard to explain why they are so small. Sizing up the officer, and realizing that Senator Brandt would likely have planted a suspicion of badges in the heads of the police, she leans over so that not only her face but her uniform becomes apparent in the light. “I apologize, Officer. My fiance has had a tremendously tiring day - as you can see, he was in a bus accident on the way from Pennsylvania - and we were just on the way to bring him to his hotel.”

“Your fiance, huh?” The policeman peers in closely, still suspicious. Peggy’s hand rests on top of Steve’s in the middle seat, as if it has always been there. She pinches Steve subtly to get him to stop gaping about it. “How’d a Pennsylvania boy meet a Brit like you?”

“A dairy exchange,” she says promptly, keeping it casual, as if she had been asked by a friend at a party. “His father and the dairy farmers consortium wanted to send a representative to see the famous Jersey cows, and I happened to be visiting a friend who’s a milkmaid.”

“It was all very lucky,” Steve manages, leaning toward her awkwardly. Despite his lack of actual acting skill, his instinct is good.

“And now of course I’m being posted back to England for my war work, so we wanted to get a chance to say goodbye, and see the city once more.” She blinks up a few tears just so they rest in her eyes. “Considering the situation in Jersey, it could be quite a while before they’re hosting farmers again.”

Steve wraps an arm around her. “Don’t sound like that, sweetheart,” he says. He does a decent job of sounding brave and nicely supportive, although he might as well have stolen his lines from a propaganda film. “With our countries working together, we’ll have those stormtroopers off your pretty island in no time.”

“You did promise me a honeymoon there,” she says, settling against him. Despite his swim earlier in the day, and the newness of his muscles, it’s actually quite a comfortable place to be.

“I’m sure you’ll get it, honey.” The policeman, when she looks over toward him, seems to have been truly affected by the charade: he has real tears in his eyes to match her fake ones. “Now, you go on through and get him settled in.”

“Thank you,” she says prettily, and elbows Steve until he does the same. The driver, snorting quietly, steers them past the barricade.

After a few minutes of quiet, she says, “My dairy farmer fiance. I can’t believe he bought that. If a real Nazi spy showed up, I don’t know if our officer friend could be counted on to notice a tattoo of Hitler.”

“Let’s hope the rest of the force is doing a better job protecting the city, or everyone might come back from overseas and find the place turned into New Nuremberg behind their backs.”

They pull up in front of what looks like an average rooming house, the only light visible from a small desk lamp on the ground floor.

“When you go inside, just ask for Eleanor,” Peggy instructs. “And when she asks you how your trip was, say that you’re lucky to only be this late as you had trouble finding a cab.”

“Is there an SSR division that’s just innocent-looking older ladies acting as bodyguards?” he asks, looking out at his home for the night.

“Well, I do need a role to aspire to in my old age,” she tells him.

Steve laughs and steps out of the car, but leans back into the space of the open door. “Thanks for all of your help. In training, and today, and just now.”

“My pleasure,” she says, “and my job.”

“The dairy farmer sounds pretty lucky. You built him a great life.” He looks around down the darkened street, houses closed up for the night, and then says quietly, “You know, if he’d seen us driving together this morning, he probably wouldn’t have believed any of it. That I could milk cows, or get a girl like you.”

In the dim light, she can see that his face has lost the humor. He just looks tired now, and sad. She wonders how long it will take him to sleep. “As far as I’m concerned, the story was equally plausible then and now.”

The smile he gives is still tired, but seems genuine. She imagines that whichever Eleanor is on duty tonight will insist on feeding him a hot supper, and she’s glad of that.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Agent Carter,” he says, and goes inside.

ii.

The red dress was an obvious signal, one that even Steve would have to pick up on. Peggy refuses to admit that the next day’s outfit - a simple blouse and pencil skirt - had similarly flattering elements. They’re practical clothing for a workday, a little break from her uniform, and that’s all.

Except that she does feel just a brief flare of excitement as she comes around the corner to bring Steve over to Howard’s workshop… A flare which is doused as she sees Private Lorraine right up against Steve.

But then she looks closer.

She’s seen Steve uncomfortable at this point - more than once, in fact - but never this much. He’s stammering, his shoulders tucked inward as if he wishes he could return to his former, less noticeable size. It’s a perfect storm, she thinks with pity, of a woman who wants something, and a man who has had no practice saying that he’s not interested.

“Hello, Steve, darling,” she calls out before she can think better of it.

The two of them snap toward her immediately. Lorraine takes a step back and Peggy thinks, Good, with vicious satisfaction.

“Howard’s ready for you, so as long as you’re done with your conversation over here…”

“Yes!” He edges away from where he’d been cornered and walks toward Peggy, straightening his uniform. “It’s good to see you,” he says, thankfully canny enough not to sound too desperate.

Peggy tucks her arm into his and says, casually, but loudly enough to be heard, “Well, I thought I’d come find you - we need to firm up plans for tonight…”

Around the corner, she moves back away from him, easily shifting back to professional as they near Howard’s area.

“I really appreciated that,” he says, surprising her. She had expected him to turn awkward and choose not to mention it.

“It might get around,” she warns. “Private Lorraine is a bit forward, as you saw.”

“I don’t have a problem with people knowing.” She tries not to make it too obvious, but she finds his blush quite endearing.

“And you should likely learn to turn down an advance,” she tells him clearly. She waves a hand toward him. “Considering…”

“Yeah.” He sounds slightly sad as he says, “I’m sure I’ll get a lot of ribbing for not taking advantage when women who wouldn’t have looked at me twice before do more than that now, but I’ll ask around for some advice.”

Howard comes over at a clip to show off his latest gadgets. Peggy says quickly, “Perhaps don’t ask Howard,” just as Steve says, “But maybe not him,” and they laugh.

Peggy gets a lot of glares around the base over the next few days which just confirms whom among her colleagues she wants to be friends with. She can’t quite bring herself to care, regardless.

iii.

Peggy, it turns out, looks quite fetching in a kerchief. But Dernier reminds everyone in rapid French that just because the village is small, it does not mean that everyone is a rural peasant.

“Your normal hair will be fine,” he tells her, and goes off to tell the pilot that they’re ready.

They make the jump just after twilight. All three of them arrive safely on the ground, but that is their last bit of luck for a while. They land farther apart than intended, Steve’s chute is stuck in a tree and while he cuts himself out fairly easily, it’s a bear to collect the silk so that they leave no trace. And then they accidentally wander into a farmer’s land and are quickly nearly gored by a bull.

Their avoidance of such a fate is perhaps a second bit of luck, except: their escape is not exactly subtle, and as they collect themselves beneath a stand of trees, they hear footsteps and then the click of a flashlight and a voice saying in German-accented French, “Who’s there?”

This was meant to be a brief mission. The plan was for a quick surveillance of a site that had been rumored to be a HYDRA-affiliated lab (Jacques had admitted, shamefaced, that there were certainly ambitious French scientists who would mistake what was right for them with what was right), a rendezvous with a contact of Peggy’s, and then a return to SSR headquarters. Therefore, the costumes that they’d been given were meant to hold up to basic scrutiny at a distance, and they had developed barely a sketch of a cover story.

Steve automatically looks to Peggy, because typically if they’re in some trouble because of poor planning, she’s the one to pull them out. But instead, he hears Dernier’s voice.

“How dare you get in the way of true love!”

“Excuse me?” The crunching footsteps move closer, and finally they can see on the other end of the flashlight two soldiers in German uniforms.

“These two good people are from important families in the village who have been enemies for a century! And perhaps we will never know whether it is true that his great-grandfather truly ordered a horse or if her great-grandfather was right to deliver a mule, but it no longer matters. Because as soon as they saw each other when they came to help the schoolchildren prepare for the annual picnic, they knew that no other would do.”

“Perhaps this is the new Romeo and Juliet,” says the taller soldier with rough scepticism, “but then who are you?”

Dernier draws himself up. “I am their priest, of course.” This, naturally, surprises Steve: Dernier has been a firm atheist since 1928, and typically when asked his religion will proudly respond, “French.” But when Steve looks more closely, he finds that Dernier has tucked his white kerchief into the collar of his black shirt and somehow in the dim light it approximates the look of a priest. “Their families would never have allowed a marriage in the village, so we are going to the church in the valley, and once there, we shall finalize the bond that no one will ever be able to break.”

Peggy, always quicker on the uptake, has been holding Steve’s hands in both of hers and looking nervous but besotted. By the time the flashlight has turned to examine them, however, Steve too has caught on. He has his arms around Peggy and is certain that his expression looks like an overly enthusiastic stage actor. But apparently he’s done a decent job, because the shorter soldier relaxes a bit and, waving a hand, says, “Move along, then. Have your romance.”

They walk for a few moments before doubling back and finding the two soldiers again. It turns out that the HYDRA outpost is not just a rumor. It also turns out that Dernier can make quite a large explosion using only minimal materials.

Years later, when the mission file has been declassified, a television episode will be made focusing on the incident. Peggy will be fawning and practically invisible, Steve will speak fluent French while for some reason wearing his Captain America uniform beneath his disguise, and Dernier will do nothing but cackle when blowing things up.

A historical group will write in protest of the accuracy, but they shouldn’t really have bothered: it changes nothing, and honestly, what Steve himself remembers most strongly is Peggy in his arms for the first time.

iv.

After three weeks in the field with what she estimates was an average of three hours sleep a night, a wet cloth the closest substitute for a bath, and an impromptu field surgery to remove a rotten molar from Dugan, all Peggy wants when they reach the small base in the north of England is to collapse into bed. Even an army cot would feel like a palace at this point, but she’s even denied that: there are no women’s bunks where the rest of the Commandos are being billeted and the commander refuses to let her stay even in a room alone.

“Let’s see when the next train is,” Steve says when it’s been made clear to them that the men are welcome to stay, but if Peggy is given a bed there, they will all be turned out. “We’ll get everyone back in their boots in just a minute.”

But Peggy, watching Jones dunk nearly his whole head into a basin of water and Morita lying back fully clothed with an arm over his eyes, already snoring, demurs. There’s no reason to tear all the rest of them away just because she isn’t allowed.

She goes to the village and asks around, and is eventually pointed to the town’s one guest house. The building itself is lovely: sprawling and neatly arranged, with what Peggy would guess are lovely bedrooms if she could actually get inside one of them. But instead, when she is nearly ready to lie down in the foyer, she meets what she expects is the base commander’s sister, a pointed woman who, when Peggy requests a room, indicates a placard beside the desk: Gentlemen and married couples only.

Peggy tries politeness first. “I’m here on important war work, and they don’t have accommodations for me on the base,” she says calmly.

“Well then I’m sure your superiors share my concerns,” says the owner. The look of disapproval she aims toward Peggy’s uniform boils Peggy’s blood. She spent a childhood being shamed for acting ‘like the boys.’ Her memories of the years in which she suppressed herself in order to be accepted are pale, marked by a sadness that comes from little that actually happened during that time. Now she’s found a compromise, a way to be herself that’s been endorsed by the highest officials in the country, and still she is judged. She wants to tell this woman exactly what would be different had Peggy Carter been at home, tending the fires for a man, rather than using her skills to win this wretched war, but instead she just meets the other woman’s gaze head on.

“I’ll only be here for the night,” Peggy says, “and then I’ll be on the train to London in the morning.”

The woman snorts. “As if I don’t know what can happen in a night!” She folds her arms, her elbows sticking out like pokers. “A young girl can sneak a man in here and be ruined in a night. With a child in the equation, she can ruin three lives! My rules ensure propriety, a return to decency which has been sorely lacking these past years.”

There’s so much wrong with this logic, that for a moment Peggy, her brain already slowed, can’t think of anything to say. Luckily she avoids the statements which would almost certainly get her ejected (that babies born out of wedlock weren’t begun with the invasion of Poland, and certainly didn’t have to be the end of the world; that two gentlemen could get up to some behavior that she would certainly find shocking). Instead she takes a breath and points out, “I could be a married woman traveling alone, and of equal virtue to a man traveling in the same state.”

“But you aren’t,” snaps the woman, and instead of feeling like a victory for Peggy, it seems like the beginning of a slow road to defeat. “You’re just another of those liberated army girls. You haven’t got a husband any more than I do.”

“I guess that leaves me feeling pretty useless,” says a voice from the doorway behind them.

The army uniform has always flattered Steve, but just now, with the last of the sunset catching on his hair and the medals on his jacket, the shadows beneath his own eyes concealed, he looks quite heroic.

“Hello, darling,” Peggy says, strangely comforted by the return to a familiar scenario, if only this charade that they seem to keep falling into. “I hadn’t realized you’d be given leave to be able to meet me, but it’s very convenient. We were just having a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“What seems to be the problem?” Steve asks, striding over. He seems in his element not because this is a situation calling for a man to take over, making declarations, but because he has experience standing up to people who are too stuck in particular ideas of how things should be done.

“As I was just explaining, this is a respectable establishment and we have some rules,” says the lady behind the desk, with only a brief pause. She still sounds sour, but perhaps actually a bit shaken too. “We don’t allow rooms to women traveling alone, such as your...wife?”

“It seems to me that women traveling alone are the ones you should be jumping to rent rooms to,” Steve says blandly, “especially if you’re worried about the respectability of the youth, but I guess it doesn’t matter, because she’s actually part of a married couple.”

And when he puts his hands on top of the desk to pull the guest book toward himself, Peggy sees that he is indeed wearing a wedding ring on his left hand. The owner, growing more shriveled by the moment, stares at it.

“My wife wears hers on a chain,” Steve says idly, as if just noticing her gaze. “It’s safer in case of accident or capture.” He nods over at Peggy and she pulls a chain forward from around her neck, the crest of Michael’s school ring concealed by her hand so the visible piece looks plausibly like a wedding band. She hadn’t even known Steve had been aware that she wore it.

The room is indeed lovely when they’re finally shown up to it: a large bed, soft, brightly colored linens, an adjoining bathroom with an enormous clawfoot bathtub that nearly makes Peggy want to return to church. The only blemish is their hostess, who takes them through their brief tour with gritted teeth and glowers her way out the door as if she’d still like to demand their marriage certificate and three witnesses including a member of clergy.

“How did you know I was here?” Peggy asks as soon as they’re alone. “And where on earth did you get that ring?”

“I mentioned to one of the guys at the base that one of us had to go find a room in town and he said, ‘Hope it’s not a lady,’” he says, his British accent an absolute abomination, Cockney mixed with bear by way of New York. “I borrowed his ring in exchange.”

Peggy laughs, collapsing into the pretty paisley armchair with no intention of getting up, although both the bed and bathtub look tempting in the extreme.

“I can probably climb down,” Steve says from where he’s looking out the drapes onto the low roof and the lawn below. “Just tell her that I had to go back on duty.”

“And have her turn me out again?” Peggy yawns. “As long as the boys are covering for you to avoid an AWOL charge, just stay here until morning.”

“You sure it won’t make you uncomfortable?” Steve says, and he sounds sincere, as if he truly would scale down the building and return to the barracks if she wanted him gone.

Instead she waves a hand and says, “I’ll likely be asleep as soon as I climb into bed. You could indulge your passion for can-can dancing and I’d be none the wiser.”

But she finds, after she has splashed water over her face and arms, and brushed her hair and teeth in a bid for some minimal feeling of cleanliness, after she has stripped to her slip (she pulls it off well but the uniform isn’t exactly built for comfort) and climbed under the coverlet beside Steve in his undershirt and trousers, that she can’t fall asleep.

“How ridiculous that I’ve been treated more fairly fighting against the Nazis than I have been trying to pay good money for a room in my own country,” Peggy says, and although she tries to keep her voice even and perhaps joking, the true heart of her disappointment seeps through. “Although at this point I likely shouldn’t be surprised.”

“One day it won’t be like this,” Steve says firmly. “You’re going to change that.”

She shakes her head. “I have a life to live and things to do. I haven’t the time to change everyone’s mind.”

He props himself up and turns to face her. “Every time a little girl sees you in your uniform, she thinks that maybe it could be her one day. And maybe she doesn’t want to be a soldier, she wants to be a professor or a doctor or the owner of her own bed and breakfast that serves single ladies only, but she sees a woman doing something that her mother and grandmother never even got to try, and it plants the seed in her mind.” She thinks that she can see his eyes glimmering in the dark. “Peggy, you’re changing things just by being you.”

She kisses him. There’s nothing else to be done.

“Is this alright?” she asks when he pulls away.

Shakily, he says, “I was just going to ask the same thing.”

“Of course,” she says, surprised. She can’t believe he can’t feel the giddiness that’s overtaken her, completely separate from the peak of exhaustion. “I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. And besides—” She leans close. “It’s alright. You’re my husband, after all.”

He laughs, and she cuts him off with another kiss.

v.

Peggy has some nursing experience, but she’s no match for the barrel-shaped woman in the nurse’s cap before her. It’s not because Peggy is disheveled, or because everything inside of her has been askew since she got Howard’s call - she could have pushed her aside despite all of that. But this woman reminds her of Rose back at SSR headquarters, overlooked and underestimated but like she knows where the nearest machine gun is located and how to access it.

Good. That’s exactly who Peggy wants guarding this particular door.

She calms enough to say politely, “I’m here to see Steve Rogers. I’m his wife,” and notices the nurse’s eyes widen just a bit. How strange: it doesn’t even feel foreign anymore, nor like a lie.

“We’ve been expecting you. Identification please?”

Peggy hands over her passport. It seems a strange precaution to allow them to know her real identity but not Steve’s, to fake a relationship but give this facility unlimited access to Steve’s actual body. It’s all part of the compromise Phillips struck with his superiors. The army technically had the rights to Steve whenever he was found and in whatever condition, and could control who could see him. But when Howard had found a heartbeat for the first time, Phillips stepped in to say that even prisoners of war get access to the Red Cross and Steve Rogers would be allowed visits by his wife, Peggy Carter. And when some paper-pushing corporal had brought up that they had no record of Steve Rogers ever having been married, Phillips had said that he had himself been in attendance at their small ceremony in England seven months ago and it wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t keep track of files on even their most valuable soldiers.

“I’m sure you’re aware that this is a special case,” the nurse tells Peggy as she guides her back through a maze of hallways. “We aren’t entirely certain about anything, but we’re doing our best, and we’re fairly certain he’s stable.”

“Thank you,” Peggy says, managing to sound calm. She appreciates the honesty, but the fact that they are even admitting to uncertainty makes her feel as if they are on shaky footing.

Steve, when she sees him, looks the same as ever, only deeply asleep. She moves his hair off of his forehead and sits beside him, holding his hand and speaking to him quietly. She stays for two hours, catching him up on everything he’s missed as doctors and nurses come in to monitor him every so often. Finally, she wipes her eyes, picks up her handbag, and goes to leave her contact information with the nurse.

She returns the next afternoon, slipping out of work precisely at 5, and repeats the same process: handing over her identification, even though the same nurse is on duty, being shown back to Steve’s room, and filling the space with quiet chat for a few hours.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she says, squeezing Steve’s hand before she leaves, and she fully expects to. But instead she receives a midnight call and, making the always perilous egress from the ladies’ residence, catches a taxi through the darkened streets.

The nurse doesn’t bother with her passport this time, hurrying the two of them back rapidly. When they arrive, Peggy sees why: Steve has that stubborn set to his jaw, pushing close up against the doctor. That he hasn’t actually stood is both worrying and a relief.

“Peggy,” Steve says with deep gratitude as she walks in the door.

“I told you that we had called your wife,” protests the doctor, annoyed.

“Right,” Steve says absently. Peggy has joined him by the bed. She holds his face in her hands, looking him over, carefully meeting his eyes.

“You were gone six months,” she tells him. “This is an army facility, in New York. You were found a week ago and brought here as fast as possible. Howard’s been looking after you, between a dozen other things.”

Steve rests his hands on her wrists, so gentle, and she wants to cry. “Peg,” he says quietly, “can you maybe track me down a pair of pants? I know my legs aren’t really working yet, but I’ve had enough of showing off in a hospital gown for one lifetime.”

The tears are technically from the laughter that bubbles up and out of her, but not entirely. Nevertheless, it’s primarily joy in her voice when she responds, “Of course, my darling. Anything for you.”

vi.

They’ve barely left the ceremony dedicating a new military hospital in Bucky’s honor, and Morita is already yanking his tie loose while Dugan bellows for a drink.

“We’ve got a reservation,” Steve assures him, missing Bucky and the way he’d always kept everyone in line. “We just have to make one stop along the way.”

The photo shop is convenient from the hospital, the apartment, and the restaurant where they’re headed. Not for the first time, Steve blesses Peggy’s logical, big-picture thinking. If it had been up to him, he’d probably be racing to pick up the photos after lunch only to find the shop was on the other side of town and closed for the day.

“I’m here to pick up some pictures for my wife,” Steve tells the man at the counter, and waits for the envelope to be fetched.

“Let’s see them,” Dugan demands as soon as they’re in hand, and begins dividing the pictures up for the boys to look at.

Gabe starts it all this time. “That’s strange,” he says, looking at a snapshot taken on their recent trip to the mountains upstate.

“What’s strange?” Steve asks dutifully. He’d known this was coming, as much as he hoped to avoid it.

“I think you must’ve gotten the wrong pictures,” says Morita.

“How’s that?” Steve says with a sigh.

“Well, I’m certain that this can’t be your wife, Captain, because that’s Agent Carter in each of these photos. You’ll recall of course that we fought a war with the both of you, and if you two were to have actually gotten married, we certainly would have been invited,” Monty says with placid logic.

Dernier, who it turns out has always spoken English albeit with a very strong accent (they didn’t find out until after the war, when they could all speak at least basic French), says, “Of course not all of our invitations could have been lost by the mail, so this must be business,” and Morita adds, “Yeah, Cap, tell us what’s up with this charade.”

“If they’re giving her problems with being a Brit and working for the Feds, I’m sure Phillips could pull some strings,” Gabe points out. “Or Howard.”

“Hell, I’ll go down to Washington myself and tell them how much Peg helped us in the field while they were sitting on their fat asses,” Dugan says, rubbing a palm against his fist.

“And while we all know that you were always sweet on her, there’s certainly no need to force her to persist with some sort of sham marriage merely to allow her to keep doing her job here.” Monty again. He’s struggling to keep a straight face; he’s always the first to go.

“It’s been five years, fellas,” Steve protests. “How much longer are you going to keep bringing it up?”

The Commandos look at each other. “Stark’s working on time travel, right?” says Dugan. “He’s pretty smart. I’m sure you’ll be able to get back in time soon to fix things.”

Steve rolls his eyes, although not without a bit of guilt. He and Peggy (but mostly he, as the boys are apparently suitably frightened of Peggy that she doesn’t have to put up with anything but slight ribbing) have been apologizing to those insulted by their lack of invitation to the wedding, which was everyone, practically since it happened. Steve had been surprised by how touchy Phillips still seemed about it, acting especially gruffly affronted when their anniversary came around again.

“We were keeping it small,” Steve tells them once again. It’s what he and Peggy always say. Neither one of them wants to admit to anyone else that they were really concerned that they wouldn’t be able to make it official before some other disaster drew them apart again.

The restaurant is up ahead, and a woman in a blue patterned summer dress stands near the doorway with a newspaper in hand. Steve picks up his pace.

“Now we’ll get a real answer,” Morita says as they approach.

Peggy folds her paper with a smile and kisses Steve briefly but firmly on the mouth. “The wedding debate again?” she asks, falling into step with the group. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to invite you all to the next one.”

“Something you need to tell me?” Steve asks, lifting an eyebrow.

She pats his arm. “It could be you up there with me, but only if you pull up your socks a bit. The chili you made last night wasn’t quite up to the standard to which I’m accustomed, so I’m considering other applicants.”

Dugan says, “I’ll be your best man, no matter which sucker you’ve got on your arm,” and starts a clamor of volunteering and elbowing between the rest.

“Hey!” says Steve, cutting them off. “I’m always going to be the sucker on her arm.”

“Damn right,” Peggy adds, and hand in hand they enter the restaurant.

[airiustide]

if ur still doing prompts; in an attempt to make katara more 'attractive' on the marriage market, the water tribe (maybe hakoda or arnook) makes a deal with the blue spirit to kidnap her, so that eligible contenders can rescue her and maybe win her hand. unfortunately, the blue spirit keeps kidnapping her and he and katara start to grow closer (to the extent the kidnap is just a formality) until katara is done with all her suitors and just up and elopes with the blue spirit. kthanksbye *flees*

So, I know this took longer than normal but I really wanted to take my time with this request because, let’s face it, it’s an amazing request and I knew it’d be longer than any request I’ve  ever done (3208 words to be exact) and I have to say, I love you, anon for this beautiful prompt.

Katara’s sapphire eyes roamed the kingdom of Omashu, drinking in the view atop the central mountain peak. It was the first time she had stepped foot on land outside her own. The journey was a bit of a stretch, but she enjoyed it none the less. Her father had promised this was the best way to find a husband. A part of her felt as though she was being paraded. She knew her father had good intentions, but was searching for a husband all that significant?

The waterbender sighed, turning on her heels when a servant entered her room to escort her. She was led through the corridors of King Bumi’s palace, dressed in an elegant gown the king himself had given her. Even after a week of being the great earthbender’s guest, she still wasn’t use to the grand building or the land’s temperature. Though, that bothered her little, her stay was quite lonely. Her father was often pulled away by both her Uncle Arnook and King Bumi. She wanted Sokka there, but he was required to man the tribe in Hakoda’s absence.

The grand doors to the throne room opened gradually, revealing an extravagant display of colorful crystals and a green rug leading to the stone seat of the king’s throne. The place always had Katara in a state of awe, no matter how many times she’s entered.

“Ah, Princess Katara!” Bumi announced with a large, toothy grin. “You’ve finally arrived.”

Katara bowed, “Sorry for the delay.”

“It is not a problem, princess.” Arnook chimed in. “We are sure it was only in an effort to look your best for your potential suitors.”

Sure. Yeah, that’s it.

“Well, then, come here, dear! They will arrive shortly.” Bumi laughed, releasing an array of random snorts.

Katara took a seat next to her father. She could see the sheer joy on his face. A pang of guilt tugged at her heart at the thought of disappointing him if she turned out not to like any of these men. Her father had worked hard to find her a betrothed. Their home being previously small and unappealing, had currently unattracted possible suitors. Hakoda had gone out of his way to present his daughter to marriage market. When everything failed, he had turned to his old friend and ally, Arnook, Chieftain of the Northern Water Tribe, once he got news of Yue’s engagement to a foreign diplomat. Arnook had been so kind as to gift Katara with treasures to build her dowry. Even going as far as to send invitations to the other four nations to attract various amounts of suitors.

Arnook stood by Bumi’s throne, confidence radiating from his broad smile. Turning to the door, he gestured for the guards to allow the first set of suitors to step in. “May I present, from the Earth Kingdom, Nobleman Masaru, Nobleman Hiresh, Captain Chu, General Gopan and nephew of the Earth King Kuei himself, Prince Satish.”

The men entered in a group, stopping in front of the throne. Hakoda was seated to the right of the king and his daughter next to him. The men stood in a line side by side, simultaneously conducting a traditional Earth Kingdom bow. Katara was taken aback by their entrance. This was something she was not used to.

The first one to step out of the line was a short and sturdy built young man. He wore Earth Kingdom armor, his hair in a high topknot. He had a thin mustache, his beard reaching his chest. He may have been considered handsome in this foreign land but all Katara could see was an overbearing authorize figure and La help her if she had to be married to one.

“Princess,” his voice boomed. “I am General Gopan! As a man of great importance, I offer protection and security to both you and your people! I come from generations of high ranking military men! Therefore, choose me as your loyal husband!”

She smiled reluctantly at Gopan. How exactly dies she respond to that?

Each suitor had taken the turn to announce his name and occupation, explaining what all they had to offer her and her people. Except Prince Satish.

“As you can see, Princess,” The way he said it struck her nerve. What a conceited- “I am the best choice. Considering…” The scrawny man brushed imaginary dust off his royal emerald robe. “As Prince of this great kingdom, I offer so much more than my…opponents. I assure you, Princess, you will be treated like royalty befitting that of someone with such beauty and grace.” He grinned, brows moving up and down.

Ew, Katara mouthed, face contorted.

After all the men took their turn, the room grew silent. Hakoda turned to his daughter and nudged her arm with his elbow when he noticed her eyes fluttering closed.

She bolted upright, darting her head around the room before landing on all the men. “Uh, yes, um…” she stood up hesitantly, making her way to stand in front of the keen faces. “Thank you all for your wonderful…introductions. I do look forward to-“

She was interrupted when a figure appeared out of nowhere, her breath caught in her throat. A stranger clad in black and wearing a mask of a demon, landed gracefully next to the princess. His tall figure approached Katara like a cunning predator, his stare blank and unmoving as he examined her from head to toe. He then faced the men who stared dumbfoundedly at the intruder.

Seeing him reach a hand towards the princess, the men gasped, taking a defensive stance, as well as Katara. “Who are you?” She demanded. Her father, King Bumi, and Arnook observing the situation from a distance.

Instead of receiving an answer, the intruder quickly grabbed her wrist and spun her into his arms. She gasped, back colliding with the intruder’s strong chest.

“Hey!” She cried, swinging her left foot back to kick his shin. He avoided it gracefully, stepping to the side, wrapping an arm across her chest and spinning her around once again to face him. He bound her wrists before she could comprehend what he was doing, then swung her over his shoulder like a potato sack and sent a burst of smoke through the room, provoking a fit of coughs.

“What are you waiting for, you fools?” Hakoda yelled in between coughs. “Retrieve my daughter!”

“Put me down!” Katara beat her fists into the stranger’s backside. He breezed through every corner of the palace halls with ease, her weight doing little to hinder his reflexes. From a distance she heard cries, and she couldn’t hold back the groan boiling in her chest. Her suitors were on their tail, Gopan leading the group. Seriously, this is who they send? Katara thought sarcastically.

The demon masked figure halted, unsheathing a broad sword from his back, and swung it skillfully. He demolished a boulder with his weapon, dodged a set of disks and knocked Gopan in the head with the butt of his sword handle. The General fell backwards, crossed-eyed.  

The others jumped back cautiously when Gopan landed hard on the ground. Masaru went in for an attack by withdrawing a spiked mallet. He swung heavily at the masked figure’s head, whom had ducked. Then his shoulder, only for his arm to get caught between the masked figure’s bicep and forearm. He squeezed, causing Masaru to cry out and release his weapon, in which he was then kicked in the abdomen.

The intruder defeated his opponents with ease until he was left with no one but Prince Satish, who cowered over with shaken knees as the stranger’s mask came inches within distance of his face. The figure growled. Satish turned white, immediately high tailing it out of there, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

He then sheathed his broad sword, adjusting Katara’s body on his shoulder before proceeding to exit the palace.

They reached the forested area miles from the mountain city of Omashu by early evening. Katara kicked and squirmed as the Blue Spirit carried her in his arms, screaming a string of curses and insults at her kidnapper.

He dumped her carelessly on the ground, grunting in irritation.

Katara landed with a ‘hmpft’. She stood up abruptly, wiping her disarrayed hair from her face. “You!” She pointed. “Who do you think you are?”

He crossed his arms, silent.

“Take me back.” She demanded, her labored breathing finally receding.

The Blue Spirit cocked his head before stepping around her and headed deeper into the forest. Katara looked back at Omashu, unsure of what was going on. Panicked, she chased after him.

“Wait!” She called out. “Wait for me.”

The Blue Spirit stopped. He held his hand up and pointed back at the city behind him.

“You-You’re letting me go?”

He smacked a hand to the mask’s forehead and nodded.

“But why? What was the point in kidnapping me?”

The groan he released echoed in his mask and he grasped Katara’s elbow. She allowed him to lead her away, hoping he’d finally give her an answer for his actions. Instead, he pulled out a dagger and sliced the rope that bound her wrists. He pointed to the city more aggressively and turned on his heels to strode away.

Katara watched as he disappeared in the forest, her mind straining to comprehend what the hell just took place.

Her apparent kidnapping did not hinder the search. Her father had insisted she continue for the sake of finding a suitable husband. The men from the previous day were disqualified for their lack of rescuing the Water Tribe princess.

A week after the incident took place, another group of men, Fire Nation, had arrived. This group of three was led to the palace garden’s where they were to join the princess for tea. They were a lot less assertive than the last group and Katara found herself easing into conversation with the men. Nobleman Katsu, Luitinant Kenji and Master Ryuu were all very kind men but were also dull. They’re well mannerisms, though refreshing, put a damper on Katara’s already horrid week.

She held up the best she could, nodding politely and smiling forcefully when one of them would say something she thought was probably humorous.

The men suddenly grew silent, staring past Katara on the other side of the table.

“Is he one of your body guards?” Kenji asked.

“Who?” Katara arched a brow and glanced over her shoulder. Her jaw dropped. The Blue Spirit had returned yet again, his dao swords drawn as he approached the group.

The men jumped to their feet. The Blue Spirit pulled Katara behind him and took a stance. Ryuu blasted fire from his fists, Kenji coming from behind him to swing his sword while the intruder was distracted by Ryuu’s firebending. The Blue Spirit sliced through Ryuu’s attack before blocking Kenji’s. Kenji used his upper body strength to dispel the block, but the Spirit had the sword trapped in place between his. With a growl Kenji pushed into him, only to be flung hard to the ground.

Katsu ran toward’s the Spirit with a cry, swinging a fist at him. The Blue Spirit quickly sheathed his swords and snatched Katsu’s hand before snapping it back. The man fell to the ground in a huddle, nursing his sprained fingers.

Ryuu frowned, taking a wide stance, he kicked his foot in the air, sending a flare towards the intruder. To his surprise, his flame evaporated. While he was stunned, The Blue Spirit grasped the curve where his neck met his shoulder and pinched roughly. The young man passed out.

The Blue Spirit picked Katara up bridal style and escaped before the guards arrived to investigate the situation.

The events occurred like a constant tune, and The Blue Spirits would sweep the Water Tribe Princess away. It was like a ritual. Her suitors would make an attempt at her hand and the Spirit would show up once again, humiliating every one his opponents. The strength in guard did not prevent him from sneaking in almost every time.

There were even a few occasions when Katara thought he was done for, only for him to strike back ten folds. It soon became obvious that the waterbender expected him. A smile would break out on her lips and she would giddily take his hand when they ran from the city.

As time went by, his eagerness to disappear began diminishing. He soon stuck around longer, listening to Katara’s complaints about marriage, the suitors and even her father. The more he kidnapped her, the more open she became. She had even gone as far as telling him about her mother. It was then, for the first time since their encounters, he had wrapped his arms around her, Katara accepting the warm hug in return.

They gradually grew closer. Too close for comfort and the waterbender began to muse weather she had fallen for the strange man or not. He didn’t have to say a word for her understand him, his company was comforting. Their time spent together was the very highlight of her days.

His aptitude and skills intrigued her. His gentleness in consoling her eased her. His repeated kidnappings excited her to the point she even joined in on his sparrings. This was the most fun she’s had since childhood. Because who wouldn’t enjoy seeing Sokka get smacked in the face with a snowball multiple times?

After a group of Northern Water Tribesman had been deterred, Katara figured it was time to be bold. Once they arrived at the edge of the forest, the waterbender swung her arms around The Blue Spirit’s neck and planted a kiss near the lips of the mask. He stilled, muscled tensed. She did again, a little more firmly.

“Is there no motive behind your constant kidnappings?” She asked, her forehead resting on his chest, looking down at her feet.

“Is that of importance?” He responded clearly.

Katara gazed at him, eyes narrowed. So he can speak. “Given the circumstances, yeah, that’s pretty damn important.”

The Blue Spirit looked away from her, staring in the city’s direction. “Is being with a vigilante your idea of romantic? You are naive to think something good could bloom from this match.”

The waterbender flung her arms in the air. “Can’t you just answer the question? All you’ve done is sidestep me at every turn. I pour my heart out to you, a complete stranger, finally get you to speak to me, and you want to talk about what makes me happy? Do you honestly think me that shallow?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Katara could feel the tears surface.

The Blue Spirit kept his distance when all the princess wanted was for him to hold her in his arms again. An ache pierced her heart. He was right. Nothing good could come from developing a relationship with her kidnapper. But La, the thought of never seeing him tore at her. Tomorrow would be the last day she would be introduced to more suitors. What excuse will she have to continue their affiliation?

Wiping the tears from her eyes and cheeks, Katara blinked several times to clear her vision. The Blue Spirit vanished.

Hakoda felt as though something was off. Katara had been distant since the previous day. He had noted her puffy cheeks and red eyes when she returned from her last kidnapping and dismissed his concerns when he questioned her, claiming it was only homesickness. He knew that was not the case, but he could not put a finger on what was truly bothering her.

It was the last day and Katara had thus far, not chosen a husband. The thought of going home unengaged didn’t bother her in the least. The day ended with no luck. She had already chosen her beloved and he didn’t even want her. Her father, Bumi and Arnook sat in utter silence at the table of the palace’s grand dining table. The food appeared unappetizing to the princess. She prodded her food in a state of blankness.

Swallowing hard, Katara excused herself from the table. She kissed her father’s cheek and thanked Arnook and King Bumi for everything they’ve done for her since her stay. How disappointed they must feel, she thought. But she couldn’t choose just anyone. Not when these feelings still lingered.

Entering her guest chambers, Katara quietly closed the door behind her, leaning her back against it with a heavy sigh. A stir in her room made her heart clench and she looked to the balcony where a dark figure casually leaned their arm against the doorway.

“Would you honestly give this all up for the sake of some kidnapper?” A raspy voice asked, she could see the silhouette of him removing his mask and flung it to the floor at her feet. “Danger could lie ahead. You would be on the move at all times, and I cannot guarantee that you will live a comfortable life.”

He ignited a flame in his palm, the light illuminating a glow across his muscular torso his attire did little to hide, and slowly moved to his face where it revealed striking gold eyes and a large scar on the left side of his face.

Katara did not react to his features. Instead, she was drawn in by them. Placing her hand to his scarred cheek, the man’s eyes closing contently, she whispered. “Then it looks like I’ll just have to keep up with you.”

“What is the meaning of this?” The Chieftain from the Southern Water Tribe snatched the blue mask lying on his daughter’s nightstand, Arnook and Bumi observing from behind. “Arnook,” Hakoda turned to his friend. “You had told me this man could be trusted. You told me this would guarantee my daughter a husband!”

The Northerner chuckled, to his friend’s confusion. “Yes, Hakoda, that I did.”

Hakoda arched a brow, watching Bumi and Arnook exchange a look. “Am I missing something?”

Arnook patted the man’s shoulder, pride painted on his face. “You recall the formerly known general and Dragon of the West, Iroh? Well…”

Days later, aboard a metal ship heading for the Fire Nation, Katara and her newfound lover embraced one another as the sun peeked over the horizon. The sea breeze filled the waterbender’s nostrils, a sense of fulfillment warming every part of her soul. Her kidnapper turned Fire Lord caressed her back, leaning his head against hers as they stood atop his ship’s deck.

They had spent days without sleep and little food before making it to a small chapel not far from where his ship was docked. The officiator was shocked to find a couple clad in black and pleading he marry them in the middle of the night. No crowd, no fancy attire, no amount of elegance or entertainment could compare to this moment. They exchanged braided bracelets instead of rings. Their first kiss breathtaking, sparking a sweet moan of gratification as they relished the palate of each other’s lips.

It didn’t matter that they hardly knew each other. It would be a long journey back to their new home together. They had plenty of time to become acquainted.

[horrible-monstrosity]

blunder leg low-priority episode 6 -now a vending machine is also a door because lol m'wacky dream lolgic lol so random and swerky but not random and qwerky enough to actually come up with something more interesting than doors being weird -the most obvious le hospital girl archetype with eyepatch ever known to mankind appears. I mean I guess it's good to get the archetype across quickly since she'll be fucking gone within a few minutes (remember in episode 1 when the egg girl and all her angst was actually developed while main was running around trying to save her? even ep 2 where the girl's archetype was spelled out like trying to get a dumb child to remember the alphabet was more than... well, basically nothing) but it just looks so odd, immediately. It doesn't even look like there're any other bandages on her. I dunno, it just seems kinda... lazy? oh are they going to do some thing with her eyepatch and main's eye colors? give me abreak The No-see-ums finally actually do something for the first time in... how am I only just starting on the 6th episode here? It feels like it's dragged on for so long... and yet nothing much has happened except a bunch of action scenes in shitty flashbacks and a bunch of the girls wandering around airing their backstories and talking about food. fuck this show

- these aren't no-see-ums! they're some other shit! oh on so the not-sees still haven't done jack shit then. we learn this after one of the noseeums trips, drops its knife and randomly decides to take off its mask so its face turns into a tennis ball with teeth. what. 'you've done too much to stand out in this worl' why the fuck does that matter? is acco refering to this one dream instance or the dream world at large? Is there ontological inertia between worlds that causes their battles there to have lasting effects? Nothing of the sort was established before this very nanosecond. 'what uh haturr' bitch I don't fucking know, the fuck's any of this shit? what's a seenoevil, what's the main monsters? actually what're the main monsters even called? are they just seenoevils but big? I don't remember if they've been named or anything at this point. but thanks to main just randomly fucking deciding to care about what the fuck a h8r is out of all this other shit, acco can tell us that they're spite created by the not-sees due to the grils' interference... FOR WHAT REASON? Main's barely touched a not-see in the last like two episodes and they're barely done jack shit in the flashbacks either, all the focus has been on the big monsters. oh yeah sure this show's just so super intelligent, you just have to duuuuurr make up shit consantly to fill in the shows own gaping plotholes, that takes some intellegence! also, the fuck you mean "you girls"? Are these four girls who all live in the same real-life area the only eggers in existence? No one else has a sudoku friend they'd like to save? "they don't have the guts to show their faces" ONE OF THEM LITERALLY TOOK OF ITS MASK WHICH PROMPTED YOU TO START SAYING THIS, ACCA-KUN. it's only a minute in and it's already so bad...... oh right the main monsters are called bosses like in muh video games. ok fine.

so anyway, the not-sees and the big bosses jot being after the main girls and just going after the egg-grils who they need to protect while the main girls were impervious "gods" was actually a really interesting dynamic and really made it feel like they were fighting someone else's personally hell. It's not like they lost tension, the girls could still get fucked up while fighting the things, but there was also the sliver of an idea that they could be cowards and just leave with no consequences to themselves, just the egg-girl getting brutalized. Like, you can do Your Part to stop bullying, you just have to muster up the courage/energy to caaaaare. So why not just... throw that out completely and make the not-sees attack the main girls directly. Because the writers ran out of ideas one femtosecond after they started writing this show and are now desperately casting around for ways to rachet up the tension

it's been so long since an actual battle has happened, and so little has been done with the battle setups, that acca has to remind main of the very basic fact that you can't clear the mission just by waiting for the bell. Remember the bell? I bet you'd forgotten about the bell, which hasn't been relevant in... many battles. -she'll regenerate in the egg-- ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME STOP GIVING EVERYONE GET OUT OF JAIL FREE CARDS YOU FUCKS. putting the girl back in the egg should be a lose condition for the night and require you to start over the next night, at the very least, not just "oh yeah just go back into the womb it'll heal all consequences" you dumb fucks. Sure, this explains the girl at the beginning acting like she's been through this before, but at what cost? we live in a society and these dumb girls doing dumb stuff have some kind of significant objective. but it's only the four of them in this small area. also we said the name of the show out loud for some reason. it;s only two minutes into the episode and already its fucked up so much fucking show

because things suddenly got hard, the girls just get handed a powerup. nobody has earned this. apparently pomanders are the same as eggs now for some reason aidoru gets really fucking pissy about brownie not wanting to trade with her, even though nobody knows whats in the not-eggs yet regardless of whether they trade or not. I don't care and neither should she

........what the fuck are these weird-ass looking lizard fucks. OH I GET IT, SPECIES HATCH OUT OF EGGS, SO THAT MEANS ITS CLEVER SOMEHOW. EVEN THOUGH YOU'D USUALLY THINK OF BIRDS BEFORE YOU'D THINK OF LIZARDS BEING ASSOCIATED WITH EGGS. EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE ALL TERRIBLY DESIGNED AND THERE'S NO POINT TO THEM EXISTING AT ALL. and then in the dream worl they're giant and... they eat haterz. and the problem is solved just like that. ok, good thing to know i don't have to care about that, either, goodbye mainy flatout asks egg girl why she fucking killed herself and egg girl explains... SHE CAN SEE DEAD PEOPLE. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH EGG PEOPLE? "uguu no un wull beluve me" girl look at what the fuck's going on around you no one's going to believe any of this shit. I lost my suspension of disbelief in the war years ago. then the girls starts freaking out and crying about people having emotions at the hospital and shit, cool story bro can't relate. like i literally can't relate, you're tryng to write this poor girl who nobody could relate to so we feel sorry for her and relate to her, but there's really nothing to lash onto here besides "UHM CUTE GURL UM HAV FEULINGS BOOHOO" .... then it cuts in the middle of the battle to main talking to her teacher. I guess this is what she was upsetti about earlier, which means this random cut-away actually has a determinable place inthe timeline, but it's still really awkward and just shit. main drops some food back into her bowl when she hears the bombshell, but in the next shot her arms are completely at her sides, not over the bowl or even the table. cool putting aside how stupid of mom it was for her to drop this on her fucked-up kid- gendergirl is very specifically excited about becoming family with main, a girl she barely even knows bla bla this whole conversation's forced and stupid

I was going to praise the execution of having an invisible boss only the girl can see because it's made up of the girl seeing ghosts, but then main gets the pen knocked out of her hand and you know she's going to get handed the plushie or some shit and it's going to turn into a weapon that's better against the gost for NO REASON WHATSOEVER oh ok it's not the plushie it's the bracelet she conveniently throws directly in main's direction!!! thats even worse, good job show!!! and then for absolutely no reason main starts flashing over the bits of things her teacher had said and done, to force the appearance that what's happening now is in anyway shape or form connected to or bolstering that plotline... it really isn't. also why the fuck's this thing an elephant

what the hell, the prayer beads carried over from the dream?... and only after the mom notices them, main loses her shit and runs to school in the rain in soaking-wet clothes like she absolutely needed to go there and wasn't just wasting time in the tub seconds earlier. there was absolutely no reason for main to get over her shit and come back to school  absolutely no reason. but because she fixed her hair at the same ime intellectutards will eat it up and say it's deep. fuck off show

[releasing-my-insanity]

Dear Chocolatier Letter

Hey guys, I’m participating in the chocolate box fic and art exchange and this is my letter. (Also good if anyone really wants to write me a fic. Haha) Under the cut ‘cause it’s LONG.

Hi author. I’m glad you decided to join this challenge. I’m sure I’ll love anything you want to write for me. Feel free to ignore any of my suggestions. I actually had some trouble thinking up any prompts for some pairings so if you’ve got an idea you really want to write, I can’t wait to read it.

General fic likes:

Stuff that applies to both romantic and platonic:

Fluff.

Humor.

Kindness and helping others.

Cuddles and snuggles.

Cozy scenes.

Bedsharing.

Casual touching.

Little soft and/or quiet moments between friends or significant others.

Characters sharing a love of music or movies or books or hobbies.

Pet owners.

Cute kids when those kids are canon children of requested characters.

Living together, either platonically or romantically.

People being really good at what they do and their friends/partners being impressed.

Characters who speak languages other than English slipping into those languages occasionally.

Teaching each other.

Communities supporting each other.

Everyone being accepting of the characters and their differences and/or relationships.

Women who get stuff done.

Bi and Ace-spectrum Headcanons.

Shippy stuff:

Soulmates (both common and creative varieties),

The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement,

Polyamory.

Friends to lovers.

Rivals to lovers.

Annoying each other constantly to lovers.

Established relationships.

Couples knowing each other really well and doing things the other one likes just because.

“Man I really love my wife” guys.

Asking before kissing someone.

Stopping a kiss or a touch immediately when asked.

Surprise kisses in an established relationship.

Weddings.

Platonic/familial stuff:

Becoming friends.

Insta-friends,

Friends who stay friends (they don’t become romantic and they don’t stop enjoying each other’s company).

Found families.

True companions.

Healthy families of origin.

DNWs:

Any sort of death (Exception under Highway to Heaven.)

Abuse of any sort.

Anything that AO3 has under major warnings.

Unhealthy relationships.

Character bashing.

Explicit sex (implied or referenced sex between consenting adults is fine).

Mpreg.

Non-canonical pregnancy.

Discrimination or bigotry unless in the context of characters working to end it.

Unhappy ending.

-

Fandom Specific:

Enchanted Forest Chronicles:

Pairings Requested: Cimorene/Mendanbar, Daystar/Shiara, Morwen/Telemain

Tumblr Tag for Fandom: Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Fandom Specific Likes: Mentions/Appearances of Alianora. Morwen’s cats being snarky.

Fandom Specific DNW: A story where the focus is on the time between Calling On Dragons and Talking To Dragons.

Optional Prompts by pairing:

- Cimorene/Mendanbar: We don’t get to see very much of their married life so I would love to see some fluff taking place after their wedding but before Book 3.

- Daystar/Shiara: I nominated these two specifically so I could suggest this prompt. In an AU where they found some way to rescue Mendanbar sooner and Daystar grew up as the prince knowing both of his parents, how does this effect his and Shiara’s first meeting? Do they get along better or worse? Why is Daystar out in the forest at the right time to find her?

- Morewen/Telemain: I am down for basically anything with these two as long as it’s fun. Growing up together. Being classmates in magic school. Quests/adventures. Spending time together between adventures. Married life. Anything that appeals to you.

How exactly did they manage to get engaged? I would love to get the story of what conversations happened that we aren’t shown.

-

Harry Potter:

(I put ship names on these so it’s easier to read)

Pairings Requested: Ginny/Harry/Hermione/Luna/Neville/Ron (Sixpack), Alicia Spinnet/Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Katie Bell/Lee Jordan/Oliver Wood (Quiddich OT7)

Tumblr Tag for Fandom: Harry Potter

Fandom Specific Likes: Everybody lives. The Room of Requirement being a romantic place. I didn’t request her, but I kind of love the idea of Katie’s friend Leanne dating Katie and one or more of her partners as well.

Fandom Specific DNW: Not exactly fandom specific but no incest. The siblings in these relationships are just dating the same people.

Optional Prompts by pairing:

- Sixpack: Helping each other recover from everything that happened to them after the end of series.

The six of them having some nice downtime when there’s nothing they need to be doing right that moment and just enjoying each other’s company.

Trying to work out parenting when there’s six parents.

- Quiddich OT7: I am so starved for content for this ship that I don’t even have interesting prompts, I just want content. But here are my thoughts:

Celebrating after a win.

Hanging out playing Exploding Snap or something. Studying together.

Feeling down after a loss and Fred and George decide to cheer up their partners by doing silly things and maybe the others joining in.

- Applies to either or both: Trying to visit the Burrow with all of their partners and things getting crowded.

-

Highway to Heaven:

Pairings Requested: Jonathan/Jane | Jennifer, Jonathan & Mandy

Fandom Specific Likes: Jonathan is an angel but sometimes he’s still painfully human. (E.G. Getting too emotionally involved with an assignment, his crisis of faith in We Have Forever, his reaction to Mark getting hurt in Going Home, Going Home.) I just really like that Jonathan isn’t perfect and makes mistakes and has strong emotions just like the rest of us.

Exception to no character death: I’m okay with it in relation to Jonathan and Jane, but I don’t want it to be the focus or the ending. I need to see them as angels afterwards if their deaths come up.

Fandom Specific DNW: Not a hugely important thing, but I would prefer Jonathan and Jennifer not sleep together (except literally) since he doesn’t know that she’s Jane.

Optional Prompts by pairing:

- Jonathan/Jane: I am down with basically any story for these two that you want to tell.

How they fell in love. Scenes from their marriage. Missing scenes between the two in Keep Smiling.

What it was like for Jane to become Jennifer and be given the first assignment of helping her husband regain his faith? A missing scene from their two months together.

Something where they meet again later, either between assignments, sharing an assignment, or being reunited in heaven when they’ve both earned their wings.

- Jonathan & Mandy: Arthur | Jonathan being a good father to Mandy. Reading to her, playing with her, singing to her, whatever you like. Just all around being a good dad.

What was going through Jonathan’s mind when the only opportunity he had to interact with his daughter in 40 years was by being as obnoxious and dislikable as he could?

What was going through Mandy’s head when she thought that her mother, who had never moved on from her father, was planning to marry a much younger drummer who would probably spend all her money? Does Mandy remember her dad at all? What sorts of stories has Jane told her about him?

-

I Dream of Jeannie:

Pairings Requested: Jeannie/Roger/Tony, Amanda Bellows & Jeannie

Tumblr tag for fandom: I Dream of Jeannie

Fandom Specific Likes: Roger and Jeannie both being bi, Tony being biromantic and demisexual. Amanda being the voice of reason. The Bellowses’ marriage being built more on steady love than passion.

Fandom Specific DNW: None.

Optional Prompts by pairing:

- Jeannie/Roger/Tony: I’ve pretty well written all of my ideas for this pairing myself, I just want content not written by me. Maybe some established relationship fluff.

Or something where Roger and Tony are together first and then Jeannie joins their relationship. Maybe Jeannie realizes that Tony and Roger have feeling for each other and decides to set them up, and then they fold her into their relationship after she succeeds.

- Amanda & Jeannie: I just really want to see more of Amanda being a mother figure to Jeannie. Amanda helping Jeannie pick out her wedding dress would be delightful.

If you wanted to write something more involved, I keep imagining something where after "Ride 'Em Astronaut," Amanda helps Jeannie take the organizers of the rodeo to court for trying to use her as a prize for the winner.

-

Magic School Bus:

Pairings Requested: Arnold & Carlos & Dorothy Ann & Keesha & Phoebe & Ralphie & Tim & Wanda, Ms. Frizzle/Mr. Seedplot

Tumblr tag for fandom: Magic School Bus

Fandom Specific Likes: Ms. Frizzle being open to dating many different people, not just Mr. Seedplot. The kids all being close friends and no matter how many arguments they have they always make up quickly. Appearances by Mikey.

Fandom Specific DNW: Romances between the kids. I don’t mind occasional references to crushes, but I don’t want shipping with them.

Optional Prompts by pairing:

- The Kids: How did they first become friends? Phoebe transferred in, but have the other seven always been classmates? Was it hard for Phoebe to fit in at first or did they all make her feel welcome? Did they used to have other classmates before Ms. Frizzle’s class? What do they like to do for fun when they’re not in school or doing science?

A favorite headcanon of mine is that after college, the eight of them chip in and buy a house to use as home base. And they all travel around researching in their respective fields, but sometimes they just stay right there and do science. I would love any sort of story set in that world.

- Ms. Frizzle/Mr. Seedplot: How did they first meet? What happens after Liz brings Ms. Frizzle the flowers and note? Do they go on a date? Do the class ship them?

-

Sesame Street:

Pairings Requested: Bob/Linda, Linda/Maria, Harriet/Mr. Hooper, Gordon/Susan, David/Luis/Maria, Bob/Susan/Gordon, Bob/David/Linda/Luis/Maria/Olivia

Tumblr Tag for Fandom: Sesame Street

Fandom Specific Likes: Mr. Hooper lives. The characters making sure to sign for Linda so that she knows what’s going on. Miles and Gabi being best friends. Bob and Maria being metamours and having a very sibling-like relationship. Mr. Hooper refusing to tell anyone what his orientation is. Big Bird basically being everyone’s child. Bob being in both of the above polyamorous relationships at the same time.

Fandom Specific DNW: Anything involving the death of Mr. Hooper. Making Linda hearing instead of Deaf.

Optional Prompts by pairing:

All of these pairings I’d be happy with anything you want to write but here are a few thoughts.

- Bob/Linda: If they had gotten married, what would their wedding look like?

What kind of dates do they go on?

According to episode summaries on The Muppet wiki, Bob writes songs for Linda and she teaches him American Sign Language. I would love to see either or both of those things.

- Linda/Maria: When Linda first arrives on Sesame Street, Maria is the person who’s the most fluent in ASL and that leads to her and Linda becoming friends quickly.

Linda learning some Spanish sign language so she and Maria can both speak Spanish.

- Harriet/Mr. Hooper: Based on reading the Muppet wiki, I got the feeling that David’s Grandma Harriet and Mr. Hooper are quietly dating and I would love to see more of that.

In season 11 Mr. Hooper and his friends Mr. Macintosh and Willy took Harriet to a dance. How did that go? Did they start dating after that?

- Gordon/Susan: I would dearly love some fic about how they met and fell in love.

Or a fic about how they decided that they were ready to be parents and that they wanted to adopt.

Maybe something with them geeking out together over science.

- David/Luis/Maria: The only logical solution to the Maria/David, Maria/Luis relationships. I actually shipped David/Luis before I shipped Maria/David, so I definitely view this as a full triad.

How do they get together? Are two of them together first and then the third joins them? Or do they become a triad all at once?

What do their dates as a triad look like? Do the three of them ever go dancing?

How do they decide to get married? To become parents? Does it matter which of Maria’s husbands is Gabi’s biological father or do they only know for medical history reasons?

- Bob/Susan/Gordon: Did they know each other before Sesame Street or did they meet there? When did they get together?

One thing I really like is the idea of them having gone to college together and getting up to hijinks. I would love to see some of that.

How involved is Bob in parenting Miles?

- Bob/David/Linda/Luis/Maria/Olivia: The ship of my heart. My personal perspective is that every part of this relationship is romantic except for Bob and Maria. Bob and Maria adore each other but their relationship with each other is platonic.

Do they ever manage to all share a bed comfortably or are there too many of them and someone ends up on the floor?

The six of them go out on date and are mistaken for being three couples so they try to see how obvious they can make it that it’s all six of them.

Is it ever hard to parent Gabi when there are six parents?

-

Star Trek: The Original Series:

Pairings Requested: Chekov/Sulu, Chekov/Sulu/Uhura, Scotty/Uhura, Chekov/Sulu/Scotty/Uhura

Tumblr Tag for Fandom: Star Trek TOS

Fandom Specific Likes: Raising a family on the Enterprise. Demora being from a surrogate mother rather than a one-night-stand. Annie Rand living. Scotty and Uhura having the kid from this art (I named him Mzuzi). Random future tech. Using the hollodeck/recreation deck for dates.

Fandom Specific DNW: Anything that involves people’s consciousness being separated from their body. Anything that could be considered possession.

Optional Prompts:

I don’t really have any specific prompts for any of these pairings. I would love to see anything with Chekov and Sulu raising Demora together. And I LOVE Uhura being showered with affection by her partners. I also really like seeing people learning each other’s first languages so they can talk to each other in them.

-

The West Wing:

Pairings Requested: Abby/Jed/Leo

Tumblr Tag for Fandom: The West Wing

Fandom Specific Likes: The three of them basically being parental figures to the senior staff. Mallory thinking of the Bartlett daughters as her sisters and vice-versa.

Fandom Specific DNW: Smoking. Health problems, canon or not.

Optional Prompts: I love fic where Leo finds excuses to spend the night in the residence (AKA Jed and Abby’s bed).

An AU like Triad Verse in which Jed is literally married to both Abby and Leo and its known by everyone.

Fic where Leo lives and the three of them just retire to the farm in New Hampshire together.

-

WordGirl:

Pairings Requested: Becky/Tobey/Scoops/Violet, Johnson/TJ

Tumblr Tag for Fandom: WordGirl

Fandom Specific Likes: Tobey realizing that he’s loved. Tobey’s robots being sweet.

Fandom Specific DNW: Angst. These are children so I’d prefer they not show affection with anything more than a handhold or maybe a kiss on the cheek, unless they’re aged up.

Optional Prompts: I’m happy with any kind of cute content for either of these pairings. I would especially like to see a get together.

I also read a fic once where Becky and TJ were allowed to invite their friends on a Botsford family trip to a cabin on a lake. Scoops and Violet couldn’t go in the fic, but I keep wondering what it would be like if they did and Becky was there with her mutual crushes and TJ was there with his.

[archergabriella]

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[wingletblackbird]

The Flaw in the Plan

This was inspired by @klorophile‘s comment on this post speculating about the nature of Anakin’s training that, “ For Anakin, it was probably very easy to touch and use the Force. So much that he missed half of the purpose of the exercises.”

Prompt: Flaw

Obi-Wan sat across from his young Padawan in the mess. Anakin was eating his food with less enthusiasm then was normal. He also seemed to be exuding distress. Clearly, something had happened today to rattle the boy.

“Is there something wrong with your meal, Padawan?”

“No, Master.” Anakin looked up at him seeming cornered before he tucked his head down again to stare at his plate.

“Well, clearly, something is bothering you. Did anything happen in class this morning?”

Anakin shrugged his shoulders, and Obi-Wan tamped down on his frustration as he endeavored to breathe it into the Force.

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Anakin, I can hardly help you.”

“It’s nothing you can help with anyway.” Anakin muttered looking particularly insolent, before he began to ramble. “I did it all right. Even the teacher said so. Everyone said so. That’s why I don’t get what was wrong. The teacher looked really upset. Why was she so upset when I got everything right? How can you be too good, Master? Did she want me to fail? Why would you just want someone to fail? But she can’t have wanted me to fail, because she said I did a good job, so I just don’t get it Master. I’d almost say she was jealous, ‘cause why else would you want someone to fail? But I didn’t sense that either, she’d have no reason to be. It’s just not right.” The last words were tinged with the whine of a child who felt that the world had done him wrong.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Well, we were studying Altus Sopor in the gardens. We were supposed to merge into the Force, and become basically invisible, so Mistress Guani said we could play Hide ‘N’ Seek. I didn’t get caught once, Master Obi-Wan! I mean, I didn’t think it was too hard; I’ve been going invisible since I was about three, so that Gardulla wouldn’t find me. I didn’t see what the big deal was. Anyway, Mistress couldn’t find me until she used the Force to sense my presence, after class was done. She said that I’d done really well, except that when she said it, she seemed really upset, and I don’t get why, Master. She told me to go invisible and hide so no one could find me, and I did! So, I don’t see what her problem was.”

Obi-Wan breathed in deeply, and then released a long breath. It wasn’t a sigh. It was deliberately not a sigh. Obi-Wan just didn’t know where to begin with Anakin’s indignant monologue. It was really just another example of how unprepared everyone was to deal with Anakin: How very unprecedented he was. 

Anakin mayn’t understand, but “turning invisible,” was not an easy task for a youngling. It certainly wasn’t something to be mastered at three years old, although admittedly no Initiate had ever been placed under the kind of stress that Anakin had been growing up. However, that was precisely the issue. Altus Sopor worked by deepening one’s connection to the Force so significantly, one merged into it almost completely. By doing so, one became invisible. As most younglings struggled with that, the Master in charge of the class was able to assist them in drawing close to the Force. They would be able to ensure that the younglings could master their emotions appropriately, and draw close to only the Light Side of the Force. Therein lay the flaw in today’s lesson: If Anakin didn’t ever struggle with it, how was anyone to know which Side he was drawing from? Moreover, if he had learned amongst the Hutts…Well, it just wasn’t promising.

“You did do exactly what you were supposed to do, Anakin.” Obi-Wan started out slowly and hesitantly. “I think Mistress Guani was merely concerned that you found it too easy.”

“How can you find something too easy?”

“Well, the purpose of the exercise is to merge into the Force as completely as possible. Given that you did not struggle, and did not require help, I believe Mistress Guani was merely concerned that you were getting too close to the wrong Side of the Force.”

“Well, why didn’t she just say so!” Anakin looked beyond put-out.

“I don’t know, Anakin. Perhaps, she did not wish to concern the other younglings, or accuse you of a crime you had not committed. Maybe, she intended to discuss her concerns with me privately. It’s never been an issue before. You really are unprecedented, you know.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “I wish I wasn’t ‘unprecedented.’”

“There’s certainly no need for that, Anakin. We are stronger when we embrace our differences.”

“If they really believed that, they wouldn’t be so mean.”

“They are merely concerned, Anakin. In time, I’m sure they’ll come around. Differences are important, but it can sometimes be difficult to get used to them. That is all.”

Anakin just shrugged, but Obi-Wan was heartened to see that he was at least eating his meal with more gusto than he had been previously.

“I tell you what, Anakin. We’ll use the technique tonight, and help make sure you’re doing it properly. That way, no one will have to be concerned anymore.”Anakin brightened a bit.

“Thanks, master.” He smiled bashfully.

Obi-Wan was gratified that he’d been able to help. He only wished he could feel as relieved as Anakin now did. Truthfully, he wished he could talk to the Council about his concerns. He did believe, genuinely did believe now, that Anakin could be a great Jedi. However, the boy needed to unlearn some of the things he had picked up on Tatooine. Mistress Guani wasn’t wrong to think that Anakin must have, if only occasionally, drawn on the Dark Side as a boy. Certainly, he had been drawing on the Force at a young age with no decent guidance whatsoever. He was bound to have picked up bad habits. It was hardly his fault, but Obi-Wan wanted to be sure he was addressing these issues appropriately. He felt out of his depth. Perhaps, he could have Anakin speak to someone? Special training with someone on the Council? That would be ideal, but Obi-Wan knew he would have to do his best on his own, even with his significant youthful inexperience. The Council had made it clear, Yoda had made it clear, that they did not approve of Anakin’s training, and Obi-Wan feared the consequences of going to them with his concerns. It might only make matters worse. He would do his best with Anakin alone.

[rainbow-cobra-blog]

Star Wars: Battlefront 2 - Release

There's an Ideal way to play Star Wars Battlefront 2's 40-player Galactic Assault mode. I haven't mastered it, but it is about maximizing the point value of every life and spending these points in the perfect way at the ideal time. "Man, I want more things to unlock Yoda" is something someone could say on TV to signify they're a gamer. I have said that multiple times. I am a mockery. However, I do enjoy it. I do need those points. If the effort's narrative were improved and the development system not so irritating, I might have liked Battlefront 2.

I am Mostly speaking about Battle Points, which are earned and spent mid-match to spawn as X-wings, AT-STs, leap troopers, Wookiees, and all sorts of other Star Wars combatants, including heroes and villains such as Yoda, Rey, and Kylo Ren. Your primary goal in any multiplayer mode isn't your team's objective, whether that is blowing up a giant transportation tank at Theed or stealing an AT-AT on Endor. It is earning those things so you can do some real harm.

When I have too few things to spawn as anything trendy, the race Playing as a regular trooper feels like being an extra in the movies, as you're likely to get smushed by walkers and also have your courage cauterized by lightsabers close to the conclusion of a match. It's fun to be a part of the spectacle, but the next time Darth Maul murders you that the pleasure wears off. Conversely, once I have spent things to spawn as a particular droid or a man on a speeder bike or Rey herself, my entire life becomes precious, and I become attentive--personalities are dominant, but not unkillable.

Every small Killstreak: more points! Every goal play: more things! I'm excited, sometimes frustrated, as I work to make a strong character, and then I get there, and I feel like a god who only found out he is mortal and so is extremely pissed off about it--scared to perish, but eager to crush stuff.Most of my time is invested as a regular trooper, however, and the primary shooting is more enjoyable in the effort, where the attention is all on spectacle (since it certainly wasn't about the narrative). There, many enemies are weak enough to kill in 1 headshot, while in multiplayer shields can take a beating, so making most kills feel nostalgic: my shot occurred to connect with someone whose shields were already at 20 percent. Along with the map layout, though beautiful, can result in some dull struggles. In the confined spaces most maps finally push both groups into-- room to defend, like the Mos Eisley Cantina--it's a lot of reckless charges and grenade spamming, or piling up on walls and playing peek-a-boo.

Every class has three special abilities, which Change in utility and fun. The Officer course can drop an auto-turret, but it is a puny small machine which makes very little difference--it feels pointless. The whistling sound impact loop that plays while it is equipped is sound adrenaline, and its lethality makes it much more entertaining than the stock blasters.

The most peculiar thing about the Battle Points mill is its impact on teamwork. Building a cautious approach as a squad isn't a reasonable thing to do in Battlefront like it is in the Rising Storm and Battlefield series. It is a race for points, and also in a race that you operate, usually directly in the objective (a jog that takes too long on many Galactic Assault maps) to lob a grenade and attempt to score some frantic kills before dying. From the Starfighter Assault area dogfighting manner, I find that players also tend to focus on player eliminations before objectives, which include fleets of AI controlled ships to assault and mines to ruin.

DICE creates an Effort to fix this: when you respawn, you are automatically placed into a squad, and playing near your squadmates makes you double Battle Points. But usually, my squadmates break off and do their things anyhow, or perish too quickly to help. They're hungry for those points, but it is a personal pursuit. I'm annoyed when someone catches an Ion Cannon before I could to burst the MTT on Theed because playing the goal earns points, and these points should've been mine. It doesn't make for cohesive groups.

Unlocking Luke

You will find even more points, known as Credits, a non-cash currency you Earn by playing matches and attaining milestones--the better you represent, the more Credits you receive.

Star Cards are a Largely dull method to produce your classes, ships, ground vehicles, and heroes more powerful (I'll refer to all these things as 'classes' from here on to make it simpler). They're like Call of Duty's perks, except you can equip three in a time each class so long as you have sufficiently leveled up that category, and lots of them are direct buffs. More wellness. Abilities recharge quicker. Increased primary weapon harm.

I Do not enjoy it, and I doubt I will no matter how much EA tweaks that the speed I get Credits or the expense of unlocking heroes such as Luke Skywalker. I don't want to quit matches to visit the 'career' page to gradually redeem Credits for each small milestone. I don't want to fight somebody whose TIE-fighter is numerically more potent than my ship.

A number of the Star Cards are trade-offs--exchange your sanity for a missile That locks on to vehicles, for example--and I don't have an issue with those. I also don't mind that new firearms and attachments require earning kills with a class, although it sure takes a long time. But I don't wish to poke through a hundred menu displays (not an exaggeration) equipping little upgrades which make my weapons cooldown quicker, and I do not wish to fight a participant who has.

It is a system that instills doubt, and They probably did, but how do I know their updated Star Cards weren't the difference maker? Did I mention you can update them? Sometimes you'll get Crafting Parts in loot boxes that can be used to make specific Star Cards you need, and upgrade current ones to make them stronger. It's too much.

When the premium currency was still accessible (microtransactions were temporarily eliminated On November 16), I did not feel much pressure to buy anything, because I earned those orbits I don't want at a good enough pace (I could unlock Luke when I need) and, frankly, I probably wasn't really becoming crushed because I'd like fewer Star Cards than more-skilled competitions. However, my difficulty isn't only that gamers could purchase electricity, though that's frustrating. It is that, to facilitate micro-transactions, development is slow, over-complicated, and unfun. I am skeptical that it will get more interesting and less problematic before the premium currency comes back unless it is overhauled and the returning micro-transactions use only for makeup.

The Effort

Outside of multiplayer and all that progression nonsense, the Four-to-five hour campaign is a pretty good time. The story is bland but well-acted and there are some amusing lines and entertaining cameos.

You primarily play as There is one special smash cut meant to demonstrate that Versio made a moral decision which I thought was a bug at first, because of how little persuasive she needed. It feels like a comic book that was drawn before it had been composed. Every other page includes an exquisitely-inked conflict we have to reach, so in between a few speech bubbles are full of to explain why our personalities are involved in it.

After a few missions, the characters all do precisely what they say They are going to do, and all agree with each other all the time. Their significant choices are made whimsically, and they mostly grow off-screen as we leap between the galaxy's famed battles. The dialogue itself can be amusing and smart, but the larger story is inconsistent as if large chunks were cut--except in one specific mission that slows down things.

Utilizing The Force using a lightsaber is suitably simple, and I awakened how it made me worry more about defeating a military with style than perishing. As a fanatic of this galaxy, it wouldn't make sense for a Stormtrooper to even scratch me, and there is a fun game to trying to create my playthrough canon, mixing up cool skills the way I think the character would. Holding down the perfect mouse button to auto-parry the same blaster fire I'd been hiding from in the preceding mission feels badass.

In assignments without space magical, However, Battlefront 2 is not too hard. In the singleplayer and multiplayer, the speedy fighter ships are trying to maneuver but get close enough, and my primary weapon will soft-lock on an enemy--so that I feel skilled at dogfighting. However, I'm not likely to do it with no targeting computer.

On the floor, I'm neither pinned to cover nor allowed to run around where I want. Just a couple of enemy types are spongy, and the remainder often goes flying through the air using a single grenade or headshot, which makes for proper-looking Star Wars battles. It strikes a pleasure balance between fragility and power, letting me perform with enough bravado to experiment, but not too much that I do not need to eye my shield meter and retreat to cover when sprinkled.

The major annoyance is that the checkpointed saves, particularly in the distance. Slightly too slow at destroying all the bombers because you moved off to explore before the prompt showed up? Do the entire segment over. Did a great job with the bombers but accidentally trimmed some debris? Start over. And as there's no ammo to discover on the ground--firearms generate heat which must be dissipated--there's disappointingly little to research the main route. In the first assignment's light stealth section, for example, corridors I was not supposed to return only led to closed doors.

I've encountered a few bugs, as well. The most Egregious was when I defended my grounded boat from endless waves of Enemies for many minutes--I wasn't counting--before realizing something Must be erroneous. A ramp was designed to fall a couple of moments in so that I could escape. At Least it occurred on the next attempt.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Responses- The Marvel of Trelsi Part IV

Response to this post from BoltonEvans.

“A few assorted notes, because I just can’t keep my big mouth shut:”

:D I love these responses. 

“Gabriella really doesn’t have any real respect for Kelsi or Ryan’s talent and hard work when it isn’t directly benefitting her to care about it. But, then, she doesn’t really care about anyone other than herself, either.”

The ease with which Gabriella abandons her performing commitments, despite being considered to have a love of performing astounds me. In EVERY movie, she quits for reasons that should not actually diminish her love of theatre. If every actor quit their upcoming project because of real/perceived relationship problems, we would have no films, musicals or theatre performances. The result of this selfishness is that Kelsi’s work is almost wasted on three occasions: 1)- Kelsi was excited to have competition against Sharpay and wanted to help Gabriella get the best chance to shine. Gabriella quit because suspiciously timed webcam, 2)- Kelsi took her OWN TIME to write a song for Troy and Gabriella (composing takes HOURS), only for Gabriella to quit because Italian golf shoes. This is a song that Gabriella had initially been so eager to hear. I suppose I can give Gabriella credit for managing to learn “Everyday”, but she should never have quit in the first place, 3)- Kelsi wrote music for another musical, took the trouble to pour her heart and soul into the best possible song to show off (Troy and) Gabriella’s talents, only for Gabriella to quit halfway through again because me, me, me. Not to disparage her academic pursuits, but she refused to return for prom, the musical and the graduation. The evidence is STARING KELSI IN THE FACE, and she still overlooks this each time. What will it honestly take for Kelsi to realize Gabriella simply doesn’t value her hard work and talent enough to even show up for commitments in which she wished to take part?

“One minor correction; Troy says, “The Garden Club is rooting for you.” And, that line, in and of itself, is something I talk mild issue with, since it was the Science Club maintaining the rooftop garden, in the first movie. But, this is the level of continuity I’ve come to expect from the man who changed the spelling of a secondary character’s surname between films.”

Haha! Christ! 

Thanks for the correction. Noted. 

“I’m extremely happy that you mentioned Troy and Ryan’s relationship as an exception to the consistent undermining of the messages of teamwork and friendship this series attempts to drill into the viewers’ heads. I did a thorough breakdown of how the sentiment, “We’re All In This Together” rings profoundly hollow in numerous areas...

 ...And, the little things, like absolutely no one helping Ryan up, or even asking if he was okay, after he face-planted and stained his immaculate white outfit, and the entire senior class save Ryan (who was flustered at the sight of essentially naked male bodies, more than anything else) finding the humiliation of two sophomores absolutely hysterical...

...Regardless, I appreciate the nod to the relationship this fandom collectively ignores altogether when, in actuality, it’s one of the most organic, healthy, and mutually beneficial relationships in the entire series.”

Please do share that link with me when you find it. Yes, I like several things about Troy and Ryan’s friendship: that Troy likes Ryan based on his own merits and not as an accessory to Sharpay, that Ryan doesn’t hold Troy to ludicrous standards or force him into apologizing for things he didn’t do. Chad, Gabriella and the Wildcats became friends with Ryan when they realized they could benefit from his talent and hard work. As for the fandom ignoring this-- well, I don’t know why. They appear to get along very well as far as I can see.

 “Though, I do headcanon, based on Troy making the call to “bring in Rocketman”, during the state championship game in the third movie, that Troy is the team’s key strategist. He often makes the calls that win the day for the Wildcats. This was what got him voted team captain. Therefore, Chad and Coach Bolton ostensibly believing that the entire team is sunk without Troy at the helm, makes a bit more sense.”

That’s a good point, but Coach Bolton is also a strategist and should know better than to not have a Plan B. Not to mention how all this outrage is based on Troy is just rehearsing a couple of songs, with no certainty yet as to whether he might even get the role!

“Kelsi refusing to unfairly malign Troy and keeping up some level of communication with him while everyone else has chosen to give him the cold shoulder is one of the standout Kelsi/Troy moments for me. It shows that, despite her earlier questionable action of taking Troy to task over the requirements of her employment at Lava Springs when he wasn’t even the one who got her the job, she’s loyal to Troy. She didn’t immediately write him off for prioritizing his future, and doesn’t subscribe to groupthink and a mob mentality. She’s honestly one of the only two friends Troy has who acts like a legitimate friend to him, and it will forever pain me how little screentime Troy actually shares with these two characters.”

Kelsi’s earlier decision to blame Troy for a job Sharpay gave her is ridiculous, and I don’t mind saying so. Had she forgotten that Sharpay gave her the job, or was she arguing on behalf of the other Wildcats who were angry? Was she trying to show solidarity with the team? No explanation is given, but that’s usually the case, because the screenwriters didn’t give a toss about Kelsi’s life outside of the main plot. 

“My one and only issue with romantic Troy/Kelsi (aside from my preference for Troy/Ryan and me not quite seeing anything romantic on Troy’s end when he interacts with Kelsi) is Kelsi’s idolization of Gabriella and Troy and Gabriella’s relationship. Whether you view Gabriella as psychologically abusive, or not, the damage she has done to Troy’s self-esteem and image of himself is undeniable. If Troy is ever going to begin recovering from this damage, he’d need a solid, stable support system who would be willing to call Gabriella out on her hypocrisy and mistreatment of him. He would need someone who is quick to point out that a lot of the things Gabriella did were selfish and wrong and Troy is totally undeserving of all of the pain and grief Gabriella caused him. As much as Kelsi cares about Troy, I can’t see her being willing to acknowledge Gabriella’s faults. Admitting that Troy and Gabriella’s relationship isn’t the picture-perfect fairy tale romance that inspires her best musical selections would shatter her entire worldview. She’s still Gabriella’s friend, as well as Troy’s, and I could see her struggling to cope with the reality that Gabriella has hurt Troy in major, major ways. She’d want to be there for Troy, of course, but while comforting him, she’d be nursing the wounds of her own betrayal, and it would take her probably just as long to finally realize that Gabriella wasn’t the sweet, compassionate, brilliant person who changed everyone at East High for the better that Kelsi thought she was, as it would take Troy to realize that Gabriella wasn’t always right and that he deserves so much better.”

This comment covers A LOT of things I will discuss later with regards to romantic Trelsi. I am VERY particular when it comes to how I believe these two would work as a couple, as I will explain later. However, I have touched on the issues you raise in my Thou Shalts/Thou Shalt Nots. It might not come across in my posts, but I don’t think the Trelsi ship would be flawless at all and much of what you’ve said here explains why. Kelsi IS incapable of criticizing Gabriella, and that does present a significant drawback. However, the fact that as his friend, she is also unable to criticize Gabriella is equally, if not more, problematic, because it limits how well she can help him heal. Whether it’s Trelsi friendship or romance, in a realistic portrayal, Kelsi would suffer for her hero worship either way. (As would Troy). That’’s why I don’t like gooey, saccharine Trelsi fics, because they don’t highlight these problems. They just replace one superficial portrayal with another. 

“I love the idea of Troy being there to console Kelsi when her relationship with Jason dissolves for whatever reason. That’s a wonderful headcanon. I could also see Ryan potentially offering her the needed emotional support.”

Thanks, although it was mostly your analysis that prompted me. My analysis of Kelsi and Jason is upcoming in future posts, because that links to the potential of Trelsi romance.

Love that picture! 

[dracox-serdriel]

Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 32: Tyche's Spinning Wheel

Lament of the Asphodels

Title: Tyche's Spinning Wheel Author: Dracox Serdriel Artist: @liamjcnes Artwork: Post 1 | Post 2 Word count: 3,200 Rating: NC-17/Explicit (except on FF) Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, Graphic sexual content, Declaration/threats of sexual violence, Minor character death, Social stigmatization/abuse, Detailed descriptions of hopelessness/depression/inner turmoil, Descriptions of the effects of extreme phobias/social anxiety, including anthropophobia, thalassophobia/hydrophobia, and hylophobia/dendrophobia, Descriptions of shipwrecks and storms at sea

Read Lament of the Asphodels on FF, AO3, LJ, or start at the beginning on Tumblr. Written as part of @captainswanbigbang.

Chapter 32: Tyche's Spinning Wheel

Emma and Killian spent several hours exploring the cavern, scouring the walls for a lever or a marker that might open another passage, but they found nothing. Neither confessed the thought that perhaps there was nothing to be found anywhere, perhaps this realm was exactly what it seemed to be: empty.

They retired to where they entered, and she wove a trail of glowing baubles to guide them back to Persephone's memorial, should they wish to return. He found Pegasus pacing this way and that, though he showed no other interest in leaving, and Killian felt a twinge of regret for not having brought more for the steed that had saved them.

She warmed some of their provisions, and they ate by the edge of the cave, where the rays of the sun graced their skin. The light felt weak, and it waned every minute with no sign of cloud nor dusk approaching.

"How long do you think we have?" Killian asked.

"Assuming we don't sink into the sea?" she prompted. "A day, maybe."

The answer rolled off her tongue before she had given due consideration to her wording, for what was a day in a place like this? Did the sun rise and fall as it did in other realms? The only hint that it yet remained in the sky was that some light still persisted, but even that she could not trust.

She wracked her mind seeking a solution for the riddle Hades had put to them, but all that resulted was a throbbing ache that covered her forehead. She had hoped the sun might've relieved her pain if not the fresh air, but the saltiness of the wind only increased her woe. She put her head in her hands in a vain attempt to remedy her worsening headache.

"You all right, love?" he asked.

She nodded her head, yes, but she did not look up at him.

"You should sleep," he said quietly.

"I'm fine."

"Perhaps, but you still need rest," he said. "And there's nothing to do yet. I'll keep watch while you sleep a few hours."

Normally, she would've resisted the suggestion, offering to take the watch first for him to sleep, but even her stubbornness had a breaking point. She doubted she'd sleep, but perhaps if she curled up on the ground, the pounding in her head would abate enough for her to think straight. Thus, she looked up at Killian from behind her hands and nodded at him before moving to where they had collapsed together after their arrival, and without a single word in argument, she made herself as comfortable as possible on the ground and closed her eyes.

A very, very, very long time ago in a Land without Magic... a heptad of hapless souls boarded Charon's ferry to the Underworld, which in and of itself was an unremarkable thing, save for one curious detail: every soul arrived yet lived. The rarity of the occurrence drew attention from every otherworldly fold, and countless witnesses pondered the quest that bound so many to such a dangerous journey. Though the answer never confirmed, it was echoed from realm to realm, became a mantra inscribed in the stars, and transformed into a chorus for every new song. All of these things shared a core reflection of events: a good man must have died.

Why else would bandits and sheriffs, kings and queens come together? What other task but recovering a good man would garner the aid of the Dark One and the Savior? Surely, a man of important so great that a septet of warriors should march into hell to find him must have died. That story was whispered in a hundred private corners with thrill and excitement, though anything spoken thereafter was naught but pure invention by the speaker, for in truth, that story has yet to end.

Hades could not have missed this incursion into his realm even at his most distracted hour. His sole hesitation in reacting sprouted from curiosity, for while he knew who they sought, he possessed no knowledge of their capabilities nor will. So he waited until Charon brought them into his domain, where no mortal could conceal their heart from him. Then he set a fog of slumber over them, that they might be vulnerable to his inspection.

As with most deities, centuries had passed since last the unexpected cross his path, so he had no reason to suspect that any of the trespassers would prove so very... surprising. Of course, there were the garden variety "marching into hell to save someone" types, supported by those who owed a great debt to the aforementioned, or at least who bore significant guilt on that score. Yet, among them, they had not one but two touched by the Darkness of the Dark One.

Perhaps that should not have astonished him much, given the recent events that nearly turned loose every Dark One that ever existed, yet the older Dark One had not only willingly walked into the Underworld, he had returned to it, all at the behest of his younger counterpart, who had far less power and ability than he. On the surface, he opened the portal and accompanied the party for the sake of peace, but buried below his begrudging exterior, his motivations came from respect, even gratitude.

And that alone was reason enough for Hades to provide due considerations. He selected three of the seven to meet with him and ordered Charon to return the four others to the realm of the living. That was how Emma Swan, Rumpelstiltskin, and Henry Mills ended up in the Chamber of Echoes, a place akin to Limbo where Hades conducted much of his business with the living.

He woke all three with the snap of his fingers, and none of them seemed surprised at the abrupt change in scenery or company. After a few seconds of verbal confirmation, they turned their attention to the stranger in the room.

"Ah," Rumpel said. "I believe introductions are in order."

"Not really," Hades replied. "Emma Swan, Henry Mills, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Who are you?" Henry asked.

"Hades," he replied.

The effect was immediate. Rumpel, no doubt, had expected something of his reply, though they'd never before met. Emma and Henry, on the other hand, were both clearly put off by the idea of meeting the deity whose realm that were invading.

Truth be told, none of the visitors, save Henry, considered their actions bold enough to draw the attention of someone like Hades. Emma moved in front of her son as if to protect him on pure instinct, for anyone powerful and unknown was far too great a danger.

"I didn't come here to fight," Hades said cordially. "And as for your companions, I've returned them, safe and sound, to your realm. As for you three, I know why you're here. You can't have imagined I'd simply let you talk a soul from my domain."

"I can split my heart," Emma said. "If I split my heart, he can live."

"Cheating death," he whispered. "Yes, I see the appeal to you, but tell me, what's in it for me?"

Rumpel smiled. "Are you offering a deal?"

"Your favorite," Hades relied.

"What do you want?" Henry asked, stepping out from behind his mother.

"It's not entirely what I want," Hades answered. "I can't simply let you take him out of the Underworld. That would cause undo complication for me. I need it to be difficult. Impossible. Otherwise people would line up to be the next one to achieve it."

"But there is a way," Emma said, her voice brimming with hope. "There is a chance."

"A dangerous one," Hades said. "I believe a deal is in order. The Dark One will seal our contract, Henry will witness it, but then they must go back."

"Go back?" Emma repeated.

"Living souls aren't particularly welcome here," Hades explained. "Only one of you can make a pact with me and go forward. The rest will go back."

There was no suggestion in his voice, and Emma could read between the lines. Whatever his plans, her only hope was to continue following his rules for the time being.

"And what of us?" Rumpel asked. "You said you delivered the other members of our company safely home, yet we've no proof of this."

"Am I right in guessing that any proof I would provide would not be enough for you?" Hades countered.

"Indeed," Rumpel replied, ever the business man. "For this agreement to be successful, I must insist upon a few articles that outline the safety of our return as well as Miss Swan's."

"Only if she succeeds."

"Yes, of course," Rumpel agreed. "But whether she succeeds or not, the safety of our return and of all Storybrooke and its associated realms from you and your agents must be secure."

Hades had few dealings that resulted in actual bargaining, and he could see that the Dark One's reputation was not exaggerated. It wasn't concerning, for Hades knew his way around contracts and loopholes. Yet, the Dark One seemed oddly protective of people and places he had no need to care for, which suggested ulterior motives.

"A hard bargain," Hades said. "For such a guarantee, I would require a blood binding."

"What's that?" Henry asked Rumpel.

"Necessary, apparently," Rumpel replied, after having correctly read Hades' expression.

"I, to use your word, must insist."

"The brokers of such a deal must be from this realm," Rumpel pointed out. "I suspect it will be difficult finding anyone who would not be partial to your end of the contract."

His shrewdness did him justice, for a blood-binding ritual gave Hades a power over the subject of the contract that was unmatched by any other. Any broker that favored him would ensure that Emma would fail. Who lived in this realm as his subject without owning him any debt?

"The Fates," Henry said.

The suggestion startled everybody, including Hades, who had assumed that the comings and goings of daily life had clouded knowledge of places like the Underworld. The Fates neither opposed Hades nor supported him, even though they resided in his domain, they had no need to answer to him.

"Ah, the ideal suggestion," Rumpel said with pride in his voice. "Do you object?"

Hades disliked the suggestion, but he had no formal grounds for objection and had no desire to show any kind of weakness by protesting such a thing. Yet the annoyance was enough to drive him to punishment, and there was only one that he could contrive on such short notice.

"No, I do not," he replied. "But first we confirm the contractual obligations as you described. You will be dismissed when the Fates are called, leaving Emma and I to resolve the deals specific to her."

"Mom, you can't - " Henry began.

"No, kid, it's okay," she interrupted. "You've done more than enough. I've got this from here."

"But, what if he tricks you?" he pressed.

"Give me some credit," she replied. She turned to Rumpel and added, "Make sure Henry and the others get back safely."

"Of course," he replied coldly.

Hades waved his hand, and a contract appeared. He handed it over to Rumpel, which began a kind of tennis match between them. Rumpel reviewed the text, burned the contract, and summoned a new one out of thin air, presenting it to Hades. Back and forth they went, faster and faster, and for anyone who watched, it seemed as if they were no longer reading, only conjuring.

Until, finally, Hades handed a contract to Rumpel, and it all stopped. He reviewed the text three more times in quick succession.

"Miss Swan's binding deal will be made invalid and her safe return assured and immediate should the terms of this contract be violated," Rumpel said, reading out loud.

"Correct," Hades replied.

"And in return, both Emma Swan and Killian Jones will enter into a blood-binding contract mediated by the Moirai," he read out loud.

"Simple enough," Hades said.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Miss Swan?" Rumpel asked her. "There's no going back."

"I'm sure," she replied.

"Very well, then it's agreed," Rumpel said to Hades.

The signatures of Emma, Rumpel, and Hades appeared on the contract agreement. Henry's name was added as a witness. Then Hades snapped his fingers, sending the boy and the Dark One away.

As soon as they were alone, Emma sensed a shift in the environment. Perhaps he was not a cruel man, but he delighted in triumph, which meant he had no intention of making her task fair. He snapped his fingers again, and a cycling wind disturbed them, driving outward and leaving them with three more in their company.

The three were women who seemed infinitely old with the kind of beauty that never faded.

"Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos," Hades introduced. "Your son called them the Fates, but they're known here as the Moirai. They have come to bind our contract."

"What are your terms?" she asked.

"To prove yourself worthy, you must complete ten trials. Six will be split between you and he, to be completed as three personal trials. The remaining four will be of my choosing and my design, but their resolution can be the work of either of you or both of you together."

"And what are the trials?" she asked.

"Oh, I haven't decided on the last four," he replied casually. "Let's just say, those will depend on the circumstances. I mean, who doesn't love a surprise? But, tell you what, since I'm a good sport, I'll tell you about the one that you'll never complete."

"I'm listening," she said defiantly.

"You must admit the failure that led to this deal," he explained. "And all the fears that obscured you from that truth. Something you've never been able to do. So how's about it, Emma Swan? Do we have an accord?"

He extended his hand with an entitled smile on his face, so sure he was of his victory. And why shouldn't he be certain? She had no idea what the blood-binding would require, knew almost nothing of the trials ahead, and hadn't even had a chance to speak to Killian about any of it. Her mother might never lose faith, but Emma made something of a job of it, her doubts resurging at the worst possible times.

Do you want to save Killian? she asked herself. Because this is the only way.

"We have an accord," she replied as she took his hand.

They shook on it, and a sharp prick to her palm made her jolt in surprise. She withdrew her hand and saw her blood pooling very slowly, and in the next instant, Emma Swan forgot everything she had ever known and was born again into a new realm and a new world.

Killian watched Emma sleep for a time, keeping a wary eye for signs of danger, though it seemed to him that the only things that existed in this realm now were he, she, and Pegasus. The only looming danger was a lack of resources, and there was nothing he could do about that.

She stirred in her sleep. At first it was a small shift, just enough to catch his watchful eye, but then she went into a full tossing-and-turning fit. He would've woken her, but as he went to her side, a sparkling something caught his attention as it rolled away from her. Curiosity peeked, he followed the shine and caught up with the orb that had apparently fallen out of Emma's pocket.

It was the same that whispered to them about traveling to the New Stables of Diomedes to meet Hippolyta. He supposed, given the events that transpired, the guidance achieved the results required, but it did so in a rather roundabout way. He examined it closely, listening for any new whispers, but there was nothing, though it felt heavier and appeared bigger than he last remembered.

"Killian?" Emma asked.

She had apparently woken while he was distracted by her straying bauble. He turned to her to offer it in return, but as he held it out to her, he realized it was far too large to have fit into even the largest coat pocket, which her attire simply didn't provide.

"Where did you find that?" she asked.

"It rolled away from you," he replied.

"No, Cora would've taken that from me," she remarked, getting to her feet. "She must've because I tried to find it earlier. It wasn't on me then."

She reached out and touched it, gently swiping her fingers across the surface, but nothing transpired. She palmed it, covering his hand with both of hers, yet the only response was an increasing glow emitted from the orb.

"I thought it might tell us what to do next," she confessed. "Like it did the last time we both touched it."

Killian had expected the same, so he nodded his head, yes. Then he cast a wary glance to his hook, and he remembered his bargain with Hippolyta.

"It's my fault, love," he said. "The only way to obtain the Unending Flame from Hippolyta was to trade with her. She demanded the gold thread on my hook."

"Did she say why she wanted it?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I should've thought - "

"Don't," Emma said, interrupting. "There's no way for either of us to know what's valuable in this realm. Let me see the orb. Maybe I can sense something from it."

She held out her hands, one over the other, cupped. In that moment, she was the duplicate of the Persephone's memorial statue, and it kindled a suspicion deep in his gut, the kind that alerted him to an approaching storm long before the first signs could be discerned.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled.

Without further elaboration, he made for the passage with a very confused Emma on his heel. Had he made any consideration about his actions, he would've concluded that there was no need for haste, given the circumstances. But in the moment, all he could think was that any delay was pure folly. He raced straight to the statue, and before she could protest, placed the orb into the cold, stone hands before him.

"Killian, what - "

She didn't have a chance to finish asking her question, for another tremor rocked the ground beneath their feet. They grabbed for one another, both fearing the worst, but the vibrations ceased and did not return. Instead, a great mist formed like condensation on the outside of the statue, and a cyclone of wind swept through and curled around it. A horrible cracking sound, like the first fallen of a rockslide, and a fog exploded from the statue, forcing them to stumbled backwards and away.

They both looked back as soon as possible, and though it took a few minutes for the smoke to clear, when it did, the memorial had gone. In its place stood a sharp-looking young woman with pretty eyes and a lively spirit. She gave them a graceful curtsy and a very wide smile.

"Ever so nice to meet you, Emma Swan and Killian Jones," she said. "If you like, you may call me Persephone."

End-of-chapter notes: Tyche was the goddess of luck, chance, and fate in Ancient Greece. Songs and prayers to her often mention her using various methods to randomly determine fortune, good or ill, such as selecting cards or spinning a wheel.

For next and previous chapters, proceed to the Lament of the Asphodels main Tumblr page.

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Fundamental Useful information On The Ways To Craft An Individual ESSAY Quickly

Scripting this essay may appear incredibly easy. Al you want is actually one opening section that features a few succeeding body shape sentences and conclusion section that reiterates what your document is focused on. This section also actions as in closing.

Prevent adding lots of blab on your article. As a substitute, offer spectacular explanations of assorted circumstances in your daily life. Still, in addition you can talk about the adventures of an individual in addition you have got in connection with really. Your coming up with is designed to grant reliability within the methods and experience you talk within the guide.

It is essential to illustrate (by your composing) you are the correct applicant in comparison to the other authors.

Case: You can offer an credit account of methods your child years buddy Jordan was petrified of enjoying a go swimming stemming from his load. Justify the guidelines you got to stimulate him get started on golfing irrespective of his body weight challenge

Some folk believe that females have additional dilemmas to deal with inside non-public story essay. This demand is certainly not wholly authentic. In actual fact, despite your sex, you will focus on numerous things. These consist of:

Really love

Hatred

Esteem

Reality tutorials

Social Individuality

Rivalry

Authority

Camaraderie

Flaws

Opponents

You can actually investigate a multitude of subject matter. There will be no restrictions towards the conditions you may handle in the sort of formula. It’s by pointing out get within your creativeness.

Lacking much more hassle, let’s go directly to how you would needs to compose a private essay. We’ll focus on the define then system of this kind of report.

The Individual ESSAY Description: Nuts and bolts

The Five by 5 blueprint would be the great guideline of authoring the individual section description. This blueprint is straightforward; your information really should have all 5 lines with several phrases every different.

Make use of dependable and purpose strengthen when creating. This process is crucial to preserving the audience’s curiosity about your document in the course of. It is wise to experience concepts like your own doubts and concerns as it is much harder to use ordinary seductive emotions like these. Professionals generally readily share life span aspirations, desires, and successes.

Some matters which were taboo until now include things like making love schooling in academic institutions are actually handled over these articles or blog posts. Due to this fact, never minimize your self. Take a look at these articles if you are as if it.

Prior to when you find a pencil or variation your first note, produce here are the every stimulating factors you would like to facility on. This can be numerous things like moments, venues, happenings, worries, significant many people, in addition to situations associated with your issue. Constructing this set of electrifying items could help you purchase a precise photo with the items to take care of in every section.

Quite often, you will notice that you can find not much notable out of your know-how to write down about. Where do you turn? A handful of prosperous freelance writers provider for motivation from varieties of good examples within your mass media. Alternatively, be sure the scenario on the film or maybe the episode from the celebrity’s express decorative mirrors your activities in the deep grade.

Take notice of the offers you need to utilization in your writing articles. Infuse them in your own perform the job eventually when scripting one more write.

Ensure your hard work conforms to most appropriate publishing models similar to:

APA (most common)

MLA

Chi town/Turabian

Harvard

ACS

An Excellent Construction Of Your Own ESSAY

This essay makes use of the standard essay framework. Applicants who understand everyday university/ education content do not start seeing all sorts of things differing.