#I’ve already created an oc in my mind lately and ship her with them but mostly with will | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inscribed-in-asteroids · 4 years ago

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AN: WHAT’S UP? Got chapter five ready to go! More info is always on AO3, as well as better formatting.

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Odessa and OCs, feat Entrapta and Hordak

Pairing: Entrapdak

Read on AO3.

Inicos

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 1

Today marks the start of our journey! I have brought the essentials for potential excavation of bodies or relics, as well as the brain from the Prime clone aboard the Velvet Glove. It may be needed to see if there are differences in the formation, even if they’re genetically similar. But, admittedly, it’s more to keep it someplace out of the way. I am not sure what we may uncover, but this is bound to be illuminating.

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 7

I’ve been informed by my father that Mermista was none too pleased to hear that Tristan had come along on this expedition. He and my mother assured her that he was perfectly safe. Seahawk made the error of agreeing with them, however, which led to Tristan having a long, long argument with his mother over it. I don’t find any problem in him wanting to explore space, but not every parent is the same. I suppose she merely wants to look after him. But if she really wanted to, a week is a significant amount of time before deciding to check if he was at his father’s.

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 36

There hasn’t been much occurring outside of the ship. As we have been supplied with enough rations and crystals to charge Celeste, we have no need to dock onto any planet to replenish. However, Hydrangea asked if we could stop on occasion to see some planets. I told her that she could ask me any time if she felt a desire to explore nearby galaxies. We have opted to land on— Whoafuckshit! Asteroids… Oh! Maybe I can document it as it happens—

Annnnnd one made a large dent. Never mind. Guess we’re landing for sure.

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 273

I contacted my parents earlier today. They asked how everyone was faring, and I informed them that it’s been rather standard. No fits of madness or lucidity. My mother sighed with disappointment, but I told her that if it changed, she’d be the first to know. My father told me that Adora wishes me well, again. She’s a sweet woman—has been since my infancy. How she got four terrors for children, I’ll never understand. Well, that’s from Catra, but that’s neither here nor there. She and my father share equal blame for the damage to Etheria, and she has made an effort to right her wrongs. Yet she’s more… forgiven is not the proper word. Perhaps, excused? I don’t resent her for this. It’s easier to blame what continues to be unfamiliar. However, it’s an interesting observation, isn’t it?

Time in space is a bizarre thing. It ceases to be linear. It curves. Warps. Molds around one’s cells—living, breathing matter and energy, and it performs relative to that.

Odessa feels like it’s no time at all to be traveling through space with her friends.

But she was used to this since she was born. Tristan and Hydrangea experienced a little bit of an odd hiccup when it came to living without the concept of time as it was on Etheria. Hydrangea took to meditating quite often to keep a semblance of consistency, while Tristan took to exercising in an unorthodox training room. Hordak was thorough in ensuring that physical prowess was kept up while traveling through space, so it was one of the first things she pointed out.

Tristan could sleep as often as he wanted, and he never put up a fuss, but Hydrangea became rather irritable when she realized the lack of sunlight meant her circadian rhythm would be thrown off. Odessa decided to create a fake sun in Hydrangea’s sleep quarters that gave the feeling of waking up to gentle sunlight, replacing the atomic clock with one marked by Etherian time. It helped a bit for her to feel normal, and, she knew, Hydrangea was missing her parents.

“It’s too late to take you back,” Odessa said during breakfast. “But I hope you’re not disappointed with the direction of this mission so far.”

Hydrangea smiled gently, brushing haggard feelings aside, “Don’t worry. I’ll eventually get used to it. You know I’m here for you!”

Odessa is glad to have company that didn’t mind a little change. She and her family revel in constant traveling, but it can be hard for people who don’t go through it as much.

Walking through the halls, Odessa knocks on Tristan’s door, “Hey, are you up?”

A tired groan reaches her ears.

“When you’re ready, come to the dining hall. We should go over some things.”

A grunt of understanding is given, so Odessa takes her leave. She can’t help but shake her hands in excitement, tempted to skip down the hall.

She looks down at her communicator when it beeps. Turning it on, she answers, “Hey, Mom!”

“Hi, cupcake! How are you?”

“Doing fine. We’ve been making good time. We should be arriving soon.”

Hordak pops into view, “Are all your vitals still in excellent condition?”

“Yes, I’ve been monitoring all of us.”

“Good work, Odessa,” he praises.

“You know me, I’m not into screwing around,” Odessa replies, tossing her hair.

Entrapta grins wide, “We know you’re not, my little brownie bite!”

“Yeesh, Mom,” Odessa says, blushing, though she can’t help but smile.

“Okay, honey, we’ll let you go,” Entrapta tells her. “Tell your friends we said hi! Message us when you’re set!”

“You bet,” she tells them, giving a thumbs up.

“Byyyyeee!” Entrapta sing-songs, as Hordak waves.

“Byyyyeee!” Odessa mimics, waving back.

With a beep, the communicator goes quiet. She wants this mission to come to fruition. Odessa knows their journey has just barely begun—it has so much potential for failure as much as it does for success. If she could find enough information about her people, she might be able to learn more about them as a species. It’s a longshot, but she needs to make an attempt.

She is relieved that her father hasn’t asked her anything deeper than the common query of wellness. He is attentive to health above all else. And she wants to know if that’s intrinsic to their nature, or if it has to do with his… former debilitation. It has to be on some level, or it could be due to personality. If she could learn the true ways of their race, she might be able to find out how to give them their best opportunity to live.

Her hair wraps around her recorder, bringing it to her face. She clicks it on:

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 550

It’s been a long time since we left Etheria, but we’re finally near our destination! I have informed my uncle, Kreed, of our imminent arrival. He told me that everything has long been prepared for us, and he’s looking forward to seeing me again. I’ve been jotting down, as you know, what I hope to ask and, perhaps, what he may answer.

Odessa turns when she hears footfalls. Clicking off her recorder, she looks up at her friend, “Hi, sleepyhead! I didn’t think you’d ever get up.”

Yawning, Tristan stretches toward the ceiling, fingers spreading out. “Hey, the universe doesn’t chastise the well-rested. Were those your parents?”

“Yes, they say hello.”

“Aw, I would’ve liked to say hi back,” Tristan says.

“Should’ve woken up sooner,” Odessa teases. She pats his arm. “But we’re not too far from Inicos—so you’ll be talking to them eventually again.”

“How far?”

“About several hours,” she explains. “It has changed a little since I’ve been there, so I’m excited how it looks now!”

Tristan gives another stretch of his arms, swiping them up then down as he yawns once more. Trying to get something to pop. “Glad we’ll be landing soon. I know it’s been a while, but I worry about Gea going a little stir-crazy again.”

“I adjusted everything in her room, but I don’t disagree,” Odessa admits. “Although, she’s been fine since then and she hasn’t come to me for it.”

Tristan shrugs, not bothering to say he thinks otherwise. Odessa understands the needs for physical accommodation, but Hydrangea’s emotional and spiritual needs are depleted in the never-ending darkness of space. Hydrangea always acts like she’s put together, and much of the time it’s true; but she refrains from voicing her negative opinions when she’s trying to be a team-player.

Hydrangea is already in the dining hall when they arrived, drinking tea. She smiles at them, “Hey, you two!”

“Hey,” Tristan says. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, why?” she asks.

“No reason,” Tristan replies. Best not to pursue the issue. If she’s faking ease, let her.

Hydrangea simply smiles at him, appreciating the question. She turns to Odessa, “So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is that we’re going to be entering Inicos’ orbit in the next few hours, that’s our plan!”

Hydrangea claps her hands, “How exciting!”

Tristan shakes his head, putting a hand over his face, “It just occurred to me you could’ve woken me up when we’re closer.”

Odessa pulls him to her side, giving him a light shake, “I’m pumped! Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Tristan says, rolling his eyes and smiling. “But that can’t be it, right?”

“No,” she replies, releasing him to look between her friends. “Celeste has lasted this long on fuel, but when we land, we’re going to have to use signals to find where they are, and wait for them to get us.”

“Why?”

Odessa’s grin widens, thrilled.

Water stretches far out beyond their sight. A dark, vast blue that envelops the entire planet. Celeste skims the top, spraying brilliant white foam against its shining surface. Slowly, Odessa commands the ship to lower until it has settled onto the ocean.

Hydrangea stares out the window. The sunlight from above is a welcome vision. Pressing up against the window, her claws clicking gently on the glass, she takes it all in. Turning to Tristan, she says, “You should feel right at home here.”

“Eh, you see one ocean, you’ve seen them all,” Tristan shrugs, inspecting his fingernails.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss this one,” Odessa tells him. She touches her communicator, and the screen begins to beep. Within minutes, they watch water churning away from them, the waves causing the ship to move in rhythm with the slight push. Breaking the surface is a large glass dome, rising high in the air. Celeste bobs back and forth, and the distant hemisphere reveals equally tall buildings within its spacious grounds, supplanted deep within mortar and bedrock.

Tristan and Hydrangea gape up. Tristan laughs in disbelief, “Okay, well, you never mentioned this.”

Odessa smiles, “And ruin the fun if you ever came here with me?”

Beneath the glass is the foundation of metal, holding it aloft; from which, a slab slides away from the bottom of the dome. From this opening, a bridge elongates towards them. Odessa steadies Celeste as the spaceship is jostled carefully onto its ramp, pulling them back into the entrance. As it approaches, they note the flashing lights within.

Moments after coming inside, a siren blares a monotone tune. Celeste gives a slight shake, and they feel gravity tug them upward.

The sun gleams brightly above, before that same pull of gravity shifts the dome downward, water sloshing beside the glass until it is submerged in a torrent of bubbles.

Hydrangea sighs. It was nice while it lasted.

Once the dome settles, Celeste opens up. The trio walk down the bridge, and Odessa smiles at the people waiting in front of them, “Hi everyone!”

“Odessa!” comes the barrage of greetings.

Odessa waves to the clone standing directly in front of her. Eyes a remarkable amber, Kreed waits with his arms held behind him. Bedecked in gentle beige, his tunic ends an inch above the floor, a golden sash with cerulean trimming at the edges tied around his waist. His feet are sandaled, which they found to be better suited for an environment that’s nothing but water outside. An older clone than the rest, he shows signs of aging that aren't too commonplace among the rest of her relatives. She long surmised that the majority of them were young by contrast. She attributes part of that to his firm but mellower personality, a patriarchal figure where there are none. “Hey, Kreed!”

Her uncle holds her tight to her chest, pulling back to look at her, “Was your trip uneventful?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

He laughs, before addressing the rest of the trio, “Hydrangea! Tristan! So good to finally meet you both! Physically, I mean.”

Hydrangea shakes his hand, “Hi, Kreed! It’s nice to be here at last.”

“Come, come, we have prepared a feast for your arrival!”

“Nice,” Tristan says, eager to get settled in.

Hydrangea looks around, morose.

Tristan touches her shoulder, “How are you, Gea?”

“I’m alright,” Hydrangea says, giving a reassuring smile.

Tristan stares at her, slowing his strides.

Hydrangea glances at his feet, and mimics his pace, allowing their friend and her family to continue forward on their own. She looks up at Tristan, “I really am okay.”

“Yeah, now,” Tristan tells her.

“Odessa did so much for me already, I don’t want to disappoint her,” she replies.

“Odessa doesn’t get offended over crap like that,” Tristan reminds her.

“I know but still…”

“Gea, if you have problems, Des is here to help out,” he says.

Hydrangea knows that he’s right. The last year and a half have been hard on her, being away from her mothers, her people, her home. She is here to aid Odessa in anything that she needs. She wants to be a good friend, and she figured that this wouldn’t be much to handle. She’ll admit, she didn’t prepare herself very well for it, even with Odessa’s assistance.

“I understand that she’s meant to help out—and she did do a lot for me already,” Hydrangea answers. “But it felt a little redundant to even bring it up time after time.”

“I think it would offend her more if you didn’t inform her that she was unable to give you what you needed.”

Hydrangea gives a soft chuckle, “That’s true.”

“Look,” Tristan says, touching her shoulder, fingers moving around the spikes. “It’s not like it matters anymore right now, because we’re here. But if she asks us to go on a trip again, you should think about being more open about what you need to be comfortable.”

“I know,” she sighs. Then she pats his hand with hers, a small, gracious smile on her lips. “Thank you. I’ll do better.”

Tristan returns the smile, and affectionately pats her shoulder.

Resuming their walk, they note that Odessa and Kreed had halted their own steps to wait for them. Their apologies are dismissed, as Kreed and Odessa didn’t mind the two conversing amongst themselves.

The dome continues to descend, and Odessa looks to the left, watching a school of fish swim by the glass, “You’ve expanded.”

Kreed smiles, “Yes, we did! It took a couple of years, but the results have been magnificent. We’re creating more habitable spaces throughout the planet.”

“That’s exciting to hear. Has the alternative plant source been beneficial?”

“Most certainly, my dear niece,” Kreed replies. “We have been able to move forward with our latest projects using the natural resources of this planet as fuel to power everything.”

Odessa listens in rapt attention as Kreed explains each aspect of their home in impressive detail. From the large dome that blocks out harmful UV rays, to the plumbing system, sewage plant, recreational and education centers, they have made this place their home without interfering with the natives of the planet.

Arriving at their destination, opulent doors, wreathed with marine imagery, akin to Salineas, open for them. But there’s a monstrous look to it—with towering statues made of silver metal, the Delphican people’s greatest warriors of legend and history are highlighted the best way they know how: long, powerful arms ending with webbed hands, clawing the air. Their naked bodies are streamlined and muscular, hairless scalps gleaming when light shines on them. Their eyes are black, forward-facing but protruding ever so slightly enough to make it noticeable they’re different from the other humanoids that occupy their world. Their mouths are open in preparation for battle, ferocious teeth bared at their enemies.

Tristan stands to admire the artwork, giving a nod of approval. “Damn, that’s pretty hot.”

Hydrangea turns to him, narrowing her eyes and pursing her mouth, “You do know they’re attacking something, right?”

“Yes,” Tristan answers, forefinger pointed up. “And that’s what makes it hot. Oooh, do you think they do commissions?”

Hydrangea lets out a short, breathy laugh, “And what would they do for you?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious, Gea,” Tristan says. “I want them to make a statue of me . Just as naked and just as cool.”

Hydrangea laughs as he poses, and Tristan gives an inward sigh of relief.

A large table stretches out across the room, a sea-green and white carpet laid beneath its legs. Marbled walls rise high above them, ending with a cathedral ceiling, painted with creatures that remind Odessa of what Tristan would show her on deep-sea cameras on Etheria, none of them friendly, which is how she enjoys it. On the wall itself, oval windows take up half of its height, revealing a trimmed yard behind it, showing off a scape laden with roses, daffodils and several prospering fruit trees.

Hydrangea perks up, “Oh, a garden!”

Kreed smiles at her, “We make it a priority to have plants here. It helps the air.”

Hydrangea stares out the window, with Tristan joining her. She remarks, “There are a couple species I don’t recognize.”

“Yes,” Kreed says. “We have acquired new types from either Odessa or some of my brothers from different planets.”

“Amazing! I’d love to see more of your collection. Is all the soil the same?”

“In this area, yes,” Kreed replies, ears twitching up with interest, walking toward her. “For the time you’re here, you’re welcome to explore our gardens.”

Hydrangea, pleased, launches into a discussion about the caretaking, which Kreed entertains with aplomb. Odessa is suddenly tackled from behind, and she reaches around to grab the offender with both arms, raising up a young boy of 14, grinning down at her.

“Hi, Dessie!”

Her annoyed expression fades, beaming, “Nano! You’re lucky I didn’t break you in two.”

Placing him down, Nano jumps at her waist, excited, “I couldn’t help myself! I missed you!”

Odessa hugs the boy close, patting his head, “It’s good to see you again. I brought my friends this time.”

Nano, eyes an unusual bright shade of orange, turns to Tristan and Hydrangea with equal enthusiasm, “Hey! Welcome to my home! It’s about time you two came by.”

Hydrangea smiles at him, “Thank you, we’re happy to be here.”

Nano turns to Tristan, sizing him up. Then he grins, “I’m going to have so much fun kicking your butt!”

Tristan laughs, arms akimbo and smirking, “Are you?”

“You bet! I’ve wanted to race you foreeeever! Can we do it now?”

“You may have your contest after dinner,” Kreed interrupts.

“‘Kaaaaay,” Nano replies, though his grin doesn’t leave, giggling.

Various seafood has been placed on the table a few moments later, arranged to show the best of freshly caught fish and crustacean. Odessa and Tristan, used to being adventurous eaters, have no qualm with any part of the meal. Hydrangea, though she can eat it, looks for plant-based dishes, which, thankfully, they accommodated for her.

Nano plops next to Odessa, kicking his legs, scales reaching down to his feet. He’s one of the more interesting cousins in terms of appearance, having the agility, speed and strength of a clone, but the exterior switches from skin to scales, with webbed fingers and toes at the ends of his limbs, all bluish-green; his face has paler shades of color compared to the rest of his body, and his gills are closed on his neck for now. He hums to himself as he piles food onto his plate. She had checked on him last time she was here, monitoring his vitals for irregularities in either his gills or lungs. The main difference seems to be that he has to moisturize more than the average cousin, and he doesn’t seem capable of growing hair on his scalp or face like his clone half, but he doesn’t seem to have any new problems.

Opening his mouth, revealing sharp canines lined along the gums, Nano chews a large chunk of meat. He turns to Odessa, cheeks puffed out from food, smiling with his lips and eyes closed.

A surge of sisterly affection tugs at her heartstrings, and she chuckles, “Be careful there, don’t choke.”

Swallowing, Nano wipes his mouth, giving a wide grin, “I don’t choke!”

“You did earlier this week,” Kreed says, cutting his food with a knife and fork. “Mindfulness is important.”

Nano gives a quick nod, before turning to Tristan, “Hey, hey, hey, are we going to race?”

“After dinner, sure,” Tristan says, then yawns. “Or, you know, maybe after sleep.”

“Aaaww, you said after dinner,” Nano whines.

“If our guests are exhausted, they’re free to sleep,” Kreed chastises.

Odessa smiles at her uncle, “Don’t worry about it. Tris slept all day, he can go for it!”

Tristan gives her a mild glare, “Of course, Des. Why wouldn’t I?”

She sticks out her tongue, satisfied.

Nano was more than excited to race. He was jumping up and down along the dome, feet light in the ground. Tristan, despite genuinely feeling like he could sleep more, wasn’t going to crush his expectations, nor did he have the intention to.

Hydrangea stares up at the artificial sunlight coming from above, “Do you think it could be warmer?”

“I feel fine,” Odessa says, glancing up. “But I could ask Kreed for you later.”

“I don’t want to impose on anyone—”

Odessa waves her hand, “Oh, Gea! They don’t mind, really! And if you didn’t dislike it, you wouldn’t say anything.”

Hydrangea sighs, “You’re right, I know.”

“‘Course I know!”

Approaching a smoothed pearl-colored tower, Nano yells at the people located at its top, “Hi!”

A clone peers down at them, waving, then pointing to the dome’s glass.

Nano gives a thumbs-up from the ground, and he turns to the trio, “Alright, they’ll open it for us!”

Hydrangea holds up her hand to her face, “Are we rising to the surface or…?”

“Nope! There’s a tube that runs through the bottom that launches people out. We needed to bring you guys the other way because of your ship.”

“Ah, so we’re racing underwater,” Tristan remarks.

“Yeah! Is that okay?”

“Fine by me,” Tristan answers, beginning his stretches.

Nano copies his stretches, wanting to be professional.

An opening in the ground forms, and the faint sound of suction movements comes from below. Nano beams at the three of them before jumping in feet first, form perfectly straight. Tristan salutes his friends before hopping in as well. Hydrangea and Odessa jog over to the glass, and a burst of bubbles shoot out when they emerge somewhere below them.

Nano swims up to the glass, tapping it then his wrist.

Odessa nods, then signs to Tristan: Are you going to keep that form?

Tristan doesn’t often have a smug appearance, but at the question, a smirk tilts the corner of his mouth. Behind his lips, his teeth sharpen, as well as his skin, darkening to ashen grey, reaching up toward the sides of his neck, where the flesh opens, water gushing out. His legs morph together as water circulates around them, dissipating with a flourished motion, revealing a long shark tail.

Hair floating away from his face, Tristan’s eyes are wholly black, and he grins at Nano’s shocked expression.

Nano turns to Odessa, signing with excited movements: You never told me your friend could do this!

It’s not something Tristan makes known to everyone, his penchant for taking a shark shape as he swims. It’s a trait inherited only by royals, should they so choose, and the last to use this disposition was his grandfather, the former King Selachus.

Hydrangea signs to them all: Alright everyone, play fair!

Or don’t, Odessa chimes in.

Flicking Odessa on the shoulder, Hydrangea signs: Who is going to signal?

Nano signs back: The guards know what we’re doing. They’ll be watching.

As Odessa beckons Hydrangea to follow her up to the towers, where they can get a better view, Nano and Tristan line up against the dome, staring ahead. Nano raises his arm up, waving before placing it back to his side.

Odessa takes in the tower, simple and clean walls, with weapons stacked in a corner, near a chest and a small writing desk for messages. Its purpose is clearly to observe anything from below, and she and Hydrangea can see both Nano and Tristan. The guards standing inside don’t do much but give nods in regard to their being here, and continue to stand.

Suddenly, there’s a loud noise resonating out of the dome. An object shoots out above them, a fair-sized dart torpedoing ten kilometers away. Nano holds out his hand to keep Tristan in place, signing: We have to wait for it to stop. Then they’ll let us know to go.

The object, which flashes a slow red in the distance, finally stops. A split second after there’s a blast—

The boys shoot off, even faster than the measuring pod, a blur of white froth and dark shapes. Odessa and Hydrangea peer closely at their retreating forms. The water is clear, so they don’t lose sight of them, and the height helps keep track of their movements underwater. They could’ve swam on the surface, but Nano prefers being under the waves, and Tristan is flexible about location. However, from the look of it, despite Nano being smaller and more spry, Tristan’s strength is also an advantage, keeping an impressive pace.

Hydrangea turns to a guard, “You don’t happen to have binoculars, do you?”

He raises a brow before opening a chest nearby and handing her a pair.

She smiles, “Oh, thank you!”

Odessa doesn’t ask for any herself, as she has no trouble following their forms. Tristan’s frame is notable, even intimidating, much of the time, and in this form, he stands out. Nano continues to be faster, and she has to commend that he isn’t wavering.

They notice that the pod is moving, darting toward the surface. Tristan and Nano don’t break their speed, immediately changing to chase after it. They crash through the surface—a whirlwind of bubbles torrenting from the intensity, and again as they return. Hydrangea gives an excited ‘ooh!’ and Odessa grins, enjoying the competition. If the boys were holding back, they certainly weren’t anymore. The pod keeps up with them, continuing its languid red flashing. Tristan and Nano tear through the water, fast approaching the dome’s end. Nano kicks in rapid succession, gaining some momentum.

Then Tristan jets further out, having saved some energy to push at the last possible moment.

Tristan touches the glass first, faster by 60 seconds. He grins with pride, turning to Nano with a thumbs-up.

Nano, pouting, crosses his arms.

Tristan gives the boy a gentle pat on the back, causing Nano to crack a smile.

The pod settles slowly between them, and Nano takes it with him as he swims back to the entrance.

Odessa and Hydrangea watch the two pop up from the ground, landing on their feet. Hydrangea thanks the guard for lending the binoculars, and walks down the stairs with Odessa.

“You both did amazing!” Hydrangea cheers, applauding.

“Thanks, Gea,” Tristan replies, blushing a little. “But I don’t know if it’s really that big of a deal when my opponent is a little kid.”

“Actually, it is,” Odessa clarifies. “Nano is really fast, even for his age. Delphicans, even young, are quicker than even the fastest Salinean, so consider it a true win!”

“Really?” Tristan asks, surprised.

“Yep!” Nano exclaims.

Odessa waved a hand, “I didn’t mention it before because I wanted to see what would happen.” Tristan tends to hold himself back, especially if he feels there’s no point in giving it a chance. To see him go all out was a treat.

Nano is full on smiling now, shaking his head, “Well, I thought I could beat you but you really got me! I’ve never lost before.”

Odessa smirks, “You had to learn to lose someday.”

Nano places his hands on his elbows, “Yeah, I guess…”

Was he not as good as he thought? He’s been used to being the fastest, especially among his peers. It’s a little odd...

Tristan flips his hair back, slicking it away. With an encouraging smile, he replies, “You did great too! Give yourself credit.”

A spark of admiration takes over Nano’s eyes. Hero worship at its finest.

“Hey, Mom!” Odessa says.

“Odessa! There you are! Did you make it to Inicos okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was meeting up with Kreed, had dinner, and then Nano wanted to race Tristan.”

“Ooohh, you were already so busy!” Entrapta says. She turns to her right, “Hordak! Say hi to our baby!”

Hordak sits beside Entrapta, smiling at her, “Hello, Odessa.”

“Hi, Dad,” Odessa replies. “How’re things at Etheria?”

“Work has been progressing smoothly,” Hordak says. “We’ve begun new construction on both Beast Island and New Chelicerata.”

“That’s awesome,” she tells them. She glances to her left, motioning her friends over. “Gea, you hear that?”

“I did!” Hydrangea answers, looking at Hordak and Entrapta. “How are my moms? Is everything okay at Plumeria too?”

“Never better!” Entrapta shouts. “We’ve been keeping occupied since you all left. Scorpia has been helping us a lot! She says she loves and misses you!”

“And Perfuma,” Hordak adds.

“Right! And Perfuma too!”

At that, Hydrangea smiles, more than happy.

Hordak looks at Odessa, “Has your uncle shown you the portal yet?”

“I’m sure he will soon,” Odessa replies. “There’s a lot to see!”

“That is good to hear,” Hordak says. He turns to his right, “Imp, don’t play with that!”

He leaves to go handle whatever her brother is doing, and Entrapta leans in to the communicator, “Your father misses you.”

Odessa gives a warm smile, “I miss him too. Both of you.”

“Have you asked Kreed anything about the clones?”

“No, that hasn’t occurred yet either. I intend to do it very soon.”

Hordak returns, holding Imp in his arms, “What else has transpired on your journey?”

They regale them with details of the rest of the day, finding that they’ve needed to talk to each other more than they believed. Hydrangea interjects during appropriate moments to inquire about her parents further, where Tristan does not.

Eventually, they bid goodbye, and head to bed after a tiring day, excited for tomorrow’s venture, and everything afterward.

Hydrangea and Tristan were impressed with the ingenuity of the dome. Their rooms have been modified for their needs and wants, giving them individual freedom as guests of Inicos. Everything was incredible: from the water systems that converted salt water to fresh through advanced hydraulics, the use of the planet’s natural gifts to aid in creating everything they saw from their furniture to their food to landscapes and buildings, and occasionally being sent what they could not make here through a portal.

But what they couldn’t help except be amazed by were Nano’s aquatic brethren.

Standing at nine feet tall, his mother, Esynad, greets them this morning outside of the dome, swimming lazily past the glass, before hopping inside from the tube. She is misted with a special chemical concoction of the clones’ design, allowing natives of Inicos to partake of the dome’s atmosphere without trouble.

Possessing scales that glisten in the sun, highlighting flashes of purple when she moves, she is considered to be a stunner among even her kind. Though, to Hydrangea and Tristan, she was beautiful to them as well and could see why anyone would’ve considered being her partner. But here, on Inicos, the ‘women’ choose who to mate with. All begin life with total androgyny, with no true way to separate them outwardly. Yet at maturity, a select group of Delphicans become large enough to be considered the females of their kind, and use the female reproductive organs each one holds. Afterward, they were asked to choose who to mate with by overlooking battles of strength and cunning between those who are ‘male’. It couldn’t be simply anyone—the males had to be near equal to the stature and power of the females and granted permission by whomever they pursue.

Esynad had received hundreds of suitors, all which failed her expectations. Fickle with her hand and undeterred by their pleas, she ignored them. Years had gone by and she continued to reject everyone who attempted to court her. Those who dared to fight one another in her presence, without her blessing, were punished swiftly. Esynad had no qualm being ruthless with those who displeased her.

When the clones arrived, the Delphicans were reluctant to share their space, but once they proved they had no interest in doing much of anything except stay above the surface, and remained neutral in territory disputes between separate pods, the Delphicans were accepting of their occupancy.

Eventually, they realized there was a higher benefit to working together and coexisting harmoniously. Esynad, being a de facto leader, made it her business to cooperate with their newfound friends. This led to her meeting Kreed, who took it upon himself to help his brethren and the people of Inicos. Not a few months later, she announced that he would be her permanent husband.

Kreed had been an unorthodox decision, both from being another species and that she refused to have him battle with anyone, saying that it was unnecessary, for she would have him alone. However, being customary, Kreed abided by their rules and triumphed over every single challenger. With that completed, they were given freedom to be together, and it eventually became part of their culture that clones could participate in the rituals of Delphican folk.

In time, due to the existence of hybrid children, it became apparent that it was important to adopt aspects of the clones as well. As they had no way of going about it on their own, they called on Hordak to inform them of his own child-rearing process. There was less fighting amongst each other for mates, and it became a community for raising offspring, however they were born. If bloodlust suited anyone, on either side, they were allowed to do battle; but the parents of said hybrid children were off limits for coupling, forming into monogamous pairs.

Esynad was still no one to trifle with, but being part of a partnership mellowed her a fair degree. She turns to the trio, a gentle smile on her features, dark eyes reflecting the kindness.

Odessa comes up to her, “Esynad! You’re looking spectacular as usual.”

Esynad lightly taps Odessa’s shoulder, “You’re so sweet, young one.”

Nano rushes to his mother, hugging her leg, “Are we showing them to the portal?”

“Yes,” Esynad replies, giving a slow wave of her hand. “Please, follow us.”

Kreed and Esynad both decided to take the liberty of escorting them, the six of them walking through the halls.

Kreed looks over his shoulder, “Odessa, I understand that you arrived in Inicos with some intended purpose. Is it too early to ask you to illuminate the subject?”

“No, it is not,” Odessa begins, glancing between her relatives. “I wanted to ask about Horde Prime.”

This gives her aunt and uncle pause, turning to appraise her, mildly bewildered.

Understanding her niece prefers forthright conversation, Esynad asks first, “Why would you want to know about that?”

“I’ve asked my father and have gotten no answer. I’m simply curious about what we are.”

“We…” Kreed trails off, thinking. He resumes his pace toward the portal. “We are clones of Horde Prime. No longer soldiers or invaders. But we continue to be—and always will be—clones of Horde Prime.”

Odessa walks alongside him, “But there must have been something before Prime? A way of life and culture that he may have passed onto you all?”

Kreed frowns, keeping silent. Giving him time to think on it, Odessa opts to glance around at the vicinity. The hallways have narrowed down to a singular direction, and the doors slide open, showcasing a portal in the center of the room. Wires, pipes and insulated cables align themselves upon the walls, or on the floor out of the way of roaming bodies. But they all hook up to the portal, or are connected to machines that deal with energy.

Eyes slightly wide, Hydrangea remarks, “That is a larger portal than the rest of them.”

Esynad looks at her, “Yes, we receive gifts from our family throughout the galaxies. Oftentimes, they are normal-sized, but on occasion, we do receive something that is larger or numerous in number. To accommodate, we’ve made a portal bigger than the normal scale. It’s why we couldn’t bring you three right away, but this will allow you all to traverse back easier.”

Kreed nods, “Indeed. We have made necessary preparations for when that time comes, whenever it may be. Until then, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.” He looks at Odessa. “Did you really travel all the way here to ask about our once-leader?”

“No one on Etheria could provide an answer,” explains Odessa, readying her recorder in her hair. “They suggested here to start.”

Exhaling through his nose, Kreed motions for her to come with him, as her friends discuss other things with her relations.

“Your determination is not without merit, Odessa,” Kreed says. “However, this is not a question that is worth exploring.”

Odessa comes right up to him, unafraid to be invasive, “Is it because you have no information to offer me, or that you are unwilling to divulge it?”

“Judging by the sound of your tone, my niece, you would be wise to consider the ramifications of your query,” Kreed replies, hands behind his back.

Odessa turns lightly on her heel, holding out her hands, “I have considered it. I’ve considered that this is something that we need to understand.” She spins on her foot, meeting his eyes. “There’s so much about us that we don’t know, even with all the technology and magic in the universe, there is no viable method out there that can explore deep memories.”

Kreed is one of the oldest clones that she is aware of. Talon’s age is astonishing as is when compared to other lifeforms, but Kreed is a grand total of 150. And still going.

There are slight changes in his appearance to the rest of the clones, where he is beginning to show signs of age. But the differences are so minute, the wrinkles visible when one strains the eyes to catch them, as they are fine lines, that they matter very little. His strength and agility is not remotely impaired by the fact. His physicality, unmarred by time, continues to put him above many species she’s encountered, as well as Inicosans, and especially Etherians. How old can their species become? If there were hundreds of him hanging above her head on the flagship, how long had he terrorized the universe? If he could conceivably live over a century, what else could he do?

“I conducted a study back on Etheria about your brothers,” Odessa tells him. “Everything about it suggests promising brain activity, and I want to test my hypothesis further. But to do so, I must have more information about us.”

Kreed glances at Esynad as she approaches, holding Nano in her arms, “This information… if given, what do you intend to do with it?”

Everything.

She wants to do everything with it.

She has to know what they are capable of, beyond a past of destruction and a present of rectifying mistakes. There’s a future for them that is complete. Hopeful.

“I simply want to learn more about us.”

Kreed closes his eyes, inhaling. Slow and easy. He is more than aware that Odessa is a personality that pushes toward the truth. A scientist and inventor like her parents both, she inherited their tenacity, and, for better or worse, their tunnel vision. She has shown incredible potential. What she lacks in social tact, she more than makes up for with her ability to observe and act on those observations.

Since she was young, he has been keeping track of her as well. The moment she asked for blood samples of her relatives at the age of five, he knew that she was different. She has spent countless hours of her youth being encompassed by superior science and keen minds. Trained and nurtured to ask questions, find answers, and adapt based on the result. Being a hybrid had nothing to do with it. What set her apart from all the children of clones was Odessa’s desire. A desire for what, he may never know. But she yearns for more. She longs. Until it’s found.

He has lived a long time, and he doesn’t know a clone similar to him. But he knows age isn’t the thing to contest. What the wise seek in peace, the eager seek in tumults, and how long someone has been alive doesn’t matter there. It’s all about who a person is. However, if anyone can withstand such a journey, it would be her.

Tristan and Hydrangea come together to stand at either side of Odessa. Friends that he has seen grown up over communicators, and their loyalty to her is impressive. Hordak wouldn’t allow anyone to be around his child that may be a threat to her safety, physically or emotionally. He wouldn’t either. So he looks at each one for a moment, exhaling.

“I, like your father, and my brothers, know nothing else except Prime.” Kreed says, voice measured. “He is part of us, forever, even as we build our lives on things besides him. You know that.”

Odessa nods, eye contact not wavering.

“There is… space…”

“Space?”

“Space. In our heads.” Kreed explains. He puts a gently closed fist against his chin. “Did you note that in your study?”

“No. My experiment involved photographic memory,” Odessa says, intrigued. She leans in, “What do you mean by ‘space?’”

“It’s… an expanse,” Kreed draws another breath, then out. “I’m unsure of whether it is due to being connected to the hivemind for so long, or if this is an aspect of ourselves as a species… but in my head, there’s a void. A void that contains the knowledge we possess, but it can be filled further. The mind cannot grasp all information in the universe. It would drive a person mad. However, my mind feels similar to a larger space—perhaps a deep cavern or pit, where it stretches outward past what individuals may expect it to end.”

“The brain is a powerful organ, though,” Odessa adds. “It can store a lot more data than we can ever hope to calculate.”

“That may be,” Kreed tells her. “And I do not doubt your research. We learn new information every day. But everything has its limits, including the mind and what it can withstand. What it can hold. All three of you can keep receiving new facts until the day you die, but learning new things weakens as you age. It stands to reason that the brain, then, is finite.”

“So, this void inside your mind, does it end?” Hydrangea asks.

“I believe it does,” Kreed replies. “You see, eventually, there’s a point where everything must stop. You can be a savant on many subjects at once, or dedicate your senses to partaking of a single subject and becoming an expert on that. The mind can learn and learn and learn all it wants, but once you hit that proverbial wall, you cannot go past it. It’d be too intense of a breakthrough. Yet, for us, I can only guess that we all have the similar proclivity to recollecting more information than most could even conceive because it’s a bigger space.”

Odessa breathes out. A mind that could hold more knowledge than ever thought possible… “Talon informed me that when you are all ‘born’ there’s a wall there, too. That you cannot remember anything before that point, and everything after that is what you keep. Is that a fair assessment?”

Kreed nods, “Yes, that’s correct. I cannot remember anything before being released. That is our starting point. Afterward, it's an endless space.”

“Although, as someone that’s been alive longer than the others, is it possible you have knowledge that they don’t?” Odessa says, tone a little more enthusiastic. “Can you remember anything else from your time with the Horde?”

“Aside from what you’d expect? No.”

“I see,” she says, glancing at her companions.

Esynad touches her husband’s shoulder, looking down at him, “Perhaps our niece would benefit from visiting Rulvam.”

Odessa’s eyes widen slightly, “Rulvam?”

Tristan raises a brow, “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned that before, Des.”

“I haven’t!” she says, louder from excitement. Turning back to Kreed, she asks, “What’s there? We have other family members living somewhere we didn’t know of?”

“Several of your uncles have gone on to other planets after settling on Inicos for a time,” Esynad explains to them, voice low and soothing. “Rulvam is a planet a fair distance from us, about the length that it took you to arrive here without a portal.”

Kreed adds, “The only difference between Rulvam and other planets we’ve made home, is that there is no portal in place.”

Hydrangea’s brows furrow together, “They don’t own a portal, or theirs isn’t working? Like yours had been?”

“The reason is unclear,” Kreed admits, glancing up at his wife. “Some time ago, we stopped receiving all communication from them. We sent out signals, to no avail; the last transmission we obtained was a positive one, telling us on Inicos that the planet was being changed for the better, and new projects were underway to bring out the best of Rulvam. Aside from Etheria, we don’t come into contact with any of our sister planets too often.”

Nano, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, speaks, “That had been four years ago now, right?”

“That’s correct,” Kreed says, smiling at his child.

Odessa is bewildered. A planet with relatives that she’s never been to before. That’s amazing! It’s another lead that, hopefully, will uncover more about their kind.

Tristan shifts his gaze at Odessa. She’s already thinking of something new. But if there’s anything that stays consistent, it’s her inquiring mind.

Hydrangea looks at her friends, aware that they’re all pondering the same question.

Why did Rulvam stop communication?

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 730

I spoke with my aunt and uncle today about the concept of memory! It proved to be an exciting trip. In a few days, we will be taking the portal back to Etheria, as it’s now completed, and save ourselves a healthy amount of time. They didn’t mind us being here, but I believe it’s time to return to Etheria. I never mind the constant travel through space, however, it will be profitable and convenient to visit my parents sooner than later. Then, we can begin planning our next journey!

#fanfic: The Ripple Effect #entrapdak #entrapdak fankid #spop

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notalwaysthevillian · 3 years ago

Text

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 4: Study Group

The rest of my first day was boring compared to working on our special moves. English had never been my strong suit. There were just too many words. Math was a struggle, but at least I somewhat understood what was going on. When it came to Modern Literature, it turned out I’d already read most of the books on the syllabus.

Foundational Hero Studies was at least a little interesting. We ended up talking about my parents, by pure coincidence. All Might had no idea that I was their child until the end of class, when Midoriya whispered it to him.

He’d started apologizing profusely, but I’d stopped him.

“It’s fine. A lot of people tend not to talk about them around me, but you praised them so much for doing what they could. It was nice, hearing something so good about them.”

School was finally over, and most of us were heading back to the dorms.

Mina skipped up to my side, linking with my left arm. “So? How was your first day?”

“Kind of boring, to be honest.” I admitted, hearing her laugh. “Minus working on our special moves of course. That was super neat, even though I didn’t get quite as much time.”

“Yeah, I saw you were sparring with Aizawa!”

Kirishima stopped and turned around. “You did so good! He’s really fast, and you nailed him.”

My face flushed. “I didn’t mean to leave a welt though.”

“It means you did a good job.” Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Just accept the compliment. Keep improving and maybe I’ll let you fight me.”

I tilted my head. “Wouldn’t the water just nullify your explosions?”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

Iida cleared his throat as Kirishima held Bakugo back. “While it wouldn’t nullify the explosions, it would significantly reduce them. Perhaps if you could create ice like Todoroki, you could freeze over his gauntlets.”

“If you remember, I beat IcyHot the last time.”

Kaminari appeared on my other side, grabbing my hand. “Bakugo, lay off her.”

He growled, but walked off with Kirishima. “Whatever, extras.”

“How does his quirk even work?” I said out loud.

Midoriya immediately launched into a detailed explanation of his quirk. It seemed like he had the most notes on Bakugo, which I thought was interesting.

“How do you know so much?”

“Oh, we were friends when we were kids.” He half-hid behind his notebook. “I’ve been studying his quirk for years.”

“I’ll definitely be coming to you if I need any information about anyone.”

Uraraka showed up out of nowhere, stealing Deku away. She was a little flustered as she talked, all but confirming the crush she had on him.

Speaking of crushes, Kaminari linked his fingers through mine. “Wanna help me study?”

“God, I think I need help studying.” I thought back to Math class. “Literature is my best subject. The others…not so much.”

“Momo does a study group if you need help!” Mina flashed me a smile. “She’s really helped us improve our grades. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you joined us, as long as you don’t distract Kaminari too much.”

“Hey!”

“Your grades will only get worse if you ogle at your girlfriend when you’re trying to study.”

I batted my eyelashes at Kaminari, laughing as his face went pink. “I can’t help being irresistible.”

“How are you two this cute already? No fair.” It looked like Hagakure had caught up, and was crossing her arms. “I want a relationship like that.”

“You just gotta have that spark.” Flicking his fingers out, Kaminari sent a shower of sparks out.

Hagakure shrieked. “Careful!”

“Oh, relax. That’s hardly enough wattage for you to feel anything but a little tingle.” He ran a hand through his hair, the static making it stick up slightly. “I have wayyyy more than that running through me on a good day.”

I blinked. “Is that even safe?”

“I can handle it, Dew Drop, no need to worry about me.”

“Dew Drop? That’s too cute!”

We climbed the steps of the dorms, heading back inside. It was refreshing to be back in the cool air. The heat wasn’t helping me regain any energy I had expended in training.

“Catch you in a bit.” Kaminari kissed my knuckles and walked off, leaving me blushing.

Momo walked up to me before I could make a break for my room. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you might want to join our study group?”

“If that’s okay.”

“The more the merrier!” Her smile lit up her whole face. “Do you like tea? I usually make some for everyone. Oh, and we usually meet about a half hour after class ends, so everyone can relax, but so they don’t forget what we learned completely.”

“I’m not too picky about my tea, so whatever you choose is going to be great, I’m sure.” I hoisted my bag up a little higher on my shoulder. “And I’ll meet you here in half an hour then? Or…”

“Oh, at the table.” She gestured to the other room. “It helps keep everyone focused. Though I suppose I’ll have to keep you and Kaminari apart. Or maybe not, you might be able to motivate him.”

“We can try a few ways, see what works?”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon!”

I headed up to my room, glad to get a few tranquil moments to myself. The fountain bubbled away as I meditated. Once I was in a more calm mindset, I put away the stuff I didn’t need help with, before heading down to join the others.

“Oh, am I late?”

Everyone was already sitting in what I could only assume was their specific seats.

Momo leapt to her feet. “Oh I asked them to come a bit early! I was trying to figure out the best place to put you.”

“We decided here!” Mina pulled out a chair next to her, and across from Kaminari. “Near the people you’re the most comfortable with so far.”

“Thanks guys!” I took my seat, grabbing my books out of my bag. “I want to get to know everyone eventually. But for right now…”

“We get it! There’s a lot of us.” Sero gave me a smile. “Your quirk is amazing, by the way. You’d probably knock me flat in seconds.”

“Oh, thanks!” I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “I’m still working on control, but for the most part I know what I’m doing.”

“It looked like you had control to me!” Momo tilted her head.

“For now, yeah.”

I didn’t want to talk about my lack of control, which Momo must have realized. She clapped her hands together and got us started.

We worked individually and only asked a question when we got stuck. Anyone who was good at the subject we were on would jump in and help.

This led to me finishing my homework fairly quickly.

“Oh! I’m done.”

“Can you help me out with some of the Foundational Hero Studies work?” Sero looked about ready to throw his paper across the room. “Um, if you can. It’s about your parents.”

“I can try.”

“So it says they were trying to hold off this Muscular guy.” Sero pointed to a picture of said villain.

“That question, right.” I’d just finished that one. “Should they have called again for backup or held him off?”

“Why didn’t they call for backup? They were outgunned in every way.”

The pipes above me rattled as I felt my control start to slip. I sucked in a deep breath. Sero wasn’t insulting them, he was just asking a question. “There were still civilians in the way. Kids. If they had split to call for backup, there was a chance the civilians would’ve gotten hurt. Or potentially killed.”

Sero reviewed the footage again. I looked away. “By the storefront.”

“Oh!” He finally spotted them. The glare from the screen moved and I looked back to see he’d turned it away from me. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I waved a hand, accidentally sending water flying down the table. “Shit.”

There were cries of surprise until I waved my hand again, putting it back into the glass. “I’m just gonna -”

“Please stay?” The look in Kaminari’s eyes absolutely made me melt. I nodded, moving over to the empty chair next to him. He linked our fingers together, putting our joined hands on the table.

“So Momo, I’m stuck on this math question.” He changed the subject, squeezing my hand slightly.

The study session continued. I put my other arm on the table, laying on it so I could look at everyone. Mina made a face at me, making me giggle. I stuck my tongue out as retaliation.

After a while, I must’ve fallen asleep, because I woke up to gentle zaps as Kaminari poked my cheek. “Psst, Dew Drop. Dinner’s ready.”

“What if I just sleep instead?”

“Nope, come on, you gotta eat.”

He tugged on my arm until I stood up, frowning at him. “I was comfy.”

“We can snuggle on the couch when you’re done eating.”

“Fineeeee.”

Kaminari smiled at me, pulling me towards the kitchen. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.”

He made me sit at the table, grabbing me a bowl of stew, before sliding it in front of me. “Please eat.”

I dug in, not realizing how hungry I was until the delicious smell hit my nose. Before long I’d powered through my bowl.

“Is there more?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve seen eat like that.” Kaminari said as I got up to grab seconds.

I filled up my bowl before sitting across from him, gently sliding my foot against his. “Get used to it.”

Redness spread across his face as I played footsie with him under the table. “Uh, ye-yeah. I’ve got a lot of new stuff to get used to, huh?”

“I do too though.” I pointed out, eating slower now. “We’re in this together.”

“For better or worse.”

“Isn’t that when you get married?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sent me a wink, making me blush. “It’s only a matter of time.”

#mha #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #kaminari x oc #kaminari/oc

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peterquillss · 3 years ago

Text

The Misadventures of Star-Lord & the Earth Girl #17

Summary: When Malia Reyes wakes in the dead of night, she finds an alien ship crashed atop her apartment building! And the “alien,’ abroad is no other then Star-Lord, retired Guardian fallen back on his more criminal lifestyle. Now with fate having thrown a man from the stars and a girl from earth together, they’ll have to survive whatever the black void of space and the marvel universe has to throw at them.

Rated: PG-13

Pairings: Peter Quill x OC

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Maybe she should've stayed on the Cruise Ship after all. Without Peter. And his damn endless supply of seventies hits. But, it was too late for that now — days having passed from the week-long event and the Milano being far off from its territory. She just had to deal with him and his rather musical mood today; regardless of their previous , "we have no money," conversation earlier on. What on earth possessed her to stay after that clear sign was beyond her. She loved him too much. Narrowing her brown eyes in his direction with resentment as the song Magic by Pilot played, Malia folded her arms over her chest and groaned loud enough to catch Peter's attention — which he ignored giving her, too immersed in his personal song and dance. Why did she fall in love with this man again?

Peter moved in sync with the music, even while limited by the confines of his seat. Malia's displeasure with his music choices wasn't something he turned out, just something that he'd grown accustomed to. She never really got too upset about it, just a weary look and a comment about his 'hippie music' here and there. Maybe it was because she knew what the music meant to him. Maybe, but Peter had other suspicions. Once in a while he'd catch her getting into a song, swaying and mouthing the words presumably so he wouldn't hear her. She'd immediately stop if she so much as suspected he was looking. He kinda wished she would just cut loose.

He'd seen her worry and get lost in thought so much in the past that seeing her just be happy in the moment and let the music be all that was on her mind made him happy for her. Not to mention it was one of those things she did that made him think he couldn't love her any more then he already did.

The song faded out, leaving Peter with a combination of satisfaction and excitement for the next track. He glanced at Malia who rolled her eyes and looked out the window at the stars. Peter chuckled, glancing at the controls. "Hey, don't worry about the money thing. We're making a stop that'll have some chances for cash. I got this." She gave him a smirk that faded after a few moments before giving a small nod.

The next track started to play and a smile crossed Peter's face. 'Stumblin' by Suzi Quatro', a favorite of his and a song he knew for a fact Malia enjoyed. He looked at Malia, putting on a look of shock. "Oh shit, Mal! It's a duet. Come on, don't leave me hanging."

"Someone has to worry," Malia huffed in response as the familiar song she would never admit she loved to him started to fill her ears. She knew that he knew some of his tracks had pierced through her modern heart, but — she pretended more often than not, like they didn't; for fun. And for the adorable face he made whenever she did. It had grown into a habit of hers. Pursing her lips into a forced line amidst the head bopping beat, she turned her face away from him before he could catch her change in expression and chewed the inside of her cheek. Maybe she did want to sing along, just a little, since it was her favorite song.

"Wherever you go, whatever you do...," As Peter directed the lyrics he sang, rather loudly, in her direction with a smile that reflected off the windshield mirror for her to see, Malia felt the corners of her mouth lift into a genuine grin of her own as he continued to belt out the rest of his part and playfully reach out for her. "You know these reckless thoughts of mine are following you."

She softly slapped his hand away, in between a giggle and allowed herself to move to the rhythm of the beat. "I've fallen for you, whatever you do," She harmonized in her part. "Cause, baby, you've shown me so many things that I never knew!"

Malia swayed to the music, extended out her hand to Peter and continued to carol her parts of the duet in glee, putting her worries behind her for the remainder of the song. She felt pleased seeing him like this with her, happy, when before it was a rare occurence to come by, knowing the undisclosed pain she knew he held. Of course, he shared sweet moments she forever would remember, the smiles and laughs he allowed himself to have. But, they were different. This was different. So, she'd cherish the moment and make it last longer.

"Our love is alive, and so we begin!" In unison, she sang along with Peter the chorus, dancing in the co-pilot seat beside him and looked in his direction to catch his loving gaze. She admired the heavenly feeling he gave her as she continued to harmonize the track, squeezing his hand. "Foolishly laying our hearts on the table, stumblin in." Malia smiled, never taking her attention from him and swayed blissfully. If singing to his music made him this happy, she'd sing with him all the time. To have her heart swell, explode in millions of butterflies that tickled her inside. What could she say? She loved him.

Peter let Malia's hand go and shook his head as the closing notes of the song began to play. It was still so weird to think that this woman who had grown to be so important to him had just wandered into his ship at random one night. He looked at her, catching the beaming smile she was giving as she watched him, unable to help smiling back. "What?"

Malia shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. "Nothing." The song ended and a few seconds later the opening notes to Queen's rendition of ' The Great Pretender' began to play. "So, where are we stopping this time?"

Peter adjusted the controls before returning his full attention to Malia. "Sakarr. Never been there myself, but it's supposed to be filled with all kinds of chances to make a little deniro."

Malia nodded, even though she had that adorable clueless look on her face. "How long?"

Peter shrugged. "Not long with these private trading routes at our disposal."

Malia shifted in her seat, pulling one of her knees up to her chest. "They are helpful. This 'Sakarr', what's it supposed to be like?"

Peter made a slight adjustment in the ship's course before answering. "Kinda tough from what I've heard, but don't worry. You've got superpowers after all."

"Yeah, I'll go in there blazing while you hide behind me and scream like a girl." Malia lifted her hands in an exaggerated gesture and laughed as the hysterical image of Peter freaking out while she kicked some random alien's butt filled her mind. It made her a bit excited over the possibility of her using her, 'gifts,' to fight and discover more about them. He being so accepting of her weird, glowy hands, had given her the confidence boost she needed over them. Her powers were no longer a pending secret she shared; it’s burden having become weightless.

Drifting her attention toward the colorful constellation in front of her, she remained silent for a few minutes, listening to Freddie Mercury’s ballad before speaking again. “If only there was a death star that needed blowing up,” She flatly chimed, remembering the fondness Peter had for the sci-fi classic. Unlike Captain America, she was certain he caught her not-so vague reference to a galaxy far, far away. After all, she was the Leia to his Han Solo. Their paired figurines on the dash of the Milano proved half of that claim, along with everything else.

“I forgot I glued those there,” Malia pointed to the small statuettes with a blissful expression painted over her face and smiled as she tried to reach out for them briefly and then relax herself back into her seat when the awkward attempt failed. Instead, she flicked her fingers, like a witch would amidst chanting a spell, and created a circular veil over the stilled dolls. “I will be Space’s Mightiest…,” She paused to think of a catchy enough alias to go with the known saying and bit her bottom lip. “Hero?” She said in the form of a question, glancing over at Peter for any suggestions.

She stared at him as another track began to play, then followed his gaze toward the shields she had placed over their figurines. “I can make them go away,” Waving her hand effortlessly in a dismissive motion, the blueish bubbles vanishing from the plastic toys. Maybe, she should’ve warned him a bit first? Malia stifled in a laugh at his lack of response, bewildered into rare silence again and leaned toward his chair. “Peter, sweetie?” She placed a hand on his arm, feeling light butterflies tickle her stomach over her first usage of a pet name and smiled playfully as she made her index and middle fingers into legs to walk along his arm. “I know where your candy is,” She whispered with an added gasp, hoping that would snap him out of his dazed state.

Peter quickly snapped his gaze from the figurines to Malia, noting the mischievous grin on her face. "Hold the phone. You mean I didn't lose it?" Malia let her hand brush his arm as she returned to her seat. "Mal? You better tell me where my candy is." Peter furrowed his brow as Malia mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key. "Oh, that's how it's gonna be then?" Malia shrugged her shoulders, a pleased smile on her face. Peter nodded, a smile of his own creeping across his face. "One of these days, when you're looking out at space, don't be surprised if you see a certain bunch of wizard related movies floating by."

That got her. Malia sat up straight, her eyes widening a bit. "You wouldn't."

Peter gave a small shrug. "A man does crazy things when he doesn't get candy, Mal. I may not be able to stop myself."

Malia sat back in her seat with a huff. "Your precious candy is under the cushion of the bench."

Peter smirked. "Alright. Crisis averted."

Malia glanced at him and smiled. "You're booze on the other hand..."

Peter threw up his brow. "Oh, that's even worse. Not sure what'll happen if I get sober all at once."

Malia slapped both of her hands over the sides of her face in a dramatized expression of shock and turned her attention toward Peter. "I don't know. Maybe, you'll clean your room?" She suggested with widened brown eyes for emphasis. Over their six month course on the Milano she'd cleaned his room about twice, opting the third time to leave his pigpen alone for him to roll over in. It wasn’t dirty in terms of trash laying around, but rather an accumulation of scattered clothes, unmentionables, and candy wrappers. She was lucky he at least showered.

“By the way, I found something the other day.” While she was on the subject of cleaning, she remembered the disc she found in one of the guest bedrooms. “I know I shouldn’t really go into those rooms…,” She admitted as she unbuckled the safety-straps from her torso and carefully walked toward the back of the flight deck. “But, I was looking for some tape and found it in one of the bins, tucked away.” Malia rummaged through the knapsack she usually left hanging near the ship’s blasters and retrieved the circular-like chip Tochi told her was actually a video.

Unhooking one of the pads from the armrest of an empty chair, she inserted the micro disk into its side and made her way back to her seat, trying to contain her excitement over the footage she had already seen of him and his team the night before. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him over it. Like where had they all gone? It was clear as day to her they were no longer together or in contact, but why? She paused in her train of thought, hoping what she was about to show him didn’t count as crossing the line with her overzealous curiosity.

“It’s some old footage,” Malia looked up at Peter once the video loaded on the pocket sized computer in her hand and smiled sheepishly as his blue eyes wandered onto the pad itself. She studied his muddled expression, her hand blocking him from seeing the screen and gave him an affectionate gaze, before hitting the play button. “It’s you and the Guardians…,” She mumbled, the sounds of the captured battle he at the time led, shouting out orders being displayed. He was nothing like the man she knew. “Look at you!” She beamed, smiling from ear to ear.

She averted her eyes from his face to look down at the moving images on the pad she held up for him, pointed at his figure on the screen and took in the footage with him. Besides the clip of The Guardians of the Galaxy, there were more mashed up tidbits recorded that she loved. “The cameraman is awful at his job,” Giggling over the shaky shots and the very angry Raccoon who scolded someone named, “Groot,” Malia returned her attention back to Peter. Her gleeful smile slowly wavered from her lips when she caught sight of his somber expression. “Peter?”

Peter had heard Malia say something, but it hadn't registered. Nothing she'd said after the footage started had his full attention on that. Everything else around him felt like it'd been drained of its warmth and color as the old footage pulled him deeper in. Thoughts and feelings he'd tried for so long to keep buried bubbled to the surface. There was a reason he'd cleared the ship of almost every trace of his old teammates, and this was it. Because thinking of them meant thinking of when they left, and thinking of that meant thinking of why.

He was far into thinking that as the footage switched to a more candid moment of the team together. Peter felt sick as he recognized the location and knew it was just hours before his greatest failure. Just hours before and he'd had everything. His team, his family. He'd finally grown into more of the leader he tried so hard to be. He'd been happy. A few hours later he'd destroyed it all. Everything he'd done and gone through that day was still so fresh in his mind that sometimes it still felt like he was living it. He was living it now as the feeling of utter devastation he'd felt ever since came to the forefront.

He furrowed his brow, anger mixing in with the sadness, all of it directed at himself. He and his team continued to laugh as they made their way around the streets, oblivious to the coming event that would tear them apart. Peter was stuck in that event as he sat frozen in place, all of it written on his face plain as day as he stared at the screen.The fear, confusion, sadness, hatred, hopelessness, all of it felt like it was pushing to burst out of him. He tried to at least hold it together on the outside, having never much cared for feeling vulnerable. It was a battle he was quickly losing.

The camera turned and Peter saw himself at the front of the group, closely followed by a kid who'd taken a liking to him and the others. Her face and voice was forever scorched into Peter's mind as they both embodied everything that's happened that day. She was the last thing he could handle seeing. Peter broke his eyes away from the screen and set them forward on the stars. "Turn it off.

“Okay.” Malia lowered the pad from his line of view and turned off the electronic device without saying another word. She deeply regretted her decision over the footage and remained silent, knowing their lighthearted mood had drastically shifted into something she wanted to avoid. Something she expected yet, wished would’ve gone a different way. The subject over his team was indeed the puzzle piece she connected to the undisclosed pain she knew he felt. It was apparent by the waves of emotions she witnessed his face have in the span of the video.

Biting her lower lip, she squeezed the sides of the tablet gently, at a loss as the crippling silence started to take hold over her. ‘Should she excuse herself and leave?’ She thought to herself, unsure of the proper action to take. She wanted him to face whatever it was he desperately was trying to run away from. “Peter?” Malia turned her attention toward him, having kept her eyes trained on the dashboard for the long minutes that passed, and exhaled a deep breath in response to his stillness. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself…,” She flatly stated. “I won’t let you.”

She carefully moved the pad off her lap to twist her body into a more comfortable position and leaned as much as her seat restraints could allow her over to him, reaching out for his arm. “I know I’ve told you plenty of times you don’t have to tell me anything, but,” She paused to flick on the autopilot option of the Milano and continued in a stern tone. “It’s okay to talk about things and let them out.” That’s all she wanted, hating seeing him like this. She unbuckled her seatbelt with a desolate smile and stood beside his chair, hoping some of her words broke through. “And please don’t tell me you're okay cause I know you're not.”

Peter took a deep breath, letting her words sink in while the contents of the footage still swirled in his mind. He wasn't surprised that Mal had taken note of all of this. She was perceptive, it was one of the things he admired in her. A part of him really did want to tell her, let it out, but a bigger part was scared of how she'd take it. His hand wandered over his pocket, the picture he'd kept with him since that day coming to mind. Telling her would mean facing all that again. "Nothing gets by you, huh?"

He let the statement lighten the mood for the brief moment it did before the heaviness returned. He wasn't sure he could talk about it, but he owed Mal something more than silence. Peter took another deep breath, trying to keep the emotions out of his voice. "My team." The words hung in the air for a few moments before he continued. "We broke up about a year before I met you." His mind again wandered to the 'why', but he tried to ignore it. "It was bad, really bad." He slid a hand into his pocket, touching the picture housed there. It hurt him just knowing it was there despite his avoidance to look at it, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Maybe he should just tell her. It couldn't feel worse than this, right? He gingerly grasped the polaroid, keeping his eyes trained on the stars ahead. "It was my fault, all of it."

Malia let out a heavy sigh as his unexpected words sunk into her head and laid there. Particularly, the — 'all my fault,' part of his somber statement. She was unsure of how to take it. She could never imagine Peter doing anything spiteful on purpose to anyone or his team. He didn't have it in him. "I'm sure you tried your best." Gingerly touching the back of his metal chair, she leaned herself a little closer to him and hovered over his form with a soft expression. "Even if it was all your fault," She added cautiously. "Some bad things happen so we can learn from them sometimes." Malia ran her hand over his hair, before sitting herself on his lap. He had told her what he was willing to disclose, which was a lot to her, even if it was another puzzle piece to fit in.

"And, you can't learn from Peter if you're still stuck in that place." Lifting her brown eyes up to him, she gave him a heartfelt smile and grabbed the sides of his face playfully. "I told you I was going to need a reward for putting up with you," She chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood she felt was enough for the start of their day. There wasn't anything, but one part she hadn't already assumed over the absence of his team. The rest, the full story without any carefully placed words she would have to chisel slowly away for and wait or hope all the words she said helped him find his way. Pecking him on the lips, she wrapped one of his arms around her waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "Let's stay like this for a while, okay?" She mumbled, wanting to give him comfort.

Peter let go of the photograph in his pocket, taking the arm and wrapping it around Malia. He held her as tightly as he could without causing her discomfort. A deep sigh escaped him as the weight of the topic began to dissipate. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

He'd let the topic go as best he could for now, but it was never fully gone. There was more that he felt needed said, but he wasn't sure he was ready. He knew Mal would try and understand and help, but he wasn't sure if it was something that could be helped. If she were to know and look at him differently for it, he knew it'd kill him. But, she deserved to know, and so he'd try and tell her. He didn't know when, but he'd try. He'd just have to deal with whatever came of it.

There was one thing she'd said that he disagreed with though. He had learned from the whole mess. He'd learned that he had never been the hero he thought he was, and that he likely never would be at all.

The cargo bay door lowered and Peter was immediately hit with the stench of garbage. They'd touched down in a landing bay on the outskirts of a city once they reached Sakarr Beings dressed like vagabonds hustled about, none really noting Peter and Mal's arrival. Malia joined him at his side, having changed into the usual garb of her space suit and his jacket. She'd claimed his only spare jacket as hers after his had been shredded during a tangle with that symbiote. This left Peter with just his trench coat for trips away from the Milano.

Malia wrinkled her nose as she took in the trashy landscape. "It's no Contraxia."

Peter drew his attention up from her outfit when she spoke. "No it is not."

Malia glanced at him, no doubt noticing the very conscious effort he was making to not constantly gawk at her in her outfit. "Every time I wear it, huh?"

Peter smiled, looking back out at the planet. "I'm not apologizing." He wasn't completely sure where to start, having only heard scattered facts about the planet. There was an arena, he knew that . Maybe they could get some units and bet on some matches. Their best bet would probably be to hit a bar and ask around. Someplace not too good looking, so that it would have more locals than travellers. Peter instinctively held out his arm for Malia to take, it having become a habit. "Let's go."

“Yeah.” Malia shifted her attention from the junkyard scenery around her and looped her small arms around Peter’s forearm for their stroll along the cluttered outskirts of Sakaar. For a planet built on assorted scraps of metal, 'it sure was colorful,’ she noted as she continued to take in the new environment and keep an eye out for possible job opportunities. With their need for money, or units as space currency was called, any doable task was up for grabs in her mind. If only she knew how to read the alien calligraphy written on some signs to help narrow them down.

Peter could with the implanted translators in his neck, but she avoided asking him once a daunting thought hit her. What if they weren’t ‘help wanted,’ signs after all? Drifting her brown eyes along the plethora of merchants up ahead, Malia unhooked one of her arms to point at one masked seller and their stand. “Are those cookies?” She wondered out loud, pulling Peter toward the vendor without hesitation. There weren’t many space cuisines she enjoyed eating, let alone snacks like he had, so part of her wanted to find something she liked.

“Can we taste them? Like, have a sample.” She looked over the selection of baked goods that were wrapped in vibrant plastic bags and sheepishly smiled up at the merchant, unable to see their facial expression hidden behind the steampunk visor they wore. “Um…,” She pulled Peter softly by the sleeve of his coat, feeling a bit self conscious and took a step back away from the stand — deciding on which bag of mixed pastries she would take. In the case the merchant said no to her sampling, she’d go on a wim and pick one that looked good enough.

“That one kinda looks like it’s fudge, right?” Pointing cautiously at one of the rosy colored bags near the far end of the table, Malia lifted her gaze up to Peter who seemed to be pondering a choice of his own and snorted. “Oh no!” She playfully wagged a finger in front of his face. “You're not getting any cookies. These are for me. Not you.” She chuckled. As if his candy diet wasn’t bad enough, he now wanted to add more sweets to its mix. “Do you want your baby muscles to turn into chubby ones?” She asked with an amused grin. “We’re going to have to get you an ab-roller then.”

Peter scoffed at the comment, taking a step back from Mal. "I'll have you know that the side of me that isn't you makes sure that this," He gestured towards his torso in a sweeping motion. "isn't going anywhere." Peter gave a flirtatious smile, throwing up his brow. "Lucky you."

Malia shook her head, her eyes wandering around the market. "Oh, I'm a lucky girl. Picking up candy wrappers all over the place."

Peter reached into his pocket, feeling around for some units. They were low, but food Mal liked was a rarity. Besides, they were going to make some more soon, hopefully. He pointed out a bag of pastries and handed over the units. "Nobody asked you to clean up."

Mal watched the bag as Peter took it. "Somebody has to, Star-Lard."

Peter paused, his mouth dropping open slightly at the jab. "You know what? These were for you, and now they're not. Think about that next time you wanna be hurtful."

Malia watched as the bag disappeared into his satchel. "Oh, come on. Don't be a baby."

Peter shook his head, looking at Mal. "Nope. Not gonna..." He caught her eyes as she innocently looked at him, and immediately averted the gaze by looking just above them. "Not happening."

"Please?” Malia drew herself closer to Peter and pushed her lips forward into a persuasive pout as she placed both her hands over his chest and batted her eyelashes at him. "I'll give you one of my cookies and a kiss?" She offered, inching her face closer to his to tease the intimate action he loved to engage in with her. It was his sort of kryptonite, or maybe she was? His sort of ultimate weakness. She smiled at the comic book thought and continued her childish pleas for her kidnapped goods. “You know you want to give me my cookies back so, give em.”

Peter kept his eyes straight ahead, debating his commitment to withholding the cookies. "What kind of kiss are we talking about?"

Malia shrugged. "Why? Do you have a preference?"

Peter threw up his brow, thinking back over the few times they'd shared a kiss in the past... two days? They'd only been together two days? Still felt so weird, but completely normal too. He paused on a thought, giving Malia a small smile. "One like that time on Kalara's rig. When we were in the hall."

Malia laughed, dropping her head a bit, but keeping her eyes on his. "You liked that one, huh?"

Peter gave an enthusiastic nod. "I did."

Malia straightened up, holding out her hand to Peter. "Alright. It's a deal."

Peter nodded, shaking the outstretched hand and holding out the bag in the other. "Alright."

Malia took the bag, giving Peter a wink before walking off. "You should've specified 'when'."

Peter watched her move ahead of him, a bit dumbstruck by the con she'd just pulled. After a few seconds a chuckle escaped him. " My God, I love you."

He started after her, remembering she didn't know anymore where they were going then he did. His eyes scanned the outside of the market, looking for a bar or something like it. He finally caught sight of a dingy looking entrance way with no windows. The sign above was mostly destroyed from what looked like an explosion, judging by the scorch marks. Really the only indication that the place was a bar came from the vagabond passed out on the ground in front of it surrounded by bottles. He tapped Mal on the shoulder and gestured towards the place. "Come on. We'll see about finding a lead there."

Malia nodded her head in response and followed Peter into the unkempt tavern, opening her vibrant bag of cookies in anticipation. "Do you want one?" She asked in a hushed tone as the disreputable environment of the bar settled itself around them and caused her to rethink her premature offer. "Nevermind...," She placed the plastic bag inside his satchel, not wanting to draw any attention and pulled on the flaps of her oversized jacket. ‘What kind of lead were they looking for exactly?’ She wondered. The place seemed to be crawling with so many questionable options already. None which she was too enthusiastic to comb over.

“Why can't we get jobs like normal people?” Malia drifted her brown eyes over the bustling crowd of colorful Sakaarans, going about their business, drinking and briefly touched Peter’s arm once one of the patrons suspiciously eyed them from across the room. That was enough motivation for her to move herself along and avoid ever going in that particular direction. She didn’t want to be mysteriously taken and auctioned off somewhere. Space was a dangerous place ,she learned, the public establishments only adding to it’s laundry list of things to be mindful of. They were like minefields to her, filled with countless booby-traps.

Looking over at Peter, who had shuffled his way toward the bar counter, Malia squeezed herself beside him and the very large individual sitting beside him. “You better be asking the bartender for a lead and not a drink,” She folded her arms as best she could over her chest and glared in his direction. “I don’t care what you say about your genes keeping this,” She moved one of her hands in a circular motion over his figure. “—together. Alcohol makes your human side get fat.” She expressed, not really knowing if her statement held any merit at all. Peter was indeed half-human, right? So, that meant something, she assumed.

“We’re going to get you that ab-roller and , oh, start doing yoga! It’ll be fun.” Malia lifted both of her hands excitedly at the idea of helping him get back into shape, or rather toned up a bit and started to list off the various activities he’d have to do and foods he’d have to cut, like the alcohol and his candy, forgetting about their task at hand. “Oh my god, we’ll even wear matching workout clothes. I’m sure we can find those somewhere. Aren’t you excited?” She gave him a gentle push, accidentally bumping into the customer behind her and quickly apologized, before bringing a smile to her face. “I’ll be like Jane Fonda.”

Peter had had a comeback in mind, but Malia's last statement had sent his mind wandering to Jane Fonda's wardrobe in Barbarella. This inevitably led to him imagining Malia in a spacey bikini of her own, an image he knew wasn't going away anytime soon. Malia shoved his arm, snapping him back to the situation at hand. "Hey? I said, ``What kind of lead?"

Peter shrugged as he turned around to face the room. "You know, odd jobs. Anything that would net us some cash. We just have to ask around." He scanned the room, not knowing where to start. "Just gotta ask around."

Malia grabbed his hand and pointed across the room. "What about them?"

Peter let his eyes roam over the group Malia had pointed out, shaking his head. "Not quite shady enough. We need at least kinda shady, but not completely shady."

Malia gave him a light pat on the arm. "So, you? "

Peter considered the words for a moment before nodding. "Pretty much." His eyes continued to wander around the room, stopping when he thought he saw a familiar face. He focused on the dark corner of the bar, hoping he'd been mistaken. The woman moved slightly, enough for the light to hit her blue face and reflect off the cybernetic eye. Peter tightened his grip on Malia's hand, immediately turning towards the door. "Time to go."

"But, what about the leads?" Malia looked over her shoulder in the direction Peter had stared off to and caught sight of the scowling woman she assumed caused his sudden panic and change in tune. “Who…,” She blinked at the cybernetic individual, receiving a glared response in return as she did and turned her head away, the crowded streets of Sakaar coming back into view. "Frenemy?" She asked once the tavern was far from their line of sight, surprisingly not considering the blue colored woman an ex of his. She just didn’t look like one.

Her cybernetic death glare made her believe she was a friend or frenemy like she mentioned. There was a look of familiarity there, not filled with too much animosity she might add. “You know, a person who's sorta a friend, but also kinda an enemy too?” She felt inclined to explain, digging into the back of Peter Satchel for her cookies while they followed a sea of residents down the street. “She looked like an assassin.” Malia took a small pause after her statement to bite into the cookie she held in her hand and smiled, savoring it’s taste.

“It is chocolate!” She beamed. “Or something like it?” She added, pleased to have found a snack she could finally ask for at the market. She ran her finger across the plastic’s label, curious of its name and hummed at the alien writing, slightly annoyed she was met with the usual language barrier. “I feel like a handicap person,” She groaned, before handing the bag over to Peter. She didn’t want creepy implanted translators. “Read this, please.” She asked, catching sight of a growing line not too far from them. ‘That seemed shady enough,’ she thought to herself.

Peter glanced at the bag for a moment and sighed. "You know the translator only works with talking, right?"

Malia furrowed her brow as he handed the cookies back to her. "What?"

Peter nodded, eyeing the gathering crowd. "Yeah. I use my helmet for reading alien stuff, but the translator makes me able to understand and communicate in any language."

Malia continued to stare at him, wearing the adorably perplexed look she often had when encountering new things. "How?"

Peter shrugged, having long since accepted it as normal. "Not sure. Brainwaves and such. I might not even know English anymore, but with the implant it's what you hear from me."

Malia glanced down, absorbing all the new information. "Space is weird."

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, it can be. Maybe you should get one? An implant, I mean. Just in case you run across an alien who doesn't if I'm not around."

Malia shook her head, covering her neck with her hand. "No way."

Peter looked over his shoulder, just to be sure Nebula hadn't followed him. 'Frenemy ' was what Mal had described her as, and Peter kind of agreed. Nebula always seemed to dislike him, but not outright hate him. There'd been a time or two where they'd even had a friendly enough conversation. Like that time he'd tried to get her and Gamora to make up. Peter sighed as he thought of his old teammate and looked back at Malia. "Looked like an assassin, huh?"

Malia shrugged. "She did."

Peter started towards the gathering crowd, deciding to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe there'd be a lead in there somewhere. He glanced back at Malia, feeling like he'd dropped the Nebula thing a bit too abruptly. "She's not a very good assassin if you picked her out that quickly."

Malia gave a small laugh. "All those mystery shows came in handy."

Peter held out his arm for her to take as they entered the crowd. "Seriously though. That's exactly what she is and she's grumpy, so I don't recommend saying 'hi'."

"Well, if she pops up and tries to kill you, I'll be sure to remember that." Malia let out a slight laugh with her response and wrapped her arms around his forearm again, drifting her attention toward the bustling crowd up ahead. "You know what this kinda reminds me of?" She asked as she took in the various Sakaarians in line ahead of them and smiled at the recent memory that filled her head. "When we waited for the lift in the garden," She clarified, looking up at him with a brief sentimental look of nostalgia. It was strange, how two whole days felt ancient.

Not too long ago, they were aboard a cruise ship, before then trying to figure out what their feelings meant for them going forward. And now? They just were, everything prior to that seeming like a year had gone and went, when merely days had passed. She squeezed Peter’s arm softly as she drew her thoughts back to the present and held up a finger when she recalled their deal. “I almost forgot,” She admitted, unhooking one of her arms from his to retrieve a cookie from her coat pocket. “Since you’ll be going on a diet, here you go.”

Handing him one of her baked goods, Malia playfully stuck out her tongue as he took a bite of his cookie, grumbling something incoherent she couldn’t quite make out between chews. She figured it was about her diet comment and wrinkled her nose with a funny expression, then moved along the line, before turning to Peter confused. “Why are we in line? And for what exactly? What if this is leading us to be sold for parts?” She started to think of a dozen possibilities for the growing line they were in and tried to peer over the sea of heads with the help of her own feet.

She stood on her toes, using Peter for balance and craned her neck out in hopes of spotting any clues as to what the line was actually for. “There's a ticket booth…,” She announced, seeing the customers near an entrance of sorts, stop at the worn out structure near it. A crooked sign hung up above it with a drawing of an object she couldn’t put into detail. From their distance it looked like a misshapen vehicle. “I think this line is for a race?” Moaning a bit over her sprained toes, Malia snaked her arms around Peter’s neck and giggled as she let her feet lay normally on the ground again.

‘She should make him carry her,’ She thought to herself, leaning her head on his shoulders and maneuvering her hands back around his forearm. She closed her brown eyes for a minute or two amidst the alien chatter about her and spoke once the line started to move forward again. “Before, when we were in Karla's closet, why did you ask when we were going to kiss again?” She wondered. “You do know, and I know you know, that you can just kiss me whenever, right?” She added, curious to know his answer. Sometimes she felt a little self conscious putting the moves on the Legendary Star Lord.

Peter had to think to recall his flirtatious question from that night, and then think even harder to give a suitable answer to Malia's question. That whole night was really just a jumbled mess of happy memories in his head, so focusing on one thing he barely remembered saying was a task, let alone why he'd said it. He couldn't help but chuckle at the expectant look Mal was giving him over her out of the blue inquiry. "Geez, Mal. Way to put me on the spot." Peter cocked his head, piecing his reply together. "I guess I was just still adjusting to the fact that we were a thing. I'd wanted that for so long that when it happened I could barely wrap my head around it."

Peter moved forward as the line progressed, making sure Mal stayed with him so as not to lose her in the crowd. "There was so much I felt like I needed to and wanted to say to make up for all that time I hadn't said anything. But, I couldn't get any of those thoughts straight, so I just asked you that." Peter caught her eyes and gave her a small smile. "Still feels like there's a lot I should tell you." He racked his brain, trying to grab one of those restless thoughts he'd mentioned. Of course, the first to come up was embarrassing, but he figured he'd share it anyway. "Way back when I was taking you back to earth and thought you were staying there, I used to get drunk and listen to crappy love songs while thinking about you. This one time I actually made-'' Peter cut himself off, remembering the long lost and forgotten mixtape he'd made her during one such drunken stupor. He shook his head, deciding to save that embarrassing story for another time. "Nevermind."

Malia lifted her head up to Peter and raised the corners of her mouth into a smile with a look of realization settling across her face. She remembered the said tape, tucked away in her underwear drawer. 'So, that's what it was,' She quietly confirmed to herself as the line advanced forward, causing her to take a momentary pause. He was thinking of her even way back then? Like she was. Holding her gaze forward while she savored the heartwarming thought, she continued to grin, feeling the light flutter of her stomach. "You, Peter Quill," She gushed amidst the unexpected chatter of the crowd, "are a certified dork."

Turning her attention once more toward him with an expression of glee, Malia tapped the side of his face with her lips and stared at him. She found it strange how much she wanted to say, 'I love you,' with each passing conversation and cover his face with kisses whenever she could. To make up for lost time, for the many occasions she in the past wanted to show him her genuine affection. "My Space man, or better yet, my Star-Lord?" She suggested, taking in his adorable expression of bewilderment with the smile that never left her. She liked the sound of that. Her Star-Lord. As she opened her mouth to speak, an abrupt bang shifted her attention over to the line.

"I said, fifty units, each." Marked with an irritated scowl plastered across his tainted yellow skin, sat the ticket master in his booth, awaiting his pay. He lowered the metal pipe he held from the barred window and leaned forward in his chair. "Or are you two just here to give us a show?" He grudgingly asked, maneuvering his red eyes over them to his customers behind, who seemed just as agitated when Malia glanced in their direction. ‘Since when had they gotten to the front of the line?’ She wondered in a daze as she sheepishly bowed her head toward the crowd and approached the window alongside Peter. “Sorry,” She mumbled.

“Fifty units, each, people,” The ticketer repeated, ignoring her apology. He pointed a finger at the both of them, pretending to be a clock and locked eyes with Peter as he dug around his pocket for the payment and practically slammed the coins against the booth’s small window desk once found. “Thank you! NEXT.” Dispensing two casino styled tokens from a hatch that opened beneath the barred glass, Malia quickly scooped up the metal and shuffled herself forward. “What a douche,” She blurted out, moving the ripped curtains out of the way as she walked down the entrance. And she thought New York was riddled with mannerless pricks. She hadn’t met not one nice alien yet.

Peter nodded in agreement with Malia's assessment of the alien running the ticket booth. His mind soon wandered to the miniscule amount of units he had left. What was on him was all they had. He glanced at the chip in his hand, turning it over. A race, huh? Maybe he could place a bet or two. He looked up as the crowd dispersed to makeshift stands built from what looked to be scrap metal. Ahead of them some floating wrecks of vehicles hovered above the cracked stone of the ground. "I think we found that shadiness we needed. "

Malia nodded as she leaned closer to him to allow a large alien to lumber past. "This looks like Mad Max... or that Death Race movie. You know, with..." Her voice trailed off as she continued to take in their decrepit surroundings. "You know, I kinda forget just how not normal my life is most of the time. But then at times like these it really just hits me," She looked up at Peter, an amused smile across her face. "I'm not in Kansas anymore."

Peter threw up his brow, actually recognizing one of her references for a change. "No, you're a far cry from your kind of normal. You miss it?"

Malia wrinkled her nose. "Not for a second." She once again turned her attention to the area around them. " So, what's the plan? "

Peter furrowed his brow as he scanned the crowd. "Look for leads on work, place a careful bet or two. We only need enough units to restock on food for now... unless we see something fun to buy, obviously. " He glanced at Malia, a thought crossing his mind. All the times he'd called her his partner without ever really showing her he believed in her. That'd been a shift between them he was still adjusting to, having been more or less her protector for so long. She'd asked him a few times to trust her more to help, and this seemed like a good time to show her he did. Peter reached into his pocket, pulling out half of their remaining units and holding them out to Malia. "Here. We'll find something quicker if we split up. You have a communicator, right?"

“Yes,” Malia dug inside her pocket to retrieve the earpiece Peter mentioned and gingerly placed it behind her ear with a firm nod as the crescent shaped metal beeped in confirmation. She trickled half of the units he held out for her in its place and patted the leather area to hear the coins. “Um,” She paused to look up at him in thought over what to say and pointed to her communicator when only the obvious was left. “If anything goes wrong, let me know.” She advised, remembering the time when she saved him from the Nova Cell.

“Or don’t,” She added with a playful chuckle, “So, I have enough time to run away.”

She leaned herself into him for a bit, placing her hands above his chest and kissed his cheek for personal good luck. Giving him a soft push forward afterward, Malia turned on her heels and randomly picked a direction while she stood next him. “I’m going to go that way,” She pointed to the left section of the stadium-esque arena and started to tread in the decided direction with exaggerated confidence. Midway, she glanced over her shoulder and winked at Peter, before blending in with the passing crowd, a smile forming on her lips.

‘Place a bet, make a killing, not literally — and earn some money.’ That was their goal, one she hoped was smoothly accomplished. But, judging by the brow-raising citizens of Saakar around the race track, that could prove to be a bit difficult. So, she had to…? Test the murky alien waters. Drifting her brown eyes over the various groups of sellers, gamblers and vagabonds that roamed the metal assorted stadium, Malia pulled her hair into a high ponytail, catching the unexpected attention of a man wearing a bandana.

He stared at her from the herd of individuals he was part of, a white furred woman and cybernetic looking man, with a suggestive smirk placed across his moustached lips. It alone sent a shiver down her spine as the strip of hair above his mouth reminded her of Peter’s short-lived stache-lord persona. 'What was with this Tom Selleck facial hair infatuation?’ She wondered, not fully understanding the craze. She furrowed her brows once she noticed the stranger’s continued gaze and cautiously slipped her hands inside her pockets.

As he approached her, going in the opposite direction, she gripped the handle of her engraved barbecue fork, grateful she brought it along. She never did leave the Milano without it, the gift sort of becoming an odd weapon of choice of hers. She knew a two pointed piece of cutlery couldn’t lethally harm anyone, but it'd injure them at least. Shifting herself closer to one side as his figure drew closer to pass, Malia looked directly into his eyes and pursed her lips into a tight line. She furrowed her brows downward then narrowed her own eyes.

There was just something about this guy she didn’t quite like. His whole aura gave off too many shady vibes. And not the kind her and Peter were looking for. More of the ones you stay away from. Once he came to pass, his smirk changed to a small smile at the suspicious expression she held for him to catch, turning his head forward with an amused laugh. ‘What's so funny?’ She threw him a daggered glare as he slowly blended himself within a mixed crowd, making her come to a stop. He was heading in Peter’s direction.

Touching the back of her ear to activate her communicator, Malia continued her stalled walk and puffed up her cheeks for a minute, before releasing the air in them. Whoever that stranger was irked her. It was like he knew what she was up to by the way he looked at her. “Peter?” She called out, careful not to draw too much attention to herself. “There’s a real shady guy heading your way. Has a bandana on.” She expressed, hoping he heard her amidst the roaring noise of the ongoing race and attendees around her. She at least had to warn him. Especially with the gut wrenching feeling she felt.

Peter put a finger in one ear and cupped a hand over the other. "I didn't quite catch that, babe. What did you say?" He shot an annoyed look at the noisy crowd and even noisier race before making his way to an isolated corner. "Hey, can you hear me?" Peter tapped his communicator a few times for good measure, somewhat regretting his choice to show Mal his confidence in her. His eyes scanned the crowd in the direction she'd walked off in, trying to at least catch a glimpse of her. Hopefully the communicators were in working order and it was just the noise. Maybe she'd gotten distracted? That wasn't unusual for her. Peter tried to think of something that would get her attention if that was the case. "Hey, Mal. You remember that time when you were in that vent and I touched your butt by accident? Not an accident. "

There was a few seconds of silence before Mal's voice answered. "What? I could barely hear you."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief before letting out a chuckle. "Nothing important. I'll tell you later."

Malia grunted on the other end before letting out a soft curse. "Okay, but did you catch what I said about the shady looking guy headed your way? Something didn't feel right about him, Peter."

Peter glanced around momentarily, not really sure what he was looking for. "Gonna need some more details then 'shady looking', babe. Everyone here fits that bill."

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is that the legendary Star-Lord?"

Peter paused as the unfamiliar voice behind him practically sang the question. He turned around to look at the man before him. The man's shoulder length black hair was tied up in a ratty looking blue bandana. He wore a red jumpsuit with various pouches and other such items strapped about here and there. On one hip he had a blaster, and in the other was, bafflingly, a cutlass. "Mal, I'll talk to you in a minute." Peter lowered his finger from his ear, keeping his eyes on the man's own and not his enviable mustache. "Depends on who's asking."

The man raised his brow, a smirk crossing his face. "I'm Corsair."

Peter threw up his brow as he recognized the name. "Corsair? The pirate?"

Corsair nodded, obviously pleased with the recognition. "The very same. What brings an outlaw such as yourself to Sakarr, Star-Lord?"

Peter didn't want to give this guy much information. He was, after all, a pirate. Peter knew better than to trust anyone that shared a line of work similar to his own. Corsair studied Peter with a close eye that made Peter uncomfortable. It felt like he was being sized up. Peter gave a nonchalant shrug. "Just a quick stop. No real reason."

Corsair nodded, looking around at the crowd. "Well, you picked a pretty dangerous place to stop considering your wanted status." The privateer locked eyes with Peter on that last word, narrowing him just a bit. "Somebody might just wanna grab that reward."

Peter's hand instinctively moved to hover above his blaster. While he was willing to do it, he didn't want to kill this guy and throw the place into chaos with Malia still in the crowd somewhere. She could handle herself, but finding her and getting away may prove difficult after. "Listen, Cap'n, I'd rather not do this."

Corsair held his arms open. "Go ahead. It'll make things more fun. But, don't forget that unlike you..." Some motion behind Peter drew his attention for just a moment. It was only long enough to note the two armed individuals that stood behind Peter on either side of him. Peter returned his attention to Corsair, his heart rate quickening in the familiar way it did before a fight. "I still have a team."

#peter quill #peter quill fanfiction #starlord #gotg #star-lord #guardians of the galaxy #marvel #misadventures #the misadventures of starlord and the earth girl

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spacecadetcity · 4 years ago

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is it gay to call a robot gorgeous? please respond.

word count: 2,167 prompt: #33. docs: (may be easier to read). sunny (oc)/sunstreaker

if sunny went back in time to about a year and a half ago and told himself that she was going to not only meet the giant robots he insisted existed, but that he would move in with them, and then also fall in love with one, his past self would not only believe him, but would also possibly explode.

“..which would of course start off a chain reaction of paradoxes- paradoxes? paradoxi? a chain reaction that would cause an endless loop where because i go back in time, past me explodes, which means that i don’t go back in time to tell myself, which means that i don’t explode, which means…”

“hey, sunstreaker. think your human broke. it just started rambling to itself.” a metallic voice called out, snapping sunny from his self-created trance. of course. he stared over at the bot that had spoken up, trying to recall the name.

red face, white helm- two little wings that poked out over his shoulders and helped increase speed in vehicle mode, mostly blue and gray. tracks?

“not my human, tracks. besides, you’re one to speak. how about that kid, raoul?” was the given response.

tracks huffed, “what, and let him waste his mechanical talents elsewhere? if the kid wants a mentor, i should say i am the best suited.” tracks stormed out of the rec room, and sunny snickered.

“what were you mumbling about anyway? more nonsense?” sunstreaker walked over to the counter where sunny stood, holding a hand out for the human to step on. sunny sat on the hand for a moment, taking care to toss her sneakers off and dump them in the backpack he carried around. the golden mech was notoriously picky about his appearance, and it had taken sunny less than a day to figure out the quickest way to gain sunstreakers favor was to make sure he would never dirty the bot.

she swapped his socks as well, and then carefully stood on the hand with fresh socks. he was rewarded with a small smile- just a quirk upwards, really- and sunny beamed.

“thinking about the eternal paradox that i’m guessing i escaped. where are we going?” sunny held on to a digit with one hand to keep his balance as the autobot left the room and headed down one of the halls. the other hand held tight to his red ‘visor’, special glasses that he never went without.

“outside. i’ve got no duties, and there was…” sunstreaker continued speaking, but sunny’s mind drifted as they made their way through the halls. though he had questioned the yellow-orange color for the ship originally, sunny found that it often reflected onto the bots paint. for sunstreaker, it turned his already beautiful golden-yellow paint into a metal sunset of orange and yellow.

a finger poked her in his side, breaking him of her thoughts.

“hey. sunstreaker to sunny. did you hear anything i said?”

sunny gazed up at the mech with a sheepish look on her face, “sorry. was thinking about how pretty it is when the orange reflects off your paint.”

sunstreaker stared at her for a few moments before starting to walk again, a low whirring in the background. it took a few minutes for sunny to realize that it was the mechs’ fans, and that he wasn’t walking just because he wanted to get out faster. sunny, a simple human, had flustered sunstreaker. an autobot. the prettiest autobot, though tracks would grumble and beg to differ.

quickly, sunny fished his phone from one of his pant pockets and opened the browser app up. she scrolled through the open tabs quickly until he found what he was looking for, quickly typing a message up and posting it before putting her phone away. they were almost outside, sunstreaker having stopped by the door to have a quick conversation with the night guard.

white-green face, green helm, had a big missile on the side, pretty sure he was a jeep. hound, sunny mused to himself, pretty sure this one was hound. he was distracted from their conversation by the buzzing of his phone. the notification was from the post he had made earlier, and he eagerly opened it back up.

>aliens dm me asked in cars & transportation 10 minutes ago:

is it gay to look at a giant robot walking in the halls of an orange ship and think that it's gorgeous how the orange reflects onto his yellow paint and becomes a moving sunset or..

>rt.66bossdriver replied 1 minute ago:

this is a thread about car paint jobs, please stop posting here. this is the fifth time. we will ban you next time.

sunny frowned, leaving a thumbs down on the answer and opened a messaging app instead. it opened into one of his most visited chat groups, but she spent no time in it, instead choosing to close it and scroll through his few direct contacts until he came across the one he wanted.

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:32 am

york my fucking heart is broken

york they’re going to ban me from the forum if i ask about being gay again :(

newnewyorkyork is typing…

newnewyorkyork today at 12:33 am

bro that is supremely unsexy. i will thumb down them. sending u bro kisses

sunnybunnyhoney is typing…

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:33 am

:pleading_face:

york i am asking skyfire to pick you up so we can double date

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:34 am

sunstreaker has a twin :flushed:

this base is full of single bots i promise you there is at least one dilf

there’s also a jeep who is a total nice dude in like

the cute college nature frat boy way

newnewyorkyork is typing…

newnewyorkyork today at 12:36 am

:flushed: :flushed:

love how u knew i would be up at three am <3 <3 <3

sunnybunnyhoney is typing…

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:337am

bold of you to think i know time zones <3 <3 <3

oh fuck my beautiful sunstreaker is done talking to hound

hound is the nature frat boy i’ll slip him your number

gotta go <3 <3

newnewyorkyork is typing…

newnewyorkyork today at 12:39 am

you get yor fucking robot!!!

sending u sexy vibes!!!

sunny grinned at the last message, and quickly pulled his backpack off and dug around until she found what she was looking for- a king-sized marker and a large cardstock sketchbook. quickly, he scribbled yorks’ number down and folded the paper into a sloppy airplane, tossing it in hounds direction. as sunstreaker turned the corner, sunny caught a glimpse of hound holding the cardstock, looking confused.

“so what are we up to? a thrilling late night drive?” sunny asked as the two stepped away from the base, walking until the dirt road finally met with the pavement of a road that had been closed off to give the large bots some privacy and ensure they wouldn’t squish any stray humans.

“don’t move after i put you down. i don’t want any dirt or anything like that in my interior,” sunstreaker warned, laying his hand down flat so the human could carefully get off. the ground rumbled under sunny’s feet as sunstreaker took a few steps back and transformed, rolling up close so he could get in without having to walk.

sunny sat on the edge of the seat, carefully brushing her socks off before turning and sitting back in the seat, the door closing behind her and the seatbelt buckled her in. sunny disguised her amusement at the caution sunstreaker took by taking his special visor off for a moment, and using his shirt to pretend to clean them.

“are you gonna tell me where we’re off to yet? or is it a surprise?”

“it’s a surprise, so shut it. take a nap or something, we got about forty minutes of drive ahead of us, unless some cop gets pissy,” sunny could imagine sunstreaker rolling his eyes- his optics- in annoyance, “i’ll just say it’s some autobot business.”

sunstreaker fell silent after that, and the only sound between them was the ambience of the drive. it didn’t take long for the yellow lamborghini to rise above the speed limit, but the drive stayed smooth. sunny dozed off shortly after they started, waking up for a moment when sunstreaker jerked to the side and swore something under his breath. drowsily, sunny mumbled something about cybertronian sounding cool as fuck before he fell back into a light doze.

“we’re here, wake up,” sunny blinked awake to the sound of sunstreakers’ voice and rubbed his eyes. it was still dark out, though the area was illuminated by a set of tall street lamps. carefully putting her outside sneakers on, sunny stepped out of sunstreaker’s interior and looked around the small parking lot. it was empty apart from them, likely due to the time.

“we’ve got a short walk before we get where i want to be. stay close, i don’t want to have to hunt you down in the dark,” sunstreaker spoke moments before he transformed. sunny watched, transfixed as always, as the brilliantly yellow vehicle shifted and changed until he was standing at around twenty feet tall- almost three times sunnys’ size. without waiting for an answer, he started off to the side, following a path that sunny hadn’t realized was there.

she followed after him, not particularly bothered by his blunt demeanor. all it really meant was that sunstreaker didn’t want him wandering off and getting lost, at least not without the autobot having an idea of where she was. silently, the pair continued on the path until the forest started to thin out into an open field on a large hill

the scene was breath-taking. sunny could see the shape of mount hood farther off, lit up by the moonlight. it shone brightly down on the landscape below the hill as well, lighting up the pine trees that scattered around. the sky itself though, was almost indescribable. it looked so vast and deep that sunny truly felt small for a moment, caught up in the cold dots in the sky.

“come sit over here with me. hound was going on and on about this stargazing spot, thought maybe i’d like to take you,” sunstreaker had settled onto the grass nearby, and once sunny had come closer, the yellow bot lifted him onto his shoulder.

both were quiet for several more moments, faces turned upwards to see the sky. having grown up in new york, it always blew sunny away at just how many stars there were, or how the pictures that one would find on the internet weren’t always doctored. places with less light pollution just looked like that. sunny turned to make a comment to sunstreaker, and found his breath taken away yet again.

sunstreaker noticed him staring at him rather than the sky, and the autobot looked at him from the corner of his optic- sunny loved that work- silently asking what the human was looking at.

“s-sorry it’s just.. it’s like the moon has come at the perfect time to highlight your face just right- it starts at the tip of your nose and just brings all your other features out. it’s like…” sunny struggled with his words a moment, unsure of how to phrase it for a human let alone a robot from another planet, “it’s like your face is effortlessly working with the moon?”

it was silent between the two of them for a few moments, and sunny worried he had said something wrong, had upset the beautiful mech. instead, sunstreaker’s lip quirked upwards in a small smile, and he carefully brought up a finger to pat the human on the head.

“well, you don’t look so bad yourself, squish. trying to boost my ego even more with these compliments?” sunstreaker replied before turning his gaze back to the sky, sunny doing the same. they stayed there for a few more hours, until the sky started to lighten and the stars faded.

content with where he was, sunny had started to doze off. briefly, he woke to sunstreaker returning to his alt mode in the parking lot and coaxing the mostly asleep human into his interior. the ride back to base went by in a matter of seconds, and sunny only struggled back to wakefulness as sunstreaker carefully wrapped him up in a large blanket they kept for him.

“ go back to sleep, sweetspark,” there was a tenderness in his voice that sunny didn’t often hear, and he hummed sleepily in response. he rolled over in his wrap, and felt a large metal finger ghost along his side before retreating.

when he woke and asked if the mech had carefully placed a kiss on his face the next day, sunstreaker denied it, though the soft look in his eyes gave it away. it was a look reserved for sunny and sunny alone- not a look when any other mechs were around.

#taylor made this #no shame :).#don't be an ass though. don't like oc pairings with canon characters? just move on.

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ambarto · 5 years ago

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Headcanons for Maglor’s and Curufinwe’s wives

Don’t you guys just love how so many of “canon” female characters in the Silm end up being basically your own OCs? Anyways, pretty much what it says on the tin, my Feanorian wives OCs. A little bit of these headcanons are in my fic Much, more, less, nothing already, but I’m gonna expand on pretty much whatever my thoughts are. Very long post under the cut (and I sure hope the cut is working because if it isn’t this is gonna be long to scroll through).

Maglor’s wife - Vílerë

- The name for this girl is my own probably kinda sloppy work. I found in some Quenya dictionaries the word “vílë” which means “gentle breeze”, and it fit perfectly within my vision of her. The ending -rë is feminine and can denote an agental meaning, making the name mean “[girl] who makes a gentle breeze”, or something along those lines. I want to point out I have never studied Quenya at all and so this goes off entirely on various dictionaries I’ve been through.

- Vílerë is the girl’s mother-name, and it refers to two things. The first, is that she was born with very weak vocal chords, meaning her voice always sounds barely louder than a whisper. The second, is that she is also a very skilled flute player.

- Her parents are Noldor, but her grandmother is Teleri. Vílerë’s eyes are dark brown, which comes from her Teleri grandmother. Her hair is black, and she wears it long and plainly braided. Her skin is a light brown color. She’s not considered exceptionally beautiful, but not ugly, either. By Noldor standards, she’s cute, but in a little plain way, and a little on the shorter side.

- She’s a quiet girl, she doesn’t speak much. Partially it’s because of her voice, but it’s mostly just her personality. She doesn’t like drawing attention to herself, and she prefers being alone or with a few good friends rather than in the middle of a crowd. Because of this, she also doesn’t play her flute a lot in public, although she is known for being one of the best players and her music is loved by anyone who hears it. With those who know her, she’s kind and sweet, full of smiles and with a sharp wit you would not guess at first.

- While quiet and introverted, she’s got a strong will, and she will let people clearly if there is something that displeases her. She picks her words carefully, and if angry she’s good at getting her point across in the most cutting ways.

- She and Maglor met through music, and spent a great deal of time playing and composing together. She understood his more introspective moments better than most others, and she was drawn to his more caring side. She was good at getting him out of any bad mood and at humoring him when he got involved in some kind of musical competition with others; and he in turn helped her get out of her shell a little, but never tried to force her to come out on the spotlights with him. She took a liking to him from the start, although she sometimes rolled her eyes when his Feanorian pride showed through a bit too much.

- While still deeply in love, she did not follow him in exile. She did not agree with the Kinslaying, especially being part Teleri herself, and thought that it was absurd to do all of this just because of some rocks, no matter how beautiful they were. She didn’t want to leave her husband, and was also quite curious to see what was on the other side of the sea, but in the end she stayed in Valinor with her family.

- Other than music, she also enjoyed poetry and theatre. She had an appreciation for painting, but she never really learnt how to do it, and was more content with just looking at art rather than creating it. She also knew a bit about woodworking, because it was her parents’ profession, but she never really liked it. She enjoyed traveling too, and seeing new landscapes, and after marrying Maglor took her around to see all the cool places he had been to with his father and brothers.

- Some people had to say about her and Maglor marrying, because Vílerë lived in a village outside of Tirion and her family was one of the common folk. Some particularly vicious ones also complained that she didn’t look beautiful enough, but they had all learnt very well to not badmouth the beauty of the wife of someone of Feanor’s line. She was honestly more annoyed by receiving all that attention than by the negative comments in themselves, because she hated the positive attention too.

- She has one younger sister, who married before her and had two children. Vílerë herself married late in life compared to the average, although she was still a couple centuries younger than her husband. Out of her in-laws, the people she got along with better were Maedhros and Nerdanel, and she also was on friendly terms with Fingon and Finrod. While she did not have any quarrels with Feanor or with Maglor’s more outgoing brothers, she did find them exhausting in the long run, and better dealt with in small doses.

- While she grew to resent the Valar, although not as strongly as her husband’s family, when she was younger she liked to spend time in Lorien, and the quiet presence of Irmo and Este.

Curufin’s wife - Vanien

- Her name I took from RealElvish.net because I got lazy, although for some reason it’s not listed there anymore? For some reason? The closest it lists are Vanie and Vaniel, idk why they got rid of the specific one I used. Just my luck. Anyways, Vanien comes from “vane”, which means “fair or beautiful”.

- Her name says all about how she looks. She is the picture of Noldor standards of beauty. She has black hair and strikingly blue eyes, her skin is pale, and her facial features look like they could be put on a statue. She’s the kind of woman who could compete in Tirion Next Top Model, if they had it.

- Her family is entirely Noldor, going back all the way to Cuivienen, and fairly respected. They’re not nobles, but her parents are very good healers, which in Valinor mostly meant they were spectacular surgeons who could fix any idiot who had gotten attacked by a wild boar or something of the sorts. She was herself a healer, and very skilled.

- She and Curufin met though work as well. She had been developing a theory that perhaps one could enchant jewelry to give it properties that would make healing and recovery faster, and she had decided to go look for a good smith who could help her with it. It turned out making that kind of magical jewelry was extremely difficult, but she did get a husband out of the deal.

- She’s a city girl and at ease in the middle of the hustle of Tirion. She’s got a charming smile and she’s an excellent conversationalist. She’s a good girl, but she’s also got a rather competitive and petty streak, and if someone pisses her off she will get herself a nice revenge. Nothing truly bad, of course, but she’s not above turning her husband’s hair green if he acts too annoying. She’s more mischievous than harmful, however.

- Her main flaw is probably that she is a bit vain. She’s very aware of her beauty, and will do her best to flaunt it. She has excellent taste in fashion and hairstyles, and a husband who can craft her some of the most amazing jewelry one could think of. If she goes to a party, one can bet she’ll make sure to be the most breath stoppingly beautiful person in the room.

- She’s more outgoing than her husband, but she doesn’t mind that he sometimes ends up working on a project for days on end, although it does annoy her, as a wife and a healer, how he sometimes ends up forgetting to eat and rest. He often looks for her input when coming up with a design for something. Bitching about people who annoyed them is a bonding activity for them, but of course not their only topic of conversation. They like to go out on rides together, either along or with Curufin’s family. They are both ridiculously proud spouses, Vanien is extremely proud of her handsome, clever, and talented husband, and Curufin is extremely proud of his beautiful, smart, and talented wife. They’re also a good match when it comes to being stubborn.

- Celebrimbor is the only son they had, because Vanien struggled to get pregnant and carry the child to term. Sadly ironical, for a healer, and she was very protective of her son once he was born. She was a caring mother, and the kind who likes to cheer her brooding son by tickling him until he’s out of whatever tantrum he was throwing.

- Officially, it’s said Curufin’s wife stayed in Valinor, but I like to think that she came to Beleriand with him and Celebrimbor. She was a headstrong woman, who had her husband’s resentment towards the Valar and almost enough pride to match him. She did not directly participate in the Kinslaying, but cured the Noldor who had been wounded in it, and got on the ships with her family. Unfortunately, she ended up being killed in the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, and because of her rebellion she was held in Mandos until after the end of the First Age.

- She gets along well with most of Curufin’s family, especially Celegorm and the Ambarussa, and bonded with Feanor by answering all his questions about the body as well as she could. She became good friends with Aredhel, too.

#phew this was long #my headcanons #my ocs #at this point they are lmao #oc: vilere #oc: vanien #this took me a whole hour to write

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tsauergrass · 5 years ago

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Hi! I noticed your comment on gnarfs fic recs and was wondering what are you favourite fics and which you would recommend :)

oH it would not be an exaggeration to say I’ve been waiting for this ask since practically the day I created my blog lol (I’m so excited!!)

I do have a fic rec list sitting in my drafts (tagged forever ago by @rockmarina and still haven’t found the time to complete 😭) but oh dear here we go! In no particular order:

Running on Air by eleventy7

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

This fic is so beautiful it will break your heart without you even knowing it and you will be left aching for days. It will forever be my favorite fic and it is the most beautiful fic I have ever read—it is the one that brought me into Drarry when I didn’t even ship them! The loneliness is so well captured, the scenes so beautifully described, and both the suspense and the emotional storylines are so well crafted. td;lr: please go read this stunningly beautiful fic I promise you won’t be disappointed

The Lip-Lock Jinx by cassisluna

It's a jinx that renders the victim mute, unless he/she serves the purpose of the jinx and kisses the person that they desire. It's just Harry's luck that he's in love with Draco. HPDM, one-shot, eighth year.

Already fussed over it once but here we are again! Eighth-year fic, Draco is quieter but still witty, Harry is clumsy in his affections, Ginny is brilliant. It’s so soft you will place your hand on your chest and sigh, you will smile helplessly because your heart is brimming with softness. A dose of this fic on a bad day and I promise you will feel just the bit better.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by firethesound

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Warning: MCD, it is—oh dear it is the angstiest fic I have ever read. It tore my heart out of my chest and it is so, so good. The writing is beautiful, I love the way Draco and Harry’s relationship progressed, I adore their characterization, how they bicker and care. Harry’s road to recovery is rocky and winding but it is,, so genuine. (I also adore the structure of this fic lol, the two timelines are weaved together seamlessly and it just fascinated me!) This fic will leave the most beautiful scar in your heart but really, if you can afford it, it is so worth it.

Grounds for Divorce by tepre

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

This is, like, the slowest slow burn of all slow burns. It’s a bond fic, as you will discover pretty soon into the story—but it proceeds so differently than I ever expected. It is messy, beautiful, winding, Harry and Draco proceed to take the same freakin path two thousand times without ever reaching the destination—but it’s all good, and you see the beauty in the messiness because that is how life is. And when they finally get themselves together it’s just, so sweet you can’t stop smiling and you can feel their happiness, so close to your heart. It’s a slow journey and you have to take it with them if you want to see it bear fruit, and you realize in the end it doesn’t matter how winding the paths are, because you were always going to reach that place. And stay. Like I lie in bed at one a.m. and I think about how Draco and Harry are sleeping together in Grimmauld and I wanna tear up. The prose is beautiful, and messy like the story itself, and I just adore the way everything is described, so authentic, and the way the start of the end is the beginning (no spoilers yes?) Go read it and afterwards sit at the same place for twenty minutes in complete awe and content

The Generation Who Lived by lettersbyelise

In the months leading up to the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy writes a series of articles about war survivors.

So far, he’s managed to interview everyone he wanted.

Everyone...except his old nemesis, his one-time lover, and the elusive war hero who stubbornly refuses to be featured in Draco’s interview series; Harry Potter.

This fic tackles so many different aspects of consent—and weaves them into the story itself so well. There are many controversial topics, and they were explored with honesty: nothing is shunned, nothing is avoided, there are many voices that challenge what you really think. And these are the best kind of fics, really. I especially love the characterization of Luna, because it is so difficult to get her right—but she is, wonderfully candid in her whimsical way, tripping you over in your own thought. I love Draco and Harry’s story as well, the misunderstanding and the miscommunication—the confrontation, a reminder for a lot of us that being upfront and honest is so so important. The way Draco is neither redeemed nor un-redeemed yet trying in his own way is also very dear to me.

Sharing Different Heartbeats and Let Them Wash Off in the Rain by talithan

Before Harry ever saw Draco’s room, before they ever shared a greasy order of chips or long-held secrets, before Draco’s boss ever tried to chat up Harry, they hadn’t even exchanged mobile numbers. To be fair, Draco didn’t have a mobile then.

It’s Harry’s first time in New York City, and he is determined to have a good time. How Draco Malfoy figures into this remains to be seen.

I recently discovered them and just, ahhh. Completely adore them! They are not related, just by the same author. Both are so gentle and it feels as if nothing really important is happening—and nothing is—but the feelings are there all the same, gentle too. It’s like sitting by the window listening to soft rain. The sky is grey, the lights are dim, and you’re not really thinking about anything... just listening to the rain falling...

These are some of my absolute favorites! There are many more, (so many more,) and if you’d like you can check the bookmarked recommendations on my ao3! (It’s a messy, rumpled place but) here are a few of them:

fly like paper, high like planes by harryromper

Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins. Soon he’s dealing with goblins for the first time since the war, traveling to Prague, eating dodgy squid, and maybe, just maybe, accepting that Quidditch, Malfoy, and even Harry himself are still capable of change.

(I love Draco covered in tattoos, Draco with a family in Prague, Harry with disability, Harry and his kneazle, amazing OC’s)

Reigniting Harry Potter (A Task For Draco Malfoy) by QueenofThyme

Harry Potter is depressed and won't leave his house, or his bed if he can help it. Hermione has the bright idea to send Draco Malfoy over, who is surprisingly gentler than Harry realised, and might actually just be able to reignite a spark in Harry...if he stops being an arrogant prat of course.

(It’s a gentle story, I love the ending and the description of Harry’s depression just feels really genuine)

To Hurt and Heal by cassisluna

They say that everybody who gets out of Azkaban comes out a little mad. After the war, Draco Malfoy spends three months in Azkaban. He just wants to go insane in peace, but Harry Potter finds that he, inexplicably, still can't leave Draco alone.

(It’s. Heartbreaking and tender all at once)

Don’t let go by parkkate

When Draco ends up having to take care of Teddy’s new pet, he’s sure the universe is trying to torture him. Little does he know things are about to get so much worse. And of course, it involves one Harry Potter.

(The amount of cuddles is atrocious in the fic, I repeat, atrocious. The depth is also amazing and unexpected)

Take Into the Air (My Quiet Breath) by GuardianMira

Draco is dying of Hanahaki Disease. Serves him right, Harry thinks.

(But this is, like, the perfect Hanahaki disease fic. The perfect blend of angst and tension and relationship development with a heartbreaking, beautiful ending.)

Four Times Harry was Late...and One Time He was Late again by dracogotgame

Title says it all

(FLUFF. LOTS OF THEM. And it’s so clever you want to throw your phone across the room and clutch your heart and AWWWWWW, you’ll know it when you get there)

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

(The setting is similar to The Lip-Lock Jinx, so very sweet!)

Slow Hands by eleventy7

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

(This is,, beautiful. Gentle. Quiet, like when you wake up early before dawn and no one else is up.)

Everything a Word Can Mean and Constant Flux by rockmarina

In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most?

Harry Potter is the one constant in Draco's life, only each time in a very different way.

(These are just. Soft. Fluff. The first one is so poetic I love it so much, the second one gave me so much Feels)

Inferno by jadepresley

If he was ice then she was the fire, and though he loved her he was quite certain they were destined to destroy one another in the end.

(Okay this one is not Drarry but it will BLOW YOUR MIND. Seriously, the writing is so beautiful, the story so vivid, so strong. It will ring in your mind)

There we go! There are so many more fics I would gladly rec only this post is getting quite long. I would also recommend you check out the rest of an authors’ works if the first one you read fascinates you, you won’t be disappointed!

#fic rec #drarry fic rec #this took me QUITE A WHILE #to assemble and agonize over which ones I should include #as proven by the repeating there are many more!!!#and the formatting #I'm so sorry if it's messy #I literally squeaked in delight when I received this ask #thank u lovely anon

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kikuism · 4 years ago

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mariam!!! 💖💓💞💘💕 okay now that i answered that huge writing ask i have some writing themed ones for you: 1. what first motivated you to start writing? 2. did anything inspire kikou?? or did they just come to you in a wonderful stroke of genius? 3. which oc's perspective is your favorite to write in?

hi jenna!!

1. what first motivated you to start writing?

get ready for this epic answer: well i was 14 and had just discovered wattpad.... can't remember how but i thought it would be really fun if i made up my own characters and wrote a story for them (i also wanted attention/validation ghskdfjh). so i did, and uhhh basically i had read dan brown's angels and demons at the time and just inserted my own characters into like a simplified version of that story and that's my humble origin story hhfhfhfh i made all my friends read it and even asked other wattpad people to make covers for my 'books' sgdgsgdhdhdh i distinctly remember book 1 was "a party gone wrong" and book 2 was "a wedding gone wrong" i think they ended up having like 14k reads or something ..... since then i've made the account private bc as embarrassing and mortifying as it is i just can't let it go, like that's my first legit writing and i can't bear to delete it

so yes, basically i thought it would be fun :’))) and it was so much fun, cringey as it is to think back on it now. what i love about writing is the almost infinite ways to express things, the delights of a turn of phrase, descriptions that immerse you into the story world....i love playing with and weaving together with words, the things you can do and effects you can create with them are endless, it’s magical <3

2. did anything inspire kikou?? or did they just come to you in a wonderful stroke of genius?

the short answer is nope!! they really just appeared to me, kiku in particular just popped into my head pining for the palace healer :’)) it’s always like this with me for characters ...i never actively think “oh i need a himbo” or “maybe i need an emo goth” (zen and shou ghdkfjh), they’ll just come into my head unprompted with the simple bare bones of their personality that i then further discover and flesh out as i write them :’)

the long answer is, well in 2017 i had written like 200k words of a wandering, stoic ex-warrior and a bubbly courtesan in edo period japan (never shared that writing here but you can at least see what they look like in the links 😭) and was just thinking how else i could expand on the world as i had spent a lot of time writing about the road and the red light district. and then i thought 'uhh how have i never explored the royals' and then immediately into my head sprung a sweet shy little prince and his stern and sharp older sister. i knew right away kiku was going to have a crush on the palace healer (oh and fun fact: it took me a long time to settle on a name for kou! i was finally almost going to just call him yuki...but it didn’t click for me, it just didn’t feel right. and so after one last search online, i came across kou: simple and elegant and i fell in love with the name. and sweet bonus that their ship name just flows together seamlessly), who excelled in traditional medicine and also possessed a little bit of magic involving kanji -- i've always loved that brand of rune magic that involves tracing a rune on some object and having that effect that take place. kou uses it on kiku when he comes dashing into his chambers for a small cut. kiku watches mystified as kou takes his hand in his and traces the kanji for 'seal' onto the table. the little kanji peels itself off the table, flitting through the air before fluttering down onto his cut palm. there's a small flash of light and when kiku opens his eyes, the cut is gone, flesh pink and steaming slightly. my main inspiration for this little scene was that tiny moment in spirited away where yubaba takes away part of chihiro's name and leaves her with sen. i loved the way the kanji floated off the page. omg i just went off on a tangent....

i always think it's funny that kiku just appeared to me already pining for kou, it's not like i was actively thinking “hmmm i need a forbidden romance"....he's been pining from the very beginning 😔💕 there were other really specific things i just knew right away, like kou being blind, his signature color being olive, and kiku having a bit of magic too in that he can make his little origami creations come to life :') he loves to put this in effect when he wants to talk to kou across the room during a formal dinner: he'll whisper a little message to his paper crane and send it off, and when it reaches kou, it relays the message to him in his ear.

with kikou, i just.....it’s all about the yearning 😭💕

3. which oc's perspective is your favorite to write in?

kiku :'))) i think that must be obvious to anyone by now hhghfhfh i've written him the most and everything just comes so easily to me when i write from his perspective. he's so kind and sweet, and the world is a soft place through his eyes. he loves nature and always takes time to appreciate the small things, and i love describing everything from scenery and landscape to the fleeting and sometimes burning thoughts in his mind :’) descriptive writing is where i excel in and kiku gives me so much opportunity to do that. and he also gives me the opportunity to write my favorite things ever...pining and hands and fleeting longing touches 🥺🥺🥺 i think i really ought to give other characters chances too but.....since i don't have any actual story the main focus is just on the forbidden romance and the pining 🥺🥺🥺 although lately i have been branching out with zen and hajime and shou (and my new oc!!!)...still, there's no doubt that kiku shares most of my traits, so that's why i'm the most comfortable writing him :')

#oh no this was only 3 questions but i ended up writing a novel 😔✌️😔✌️#thank you jenna 😊💕#this was a lot of fun!#answered

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optimismrpt · 5 years ago

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Any chance I can ask for a few more tips on what to look for within applications?

Even though I assume you are one of the people that already asked for my ‘what to look for in apps’ on private I’m going to restate some points just to make this post comprehensive for anyone! I’ve made the old sections in italic, and the new sections in regular font if you want to skip to those. And this only applies to plot heavy skeleton rps. I won’t pretend to know anything about any other type of rp.

This got very very long so I’m putting it under the cut!

The most important is that the applicant seems willing to talk to you. This could be asks, ims, or even a little note in the app! Writers who want to make it clear what their intentions/desires/goals are ooc are going to be the easiest to work with! Plus it gives you an idea of how flexible they are! Those who dig their heels in when you offer up alternative suggestions are probably not good to work with. You want to find someone who has direction, intention, and ideas but don’t treat your ideas (or anyone else’s) as lesser than their own.

Call for humor! I’ve found that I have trouble with people who take themselves and their characters too seriously. This means that they often won’t be up for plotting since they don’t want their character to be anything less than graceful. Humor is a really good sign that a writer is fun, creative, and understands their character. And having memes associated with the character doesn’t really count for this, because although memes are fun they are not generative and specific in the way that written humor in an app can be.

One of the aspects of an app which is easy to spot on sight is the length. I don’t disregard any app based on length but obviously if the applicant didn’t meet the minimum requirement then they can’t be accepted. However, if an applicant goes way over what was asked of them I tend to shy away from that as well. Generally, I think a good app length for a skeleton rp is between 2k and 3k words. With longer apps I do read every word and take it into consideration, but the main reason why I prefer medium sized apps will be explained next,

For plot heavy skeleton rps, the application should feel like a set up, or like the first half of a story. Sometimes applicants get so wrapped up in their character they write an app like a novel synopsis, and it gives the character an arc with a beginning, middle, and end already accomplished. That’s cool in it’s own right, but it doesn’t create a very good jumping off point for the character’s arc in the rp. Look for apps that create conflict, have unresolved issues, and seem like the character is in the first stage of their journey. That way, the rp can follow them as they get to a point of resolution.

One of the new parts of apps that I’ve been integrating is asking the applicant to list 3 to 5 potential plots for the their character. I’ve had some people tell me that they have trouble coming up with plots for their characters in advance and tend to just let things happen, which is totally fine! But it’s just not right for the style of rp I run which is fast paced and plot heavy. So you want to look for someone who comes in strong with an arc in mind for their character and lots of plot ideas.

But an important caveat to this is that I find I have the most luck with applicants who are open to multiple possibilities. So they send in one plot and a similar alternate plot. (Ei. Beth becomes a mother or Beth becomes a leader of an organization and functions in a maternal figure to her employees). It’s good to know that a player has ideas but is flexible and willing to adapt. If the applicant seems like they have one journey in mind for their character and they aren’t willing to waver on it, you probably won’t have the best time trying to work them into a narrative that changes and evolves. Because in rps the entire situation can change at the drop of a hat (if an important character goes inactive or something like that) you need to find players that can go with the flow, change their vision, and work with you to find a compromise.

One last thing on the subject of suggested plots, beware any player that comes in with a specific ship in mind. It’s one thing to say ‘I want my character to learn how to be vulnerable and fall in love over the course of the story’ and another to say ‘I want my character to end up with this other skeleton’. Because if that’s one of the first plots on the applicant’s mind and it doesn’t work out (maybe the other writer isn’t on board for the ship) the applicant might be disappointed or discouraged to a point where they leave. In summary, look for a player that suggests plots that keeps other writer’s feelings and desires into consideration.

There’s some old rp practices that I brought back for retiredhq and actually had a lot of success with. The first one was the para sample, which I think is a great way to get insight into the applicants writing style and the vibe of the character. Headcanons can be good for background, but the para sample gives the admin a more realistic idea of what the character will actually be like in play.

And the other old rp practice I’m bringing back in 2020 is the password in the rules! I feel like that was phased out a couple years ago and I understand why. At this point many people have been in rps long enough to know the basics: don’t godmod, don’t bubble rp, etc. But because the way I run rps tends to be fairly unconventional the rules hold a lot of essential information. And I think, when an applicant applies, it’s sort of like checking the ‘I agree to the terms and conditions box’ meaning that they have read the rules and consent to them. So I put in a password to be sure the rules have actually been read. Because I don’t want to find out two months late that the applicant didn’t actually read the rules and isn’t comfortable with the admin playing their character as an npc after their departure, or some other aspect of gameplay.

And finally, one of the biggest red flags is someone not sticking to the skeleton! If someone blatantly disregards one or more aspects of the skeleton that is an instant strike against them. I don’t like it when people have ocs that they adapt to fit a skeleton because most of the time that means that they don’t really care about the skeleton and your ideas. However, if they contact me about changes to the skeleton in advance and ask if some edits are alright then that’s actually a really good sign! I want people to play a character that they are happy about and I’m willing to change up any skeleton. I just need to know the applicant is willing to work with me instead of against me.

#rpc #rpt #rpa #advice !#limited run rpc

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polar-stars · 5 years ago

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3rd out of an 5 part ask of @smokeprincess24 (sorry that it took a bit)

👹 How does you OC act around different people and how does their personality change to match the environment they’re in? How do they act with: friends, family, strangers, children or their lover(s)?

For the most part, Yasu is just more open and comfortable around people he's close to. He's friendly and polite to strangers, but also rather closeted and he won't expose all too much of himself. Around his friends and family he's just a bit more prone to be more talkative, even joke here and there and just generally be more laid-back so to speak.

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

Yasu is not all too easily embarrassed and when he is, he's still rather good at hiding it actually. He blushes mainly at sexual things being openly discussed because he thinks that's inappropriate.

He's usually good enough at reading people and a situation to know what to say…So when someone gives him the impression he said the wrong thing, that certainly embarrasses him as well.

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

Answered already.

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

The fact that Yasu can dance as well as he can is much of a surprise to quite a few people and not many find out, since he does not often dance anyway and rather sits somewhere at the sides of parties.

He also has aa hidden poetic side to him and writes poems and song texts in secret at times. He himself doesn't consider them good enough though to show them to anyone.

⭐ Does your OC like to sleep alone or do they enjoy sharing their bed? Have they been to any sleepovers? Have they ever been camping? What did they think of the experiences if so?

As I've said already, he did share a bed at times with Chieko when they were really small smols and he never really minded it. It was fun listening to her discussing various theories and stuff she had thought over throughout the day and he liked it.

He does not have all too much experience beyond that, except for having to share a bed with his sister Kasumi at times (which was also not much bother to him since Kasumi is rather peaceful) and he does not think off it as anything special.

🍏 When your OC says “I had a bad day” what does that tend to mean? Is it really as bad as they’re saying or are they being a bit dramatic?

When Yasu speaks about a bad day it's most likely truly, truly bad. He's not really one to over exaggerate and he's also not one to speak up a lot over being upset or something in the first place. So when he actually opens his mouth and says he's having it rough this day? That definitely means that it's serious.

At the same time he doesn't really use this phrase as a way to say "please comfort me" but it's more of a way of telling whoever he's talking to that he's most likely not going to be as polite and friendly as usual….it's an advanced apology in a sense should he maybe snap. In order to avoid such he quickly retreats in his room anyway.

Again…Yasu pushes people away when upset.

🐉 How religious is your OC? Do they pray to any god(s) or do they not believe in that kind of stuff? What is their view of religion in general? Where do they believe people go when they die? If your OC is not religious why not and what do they believe in otherwise?

Yasu was raised to be a Buddhist by Ryoko and does hold on to the religion all his life. But at the same time his beliefs do not really affect his daily life all too immensely.

To him it does still have something comforting though in a sense.

💧 What is something from your OC’s past they’re the most ashamed of and why? What is something they’re really proud of? And lastly what is something in their past that could make them shake with dread?

What Yasu is truly going to be massively ashamed off is yet to come in the future,

Other than that, Yasu is very skilled off avoiding blunders and while of course he was embarrassed here and there there's no real major event so far that truly stands out to him as the most embarrassing thing that ever happened.

🐟 What was your OC like as a baby? What were they like as a child? A teenager? An adult? How do you think they’ll develop ten years into their future? Twenty years? Will they live to old age?

As a baby, Yasu was already more calm than other babies and didn't make all too much tumult; which Ryoko interpreted as a sign for having chosen the right name for him ("Yasu" means "peace, quiet"). He showed an affinity for nature early on and would show himself incredibly happy when Ryoko or Shun would take him outside into their garden or a park or something and set him down in the grass.

As a child he was not really the most social kid around but thanks to his mother he had learned enough polite phrases to get on everyone's good terms. While he did not make all too many friends, he was always pretty well-liked and in the end he always had Chieko as a friend. He ultimately spent most of his time with his parents however (Chieko in the end still lives in Tokyo, while he grew up outside of town and as I said he didn't spent all too much time with his peers in the small town he lives in) and helped them out a lot. His favorite hobby as a child was most definitely the exploration of the forest that's close to the family's house.

As a teen he'd grew into a very friendly and calm young man who does usually not have all too much problems to get on people's good sides. While he's still much of an introvert, he's more sociable and open than he was as child thanks to Polar Star's influence mainly. He also came to idolize his parents however and carries an everlasting fear of disappointing them.

Yasu won't change all too much as an adult, given that he was already rather mature for his age when he was a teen. He will have learned some of the errors in his ways however (like his overexaggerated protectiveness over Chieko) and also his worries regarding his parents will have been eased. I see him getting married rather late in his 20s honestly.

🍇 Does your OC have any bad habits? Does your OC have any addictions like smoking or drinking? How did they fall into these habits and why?

Yasu's major bad habit is definitely trying to gulp down all of his negative emotions because he feels he would be a bother if he were to vent and just let them out. He looks out for other people a good bunch of times but when it comes to his own emotions he likes to ignore them until he's alone with them at night creating the perfect conditions to overthink everything (which does not help…ever).

He also drinks on Polar Star Parties but he can hold his liquor. No one ever saw Yasu drunk.

🔮What does your OC think is their best trait. What is actually their best trait? What about their flaws? Are they one to admit these flaws or do they like to pretend they’re perfect?

Yasu thinks his best trait is his politeness but I'd say his best trait is his care.

A flaw of his is that his own worries, anxieties or envy can cloud his view and his judgement immensely at times.

🌸 What’s a sentence that would make your OC’s day better? One that would make them laugh? One that would make their day worse? Why? What words would you have to say to them to completely ruin their day?

A sentence that can always make his day better is certainly "Can I use your [insert fermentation product here]?" He really wants to support his mother's business on Totsuki and advertises it whenever he cans. It really makes him happy when his efforts pay off.

A sentence that can ruin his day is any sentence that has both "Chieko Marui" and "Shigeo Eizan" in it.

🌷 How much effort does your OC put into their looks? Do they care much about how they’re dressed or what their hair looks like or are they not bothered? Could they be considered a snob or a slob?

Yasu's pretty casual in his fashion choice and is mainly concerned over wether the clothes are comfortable and loose than anything else.

He takes rather good care of his hair though but there's not much else that concerns him a lot.

❤️ What inspired you to make this OC? How long have you had them? How have they changed in the time you’ve been developing them?

Shun/Ryoko was one of my first ships…of course I wanted to give them a child. Yasu is one of my first Fanchild OCs and was created alongside Kimiko, Mika and Hiroshi. He was really tough to design as I had a lot of trouble mixing Shun's and Ryoko's designs. Eventually I came up with the idea to give him Shun's blinding bangs and Ryoko's silkiness but…how exactly that would look changed multiple times throughout the years ahdhd He truly took long to be finalized in that area.

Character-Wise, I decided very quickly that he'd be Chieko's best friend. Because of course he would. It also didn't took me long to characterize him as peaceful, calm and such…given that I had literally named him that.

Over the years he hasn't changed all too much personality-wise. But I went through a lot, a lot of story-ideas with him…many of them very angst.

🧡 What traits of your own do you see in this OC? Are they a little bit self-inserty? Don’t be shy, we all put parts of ourselves into the creations we love!

I do always try my best to be polite, especially in Real Life. I don't think I excel at this as good as Yasu does because I do tend to be inattentive to my surroundings at times but well….It's still something?

I do ultimately prefer the ocean but I also like the forest as well. Also we have a bit of the same view on religion, although we're not part of the same religion ahdhd

What I majorly can relate to in Yasu though is his tendency to always attempt to shut down all negative feelings because I do as well like to pretend that sadness and anger do not exist.

💚 Are you writing anything with this OC or planning on writing anything for them? Do you rp with them or are they just for fun to mess around with?

You gave me asks for them but I'm still into figuring out how exactly to write them ; 7 ;

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

Yasu can be greatly used for angst but in the end I do want to know him happy. He deserves it.

He'll makes some mistakes here and there but in the end, he's always trying his best. I really don't know how to construct his future really…ovo;; But I hope I'll eventually figure it out.

#Gofer answering to stuffz #Yasu Ibusaki #Shokugeki no Kimiko Stuffz

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