#VERSE | Stranded

[housetummelt]

She didn't often go elsewhere other than the hut where Meldacio's admin met for meetings, but today Ezma waited 'till she knew her boy was gone on a hunt an' knocked on the door of his home an' waited for the blonde lady to answer it. The surprise was obvious on Ida's fine features an' Ezma offered a polite smile.

"I wonder if I might have a word with ya?" She waited for Ida to open the door more, knowin' the lady would be too polite t'deny her. Ezma was careful an' quiet in her movements, makin' sure the little'uns were asleep 'fore she spoke to Ida.

"I done heard what yer boy told Kaleb's girl. Now, I don't want ya thinkin' I was told neither - I been around long enough t'know there was more to yer story than bein' a simple refugee an' that's neither here nor there." The old lady didn't mince her words, but they weren't unkind neither. If anythin', Ezma kept her voice low and sympathetic; this was the lady that'd made her David smile again after all.

"I tell everyone that comes here that Meldacio is safe, an' I mean it. Even for you an' yer boys Ida." She fixed her spectacles before lookin' the elegant lady up an' down. "Them fellers think they know best an' that's their own ignorance." She meant her own boy, Kaleb an' Reno in all of that - maybe even jus' fellers in general. "- but it's women who run this place, don't forget that."

"I got eyes an' ears across this continent an' in Nifelheim too. You an' yer boys are still safe, I want ya to know that. An' yer David's family ... that makes y'all mine. I don't take kindly t'folks threatenin' my kin. Ain't no one gonna get any wind o' yer past, y'have my word."

Ida indeed was surprised to see Ezma here, when Dave wasn't around. Not that she would have ever denied the matriarch of Meldacio entrance to her son's house, but there usually was good reason Ezma came to visit.

She stood still when Ezma talked. It were... direct words. They were honest, nothing honeyed. And yet... somehow they offered comfort, too. Ida had her hands folded in front of herself and her knuckles turned white at the tight grip she had on herself.

The past hours had been a rush. The admission and then argument with Reno. The bags Ida had prepared. Telling David what had happened. And still... nothing could subdue her fear. The fate of her family now laid in the hands of a young girl, whose life had been wrecked by Niflheim. Ida had no faith in that. Because having that would be naive. And she could not be naive when her sons' lives were concerned.

"I guess I should just put up a sign to advertise where I and the boys hail from by now."

Dave knew. He had told Kaleb. Against Ida's insistence. Reno of course knew. He had told Selena. Against Ida's warnings.

Somehow Ezma knew, too - and somehow Ida couldn't blame her any more. She had given up on this secret, because honestly... now it was out anyway. Though, still. Ezma was somehow different.

And maybe it was the way this older woman behaved, the way she always acted, the way she always seemed to be in control... somehow that broke Ida's otherwise very collected composure. She could feel tears trickle down her face for a moment, quickly wiping them away again.

"Thank you... I want to trust your promise. But I am not sure a promise will be enough against bullets or blades. Not even yours. Tensions are high enough as it is. And now this just paints the perfect target on us - for all the grief and anger Niflheim caused the Lucians. I don't expect anyone to listen to my pleas, when it comes to that. Not anymore. It's not like even those around me listened before. No one will listen."

@ezma-auburnbrie

[lsdoiphin]

Yes. All sorts of neat stuff! One find sticks out more than the others, though.

[sloasis]

Finally watched the new Lone Star episode My eyes were only on him tbh

Carlos' big brown cow eyes <3

Bonus of TK petting da horse

[iminloveedits]

Love my bday being the same day as the start of Pride 😁

Happy Pride everyone!!!

[heartstringsduet]

In grief and lamentation

Part Six of the Let Me verse. A series exploring the canon relationship of Carlos and TK, while adding a slowly devoloping D/s dynamic to it. Summary: “Do you need me to take over a bit more today? Get you out of your head like this?” It’s clear before TK answers, something unlocking in his hazy eyes. “Yes. Yes, Carlos.” The death of his mother rips the floor out from under TK’s feet. Carlos tries to break his fall, leaning more into their dynamic to guide TK to a safer landing while growing in his role as a caretaker. cw: grief, reference to drug addiction

There is a moment of clarity on the tarmac  — the world safe under TK’s feet again while his skin is still on the edge of a free-fall — when Carlos is running toward him. It will be one of the few dips of understanding for a while, where nothing is filtered through the muddy water of grief, though TK doesn’t know it yet. 

This, is life too. 

This bone-aching crush of a hug, the sound a usually-assured voice makes as it breaks, worry shining in dark eyes that search for any ailments. The warmth pumping back through his iced body when he holds a face he loves, kisses lips his own miss constantly. 

And TK feels it all. 

[Read More]

[dead-finches]

pavitr rly changed the spidersona designing scene huh

[melien]

the actress from bridgeport

[anewkindofme]

I am 1k words into the new “The Little Monkey” and it’s mostly TK and Buttercup trying to prove that they’ll be fine under the same roof while he heals.

Haven’t even gotten to full force “Mother Hen Owen” yet.

I love a boy and his dog, clearly.

[kingofthewebxxx]

Starter Call

Like this post for a starter PLEASE SPECIFY VERSE, and also if you would like a particular theme, I will come to you for plotting. If a multi please specify muse, may cap depending on how many I get, we shall see but don’t worry there will be more

[shotgunxturk]

@galahdanblade

Climbing down from the bed of the truck, Freya took a quick moment to gather her bearings; this was Prairie Outpost? Didn't look much like an outpost; it would be impossible to fortify and defend with a road running right through it and only a few wooden huts. And a stone's throw away from an imperial garrison.

Talk about treading a fine line.

The other hunters all seemed to be checking details with one man before going about their business. Of all the hunters here, she presumed this was the guy Jeanne had told her about; the head hunter's best friend and the guy overseeing the new recruits in this region of Lucis. Tall, dark hair and a few tattoos. Matched the description she'd been given.

Joining in with the flow of the other hunters, she waited her turn until the man looked to her, waiting for her query.

"Ummm, I'm Freya ... I'm new." Might aswell start at the start, so Freya offered a nervous smile and held out her shiny new unblemished dogtags. "Jeanne told me to look for you, I worked with her in the power plant for a bit before ... well before I joined."

[lordkingsmith]

@augment-techs @skyland2703

I…came up with a plausible reason for the just dance verse for my fic. Gods exist in power rangers and just dance in wildly different versions of canon to irl our world. So.

Nobody said where the magical prison islands/mazes/ other various hellscapes the gods were banishing people to were. Nebulous “other place” that could be anywhere in the world in myths. well….

Neptune/Poseidon being a petty bitch and banishing Triton and Calypso feels par for the course tbh

[cas-kingdom]

Instinct

A/N: My exams finished and what did I do first as a free woman? Write.

My first 9-1-1: Lonestar fic, a small one (with questionable quality), but a subject that hits pretty deep right now. It’s for that reason that this fic isn’t reader-centric. Hopefully “ya’ll” love Connie Strand anyway. Enjoy, and bear with me as I return to writing now that summer’s here!

(Connie’s about 19).

Title: Instinct

Summary: Owen and his daughter discuss the possible return of his cancer.

Words: 2108

The nerves came when the coughing did.

It was instinct at this point. The moment the familiar, guttural sounds reached her, they immediately broke down doors in her mind and wrenched free the memories she’d locked away.

It was instinct also that had her putting her laptop to the side and staring at her bedroom wall for a moment. Heart revving into that familiar gear, hands growing familiarly clammy, breath stopping in that familiar place just at the top of her throat. A sick sort of feeling climbed from her stomach and crawled its way up to her chest, settling there when the coughing stopped and broke down into small croaky things. Barely-audible things. Nothing-to-worry-about things.

She stepped out of bed and hugged her arms to her chest, walking quietly on bare feet towards the halfway-open door. Her room was closest to the kitchen, so she saw him when she stepped out, hunched over the island, head bowed, hands in fists on the marble. For a scene that had moments ago been overwhelmed by a coughing fit, it was scarily silent now.

A time when something like this would not dare cross her mind had passed the window of impossible with her father’s initial cancer diagnosis. Almost a year ago now, he’d been in remission for most of that year, but every cough, every hoarse throat…hell, every stubbed toe had Connie Strand’s nerves skyrocketing. That was normal, she’d been told. That was instinct.

Instinct was a bitch.

Owen saw Connie before he could automatically situate himself into a position that looked the picture of health. Still, he tried, straightening the moment his eyes caught sight of her padding down the hallway. He cleared his throat and picked up a knife, pointing it at the half-cut banana in front of him.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he said, throwing a smile in her direction for good measure. His voice was crackly. “I’m making a protein smoothie. Want some?”

It was in the fire captain’s nature to act oblivious, but Connie didn’t think there was much point in it now. He’d had cancer, he’d had chemo, he’d beaten cancer, he’d beaten chemo. He hadn’t told his kids, then he’d told his kids. It wasn’t as though Connie could no longer tell when he was feeling off. She’d known the difference before the tumours, and she would continue to know it long after. T.K. called that a superpower. Owen called it a pain in his ass.

“I’m allergic to protein powder.” Her answer every time, it was the second reason she wished T.K. still lived with them. When he did, the two were able to sneak a packet of potato chips in through the front door, or even a chocolate bar if they were lucky. But Owen controlled the grocery shopping now, and when Owen controlled the grocery shopping, not a morsel of candy made it in the cart. The first reason lay in the possibility of these exact moments. When she needed her big brother, it wasn’t often he was around.

Still. Connie was and always had been more like her father than her mother, and smoothies, minus the protein, were still a favourite. Owen was extremely proud of that small achievement.

“In that case, My Sunshine Lady Princess—” He turned to grab another glass as she sat in a swivel chair— “One protein smoothie, minus the protein, coming up.” Connie breathed a laugh and he sighed exaggeratedly. “Let me believe it, Con, please.”

He returned to chopping the banana, but Connie could see his face fall. He wasn’t stupid, and neither was she. He knew she hadn’t come into the kitchen at seven am to escape her homework or procure one of his morning smoothies.

“Dad?” She glanced down at the table, following the lines of marble with her finger.

Owen stuck a handful of bananas in the blender and reached for an apple. “Yep.”

“You’re alright, right?”

There weren’t many people who could answer that question truthfully, and once upon a time, Owen Strand would have been at the top of that list. Recently, though, he’d learnt to be a bit more open. He’d had to be. After T.K. had figured out what he’d been keeping from his kids, scepticism followed them both around like the plague.

So, it was with this that the fire captain put down his knife and placed the palms of his hands on the counter, bracing himself against it. He looked up at Connie, her upper lip unknowingly caught between her teeth. He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat. “Banana went down the wrong tube,” he tried.

Connie dropped her head and rose her brows in a very Owen Strand way that had her dad cringing and pulling back.

“Okay, okay. I might have a little tickle in the back of my throat that’s been there a few weeks. And that’s a might, so you take a chill pill right now, Miss, ‘cause I won’t have you worrying about nothing ‘til it’s something.” He had one hand aimed at her, a finger pointing forwards. The Owen Strand look settled quickly on his own face and Connie had a difficult time keeping the smile from her lips. Her dad was her dad, after all. Her hero and entertainer.

At her smile, Owen let one of his own slip onto his face, knowing he’d got her. Just to make sure, he lifted his eyebrows higher and sent a teasing: “You hear me?” to which she just about refrained from rolling her eyes at. Swivelling in her chair, she mumbled an answer, averting her gaze.

“Hey, don’t make me come over there and fix up a smile.” Owen had a habit of turning negative situations on their heads when it concerned Connie and T.K.. Even before the cancer, they hadn’t had the most perfect of lives, switching between mom and dad’s house and suffering the odd babysitter when representing clients and fighting fires overlapped a bit too much. He guessed T.K. had had it worse—he was older and remembered the choppy months after the divorce. Connie had been born in choppy month eight, the most surprising of surprises, but their new way of living had always been her norm. Still, life had had its downs, and a Connie frown broke his damn heart every time.

“Alright—” He dusted his hands together and threw his arms up, resigned— “I’m coming.”

Connie jumped to attention immediately, not quite having expected the change in mood. Though it was certainly like him. “I didn’t say anything!”

Owen clicked his fingers as he made his way intently around the counter. “That’s exactly why I’m coming.”

He wasn’t even hiding the mischievous intonation of his voice. That teasing lilt made its familiar way in, dutifully pushing all negative thoughts from Connie’s mind as she spun in her chair and stretched her arms out. “Hey, hey, okay!” Owen stopped a foot from her chair, eyes narrowed, hands poised suspiciously like they were seconds from launching a tickle attack Connie had told her dad a hundred times she was way too old for. He’d never taken that to heart, nor had T.K., and somewhere deep, deep down she appreciated that. Still, she could pretend not to enjoy it, and probably would until the day Owen himself deemed her too old, if that day ever came.

“Okay,” she said, “not worried. I’m not worried! See?” She pointed at her face, forcing the widest of toothy grins possible. “Look at my smile.”

Owen couldn’t help but snort, amusement at the situation overriding his brief venture to remain serious. “I see it,” he said, letting his arms hang limp by his sides and walking towards her. Connie spun around again to face the counter and he stopped behind her, lifting his arms to drape over her shoulders. Quiet, Connie let her dad pull her back against his chest, feeling his chin come to rest on her shoulder. The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound for a moment, father and daughter acting completely on instinct in their need to hold each other for a moment. Worrying about nothing ‘til it was something was Connie’s forte, after all.

“It was just a cough, Sunshine,” Owen reassured her.

“And a tickle in your throat.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure that was the banana.” Connie smiled and he hailed that a silent victory with a kiss to her cheek, hugging her closer. “My next check-up’s not for another month but I’ll book in with the doc tomorrow. Just to be sure.”

Connie nodded and placed her hand over his. “Just to be sure.”

She could hear him hesitate beside him. “Con, kiddo…I know you’ve got reason enough to be worried, and I’m not gonna take that right away from you. It’s okay to be worried, reminds us all we’re human. But…”

“I worry too much?”

He hummed. “Not that. Sometimes—you just don’t need to worry. And I know you can’t help it, neither can I, I guess we just gotta batten down the hatches a bit, huh? If we worry about anything and everything that could be tumour-related, there’ll never be a time we’re not shaking in our boots.”

He was right, of course, always was, but Connie didn’t know how to answer him. The mood might have continued to plummet, probably would have continued to plummet, if her phone hadn’t pinged at that moment. Connie couldn’t have reached for it quicker, feeling her dad press another kiss to her head before moving back to his side of the island. In the blink of an eye, the dismal air of the kitchen seemed to shatter as Owen opened the blinds and called for Alexa to quietly play his breakfast playlist. They’d talked about what they’d needed to talk about, defeated the elephant in the room. The C word was buried for now.

“T.K. wants to meet for breakfast,” Connie said, her brother’s u me & pancakes b4 shift? shining at her from her bright screen and waking up any residual exhaustion her eyes had been harbouring.

Owen sighed dramatically and visibly deflated. “After I slaved away at the counter cutting fruit for your smoothie?” Connie smiled as she typed a response. “Does he want me to drop you off?”

“He’ll pick me up. You wanna come?”

Another dramatic sigh and the knife clattered to the marble top. Connie rose an eyebrow at his spectacle, knowing deep down he was attempting to shake off any gloominess floating around the kitchen but letting herself enjoy his puckishness all the same. When a theatrical: “After I slaved away at the counter cutting fruit for my smoothie?” came from him, she finally laughed and shook her head.

“Come on, Dad. Pancakes over smoothies every time.”

Hand on his heart, Owen frowned. “Don’t, Connie. Just don’t.” And with that, the Captain of Firehouse 126 promptly turned on the blender. When Connie made half-hearted attempts to shout something over the noise, he put a hand to his ear and leant forward, yelling back: “What’s that? I can’t hear you over this blender! Can you say that again?” Perfectly dad like, perfectly Owen, perfectly instinctual. Still, Connie rolled her eyes and jumped from her chair, marching around to his side and holding up her phone as proof she was ringing T.K. and needed him to turn it off.

Owen peered at the screen but shook his head. “I’m making a smoothie!”

Connie put her phone to her ear and blocked her other ear with a finger. “T.K.? Huh?” Barely audible over the sound of the screaming blender, it apparently did not occur to Connie that she could leave the room. “T.K.!” A chuckling Owen heard her all but yell down the line. “Dad’s not coming! He’s gonna stay at home and sulk over a glass of protein smoothie!”

Owen stopped the blender and made a grab at Connie’s phone. “Uh, that is so not what I said!”

“It so is—” Connie just about leapt away from him— “Yeah, he’s not feeling so hot. Says he has a tickle in his throat.”

Not many could best Owen in a battle of wits, but he was damn glad that the one who could was his kid.

With a deep, insanely proud chuckle, he clapped his hands together before wiggling his fingers towards her. “I’ll show you a tickle in the throat.”

Instinct. Total instinct.

And, even as her shrieking resounded throughout the kitchen that Sunday morning before the clock had even struck seven am, Connie Strand loved every bit of it.

Lone Star Masterpost

[sercphs]

Vis enlightened me to the True Seth Bingo Card.

[lovecolibri]

Anyway,

[assimilatedhardship]

@unwaveringblade | continued

He blinked a couple times as he tried to remember the incident in question. "Monster...?" And his eyes lit up on cue of remembering. "Ohhhh, that one! Actually, he mostly just got into my hair... It hurt worse when I slipped on that wet floor at the last inn... But no, don't worry! I don't need to see a physician. It was more of one of those things when you think it's gonna hurt for days and it actually just hurts more in the moment. Like, you expect a huge bruise and it just never happens..."

Once they finally got to their room at the inn - the not slippery inn - Stahn unloaded his belongings beside the bed he'd selected, dropping them with a thud and pausing before dropping Dymlos, instead gently placing him against the bedside table. He could have sworn he heard a brief "whew" out of Dymlos after that...

"So like I was saying, lots of stuff feels really complicated and kinda off? I keep feeling like something's going on that I'm missing, but I can't pinpoint anything that's actually weird. It's mainly just a feeling though, so I was trying to think why I would feel like that. I thought about it the whole way here, but then I got to thinking about lots of other unrelated things. It made me lose my train of thought, but then I realized... you have enough brain power for both of us! If I ever have to think about something deep and important, I can just let you do the thinking, because if there's an actual answer, you'll find it! No point in me thinking about it when we'll just come up empty in mind and body! By which... I mean all that thinking made me really hungry, so there's nothing in my stomach either. Do you wanna go down to the stalls in a bit and find something to eat?"

[knbposting]

fav thing when writing aokaga is that aomine falls to his knees whenever kagami puts even the slightest amount of thought into his outfit and kagami thinks aomine dresses insanely cool all the time. and they're both basically wearing the same clothes. stupid