#WAY overdue

[lancer-pigeon]

PILOT OVERVIEW

NAME: Kirian Taalik

CALLSIGN: "Pigeon"

AFFILIATION: Independent, SSC Constellar Security (formerly)

STATUS: Alive

LICENSES: GMS STANDARD 0; SSC MOURNING CLOAK I; SSC MONARCH II; HA GILGAMESH III

PLANET OF ORIGIN: SSC New Korath

GENDER: Male [?] (He/They)

HGT: 5'6 (168 cm)

WGT: 136 lbs (62 kg)

EYES: Purple

HAIR: Brown

LIKES: Soup, missiles, smoking, old music, his hair (worn in a very Jetstream Sam fashion)

DISLIKES: Bugs, children, math, melee combat, canned vent crab

Kirian "Pigeon" Taalik is a hasty, impetuous and confrontational Lancer with an exuberant disposition and a noble heart. While he holds a disciplinary record for excessive comms chatter and antagonizing his stricter squadmates, Pigeon is a reliable ally who will stop at nothing to see the job done -- though how he'll get that job done is anyone's guess. He's an unpredictable force in combat, relying on trickery and shock maneuvers where his arsenal of smart missiles and cluster rockets prove insufficient.

While he certainly prefers to solve problems with warheads over using his own head, Pigeon is surprisingly quick-witted. With his ear to the ground, he maintains a large web of connections to support his independent lifestyle -- this means he has friends and enemies in equal measure, and he seems to have a whole lot of friends.

Kirian Taalik isn't the brightest or most morally consistent Lancer in the 'Rim, but he's a reliable friend above all else -- when you've earned his trust, he'll stand in your defense until his reckless bullshit finally does him in.

For contract offers, inquiries, legal disputes, death threats, booty calls, cease-and-desist letters, party invitations and all other forms of communication, Pigeon can be reached through the secure but publicly-accessible line in this blog's bio.

[izaralevine]

LOCATION: Montefiore ER, Bronx. TIME: 10:05 CLOSED FOR: Friends, visitors & hospital staff etc.

It's a groggy awakening, something between the bliss of numbness and a sharp jagged pain that crawled up her body in vicious intervals. There's a constant beeping, and the blurry sight of a white room. Izara's memories sideswipe her and panic begins to take root where the pain is. Eyes look to the blue and white covers over her body, IV wires slap on the metal frame of the bed as jerking movements try to establish what — where exactly she's hurt —

There's a cast tightly wound around one leg, and a string of cuts that look bandaged or taped on her arms. There's voices outside the room — a face or two as she blinks to her senses.

She's not alone, but it feels that way. Just for a moment.

A jug of water is beside the bed, an empty glass next to it. She cannot reach; it's a strain and her throat is dry; hoarse from yelling. She can't call out now, it's a broken quiet sound. "Can you — please, I'm sorry, I just need a minute... a water..." She doesn't need to know what happened, she remembers that part, a pained noise slips from her mouth. And she remembers glimpsing the leftovers of — "Harry?"

[ssahotchnerr]

okay i did a phone clean-out and omg it feels so good

[cartoonrival]

YAAAY NEW THEME FINALLY

[f0rever0]

Cleaned my fcucking apartment 😌

[hopeinthebox]

bts + make up a guy pt.2 | for @cordiallyfuturedwight

[choccy-milky]

another batch of MCs as thanks for drawing clora🥹💖💖 once i start working on something i cant rest until i get it done so ive legit been working on these nonstop for the past 2 days from when i wake up till i go to bed.......i can finally rest 🧎‍♀️........THANK YALL AGAIN💖💖💖🙏🙏🙏 MC's in order: @moonstruckmoony @syaolaurant @dwightschrute11 @boxdstars @versailles-black @ccelicaa @ethniee @wrongcog @ashiori-chan @tamayula-hl @celestinawarlock @serpensortiamaxima @silvyadrakkon @jadepalaceyaya @zorro-d-t

[taub-truther]

taub dying in a glue trap

[pastelhooman]

[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]

"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."

----- ID under break -----

A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.

"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"

"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.

Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"

the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.

"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.

Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.

----- End of ID -----

[madrevolting]

(thinking really hard) um... ryou and yugi in those illuminati era outfits

[mushroomnoodles]

Any chance for art that compares Simon’s belly early pregnancy vs absolutely overdue?

cw/tw for sfw and non kink mpreg

simon never was overdue technically with morri- they were simply in developmental stasis with the seal! buut here's his bump during morri's first growth spurt that alerted him to their presence vs just before the seal was put on 'em!

[nervocat]

Boothill gives cat vibes honestly.. like he'd be the cat to follow you around and stay attached to your hip when he doesn't have anything to do.

Very affectionate as well. Since his head is the only thing he can feel your touch from, he'll nuzzle into the crook of your neck like a cat would bump it's head against you asking for affection.

Boothill likes to put his weight on you as well. He'll lay on your chest, when your standing he'll hug your wait from the back and lean on you (which makes you stumble bc of his heavy metal body, but you manage to (maybe) stay standing. Maybe you'd fall).

On the other side though, he's very sassy. Pobably. Like Boothill would bite you (playfully + spitefully, depending), keep you from moving, say (silly) snarky remarks, you get it. Maybe.

But yeah um. I'm tired and ik I have more thoughts on this specificly but I can post more later.. gn reader btw and didn't proofread this.

[candyheartedchy]

Just wondering, but what Coral look like in the Patrick Star Show? (since the character have slightly different looks)

Probably like this!

[auluxien]

Well, getting attention isn't too bad.

[sorrcha]

eastern hercules beetle

[uselesseaweedbrain]

Supercorptober - 12. Pine

Kara had had a really good day. She had lost a milk tooth - a canine, her parents had told her - and her parents had celebrated with her and bought her a cake and raved about how fast she was growing, and Kara was happy and peaceful when they kissed her goodnight.

But the next day, when Kara woke up, and headed to the kitchen, she found it unsurprisingly empty, save for Rosa, her parents’ maid. Rosa smiled at her gently as she informed her that her parents had left early in the morning on an urgent trip to Sydney.

Kara smiled back, but barely touched her breakfast cake, setting it back in the fridge, and hugging Rosa briefly before setting off to her favourite refuge - Rosa would know where to find her.

Third book of her borrowed pile in hand, she skipped over to the shade of a centenary pine tree and made to settle contentedly in her assigned spot, when-

Kara stopped dead in her tracks. 

There, against the darkened and scarred trunk, exactly in Kara’s usual spot, was a tiny dark-haired girl, face shielded by a curtain of raven hair and head buried in a book big enough to cover her small legs.

The girl hadn’t seemed to notice Kara’s examination, so Kara elected not to bother her with introductions, settling quietly opposite her on the other side of the trunk.

When Rosa came to get her, the raven-haired girl had long vanished, and Kara felt a strange sense of disappointment.

But Sydney was far, and Kara’s parents were busy, so Kara returned to the park the following day, and the day after, and the day after the day after, and- the girl would always be there, as if waiting for Kara to make an appearance.

It took almost a week for Kara to gather the courage to introduce herself. The sun had partly hidden behind the clouds, peeking out slightly from the cover as Kara approached anxiously, fidgeting with the hem of her Majorette T-shirt.

When Kara deemed herself close enough, she opened her mouth hesitantly, unsure of how to break the ice.

“Hi”,  she said at last.

No response.

Kara took a few steps closer, lightly grazing the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to catch her attention.

“Hi?”, Kara tried again.

The girl jumped in surprise, prompting Kara to apologise immediately.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I-“

The girl raised her head slowly, and Kara’s rambling stopped abruptly.

The girl was young - so young, in fact, that had she not been reading War Horse, a book without any illustrations, Kara would have believed she was only looking at the pictures.

“I- you-“ 

The girl’s green eyes twinkled as she smiled shyly, rising from her seated position and brushing off strands of grass from her skirt.

“It’s fine. I was just surprised. I’m Lena.” 

She offered her hand in greeting, and Kara took it with a grin. 

“Nice to meet you, Lena. I’m Kara.”

That was all Kara learnt about Lena for quite a while; silence their welcome companion as the both of them spent hours back to back, then side by side, reading under the shade.

If Kara was intrigued by Lena’s fulgurant intelligence, she kept it to herself, and Lena was content to exist alongside her, occasionally exchanging book suggestions and literary impressions.

Time and familiarity loosened their tongues, book conversations leading to tidbits about their lives - about Lena’s single mother, her amazing soda bread, the smell of cooked breakfast when Lena woke up and the scented hugs when she came back from school (Kara knew Lena was four, hadn’t needed Lena to tell her that she had skipped a year already, if not two), and, in turn, about Kara’s parents, their overflowing love leaving her empty every time they took off again without warning or explanation.

Before either girl knew it, a year had passed. Kara had Rosa and Lena, Lena had her mom and Kara, and, for the both of them - that was more than enough.

**************************************************************************************************

One day, Kara skipped to their tree in excitement, relishing the feeling of the sun on her skin and the promise of Lena’s company, and found the pine shade empty.

Days like that happened, rarely, but they did, so Kara swallowed her disappointment, and quietly read by herself for an hour before departing for home.

The second day, Kara sprinted to the tree as soon as the school bell sounded, eager to meet with her friend after her unexpected absence.

Lena wasn’t there that day either, and something cold twisted in Kara’s gut. Unwilling to jump to conclusions, Kara resolved to stop by Lena’s house the day after, persuaded that Lena would show (Lena always showed) and that she wouldn’t have to make the trip.

The day after was a Wednesday, so neither Kara nor Lena had school. 

Rosa was used to Kara almost waking her up on Wednesdays, planting a kiss on her cheek at the crack of dawn before rushing to her favourite tree. 

On that Wednesday, however, it was well after ten when Rosa found the simple breakfast she had made untouched on the table, Kara’s bedroom door resolutely closed.

Rosa knocked gently on the child’s door. “Kara? Are you awake? Do you need anything?”

Kara opened the door and walked back to her bed sluggishly, managing a weak smile in Rosa’s direction. 

“I’m fine, I’m sorry I worried you, Rosa.”

“But- why aren’t you at the park?”

“I- It’s just- the past two days, Lena wasn’t there, and I convinced myself it was nothing and she would be here today, but if she’s not-“

Rosa sat calmly on the right side of the bed, embracing Kara's shoulders in a side hug. 

“Look, cariña. I understand that you are worried, but two days are nothing, okay? Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe Lena has been incredibly busy. Maybe she’s waiting for you under that tree as we speak, and you’re wasting time sitting on this bed with me.”

This drew a small chuckle from Kara.

“The point is, you will never know until you go, and if she’s not there, I will come check on her with you, okay?”

“You will?”

“Of course, cariña. I can come to the park with you, too, if you’d like?”

Kara nodded shyly before burying herself in Rosa’s arms, and soon enough they were both outside, Kara’s hand securely in Rosa’s and a renewed spring in her step.

As they drew closer, Kara’s grip on Rosa’s hand tightened. It was past eleven, the sun was high in the sky and the park was crawling with people, and yet- 

There was no one under the tree.

Kara felt her heart beat out of her chest and Rosa squeezed her hand understandingly, pulling Kara away from the pine and in the direction of Lena’s house.

The path to Lena’s mother humble cottage was a narrow, sinuous road that went through the woods and around a small lake, leading them to a simple wooden and brick house covered in decorative foliage and strings of lights, with a rocking chair on the porch and a welcoming doormat with the print of a dog.

At least, that had been Kara’s impression the previous times she had been around.

Because the house that she reached, hand in hand with Rosa, was surrounded in police tape, the vegetation around it trampled by multiple vehicles, the openings taped shut and the lights ominously off.

Crime scene. The tape read. Do not cross. 

Kara ignored them as she dropped Rosa’s hand, yelling Lena’s name and banging at the front door desperately when it refused to open. The porch lights shouldn’t have been off, they were never off, even when Elisabeth Walsh was out, and despite her neighbours’ jokes about electricity consumption. 

And Lena should have been home with her mother, or at the park with Kara, but she wasn’t, she wasn’t, and the police tape, and the trampled plants-

Kara was still banging on the door, her voice hoarse, when Rosa took her hand once again and gently guided her back to the city, explaining soothingly that they would visit the police station, understand what was happening, that it would be fine, that it would be OK.

They arrived at the police station, and waited, behind a woman worried about her missing cat, patiently and anxiously anticipating their turn.

Their turn came and Kara wished it hadn’t - Rosa, the adult, did all the talking, but Kara heard - accident, drowned, orphaned-

“Yes, the little Lena was adopted-“

“A rich American family-“

“A philanthropist, I heard, or a guilty lover-“

“She left on a plane this morning.”

And Kara crumbled.

She would have tried to find Lena, but the policeman hadn’t given up the adoptive family’s name, claiming they wanted to keep the whole thing under wraps and their identity confidential.

The internet did not exist, and phone calls on the other side of the ocean were expensive and pointless - she didn’t know Lena’s address, wasn’t sure anyone would answer even if she did.

**************************************************************************************************

Years passed and the ache dulled and Kara grew into herself - making new friends at school and cherishing her parents and cultivating her relationship with Rosa.

She was happy, she thinks; until that, too, slipped between her fingers.

Kara was thirteen when it happened - she came home from the park, her back aching from the bench she’d finished her book on (the pine tree was for her and Lena, and she hadn’t enjoyed its shade since Lena had left).

Kara let herself in, removing her shoes at the door before heading down the corridor into the kitchen - her growth spurt left her feeling famished most of the time, and Rosa was an extraordinary cook from whom Kara stole food more often than not.

The kitchen was empty, Rosa nowhere to be seen, the pans untouched.

Kara frowned, spotted a light in the living room and headed there assuredly. 

“Rosa?” Kara called as she walked in. “Is everything ok?“

Rosa was sitting on the couch, opposite a policeman in uniform, who occupied Kara’s father’s armchair as if he belonged there.

“Kara,” Rosa breathed tiredly. “Come sit.”

Kara sat gingerly next to Rosa, awaiting the news like a sentenced prisoner.

“What is it, Rosa? Has something happened? Is it my parents?”

The policeman nodded gravely and Rosa squeezed her hand. 

“I’m afraid your parents died in an accident, Miss. The car they were assigned malfunctioned, so they climbed into another one, and- it was booby-trapped. There were no survivors, not even the driver. My deepest condolences.”

The information reached Kara, but it didn’t - she knew her parents’ job was dangerous, knew there was a risk - now was not the time to grieve, and Kara buried her pain and focused.

“What will happen to me? To Rosa?”

“This is part of what I came here to discuss. Miss Rosa will be paid for the remainder of the year, and will then be let go as per your parents instructions, with a generous severance package. As for you, Miss Kara - your parents have included an emergency contact in their will - someone they entrusted you with, should something happen to them. I have called him, and he should be arriving tomorrow morning. His name is Clark Kent. He lives in Metropolis, and he is your cousin.”

“Metropolis? In America?”

The policeman inclined his head. “Yes. Your parents have arranged for you to move with him to America. I know this is a big change, but everything here will be taken care of - the house here is in your name, and will officially become your property when you turn eighteen. In the meantime, they believed it better for you to stay with family.”

Kara scoffed - tears and rage swirling as they threatened to engulf her. “Rosa is my family. Ireland is my country. I don’t even know this cousin - I don’t want to go to America live with a stranger, I don’t- my life is here!”

The policeman’s lips thinned in sympathy, but he said nothing.

“Mr. Kent should arrive tomorrow morning - be sure to pack your belongings, your flight to Metropolis has been booked by the lawyers for next Wednesday, at 9:15. My condolences again, Ms. El. Ms. Rosa.”

He bowed his head and exited the house, as if the roof had not just fallen over Kara’s head, as if her world hadn’t just crumbled around her, the floor been pulled from under her feet.

Clark arrived the following morning, as foretold, and Kara hated him immediately, hated the pleasantries he offered, the attempts at empathising as a fellow orphan when he had been adopted as a baby - hated the condescension with which he explained that he couldn’t stay in Ireland, that he had a job, that he couldn’t uproot his entire life, and that it was better Kara come with him instead.

Kara did not have a choice, so she packed, and she went, and after a few days of living with Clark and meeting Lois, his fiancee, and maybe feeling the slightest bit at home, Clark dropped another bomb on her.

“Kara, I would like you to meet the Danvers. They’re a family of two parents and a single daughter, slightly older than you, and they’re willing to adopt- Lois and I- we’re not a family unit, we work too much, and I want you to have the same chance I had, to grow with two loving parents, and a stable home, not on the run with me chasing a story (Clark was a journalist, working at the Daily Planet, Kara knew, because Clark blabbed about it all the time). They are coming this afternoon, and- I hoped you would consider it.”

“Consider what?”

“That- uh- that, maybe, if you would want to live with them instead?”

And Kara wanted to yell, to make Clark ashamed of himself, to beg to go back to Ireland and be allowed to live with Rosa, but she was numb, and tired, and Clark didn’t want her, so-

“Ok. I’ll consider it.”

The Danvers were kind, welcoming, and accommodating. Their daughter, Alex, was not. 

Months passed with Alex giving Kara the cold shoulder, and Kara crying herself to sleep - and then Jeremiah died, a heart attack, they’d said, and Kara knew how to grieve and Alex didn’t.

So Kara had taught her.

Years passed and the pain dulled once again to a tolerable ache, Kara’s resentment for Clark tempered by Eliza’s gentleness and Alex’s precious - if sometimes annoying - sisterly presence.

**************************************************************************************************

Investigative journalism was a pain, Kara thought. She knew Lionel Luthor was a snake, was certain of his involvement in weapons companies, had tracked his investments in the prison system and drawn a parallel timeline with disturbing coincidences of his company’s patents, had elaborated a sound working theory on the dangerous direction he was steering his company into - but all he had done was legal, and Kara couldn’t seem to catch him lacking.

The interview, at the top floor of Luthor Corp, overlooking the city from a golden tower, had gone as well as expected: cordial, without any substantial information, or any incriminating statement besides the cheeky references alluding to what Lionel undoubtedly knew of Kara’s work from his numerous sources.

All in all, a tiring, dangerous, bust.

Kara sighed to herself as she entered the park, dumplings in hand, and quietly enjoyed the sun on her favourite bench.

At least the sun and dumplings would never disappoint.

She rose after twenty minutes or so, stretching her tense muscles as she decided, for once, to indulge herself with a bit of reading under the shade of a majestic pine tree.

Kara is a dozen meters away when she notices somebody is already lying against the trunk, head buried in a book, long raven hair covering their face, and- unexplainably, Kara is overcome by a striking sense of déjà-vu.

“Lena,” she murmurs under her breath.

There’s no way it’s the same girl, no way that girl remembers her after decades apart, from when she was four years old, and definitely no way the woman heard her.

But the woman’s head lifts and sunshine catches in her emerald eyes and Kara’s breath hitches. 

“Lena?”