#and besides a lot of it is vent fic or post-episode feelings that are not legitimately reflective of my thoughts about these characters

[bittersweetresilience]

does everyone else post everything they write? because my post to write ratio is currently sitting at. hm. 2500 to 75000

[sketching-shark]

LMK fandom: Oh, what do we do about this guy who has nothing but hurt Xiaotian, tried to replace Sun Wukong and his crew, hurt Tripitaka and ordered servants to cannibalize a monkey? Oh I know! We’ll turn him into our little meow meow~ he’s so innocent and Sun Wukong is obviously the villain!

What doesn’t help is this idea is perpetuated by multiple fan fic writers and artists for some reason. Especially some aus they make that turn SWK into a bastard for the sake of the story rather than considering cultural context and thinking they should be respectful.

And almost everyone lets them get away with it just because the art or fanfic is good and they get so popular that no one can point what is actually wrong without feeling like they’re going to get attacked.

I'm starting to feel like my blog is the one anons go to specifically to vent their frustrations about the Six Eared Macaque in his lego monkey show form & the associated fandom lmao. But I guess this makes sense, as I’ve had fun quasi-dragging him before & will in fact use this anon submission as an opportunity to have my own, to put it academically, bitch fest about not just this fandom's favorite protagonist-traumatizing meow meow, but about the way villains are often treated in not just fanon, but increasingly in canon works as well. But same policy as with the last anon; I'll post my opinions below the cut, and as fandoms love to say, don’t like don't read if you don't want to see me dunking on the six eared simian & common fandom tendencies towards villains.

Oh man I would say where would you even begin with this but anon you’ve pretty much started yourself with my main gripe with a lot of ways that the Six-Eared Macaque is portrayed in fandom; there seems to be this unspoken agreement that his acts of violence towards Sun Wukong, Qi Xioatian, and Qi Xioatian’s loved ones are either to be framed as somewhat or totally justified, to be immediately forgiven/excused, or to simply & completely be ignored. Like friends maybe this is just me not seeing the proper posts but while the fandom is inundated with art and fanfics of Macaque as a generally decent individual & a true member of team good guy, I have yet to see one person address the fact that this monkey literally kidnapped & mind-controlled Xiaotian’s best friend and father figures & forced them to brutalize Xiaotian while ol’ Six Ear looked on and laughed (X_X). Like this kind of fandom villain treatment is definitely not something that’s solely at work for Monkie Kid, but it is kind of nutty how fandoms will swing between yelling that people should be allowed to like villains without even mild critique, and then will just flat-out not address the villainous behavior, and will even bend over backwards to frame even characters who committed genocide as just poor innocent widdle victims who need a hug. At its worst, I’ve even seen tons of people in a fandom get really angry at other people who don’t like a villain, and will even start accusing those people of hating real-life mentally disabled or abused individuals all because they don’t like the fandom’s favorite literal war criminal. The Monkie Kid fandom is FAR more chill & better than a lot of other fandoms I’ve come across in that regard, but that is an exceedingly low bar, & the tendency to woobify certain kinds of villains-- as with Macaque and the extreme emphasis on his bad boy/sad boy thing--is very much at work.  

 I’ve also talked before about a kind of monoculturalization of certain character interpretations and story beats in fandoms, and one of the more popular ones that seems to be applied to Macaque a lot is the “hero actually bad, villain actually good” cliche, as observable from the general fandom assumption that Mr. Six-Ears he wasn’t even slightly lying or remembering things through a rose-tinted or skewed lens when he gave his version of his and Sun Wukong’s past. Like at this point it seems the possibility that people WILL NOT even consider is that Sun Wukong never did & still doesn't care that much about the Six Eared Macaque (in JTTW they weren’t sworn brothers & in Monkie Kid the only thing the monkey king really said to Macaque before attacking him was a pretty contemptuous "Aren't you ever going to get sick of living under my shadow?," & responds to his "beloved friend" getting blown up with "You did good, bud" to Qi Xiaotian, who did the exploding), or that their original fight may in fact have mostly been instigated by Macaque. After all, to repeat what this anon summarized & what I've said before about their original JTTW context (& in an example of the things that do feel like it's often lost in translation) is that the Six Ear Macaque was a villain not just because he beat up the Tang Monk, but because he wanted to take over Sun Wukong's entire life and identity so he could have all that glory, prestige, and power for himself. To quote the macaque himself from the Anthony C. Yu translation, "I struck the T'ang monk and I took the luggage...precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else's. Those people of the South Jambudvipa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity." And in order to do this, the Six Eared Macaque had apparently made Sun Wukong's "little ones," his monkey family, his captives through either trickery or force, and gotten a number of them to take on the appearance of Tang Sanzang and the other pilgrims. It's also made clear that in very direct contrast to Sun Wukong, he doesn't care about these monkeys beyond how they might serve him. In fact, after Sha Wujing kills the monkey posing as him the Six Eared Macaque not only all but immediately replaces him with another, but also "told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines." So this monkey is not only willing to risk the lives of a lot of other monkeys for his own personal benefit, but is also a literal cannibal. And yes yes, I know a lot of people have argued that Monkie Kid shouldn't be considered a direct sequel to JTTW & that's fair enough (for example, Sun Wukong probably shouldn't be smashing anyone into a meat patty in a children's cartoon lol). And of course, it needs to be noted that there are a buttload of really out there & really cursed pieces of media based on JTTW & that were created in China. Yet the above description is the oft-ignored in the west original facet of the Six Eared Macaque's character. And it is this selfishness, entitlement, and treatment of other individuals as tools for his own self-serving ends  that is, from where I’m standing, still very much present in Monkie Kid. Like besides repeatedly going out of his way to physically and psychologically traumatize Xioatian, with the last episode Macaque seemed to be going right back to his manipulative ways. I’ve seen people frame their last conversation as Macaque softening to Xioatian a little bit, but personally that read a lot more like that common tactic among abusers where even after they’ve hurt you they’ll dangle something you want or need over your head (in Macaque’s case, the promise of desperately needed training and information about a serious looming threat), with the implication that you’ll only get it if you do what they want you to, such as, in this case, Xioatian going back to Macaque as his student even after having been so terribly hurt by this monkey, which would give Macaque power over Xiaotian and probably Sun Wukong as a result. And it is this violence and manipulation that it seems the fandom at large has tacitly decided shouldn’t even be addressed, instead leaning more towards a (and this is an exaggeration) “Six-Eared Macaque my poor meow meow Sun Wukong has always been bad & has always been wrong about literally everything” reading. 

And while it is the case that I am not Chinese and feel that as such it would be best left to someone who actually comes from that background to provide more context into how common interpretations of the Six Eared Macaque from China may clash really badly with the stuff the western fandom creates, it also must be noted that, as much as we all want to have fun in fandom & in spite of all the out-there versions of JTTW from China, we westerners should recognize that there is a very long and very ugly history of western countries stripping other cultures’ important religious and literary works for parts & mashing them into their own thing while implying or even insisting that what they present provides a true understanding of the original piece. And while I trust most individuals in regards to Monkie Kid are able to step back and think “this is a lego cartoon and not a set guide for how I should understand JTTW” (especially given the insistence that JTTW and Monkie Kid should be considered there own separate works) there does nevertheless seem to be something of a tendency to take the conclusions people come to, for example, about Sun Wukong’s characteristic in his lego form & then assume that’s just reflective to Sun Wukong as a totality. I imagine a good portion of this is due to people not reading JTTW & especially to not having easy access to solid information or answers about JTTW’s many different facets (like geez awhile ago I was trying to get a clear answer on what is considered the most accurate translation of the names of Sun Wukong’s six sworn brothers & got like 5 different responses lmao), but that tendency to take a western fandom interpretation & run with it instead of doing any background research or questioning said interpretation is still very much at play. As such, & as made prominent in the way people have been interpreting the dynamic between Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque in the lego monkey show, tbh it does seem kind of shitty for western creators & audience to sometimes go really out of their way to ignore all of this original cultural & narrative context for the sake of Angst (TM) in Macaque's favor, demonizing Sun Wukong, and shipping the monkey king with his evil twin (X_X).

And speaking of which, even beyond the potential inherent creepiness & revulsion that can be inspired by this specific ship given common interpretations of the og classic's original meaning (again, it's my understanding, given both summaries of translated Chinese academic texts I've been kindly provided with, my own reading of the Anthony C. Yu translation of JTTW, & vents from a number of Chinese people I've seen on this site, that the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China as having originated from Sun Wukong himself as a living embodiment of his worst traits, hence why only Buddha can tell the difference between them & why the monkey king is much more slow to violence after he kills the macaque), I'd argue that in the face of all the uwu poor widdle meow meow portrayals lego show Macaque is, especially if you include JTTW's events, still in the role of “Sun Wukong but worse” as he is very much a violent & selfish creep. Like he was basically running around in JTTW wearing a Sun Wukong fursuit, but there he had the sole reason of wanting to replace Sun Wukong wholesale so he could have all the good things in the monkey king's life without actually having to work as hard for them. But if you combine that with Macaque now claiming that he used to be best friend with Sun Wukong in his pre-journey days (something that's made funny from a JTTW context given that that status actually belongs to the Demon Bull King lol), his original violence has now blown into this centuries long and really unhealthy obsession with the monkey king. Like he's apparently gone from wanting to literally be Sun Wukong to being so obsessed with getting revenge on Sun Wukong that he's got basically nothing else going on in his life. Like he's only appeared in two episodes but...does he have any friends? Any family? A career or even a hobby that DOESN'T center the monkey king? Anything at all outside of his "get revenge on and/or kill Sun Wukong/use his successor as my personal punching bag” thing? Like dude! That is extremely creepy and extremely bad for everyone all around! As I’ve said before, this seeming refusal to see beyond the past or to do something that doesn’t involve Sun Wukong in some capacity is a trait that makes Macaque an interesting and somewhat tragic villain--he even seems to be working as Sun Wukong’s reflection in a mirror darkly, with lego show Sun Wukong pretty clearly not being able to heal from his own past which is hinted to be defined by one loss after another, and with Monkie Kid even kind of having these two characters somewhat follow their JTTW characterizations in that in the latter half of the journey Sun Wukong often gets sad & starts crying in the face of what seems insurmountable odds (& Monkie Kid Sun Wukong does seem to be hiding some serious depression behind a cheerful facade), whereas the Six-Eared Macaque retains a worse version of Sun Wukong’s pre-journey characteristic of getting pissed and lashing out if things don’t go his way--but it’s also what would make any current friendship or romantic relationship between these monkeys horrific. Although to be fair even the fandom seems to recognize this in an unconscious way, in that a lot of the art & fanfic seems to swing erratically between them kissing & screaming at each other in yet another example of bog-standard fandom adulation of romanticized toxic relationships lol.  

At the end of the day, of course, this is nothing new. You'll find versions of this dynamic across a ton of fandoms and now even canonical work. And as such, I can only look at this kind of popularized relationship dynamic with a kind of resigned weariness whenever it pops up, & my frustrated question with the popularity of this kind of pairing is the exact same one that I have for a multitude of blatantly toxic villain/hero ships, given common fandom discourse & the tendency to either ignore or justify the villain's actions & demonize the hero: if you're THAT convinced that everything is the hero's fault, if you believe THAT much that the hero is the one in the wrong for the villain's pain and their subsequent actions, then why are you so set on them not only becoming a romantic pair, but framing this get-together as a good thing? Like I know we contain multitudes but that's waaay too many contradictions for me to wrap my head around. And it definitely doesn’t help that one branch of underlying reasoning behind this kind of pairing seems to be the ever-present “you break it, you fix it” mentality, where the assumption is that if you’re in a failing, abusive, and/or generally toxic relationship (platonically or romantically), if you put in enough time and effort & attempts to compromise, you’ll be able to restore/have the relationship you dreamed of, even with someone who hurt you really badly. And this assumption isn’t limited to fandom: I’d even argue that it’s everywhere in the culture, hence why a lot of people feel like they “failed” if they have to get a divorce or make the choice to leave an unhealthy friendship. Personally, I feel like people could really benefit from more stories about how it is not only the case that the people you hurt don’t owe you their forgiveness & you can still become a better and happier person without the one you hurt in your life, & that while it can be really hard it can also be a good thing to leave a relationship, even if it’s one that once meant a lot to you. 

  But in all honestly, from my own perspective this kind of pairing is starting to read far less like enemies to lovers and far more like a horrible fantasy where you can pull whatever shit you want, even on the people you "love," & never be held accountable for your terrible behavior or even have to consider that maybe you were in the wrong. It's another facet that makes me larf every time I see people insist that fandom is an inherently "transformative" or "progressive" form of storytelling like friends you are literally just taking status quo toxic monogamy & rebranding it as somehow beneficial & romantic (X_X).

But as to anon’s last frustration, it is hard to know what is the appropriate response with this kind of thing...like for my own part I’m keeping my frustrations to my blog & now increasingly to posts that you would have to click on the “read more” button to see what I have to say, but I totally get the hesitation to give even a mild critique to big names in a fandom. Like I've now seen it happen repeatedly where someone who has a big name in a fandom will make something that's kind of shitty for one reason or another, someone will message them with some version of "hey, that's kind of shitty, you shouldn't do that," and the typical response is either to blatantly ignore the issue completely, or more popularly to make a giant crying circus that seems deliberately geared towards stoking emotions on both sides of the, for example, fiction does/doesn't affect reality issue so that something that didn't even have to be that big a deal gets blown out of all proportion, with the big name often framing what often started out as a very mild critique into a long crying jag about how the initial response to their kind of shitty thing was so mean/cruel and they're just a poor innocent & that YOU'RE the true racist/sexist/bigot etc. if you don't agree with their opinion. It must of course be noted that there have also been numerous instances of people taking it too far the other way & sending not just big names but smaller creators literal deaths threats over stuff like innocuous ships which like holy hell bells people that’s a horrible thing to do. But for the big names at least, the end result of all this fighting is usually that once the dust has settled they have more attention/fame/money/power in the fandom than before, and with anyone who might have a problem with their stuff feeling afraid to voice their opinion lest they be swarmed by that person's fans. In that way fandom does often seem to increasingly be geared towards presenting an “official” fandom perspective about various facets of a piece of media instead of allowing for a multitude of interpretations, and with criticism, no matter its shape or form or how genuinely warranted it may be, being hounded out of existence. I feel like a lot of this could be made less bad if there wasn’t this constant assumption & even drive to think that a different interpretation of or criticism of your favorite work of fiction or your fanwork isn’t a direct claim that you are a thoroughly loathsome individual (& maybe also if people cultivated an enjoyment of learning things about important works from a culture outside their own, even if what you learn clashes with your own initial understandings), but I guess we’ll see if that ever happens. 

So these are my general thinks about the Six Eared Macaque’s current fandom meow meow status & some of my bigger gripes with fandom tendencies as a whole. I stand by my idea that the most interesting & beneficial route for Macaque moving forward would be a kind of “redemption without forgiveness from the ones you hurt” arc--as I think was done pretty excellently with the character Grace in Infinity Train--and if for no other reason than gosh dern this monkey really needs to cultivate some sort of identity beyond his “Sun Wukong but worse” persona. 

[littleoddwriter]

Heavy Heart | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

Another Vent Fic, sorry. This time with Arrowverse!Roman Sionis (Batwoman Season 2), though. The episodes still aren’t out here, but I think I’ve seen enough Clips to at least get his voice and feel right. Sorry if not (in case anyone even ends up reading this).

summary; You’re struggling with personal issues, regarding your interpersonal relationships. Roman unexpectedly shows up at your doorstep and you have a heart-to-heart.

notes; Male!Reader; Reader has Borderline Personality Disorder; Favourite Person (FP); Rejection; Abandonment Issues; Spiralling; Mild Dissociation; Self-Harm (Scratching and Cutting); Blood; Hurt/Comfort; Unexpected Visit; Love Confessions; Soft Kisses; Hugs; Little Dialogue.

It’s only been a couple of months, since you and Roman have started dating. Honestly, you’d never expected it to happen at all. You’ve been his assistant at Janus Cosmetics for over two years at that point, while you’ve been silently crushing on him the entire time. So to say that you were ecstatic about the fact that he liked you, too, would’ve been an understatement.

Naturally, as it always happened, Roman has become your new Favourite Person all too quickly and crushingly. Of course, at this point in your still blooming relationship you couldn’t care less, because you were happy, you were on top of the world when you only thought about him and the way he kissed you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Still, in the back of your mind, this tiny voice kept reminding you that every time you’ve had an FP in your life, it didn’t end well; and it never lasted very long – a year tops, maybe. So, you were cautious, like you always were. You were hyper aware of everything you said and did around him; how often you texted him; how fast you responded to him; how many gifts you made for him and how much time passed in-between them. All so you wouldn’t fuck it up by being too much or too little. You were desperately trying to find this golden balance between it all.

The last time you had a Favourite Person wasn’t too long ago, actually. They had still been it when Roman has asked you on your first date with him. But not even a week afterwards, they had suddenly stopped responding to your texts and ignored you. They had never tried to contact you again and you were far too afraid and anxious to do it on your own accord after too much time has passed already. After all, you had already convinced yourself that they had lost interest in you and hated your guts all of a sudden.

Of course, you had tried to forget about them, which was made a little easier by the fact that your entire focus was on one Roman Sionis. Still, it didn’t prevent you from thinking about this supposed friend at least once a day, if not more, and wondering where it had gone wrong and if the same would happen with Roman very soon. It was bound to happen after all, and since this particular friendship had ended so very suddenly after not even four months, you could only fear how long your relationship with Roman would last.

Every single day, you tried your damnedest not to ponder too much and let anxiety overtake your body. Instead, you attempted to just focus on Roman and how much you loved him, which was a whole lot and far too much, to the point where it caused your chest to hurt. Often times, you wondered if it would be acceptable of you to already say those three particular words to him, or if that would ruin everything. You were incredibly uncertain, and he never seemed as though he was going to say them any time soon. Either way, you forced yourself to be patient and not fuck everything up again.

The fact that Roman had asked you out, even though he very much knew about your BPD diagnosis had shocked you to your core, but it somewhat calmed you down to know that it wasn’t a secret between you two (you had even checked in with him if he really knew upon his question). Still, you often wondered if he was truly aware of how much baggage you had on your shoulders and just how exhausting it could be to be in a relationship with a person who had this particular disorder – not only for you, but for him as well.

As the months have stretched on with barely an incident between you two, you had allowed yourself to get a tiny bit more comfortable. Whether or not you should regret it was beyond you, when your best friends have suddenly ceased to respond to your texts and more and more people around you have seemed to ignore you. At first you’ve given it all some time and tried not to jump to conclusions, because you knew they were all busy with their own lives and weren’t always in the mood to talk or text – and you respected that, you knew exactly what that was like.

But as two days have turned into four and essentially a whole week, you couldn’t help yourself anymore.

Feelings of utter loneliness and rejection overcame you in waves. You’ve been short of crying every couple of minutes; your chest hurt so much; your skin felt so tight – you desperately wanted to claw it off.

Then, you started to isolate yourself more and more. At work, you acted mostly normal, just like always – putting on this mask of being fine and a good worker – when in reality, your entire world was falling apart piece by piece.

None of it went past Roman, of course, he was way too perceptive for that. But when he asked you what was wrong, you deflected the question and said that it wasn’t important, it would be okay in a few hours or days anyway.

That wasn’t the case, though.

It didn’t get better at all. The feelings just wouldn’t go away. Every time you looked at your phone and saw all the unanswered messages you’d sent out to people weeks and months ago made your heart heavy and your chest tighten painfully. The more time passed, the worse it got.

Eventually, you also just couldn’t help wondering about Roman and doubting his interest in you. Was he truly interested in you at all? Would he have enough of you soon? Would he drop you gently or harshly? Would you even still have a job when he did? Fuck, it certainly wasn’t the best idea to date your boss, was it?

As you sat at your desk at home, preparing Roman’s schedule for the next week, your phone suddenly pinged. Immediately you took it into your hands to see if it was Roman – he was the only one who you were talking to at all anymore, after all. But then you saw that it was your previous Favourite Person, the one right before Roman. They had reacted to something you had posted on social media. They had commented on it as though they hadn’t suddenly stopped talking to you months ago.

As soon as you saw it, your eyes burned with tears that suddenly pricked them, your heart clenched so painfully and your skin was crawling. You were hurt and confused. It was all too much.

Just half an hour before that you had exchanged a few texts with an acquaintance you had on social media, which was as unfulfilling as it always had been. They clearly didn’t care about you, since they would never once truly ask how you were feeling, but in fact only talked about themselves and their life’s struggles. You were nothing but a tool for them to vent their worries to without an ounce of care in what you had to say in the least. It was a role you’d been very much used to, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

So, naturally all of this was a lot for you to process – too much, really – and you felt so many negative emotions all at once. They were crushing you. You were in agony.

As the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the emotional pain and exchange it with a temporary physical one overcome you, you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths and distract yourself first, before you did something you would later regret.

Unfortunately, it only lasted for a few minutes at a time, as the urge became bigger and your anguish stronger.

Only a few hours later, you decided to shower and as soon as you got dressed, you couldn’t even think twice before your fingernails met your neck’s skin and scratched it open. You stared at yourself in the mirror as your hands just kept on moving, all across your neck and collarbones, scratching away intensely until it was bright red, irritated and bleeding.

For a moment, you inspected the fresh wounds.

It still wasn’t enough.

You quickly disinfected the irritated, scratched-open areas and then proceeded to take out the small blade you kept in the drawer below your bathroom sink. Then, you pressed it against your inner forearm and drew a small, deep line with it, causing blood to well up instantly as sharp pain shot through you. You set the blade down and squeezed around your wound, forcing out more blood. You desperately needed to see it flow out of you.

A few seconds passed and you took the blade back into your hand and rested it a few inches below your fresh cut.

You hesitated.

Shaking your head, you put it back into the drawer and instead nursed your still bleeding wound.

After all, you’ve already done more than enough damage.

The loud and sudden ringing of your doorbell startled you and you quickly, but quietly, walked towards your apartment door to look through the peephole. Roman stood in front of your door.

Were you supposed to meet him and you forgot amidst all the pain you’ve been in?

Nervously, you opened the door and smiled at him. It hurt to smile. You could only guess how strained it must have looked, not to forget the angry red and mildly bleeding wounds on your neck that you had no way of hiding, then.

“Roman, wh- what are you doing here? Sorry, uh, come in first, maybe,” you stammered out your awkward greeting, stepping to the side to let Roman into your apartment, while your heart violently hammered against your rib cage.

“I’m sorry for suddenly coming by, but I’ve actually been in the area and thought I could pay you a little visit. I missed you,” he replied as he walked past you and hung his coat on the hook on the wall, “Besides, I tried to let you know by sending you a text, but I suppose you were busy showering by the looks of it.”

“Oh- yeah. Yes, sorry. It’s okay, though. I missed you, too. I’m glad to see you,” you responded softly, nervously looking around the room and avoiding his eyes.

Suddenly his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, your bodies flush against one another. His left arm travelled up and around when he cupped your cheek with his hand and gently stroked his thumb over it, before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. You were entirely too overwhelmed and still a little beside yourself, but you reciprocated the chaste kiss automatically and put your arms around his shoulders.

When he broke the kiss, he looked you over. You could feel the shame crawling beneath your skin, making you feel far too hot.

“I didn’t catch you at a good time, did I?” he inquired quietly, grazing his fingers over the wounds on your neck so very lightly so as not to hurt you more.

Because of how tight your throat felt, you could only shake your head and avert your gaze.

Roman heaved a deep sigh and kissed your forehead softly, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured against your brow, “May I ask what’s caused this?”

Hesitating, you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, so short of crying again, as you thought about whether or not it would scare him off if you told him the truth. In the end, you nodded, though.

“Let’s sit down first, please. Can I get you something to drink?” you said brokenly, daring to look at him for a second.

“Water, please.”

Quickly, you walked into the kitchen and got Roman a glass of water, while he sat down on your couch in the living room. Your hand was shaking when you passed him the glass and he looked at you with such a soft expression that it took your breath away.

Why wasn’t he up and running already?

When you sat down next to him, he set the glass down on the table in front of you two and put his arm around you, once more pulling you close against him. Your sides pressed together and you allowed yourself to rest your head against his shoulder.

“You can tell me as much or as little as you want, okay, my sweet boy?” he told you softly and kissed your temple shortly.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and exhaled a shuddery breath. Then, you started to tell him everything that’s been going on lately and how much it all hurt. Sometime into your explanation the tears that have burned your eyes started to flow and run down your reddened face, leaving painful streaks behind. All the while, Roman was quietly shushing you and rubbing your upper arm soothingly, and peppering gentle kisses on the top of your head.

When you were done talking, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your entire body into Roman’s side in an attempt to both vanish and be close to him one last time, before he would leave you (at least that was what you’ve expected to happen anyway).

Instead, Roman wrapped his other arm around you as well and embraced you tightly, lovingly.

“I’m not going to leave you, baby. I’m not going anywhere. It angers me to know how much pain people have caused you in your life, especially as of late, but I won’t be one of them, alright?” he assured you and kissed your temple once more. “I love you, Y/N.”

Stopping to breathe altogether, you could barely believe what you’ve just heard.

Despite your disbelief, you choked out a quiet “I love you, too, Roman. So much”.

The issues that caused you so much pain in the first place may not have been solved with it, but you felt a little more secure in your relationship with Roman now, at least. That way, you could now quiet down these nagging thoughts in the back of your mind that kept telling you that he was going to drop you any second.

Sighing deeply, you relaxed a little and wrapped your arms around Roman’s middle as you pressed your face into his chest.

For the time being, you could pretend that everything was going to be alright.

[williamaltman]

Luke/Alex Rant

Negativity Alert.

So, ugh, the whole Luke/Alex being exes thing actually brings me so much pain, and it’s like no one understands me :(

I’m actually gonna start with the part that’s gonna make people hate me, which is probably not the best idea when looking for sympathy/empathy/understanding, but oh well, it just makes the most sense to me to write it like that... Thanks for those who bear with me.

First of all... It’s not really canon. I mean, maybe it could be. Maybe they could make it in s2. But I’m tired of people saying it’s straight up confirmed, putting it on wikis and everything. Owen and Charlie were just chatting, joking around and having fun with the fans on live, they weren’t being completely serious.

They clearly like to support fan theories, headcanons, ships. Yet on actual serious interviews they have never mentioned that. They have even talked about how Flynn/Reggie was supposed to be a thing, but not that. Not once did it come up when talking about LGBT representation on the show either(why would they not say Luke isn’t straight?).

I understand having a headcanon and feeling validated when the actors support it but it seems like most people legit can’t tell the difference between that and actual officially canon things? It seems like people either think this is actually written in the show(which we don’t have any evidence of) or that the actors have the authority to decide what’s canon just like the writers/showrunners/directors, which... It’s just not true?

Now, why it actually upsets me.

Well, just for starters... IT’S SO SAD??? I really don’t get what joy people get into characters being broken up??? And I mean, the fact that they stayed friends and are still fine with each other is nice I guess, and I see why that could be appreciated... But at the same time the one thing that made people get this idea was when they held hands in episode 2 when they got scared... With the idea being that Luke instinctively went to Alex to cope, and then Alex said “Let’s not” as in “Let’s not make it weird, we’re not together anymore”.

Which is so freaking sad??? The idea that they used to be each other’s emotional support and now even though they’re friends they can never really be that close anymore? Which, means that things are NOT just completely fine like ~UwU happy exes~??? Same for the also popular "evidence" that Luke supposedly looked sad when he realized Alex liked Willie.

And so, we go to the fact that... They’re clearly not happening “again". Willex and Juke/Palina are the ships. I see most people who are into this saying they’re into the current ships anyway and want for them to thrive and for Luke/Alex to stay only in the past. Which, I mean... I KINDA get, liking ships in the past but wanting them to move on. But that makes more sense to me when it’s something that it’s actually in the thing, not something that’s not shown and you’re pushing to happen only to add heartbreak that didn’t need to be there.

EVEN THEN, pushing that aside and understanding liking this idea of them in the past... Why need for that to be canon then??? If it’s all about the fanfics and fanarts and aesthetics and somewhat suggestive moments to relate to that but nothing actually substantial on the show... Then why push for more than that and open the door for people to get invested and want for them to get back together, when for you nothing’s gonna change either way? It’s so counter-productive.

And if you actually want for them to get back together... Well the idea that the creators of a show targeted at teenage girls would take away the main het ship for a gay one even though there’s already a canon gay ship that doesn’t interfere with anything is ridiculous. So again, keeping it as a headcanon and maybe reading fics where they get a happy ending instead of pushing it as canon it’s the best idea possible too.

Ok, I didn’t mean for this post to be so argumentative and combatitive. I meant for it to be more about my feelings really. But now that I feel like I’ve actually brought good arguments to my stance, there’s that feeling that actually exposing my real emotional reason to think like that is gonna “ruin it” and just invalidate everything... But well, I guess that’s too bad, and if anyone’s taking this seriously at all, which most likely isn’t the case, I again ask you to cut me some slack and not just think everything I said is dumb as hell because of what comes later? Like let’s be real here, we’re all coming from some kind of emotional place here, right? Even getting so attached to fictional characters at all.

So, the thing is, I WOULD LOVE LUKEALEX SO MUCH. The possible dynamic and/or tropes/archetypes that they could have would be literally my weakness. It’s already my weakness. In fact what I might consider my very first serious ship already has it. And god, did I suffer for that, and in the end I don’t even know if the results were worthy and if I’m even sure of what they were. 

And that ship was actually a wlw one. A mlm one(I’m a gay guy) makes it 10x worse(the fact that Luke is like totally the kind of character I’m attracted to and Charlie is also like, perfect, doesn’t help either). It would make me invested in a way that would probably already be too much if they were together, but them being exes just absoutely DESTROYS ME. Like on a visceral level.

And the fact that the idea is most of the time that Luke was the one who was there for Alex when he came out. And that maybe Luke was his first love. And now that's gone. It absolutely kills me. It’s so so so tragic.

Like, I actually read a fic like this. Before this whole thing became so popular and Owen/Charlie said anything about it. And it destroyed me. I bawled my eyes out for like an hour. As well-written and touching as it was, it wasn’t worthy, it was definetely not worth suffering so much like a month after reading it.

So it’s just so painful that for most people this is just a cute little thing that doesn’t affect them at all while it truly hurts me so much :/

So yeah, this is my rant. It should probably have been two separate posts, one talking about how I don’t think it’s really canon and one why i don’t want to... Cause as I said, I feel like no one is gonna take me seriously while if I ended it on the arguing part it would lend more credence to it. And I do think people desparately need to take a step back in regards to how they’re considering this 100% confirmed canon(or even anything besides a little teasing).

But I had to vent I guess. Please be kind enough not to come here fight me. Edit: I didn’t mention this at first cause it’s kind of not the main reason and not relevant to LukeAlex specifically, but: I value canon MLM ships A LOT, and watching the show I loved Willex so much and saw nothing between Luke and Alex, so I do 100% want to focus on the canon ship instead of going down this route of hyping up a crackship(that wouldn’t be a crackship if the exes thing was made canon, and might not even classify a crackship even now, but still). I’m not trying to make a point about how people who ship LukeAlex are evil (because, in a way, I do too!), and I definetly don’t want to throw the racism card, but yeah. Just a little extra point to make.

[localscissors]

Triplet De Spell Oneshot (Part One)

Part Two 

@cinnabunni5123 ‘s writing motivated me enough to clean up my old writing and get it posted. I’ll get the rest of this out tomorrow, but if you want more of this AU writing then I seriously suggest visiting @cinnabunni5123 ‘s Ao3 page (where she’s writing a brilliant multi-chapter fic of my AU) or @pilyarquitect , who has written several amazing one-shots. Both are more reliable than I’ll ever be (plus they’ve got some awesome fics in general. Other than that, this is just one of my earlier ideas in which the triplets kinda bond with everybody in an episodic-type way. Really suggest checking out their writing though, I love everything about it.

The best thing about stealing the identity of a missing child? Is that you get to steal their life too. And the real Dewey Duck,( wherever he might be), had the best, most loving family ever. Dewey de Spell loved his fake life.

And Della was the coolest adult Dewey had ever met. She gave him hugs and kisses and had as much enthusiasm for trouble as he did. The real Dewey was so lucky to be born into this family. Who knew such cool moms existed?

So when Della invited him and his brothers to go on an adventure with her, Dewey immediately agreed. Every second he spent with Della were the best seconds of his life. He wanted more of them. He wanted all of them. He wanted to hoard as many as he could before Magica blew everything away.

So, given the choice between searching for the dime with Huey, or going on an epic adventure with his fake mom, he chose fake mom.

“But Dewey, we need you to search for the dime!” Huey shouted.

“Can’t. Gotta go with Della on an epic airplane adventure. Sorry you guys weren’t invited! I’m already late gotta go byyeee!” Dewey ran out the bedroom door before Huey could say any more, leaving his two brothers alone. He could still hear Huey screaming his name, but he was already out the hall and down the stairs. They had loads of time to find the dime. He could help any other day, but going on adventures with Della? That was limited.

Besides, getting the McDuck family’s trust was part of the plan anyway, and his siblings were doing a horrible job of that. Dewey was happy to pick up their slack in that regard.

When he made it outside to the Sunchaser, he saw Della dutifully polishing her plane with a rag, and Scrooge impatiently checking his watch. A sudden bubble of excitement rose in his chest, driving him to run forward and wave to both of them. Della waved happily back, but her smile immediately fell when she only saw him. His steps faltered. Did he do something wrong?

“Are Huey and Louie coming?” She asked.

From what he knew about mothers, they were supposed to love all their children equally. From what he saw on TV, they got worried when one of them went missing. Knowing all of this, and knowing he was being very unfair to his brothers, Dewey felt an overwhelming ball of possessiveness roll up his throat. Why did she ask? Does she prefer them to him? Did she not want him there? If she found out he said they weren’t invited, would she shut him out?

All of these feelings were pushed down with a simple shrug and lie. “They didn’t want to come.”

“They didn’t want to..?” Something troubled passed over her features, and all at once, the feelings rolled back up at full force. She’ll shut him out, send him away. Say the adventure wasn’t worth it if it was just Dewey on the plane. Huey was so much smarter anyway, and Louie was more likeable. They weren’t loud or annoying or destructive or—

“More seats for us then, am I right?” Della laughed and threw an easy arm over his shoulder. “Double the leg room. We’ll have fun, just the two of us.”

‘Just the two of us’ became Dewey’s most favorite string of words, ever.

They boarded together, Scrooge following closely behind. Dewey could feel him staring, but ignored it. Della was smiling at him and he wasn’t going to let Scrooge ruin this moment for him.

“So which ones are the torpedo launchers?” The young duckling asked, ogling at the array of buttons and levers.

“Yer thinkin of submarines, boy,” Scrooge grumbled.

Della laughed and sat in the pilot’s seat, gesturing for Dewey to sit down beside her. “Yeah, no torpedos. Here, I’ll show what these buttons do.”

Scrooge left for the back of the plane. Dewey could feel the old man’s irritation just below his forced calm facade, and that’s why he forced himself to stay completely still until he heard Scrooge take his seat. Angry adults were unpredictable at their best, and he didn’t want to do anything to set him off. Once Dewey was sure that Mr. McDuck was at a safe distance, he relaxed and let Della show him how to steer.

Dewey peered out the window as they lifted off, amazed at how quickly they rose. Aunt Magica sometimes told them about her flying broom, old and broken and sitting unused in the corner of the closet. He wondered if she felt this happy when she flew.

____________________________________________________________________

Huey, meanwhile, was fuming. “I can’t believe he would just walk out like that! Doesn’t he care at all—!”

Louie shrugged. “Eh, who needs him anyway. Let Dewey waste time with our fake mom if he wants. We know where the real treasure is.”

Huey sighed, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. We know our priorities.” After a moment, he tilted his head. “...do you really think Della didn’t invite us? Actually, never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

The thought of not being invited did sting, but honestly, it sounded like the exact type of lie Dewey would spin.

“Where are we searching today?” Louie asked.

Huey pulled out two pieces of paper from his coat pocket and unfolded them. One was a map of the mansion grounds, and the other was a neatly organized checklist. Huey visibly brightened at the sight of his own handiwork, proud of the neat lines and careful planning.

“According to our checklist—”

“Which you wrote,” said Louie.

“—Our next stop in the Money Bin. That’s where Scrooge keeps all his treasures.

Louie grinned and rubbed his hands together greedily. “I wonder how much he’s got stocked in there? I’ve heard, he only piles up his gold to swim in it!”

“That’s so gross.”

“Maybe to you, but to me?” Louie put a fist over his heart. “this is the kind of wealth I aspire to.”

Huey snorted and shook his head. “Well, he’s got all his money in there. So logically, he’d put the dime in there too.”

Louie silently disagreed. If he had an important all-powerful dime, he’d store it someplace special! Not with all the common treasure. But Louie rarely spoke his opinions out loud. Coming up with plans (especially plans for Magica) was a risk, and Huey willingly took that risk every time. It was so much easier to follow than lead.

Also, he really, really wanted to see the Bin. No way he was ruining this chance by expressing his doubts now, of all times.

“Let’s get going then,” Louie said, pushing his brother out the door. “We’ve got treasure to see and dimes to steal. Let’s go, go, go!”

“Okay, okay. Wait, one minute. Just… there’s a problem. We don’t know how to get in, and it’s probably locked.”

“So? That’s why we’ve got magic, Huey. I’m a magical lock-smith.”

Huey shook his head. “That’s not enough. Haven’t you seen how many protection wards there are in this mansion alone ? I can’t even imagine how many guard spells he’s got at the money bin. I was hoping Dewey could maybe break through them, but he ran off—”

“What are you guys whispering about?”

“AGH!” Louie jumped backward, clutching his heart in fright at the third unexpected voice that appeared above them. Looking up, they saw Webby hanging out of a ventilation shaft in the ceiling, grinning sheepishly.

“Wha—WEBBY! Were you spying on us!?” Louie cried.

“Not on purpose. I was just coming over to see what you guys were doing.” She hopped down and landed easily next to them.

Louie’s heart was still racing, and knowing that Webby could’ve been listening to them at any time scared him. He was unable to keep the irritation from his voice when he snapped,“That’s creepy. Just knock on the door like a normal person.”

Webby winced, sheepishly pulling on her sweater. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see what you were doing.”

Huey was also startled, and made a personal note to be more aware of the vents next time they planned. He was annoyed, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “It’s fine, just please don’t do that again.”

Webby nodded seriously, and then tilted her head. “What were you guys talking about anyway? I couldn’t hear anything from up there.”

“Nothing,” Louie answered.

“Secrets,” Huey blurted.

Webby squealed and rocked on her heals excitedly. “Secrets are my favorite! I’m so good at keeping them. Let me tell you one of mine! I’ve hidden several spears all over the mansion, so that I’m always ready for attack.”

Louie smacked a hand on his forehead. Huey was the worst at lying. Why couldn’t he keep his beak shut?”

Webby continued. “I told you one of my secrets. Now what’s yours?”

While Huey panicked at the question, fumbling for words, Louie, saw an opportunity. He put a hand on Huey’s shoulder and squeezed, silently assuring him that he could handle this.

“We’ve got a lot of secrets,” Louie grinned. “But you wanna know our biggest one?”

Louie could feel Huey tense behind him while Webby nodded eagerly. Louie paused for dramatic effect, eating a good few seconds before revealing, “We’re McDuck nerds. We love all things Scrooge McDuck.”

Webby gasped. “You too!? I thought I was the only one!”

“Well, you’re not. We’ve been researching the McDuck family four entire lives.” Which was technically true. Magica has repeatedly cursed every aunt, uncle, and cousin of the McDuck family for as they could remember.

“That’s amazing! What do you wanna talk about first? The time he saved an entire city from King Akhum’s curse? Or how about that time he outsmarted a village of evil seers, who foretold false prophecies of death? Or maybe we should go all the way back to his birth; Glasgow, 1867. The night was cold, and the air was—”

“We already know all that,” Louie interrupted, waving away her words. Then he faked a sad expression. “That’s the problem. We already learned everything there is to know, but we still haven’t seen the real thing. His artifacts, his treasures, his adventures...”

“Oh. That’s because he keeps it all in his Money Bin,” Webby said.

Louie brightened. “Really? You’ve seen it?”

Webby laughed. “Of course I have. Uncle Scrooge takes me there all the time.”

“Do you think you can get us in?” Huey asked hopefully.

Webby immediately stepped back, rubbing her arm anxiously. “Um, I don’t know. I’m actually not allowed in there by myself…”

“You won’t be by yourself, you’ll have us,” Louie encouraged. “C’mon, we’re all experts. You can be our guide. Uncle Scrooge and Della are out, so they can’t escort us anyway”

Webby shook her head, still unsure. “I can ask my Granny… she can take us.”

“Please?” Louie begged. “This has been our dream our entire lives.”

Webby looked away, and he realized he needed a different angle. He crossed his arms, and changed his tone from pleading to accusing.

“This is the type of stuff friends do for each other. I thought you were our friend.”

Webby jerked back, as if burned by his words. He felt bad, but it had the exact effect he wanted.

“N-no no! I am! I am your friend! I Just don’t want to—”

Louie rolled right over her protests. “This is the type of stuff friends do for each other. It’s not even a big deal, you’ve been there a hundred times.”

Webby looked so torn and hurt that Louie almost apologized right then and there, but he hardened himself. He was good at exactly one thing and he wasn’t gonna backtrack just because of a little guilt. He looked toward Huey, silently hoping he could top this off with a little bit of his natural good cop routine.

Thankfully, he stepped in.

“You’re our best friend, Webby,” Huey said sincerely. “It would mean the world to us if you could show us around.”

Louie held his breath as Webby thought on their words, still torn between house rules and peer pressure.

This is… this is what friends do for each other, right?” Webby asked.

“Oh yes, definitely,” Louie assured. Huey also nodded. This is what friends did on TV, after all. They always snuck around behind the adults’ backs.

Webby sighed decisively,her expression determined. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

[linerwriter]

A Distraction

So, uh, I didn’t really plan to make this. It’s more of a vent fic, to be honest.

Fun fact: I have anxiety! And it’s focused mainly on social stuff and the things discussed in this fic! I had an episode yesterday and this kinda came out of it, so I decided to post it because (a) it’s a good fic and (b) I want to raise some kind of awareness for this type of anxiety (where it’s centered more on thoughts produced by the person as opposed to situations).

Warning: if you are not comfortable with the things discussed in this (death, what happens after death, etc.), please don’t read!!! I know my triggers, and if I wasn’t the author of this, I would not read it cause I would not feel comfortable! Please be cautious!

Word count: 1485. For the @linkeduniverse AU. 

“I grew up with just my grandma!”

“Oh, really? How’d that go?”

Up ahead of where Wild was walking, his two companions, Wind and Hyrule, were chatting amicably about their families. The three of them had been selected to gather food for dinner, and the hunt had taken them somewhat deep into the woods. Eventually, after Wild had been silent for too long, content to listen to the trees, the others started to entertain themselves.

“It was sad at first,” Wind confessed, “Everyone was kinda just like ‘you’ll get to see them again!’ But they never really thought about how I felt? I mean, sure, I was a little kid, but I still had feelings, ya know?”

Hyrule nodded his head, “I get what you mean. I had a cat when I was really young, and when it died, they all were telling me about how happy he was, and how I’d get to see him again. That stuff was really hurtful!”

Wind suddenly threw his arms up, “It’s like they don’t even care about the remaining family! Like, yeah, I get that they’re gonna go to heaven or whatever, be accepted by the Goddess and all that jazz, but what about the people left behind?”

“Exactly!”

At some point during their conversation, Wild had started to pay attention. His brows furrowed as he thought about his friend’s topic, Accepted by the Goddess, huh? Wonder if that’ll ever happen to me…

He shook his head at the direction his thoughts were taking him, But what happens if it doesn’t? Will I just never wake up again? Slowly, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time crept up his body. Is it guaranteed that I’ll reach the Goddess?

He took in a sharp breath and banished the thoughts. “Guys,” his raised voice grabbed their attention, “I think we should stop soon. The sun’s going down.”

Wind grinned and started to run back to camp, “Hooray!”

As Hyrule took off after their youngest friend, Wild stared after them. An unreadable expression crossed his face until finally, he followed after them.

That experience, to Wild’s displeasure, stayed with him for many days. It often left him unable to sleep (not a surprise) and irritable (a surprise). He gradually became unfocused and spotty from his lack of sleep, but no matter what the others did to try to get him to speak, nothing worked.

Currently, Wild was attempting to make a nice lunch but was failing miserably. From where he was sitting, Twilight noticed how every few seconds, his friend would close his eyes and dip his head, then startle awake.

“What do you suppose is bothering him?” Time spoke up from where he was whittling something from wood. Twilight shrugged,

“Not sure. No clues besides what Wind and Hyrule told us about their walk a couple days back.”

Time sighed, “He needs to start sleeping again soon. We can’t afford to have one of us indisposed of.”

“I’ve been trying to get him to, but even my other form doesn’t help.” Twilight looked toward his ancestor, “I don’t suppose you know what to do?”

“Not even a speck of an idea.”

Twilight snorted, “Great, thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

“I take offense to that.”

“You should.”

Twilight turned all the way around, “And here I thought you were just a pleasant old man-”

A shriek interrupted the farmer, gone almost as fast as it was there. The two comrades quickly spun around, eyes looking around the clearing for danger. The truth, however, was much more puzzling.

Wild had, apparently, burned his arm on the cooking pot, which caused a lot of pain to spread before it healed. The odd part happened after. The young soldier had abruptly stood up and was staring at his arm in mild horror, his face a pale white. His chest rose up and down rapidly like he had run a marathon, and his hand started to shake slightly.

Twilight found his voice, “Wild? You okay, buddy?”

Wild slowly tore his eyes away from his limb toward Twilight, and then, without warning, he took off.

Wild didn’t know where he was running to, he just knew he needed to get away. His breath came out in his gasps, so unlike his regular air pattern. He faintly heard a few of the others chasing after him, but he neatly swerved and tumbled around trees and went deeper into the forest, successfully throwing them off him.

At some point, he stopped in front of a serene pond surrounded by flowers. He leaned over the water and hacked out the mucus in his throat. The entire time, thoughts of what could happen plagued his mind.

What if I never die?

What happens if I die?

What happens if I reach the Goddess, but the world ends? Will I still be with her?

What if I become a spirit?

What’s gonna happen?

A scream came out of his throat unwillingly as he scrambled away from the pond, trying to avoid the ideas coming from his mind. “Please, no, go away,” he pleaded into his hands, “Just leave me alone!”

“Woof!”

Wild spun around as Twilight bounded toward him. Unconsciously, he opened his arms to welcome the wolf into his arms, tears he didn’t even realize he was producing staining the mottled gray fur. Twilight nuzzled into Wild’s neck for comfort, but Wild stopped him.

“Twilight,” he panted out, “I don’t need comfort, I need a distraction.”

Without questioning, Twilight transformed back into his human self. “What do you need.”

“Just- talk.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I embarrassed myself in front of the princess?” The whole time, Twilight had been clutching his friend into his chest. Wild slowly shook his head at the question, his eyes slipping closed to listen to Twilight’s heartbeat.

“Well, I would like it to be known that it was not my fault it occurred,” Twilight started, “It was a bright morning, and I had been at the palace to visit the princess. She doesn’t have many friends, you see, so I visit her every so often to chat. Anyway, as I was walking up to greet her, there was a bucket on the stairwell…”

Twilight continued to talk about everything and nothing for hours, drawing Wild out of the headspace he was in. Gradually, Wild took his face out of Twilight’s and laughed along at the stories Twilight him, about the time he accidentally smashed his town’s biggest pumpkin or when he first broke his arm.

Eventually, though, Twilight had to ask what had happened.

“When Wind, Hyrule and I were getting resources a few days back, they started to talk about their families,” Wild’s eyes dimmed, “And how, when a loved one died, everyone told them they’d see them again with the Goddess.” He took in a shuddering breath, “That got me thinking.”

“About what?” Twilight prompted softly.

“About what’s gonna happen when I die.” Wild sighed out, “These concepts, I thought I was gonna forget them, but they just kept on coming back. I tried so hard, but nothing worked.”

“And it all came to a head today,” Twilight guessed.

Wild nodded, his eyes squeezed shut, “It was terrifying, Twi,” he whispered, “It felt like I was trapped with nowhere to go, like these walls had surrounded me and refused to budge. Looking back on it, it seems surreal that it even happened, but it did.”

Twilight digested what his friend said, “Can you tell me any of the thoughts you had?”

“Stuff about what’s gonna happen, what if nothing does happen, if I die, will I be with the Goddess?” Wild babbled out, “I couldn’t control it. It would jump from one conclusion to the next with no pattern or evidence to back it up besides pure emotion. What’s even worse is the feeling of isolation that came from it.”

“How so?”

“I can’t go into everyone’s mind and see what they’re thinking. How do I know if they’re thinking the same thing as me? I felt like I was the only one aware of what’s gonna happen. Like, how is no one else concerned about it? Do they really have that much faith in the Goddess?” Wild shook his head, “There’s no proof to confirm what happens after death, besides the possibility to become a spirit, but that sounds pretty miserable. So, what will happen when I die? Will I just go, no conscious left? Will I be alone in the dark? I don’t want that to happen, Twilight.”

Twilight’s eyes softened in sympathy as he clutched his friend tightly, “I’ll make sure it won’t. I’ll make Midna pull you out if I have to, make you live with us. Okay?”

Faintly, Wild smiled and sunk into his ancestor’s hold, “Thanks, Twilight. I’ll be sure to hold you to it, if it’s possible.”

[iffeelscouldkill]

it only means there is no room for you to fall

A/N: I wrote a fic! This very fun, self-indulgent ficlet helped me get out of a bit of a fic-writing rut that I’ve been stuck in for the past month or so, and I loved writing it. I wrote a longer ramble about it in my notes on AO3, but basically, it’s a post-Episode-5/alternate-Episode-6 fic in which Sana talks Violet through a panic attack after Elion, and then pining ensues between Sana, Violet and Arkady. But don’t worry, it ends in cuddles <3

Content note: This fic contains a description of a panic attack - not from the perspective of the POV character (that is to say, outsider POV) - quite early on. If you’d like to skip over that section, it starts about a dozen paragraphs in with the line “It’s Sana. Are you all right?” and ends with “Eventually, Violet’s breathing slows and quiets.”

Cross-posted to AO3

After the complete and unmitigated disaster that is Elion, Sana is angrier that she can remember being in a long time.

She’s angry at not having been able to do more to protect Violet, Brian and Arkady from what just happened. She’s angry at the creeping certainty that they’ve been sold out, and at what that must mean. And she’s furious at the Regime for causing all of this, for hounding her and her crew across the galaxy, never giving them a moment to rest.

Because she’s the Captain and the crew are depending on her to get them through this, she pushes the anger down, compressing it into a tiny ball, and does what needs to be done. She helps Arkady dump the body of the unfortunate guard at the Capitol Landfill; there’s a hollow look in the other woman’s eyes that Sana hasn’t seen in years, and had hoped she wouldn’t see again. After they get back to the ship, she watches Arkady disappear into the air vents, and tells Krejjh to chart a course for Rosalind.

As she walks through the ship’s corridors, Sana fans herself with her hand. Is she imagining things, or is it warm in here? Her train of thought is cut short as she runs into Brian, who is humming to himself, looking perfectly at ease. Sometimes she thanks God – well, maybe not God, but the universe, or fate – for Brian and Krejjh, and their unwavering positivity at times like these.

“Hey, Captain. Anything more I can do to help?” Brian asks. “Violet and I got the cargo all stowed away.”

“Thanks, Brian. Nothing much at the moment, but if you can help Krejjh keep an eye on the rearview in the cockpit for the next hour, that would be appreciated,” says Sana. “Is Violet around?”

“Pretty sure she went back to her room,” Brian says. “She was starting to look kind of pale and shaky, so I told her I could finish up on my own. I think she went to go lie down.”

“Thanks, Brian,” says Sana. Brian gives her a salute and heads off in the direction of the cockpit.

Sana worries her lips together, thinking about what Violet just went through. She knows that some people – Arkady being a prime example – prefer to be left alone and not bothered with company when they’re upset. But she has a hunch that Violet would benefit from some company right now.

Her mind made up, she walks along the corridor to the other woman’s room and knocks on the door. “Violet?” she calls gently. “I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”

There’s no answer, but the light around the button next to Violet’s door is green, so it’s not locked. Sana hesitates, wondering what the odds are of Violet having fallen asleep this quickly, and then knocks again. “Violet?” she calls, a bit louder. “It’s Sana. Are you all right?”

She listens, and thinks that she hears ragged breathing coming from the other side of the door. Okay then. Sana puts on her Captain Voice (Arkady calls it her Mom Voice) and calls through the door, “Violet, if I don’t hear anything from you in the next few seconds, I’m coming in, okay?”

There’s a pause, then she hears Violet call, very faintly, “Come in.”

Sana presses the button, and the door slides open to reveal Violet sitting on her bed, clutching onto a pillow for dear life. She’s shaking all over and taking uneven, panicked breaths in, her pupils dilated. Sana rushes forward, catching up Violet’s hands without thinking about it and looking into the other woman’s eyes. “Violet. Focus on me,” she says, speaking as evenly and calmly as she can. “You’re safe. We’re all safe. No-one got hurt.”

“Sana-” Violet tries, her breaths becoming faster and sharper. She grips Sana’s hands tightly, her skin clammy and cold.

“Don’t try to talk, just breathe, Violet,” says Sana, squeezing Violet’s hands. “Breathe with me.” She starts taking slow, deep breaths in and out.

For what feels like an age, Violet’s panicked breathing pattern doesn’t change, and Sana wonders if she’s just making things worse with her presence. Then, slowly, she notices Violet’s breaths in getting longer, and her breaths out becoming slower and more even.

“Good. That’s good,” she murmurs, rubbing soothing circles on the backs of Violet’s hands with her thumbs.

Eventually, Violet’s breathing slows and quiets. Once she’s sure that the danger has passed, Sana moves to sit beside her on the bed.

“Thank you,” Violet says quietly, hoarsely. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Sana says immediately. “You went through an unbelievably stressful situation and managed to stay totally calm the whole time. You did amazingly. But it’s okay to be…”

“A total mess afterwards?” Violet asks, wryly.

“I was gonna go with ‘shaky’,” Sana replies, smiling. “The point is, don’t feel bad about it.”

“But… all of the rest of you are so calm and collected when dealing with this kind of situation,” Violet says, quietly. “And here I am just… having panic attacks-”

“Hey,” Sana says, squeezing Violet’s arm, not wanting to let her go any further with that train of thought. “First of all, we’ve had a lot of practice in dealing with that kind of thing. We didn’t develop a whole system of colour codes from nowhere. And secondly, you do not want to see how hard my hands were gripping the steering wheel when Arkady and I drove back from meeting the Fowleys. I think they’re still shaking.” She holds her hands out to show Violet. They are trembling slightly, though in reality it’s more due to the adrenaline of talking Violet down from her panic attack, along with her suppressed anger over everything that’s happened.

Violet laughs slightly (so, mission accomplished) and leans into Sana a little. It feels natural for Sana to put an arm around her, so she does. She’s a tactile person, but keenly aware of other people’s boundaries, and usually prefers to let them initiate contact. Violet, to Sana’s slight surprise, rests her head against Sana’s shoulder. Sana looks down at Violet’s dark hair and thinks about pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Instead, she holds Violet just a little bit tighter.

What started as a brief spark of attraction the first time she saw Violet laugh – startled, when Sana offered her a cup of moonshine that she mistook for a cup of tea – that Sana was sure would die down in a couple of days has grown and grown, into a mixture of attraction, respect and fondness that some days feels too much to contain. Sana has watched Violet devote herself to the hunt for the other Violet Liu, take being thrown into the midst of a crew of renegade smugglers in her stride, and drastically reconsider her entire worldview. She’s resilient, brave, funny and insightful. Also, Sana will admit to having always had a thing for smart women.

Unfortunately, so does Arkady. Sana has seen the way she looks at Violet (and vice versa), and she doesn’t intend to stand in the way of that. Not when Arkady has had so, so few good things in her life to call her own.

Sana used to be on the receiving end of those looks, once upon a time. But she’d been too afraid to act on them, back when it was just the two of them, in case it all went south and they both lost the only person they could really depend on. She told herself she’d rather have a best friend who had her back than a romance that might not last, and she almost believed it.

It still hurt a little when she realised that, at some point, Arkady had moved on from her. But if it has to be anyone, she’s glad it’s Violet. The two of them go well together.

Sana has her crew; she doesn’t need any more than that.

“Um… Have you seen Arkady since we left Elion?” Violet asks, as if she’s somehow picked up on Sana’s thoughts.

“Yeah, uh…” Sana tries to think what answer to give. She doesn’t want to lie to Violet, but she isn’t sure when Arkady plans on coming down from the vents. “She’s around. I think she just needed to… regroup for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” Violet sounds a little resigned. Sana waits for her to say or ask something more about Arkady, but instead she says, “Is it just me, or is it pretty warm in here? – I mean, not ‘me’ in the sense of that cheesy joke, but uh, in the sense that I can’t tell if I’m just-”

Hiding a smile, Sana takes pity on Violet and cuts her off. “No, it’s definitely not just you, I’ve been feeling it too. I may need to take a look at our temperature reg.” Violet tenses, as if about to pull away. “If you need to go do that now, I can-”

“No, it’s fine, it’ll probably start working again on its own,” Sana assures her, and Violet relaxes back against her side. “Some of our equipment is a bit temperamental.” “Temperamental?” asks Violet, with a tiny smirk.

“Oof. Bad pun,” Sana says, smiling. “If it’s still acting up in a few hours, then I’ll give it a closer look. And pray that we have the parts to fix it.”

Violet winces. “Right. And if we don’t?”

“I’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” Worst case scenario, Sana could probably jury-rig something. They would just need to make sure they picked up the right parts on Rosalind.

Violet nods and sits up. Sana’s side feels suddenly cold.

“Well, still, I shouldn’t keep you any longer - I’m sure you have plenty of more important things that need your attention.” “My number one priority is always the wellbeing of my crew,” Sana says firmly. “Anything else can wait. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m.. I’ll be fine, Captain,” says Violet with a small smile. “Really.”

��You know you can call me Sana if you want to,” Sana finds herself saying. She’s not sure why; the others all call her “Captain” and “Sana” interchangeably, but she doesn’t think she’s heard Violet use her name yet. Maybe she just wants to hear it once.

Violet gives her a full smile, and it’s devastating. “Thank you, Sana.”

—

The temperature reg does not start working again on its own, and the next six hours are hellish as temperatures slowly and steadily climb inside the ship. Despite Sana’s best efforts, it’s past two in the morning by the time the temperature reg is finally fixed. Arkady spends as much of that time as she can bear lurking in the air vents, avoiding Violet. Finally, when she thinks the stuffy recycled air might be preventing oxygen from getting to her brain and she’s sick of playing back Violet’s horrified expression on a constant loop, she eases herself down and heads for the cockpit.

She winds up talking to Krejjh about the war. It’s been on her mind ever since they ran into Eejhgreb and Krejjh recounted the tale of how – and why – they deserted the military. Arkady has her own memories of that night, but they’re bittersweet. She and her unit had celebrated all through the night, but lurking under it was a fear much greater than anything Arkady had felt during the war. Of what would happen when they no longer had a common cause.

Sana would probably say the conversation has been a “long time coming”, that it’s good for Arkady to get it all out. But all it does is make Arkady feel more frustrated and angry over things that happened years ago. All she’s ever wanted is to put her past behind her.

After they’ve exhausted that topic, as Arkady digs into Krejjh’s stash of fruit jerky, Krejjh jokingly changes the subject. “Speaking of which… do you want some love advice?”

“No,” Arkady says flatly.

“Cripes, trying to lighten the mood a little here, First Mate Patel,” Krejjh says, holding up one of their pairs of hands. “Y’sure?”

“Krejjh, remember when you and Brian weren’t officially together yet?” Arkady reminds them. “And he kept asking you to dinner, and you kept inviting the rest of the crew?” God, that was a shitshow. A very funny shitshow, but by the end of it even Arkady was feeling sorry for Jeeter. All that time spent studying mediaeval Dwarnian hadn’t given him a single clue about Dwarnian romantic customs.

“Yeah, romantic tandem eating is not as universal as you guys think it is,” Krejjh says.

“Well, I don’t need your advice.” God, nothing says ‘romantically incompetent’ like taking love advice from a purple space alien.

Krejjh, of course, persists. “Just sayin’, if y’like someone, maybe don’t spend all your time hiding from them.”

“I’m not being bashful, Krejjh,” says Arkady shortly. “I all but murdered someone in front of her.”

She looks up to find Krejjh giving her an odd smile. “I wasn’t just talkin’ about Science Officer Liu,” Krejjh says.

Arkady stares at them. “What are you talking about?”

Krejjh leans back a little in the pilot’s chair, seeming to look up and out at the stars. “Ya know, one of the other human romantic customs I’ve never understood is why relationships are supposed to be limited to just two people. I guess it’s a hold-over from the whole gender binary thing, but from what I can tell, even most humans don’t think that’s important any more. So why keep limiting yourselves?”

Arkady swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “We do have polyamorous relationships too,” she points out. “They’re not even that unusual these days, but legally there still isn’t that much recognition. A lot of human society is still geared around two-person relationships. And a lot of people still… prefer them.”

“That sounds like a pretty big assumption,” Krejjh counters. “Why not just talk to ‘em? See how they feel about it? What’ve you got to lose?”

Arkady raises an eyebrow. “Okay, assuming we’re talking about me and Liu and Tripathi here and not about you and Jeeter inviting me to some weird interspecies ménage-à-trois…”

Krejjh laughs. “First Mate Patel, I am wounded that you would reject our advances like this.” They put a hand on their chest, a distinctly human gesture that Krejjh has picked up – Dwarnians don’t have a heart in the middle of their chests in the way that humans do.

Arkady snorts, but then becomes serious again, looking down at her lap and toying with the half-open pack of fruit jerky. Now that they’ve broached the topic, she might as well keep going. She could have pretended that they were still speaking hypothetically, or discussing human social conventions, but all of a sudden she’s too tired to keep dancing around things.

“What do I have to lose? One of the best friendships I’ve ever had, with one of the only people I can count on to always have my back,” she says. “And at the same time… someone that I’m only just getting to know, who is also the first people I’ve felt any kind of connection with since…” Since Sana, she doesn’t say.

Arkady can feel Krejjh’s eyes on her, but doesn’t look up for fear of seeing pity in them. “Besides which, Krejjh, my life just doesn’t work that way. I don’t get things that I want – it’s a well-established fact. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it.”

“That doesn’t sound fair at all,” Krejjh says quietly.

“Yeah, well, life isn’t fair,” Arkady replies. She meets Krejjh’s gaze defiantly, but instead of pity, all she sees is empathy.

Silence falls between them, and Arkady figures that as the person who brought the mood back down again, she should be the one to lighten it this time. But while she’s casting about for another change of topic, Krejjh says,

“Where has Crewman Jeeter got to with that ice? I can’t think who he could be talking to down there.”

Arkady gives Krejjh a suspicious look, not trusting their casual tone. “What, are you implying that-”

“Krrrejjh to all crew,” Krejjh sing-songs, activating their comm. “Folks, this is your pilot speaking. I’ve got a very important announcement to make to the whole crew.”

Arkady stiffens in alarm. “Krejjh, what are you doing?” she hisses.

“Boy am I embarrassed,” Krejjh goes on, in a rueful tone, “but I seem to have misplaced something important. My fiancé? Crewman Jeeter? Along with a cup of ice he totally still owes me? Gonna advise that you sit tight as I dispatch our very own First Mate Patel to the kitchen to solve this little mystery. So, keep an eye out for that, crew, and plan accordingly. Krejjh out.”

Krejjh meets Arkady’s unimpressed stare with a smug look. “Maybe you can’t have everything, but you can at least go talk to Science Officer Liu,” they point out. “Can’t hide from her forever. You might as well clear the air.”

Arkady rolls her eyes and reluctantly makes for the door of the cockpit. “Fine, but if it’s a disaster? I’m officially blaming you.”

—

It’s not a disaster. Although Arkady would never, ever admit it to anyone, least of all Krejjh themself, Krejjh was right. After they’ve got past the horrible first five minutes of what Violet would call “puking it all out”, things get… better. Violet pours them both a cup of kai shui (Mandarin for boiled water – something Violet says her Chinese grandparents drank back on Earth) because they’re out of tea, and they talk properly for the first time since Violet came abroad the Rumor. And okay, maybe Arkady had jumped to a few too many conclusions based on those fraught early interactions.

She’d still liked Violet in spite of what she thought was Violet’s hero worship of the regime, but she’d been fighting it down, convinced that it was just a front that Violet was putting on because she had to, that she’d be shot of them tomorrow if she was given the chance to clear her name and make a clean getaway. It had made it much easier to ignore the feelings flaring in her chest, the way that Violet’s admiration inexplicably lifted her mood, the guilt that she felt over having tricked and lied to her.

Now that she’s come to terms with the fact that she’d misjudged Violet (or at least, judged her too quickly), those feelings have come rushing back in full force. Arkady tries to will her frantically hammering heart to calm down at Violet’s gently affectionate tone as she says,

“Okay, I’m not going to keep arguing with you, because I don’t see us getting anywhere on this tonight, and I’m not even going to try to thank you again for saving my life-” here, a small smile that threatens to give Arkady an aneurysm “-but. For what it’s worth? Except for the times it really does seem like we’re all about to die, living on this ship is the safest I’ve felt since before the war.”

“Well, Violet,” Arkady begins after a beat of trying to find her voice. “That’s very disturbing!” She utterly fails to keep an answering smile off her own face.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Sometimes I smile! Y’know, every now and then.”

“Good to know,” Violet teases. Arkady mentally composes an epitaph: Here lies Arkady Patel, slain by a cute girl flirting with her. She hopes she’s not blushing as hard as she thinks she is.

An expectant silence falls between them, and Arkady reaches for the first thing she can think of to fill it. “Look, I’m… sorry for vanishing on you right after we left Elion,” she blurts out. Violet gives her a quizzical look, but Arkady has been feeling worse and worse about disappearing and avoiding Violet in the wake of what happened. Sure, she’d been feeling like shit about killing that guard, and part of that had been down to the look on Violet’s face, a look that had seemed to confirm every one of her fears about how Violet saw them. Saw Arkady.

She hadn’t been thinking about what the aftermath of those events would have been like for Violet. How she’d managed to suppress all her panic and terror, remain calm, act and improvise in the face of mortal danger – only to get caught and believe she was about to die. Again. Finding out that Violet has an anxiety disorder only compounds Arkady’s guilt.

“I wasn’t thinking about… you did really well with the, uh. Setting aside your panic thing. But I know it was hard for you, and then you literally thought that you were about to die again when everything went south…” Arkady’s rambling, and she really wishes she could stop. “I just mean, I could have stuck around. To make sure you were okay.”

“It’s okay,” Violet says quickly. “I mean, you’d just – been responsible for getting us out of a really bad situation-”

Arkady snorts. “If that’s what you want to call bludgeoning a guy over the head-”

“-and then I, well, kind of freaked out,” Violet continues over her. “So I don’t blame you for needing some space.” She pauses, and smiles a little. “Actually, the Captain – Sana – came to find me. To make sure I was all right.”

“Really?” Arkady asks, feeling a lurch in her stomach like she’s missed a step. She supposes it must be jealousy, but she’s not sure who she’s jealous of.

“Yeah.” Violet has a soft, admiring look in her eyes that Arkady recognises all too well, though she stopped gazing starry-eyed at Sana years ago, wanting the other woman to see her as more than just a naïve kid. “She just talked with me, calmed me down, and then… sat with me until she was completely sure I was okay. She didn’t once act like she had somewhere else to be.”

Arkady swallows. “Yeah, that’s the Captain for you. She’s one hundred percent genuine with how much she cares.”

“And then she must have gone straight on from sitting with me to her shift in the cockpit, and then to fixing the temperature reg,” Violet goes on. “Brian said she was pretty worn out… Does she ever take time for herself?”

Arkady snorts. “It’s a battle. She can’t rest until she makes sure that everyone on the ship feels loved and appreciated.” She’s aiming for snark, but the words come out fonder than she intends them to. “Trust me, I’ve tried to get her to take more breaks. She acts upbeat, but I think things get to her more than she lets on.”

Violet looks thoughtful. “Maybe next time we should try together.”

She meets Arkady’s eyes, and gives her the tiniest of smiles, just a quirk of the lips, and her eyes are so knowing, and Arkady feels it again, that missed-a-step lurch in her stomach like she’s taken a leap into the unknown. This time, she doesn’t think it’s jealousy.

“She might listen to both of us,” Violet finishes.

“I- uh- sure, yeah, we should. Do that,” Arkady stammers. Jesus. Tonight is not her finest night for dignity, but somehow she finds herself not caring as much as she normally would.

Violet smiles fully and looks away, down at the floor, her cheeks red. “Cool. Great. Um, listen, on a different topic, there’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you – well, more like show you…”

—

Sana is having a no-good, very bad night.

As if having to run for their lives on Elion and barely making it out hadn’t been enough, the broken temperature reg had stubbornly resisted Sana’s attempts to fix it. She’d sworn and sweated in the engine room as the temperature climbed steadily higher, and eventually managed to improvise a solution with some spare fuse wire and a viciously-applied screwdriver. (She’ll have to switch it out for a more permanent fix after they get some proper supplies, but for now, it’ll do).

It’s coming up on 3 a.m. and she’s hot, irritable and exhausted, but instead of being able to get any kind of rest, Sana has had to endure a tense and difficult call with Campbell that resulted in her cutting off contact with one of their longest-standing and most reliable customers, and leaving Sana with the nagging feeling that she’s made a serious error in judgement. But she hasn’t even had the chance to process that, because minutes after Campbell severed the connection, Ricky Q rose up like an elitist, blackmailing spectre from the depths of her and Arkady’s shared past to make threats against Sana’s crew.

Something about it doesn’t fit right, and she’s convinced that there’s more to what’s happening than Ricky Q’s “middleman” story. Unfortunately, the only way she can know what it is is to play along for now.

Sana can feel a headache building as she practices how she’s going to sell the idea of changing course for Hafizah to the crew. It only gets worse when, in the middle of making the case to Brian and Krejjh, Violet and Arkady enter the cockpit, full of shared excitement about some epiphany they’ve had. They’re standing closer together than usual, shoulders brushing, and as badly as Sana wants to be happy for them, she just can’t deal with this right now.

“So, me and Violet were talking about that alien robot swarm cloud, and she said-” Arkady begins.

“Arkady, is this pressing?” Sana interrupts tiredly.

“It could be,” Violet puts in.

“Is the swarm outside the ship right now, knocking on the door, trying to get in?”

“No, but we think we might’ve found a possible connection-”

“You think you might’ve found a possible connection,” Sana repeats, placing sceptical emphasis on all of the relevant words. She knows she’s going to feel bad about her tone later, that normally she’d be in favour of Arkady and Violet devising theories and following whatever lead they can, but her headache is intensifying and she’s just done with everything tonight. “Have we made any progress on tracking down the other Violet Liu? Are we any closer to solving Alvy’s mystery? Given how we changed our entire course for this, I’d love to get past speculation and into… anything else.”

She sees Violet’s face fall, hurt flashing across it at the implication that the detour to rescue her had been a burden for the Rumor crew. Sana will feel terrible about that later, too.

“Look. We all liked Campbell,” Arkady says gently (for her). “But when somebody turns on us because we missed an appointment? Their loyalty was never worth shit.”

Arkady clearly believes that Sana’s terrible mood is due to Campbell’s probable betrayal, and it’s far easier to let her go on believing it than to go anywhere near the truth, so Sana doesn’t correct her. “I appreciate that. But honestly, it’s just – been a long couple of days, and it’s almost 3 a.m., and I don’t see why this can’t wait until tomorrow?” She injects a pleading note into the last syllable, in a last-ditch attempt to soften things.

“Yeah. Of course,” Violet says.

“Captain, if there’s anything we can do-” begins Arkady.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know,” she promises them, already turning to leave the cockpit. As a result, she misses the look of concern that passes between Arkady and Violet, Violet’s raised eyebrows, and Arkady’s slight nod. “Krejjh, I’ll update you on those coordinates as soon as I’m able to.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

Finally alone, Sana trudges down the corridor to her room, goes in, and presses the button to lock the door behind her. She flops face-down onto her bunk with a groan.

“Fucking IGR. Fucking Ricky Q,” she mumbles into her pillow.

Barely a few minutes later, there’s a knock at her door, polite but firm. Sana raises her head angrily, and only just manages to clamp down on her urge to shout, “Go away!” She knows that being a captain is a full-time job and that the others depend on her, but damn it, can’t she rest for just a few hours?

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Captain,” comes Arkady’s voice. Sana frowns. Arkady wouldn’t bother her in her room unless it was important, but…

“Kady, seriously, whatever it is, can it wait?” she asks. “I’m really just… I really need to crash right now.”

There’s a pause, and Sana thinks that her best friend is going to relent, but then her voice comes back, insistent: “This will only take a minute. I promise.”

Sana sighs heavily and sits up, brushing her hair out of her face. At least with Arkady she doesn’t have to be as put-together as she does for the others, but she also doesn’t want Arkady to start asking questions about what exactly has got to her so badly. She walks over to the door and presses the button to open it. “What do you need?”

Arkady stares at her for a few seconds, almost as if sizing her up, and then very slowly and stiffly pulls her into a hug.

“K-Kady?” says Sana, shocked. Arkady doesn’t do hugs unless she’s really, really drunk. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a hug.” At least the flat, snarky, I’m-stating-an-obvious-fact tone is one hundred percent in character.

After a moment, Arkady lets go. That’s when Sana spots the other person standing slightly apologetically behind her. “Violet? What are you doing here?”

“Also giving you a hug,” says Violet a little shyly. “If that’s okay.”

She waits for a second, and when Sana doesn’t resist, she wraps Sana up in a warm, gentle hug. It’s a little more satisfying than Arkady’s stiff embrace, though Sana was touched by that, in a bewildered kind of way. Violet is very good at giving hugs; she squeezes just enough to make the hugged person feel cared for, but not so much that it becomes suffocating. After a few seconds, Sana hugs her back, feeling a little guilty for taking as much pleasure in it as she does. The only real downside is that some of Violet’s hair is tickling her nose.

Violet lets go after a few minutes, and Sana tries to summon up a breezy dismissal, or better yet, to ask just what exactly is going on, but the words get stuck in her throat.

“Captain,” Arkady begins. “Is something going on? Something you’re not telling us about?”

“Whatever it is… we want to help you,” Violet puts in. “You don’t have to deal with everything on your own.”

“I…”

I’m fine, Sana wants to say. Needs to say. But her throat is closing up, and she’s so, so tired. She’s been holding it together by a thread, and suddenly, that thread is fraying. She squeezes her eyes shut against the suddenly-spinning room. Damn it, don’t let me do this, not now…

“Okay,” she hears Arkady say, and then there’s a tug on her hand, leading her into her own room. Sana goes. She hears the door swish shut behind them and the lock engage.

Sana follows the pull of Arkady’s hand down onto her bunk. Someone is gently taking off her shoes. She lies down and feels warm, strong arms around her, holding her together. Violet slips in on Sana’s other side, a reassuring presence at her back.

Sana blinks and looks into Arkady’s dark eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening here,” she mumbles.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning,” Arkady tells her.

Violet slides an arm around Sana’s waist. “Go to sleep, Captain,” she says, and so Sana does.

[angrylizardjacket]

when i said it i thought it was true [1] {Ben Hardy}

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where ben is the reader’s ex and they are somehow working together on the set of bo rhap and they fall in love all over again ���️ could you make it angst-y and then end with fluff? i love your writing so much!!

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where the reader is in bo rhap, maybe playing as one of roger’s gfs or something and she kind of falls in love with ben while filming the scenes with him as roger 💖 very fluffy pls :D

A/N: 3124 words. Super AU version of BoRhap being filmed in the fic. There’s gonna be another part, that will fill the prompts better. This might end up being a series. I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be nice.

When your manager rings you, telling you that you’d landed a part in the Queen Biopic Bohemian Rhapsody, you were elated. Freddie Mercury was a bit of a personal hero of yours, and to be a part of his story on the big screen, it was sort of a dream come true. 

In your first meeting, you sign a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re given the latest draft of the script to start learning, as well as a character brief. The script calls your character ‘Amanda’, the girlfriend of Roger Taylor who he eventually realises he wants to settle down with. You’d seen pictures of young Roger Taylor, you wouldn’t lie, you were excited for the role. Honestly, even today he was still quite a fox.

The point is, you were excited to have a fun time on set with a pretty blonde, make some new connections, and earn some good money. Some really good money.

The other shoe drops when you’re flicking through Instagram, and one of the stan accounts you follow has posted a leaked screenshot of the proposed cast list, and there’s your name, right beside the name of the last person you wanted to pretend to be in love with. Ben Hardy; pretty blonde extraordinaire, and your ex-boyfriend.

The table read is... awkward. 

The two of you are sat next to each other, and barely spoke two words to each other. You feel unprofessional the whole time, but you’d rather be anywhere else in the world, and the delivery of some of your lines falls a little flat. The director casts a concerned look between yourself and Ben as you rattle of what’s meant to be banter like you’re reading the news paper.

“They’ve got no damn chemistry; it’s like watching a celebrity divorce hearing.” When the Director vents to one of the producers in the hall outside after the reading, you manage to catch it where you’re just about to come out of the bathroom.

“They’ll be better on set, I promise, it’s just jitters.” She tries to soothe his nerves, and they’re off soon after, and you’re left with a cold, sinking sensation in your stomach.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you? How are you finding the set?” The guy who greets you on your first day on the Eastenders set smiles with such casual ease it feels like you’ve known him for a while, instead of having just met him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You agree with a quick nod, rocking back on your heels as you gaze around the space, trying not to look at him for too long. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” Actually, what’s overwhelming is that he’s talking to you. He’s Ben fucking Hardy, pretty-boy on the soap-opera scene, and he’s talking to you on your first day.

“Yeah, you’ll be right though; if you need any help or anything, just give us a yell, yeah?” And you realise he probably doesn’t know who you’re playing, or how you’re involved in that Season’s arc, but you certainly did.

“I didn’t know you could play drums.” You’re trying to be casual when you say it, but you see Ben tense where he’s sitting on a sofa in the rehearsal room, script and pencil in hand.

“I can now, that’s all that really matters.” He’s giving off such strong ‘please leave me alone’ vibes that it almost hurts, and you have to push through the knot in your stomach and sit down next to him.

“Ben, we need to at least be civil.” You say quietly, and he looks at you, expression a little forlorn.

“Y/N, we are civil, and we’ve done this before. Let’s just keep it professional, okay?” His tone leaves little room for argument, and you nod in agreement with a small smile, and pull out your phone, waiting for the rehearsal director.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” You purr, running your hand delicately over the collar of Ben’s shirt, as his eyes widened and he spluttered to form a sentence, just as the script had told him to. 

Your character was more a plot device than anything, when Ben’s character is at a low point, his main romance is on a break, and he meets you, a temptress in all black. Your job is to give his character a realisation, he starts as your cocaine dealer when his supplier can’t make the drop, and he falls for you. Depending on the audience reaction, you knew the producers were waiting to see if they kill you off or have you recover from your addiction. The point is, your fate’s uncertain at the end of the Season, and Ben’s character realises he has to get out of the drug trade.

“I’ve got something for you, from Oskar. Can we go somewhere more private?” When he speaks, it’s with surprising confidence, and he steps up from the bar stool and into your space, smiling as your face lights up. The director calls cut after a moment, and you step back, smile sliding to something genuine as an assistant comes in and straightens your loose, black silk shirt, and they reset the shot for a new take.

“Ben, could you try less flustered? You’re here to deliver drugs, you’re not a schoolboy.” The director’s voice was kind as she came up to the two of you, and Ben agreed easily before she turned to you. “Great job, Y/N, don’t be afraid to be more even more forward, if you feel it.” As soon as you nod in understanding, she absconds, and you half laugh.

“If I was any more forward I’d be in your lap.” You snickered, voice quiet as you dipped your head to hide how you were faintly flustered. Ben was quiet, just watching you for a moment, but before you noticed, the director called for everyone to standby.

“I’m after Maggie, do you know where I could find her?” Ben starts as soon as the cameras start rolling, brow furrowed as he leans across the bar to speak to the bartender, and that’s your cue to enter the scene.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” And when you say it this time, he smirks back at you, a little cocky, and you can feel the way it makes your heart flutter and you know it’s not as fake as it should be.

Before filming even starts, the producers have essentially forced you and Ben into bonding sessions which, if this were several years ago, would have just been dates. Now they’re awkward and tense, and you tend to bring heavily highlighted scripts.

“I saw you in that Wes Anderson movie last year. It was a really good performance, one of your best.” He offers over coffee. The idea that he’d kept up with enough of your work to label one ‘your best’ has you a little shocked, and something in your heart warms as you thank him softly.

It’s gotten easier to hang around with him, and it’s even easier to pretend to be in love with him in rehearsals. It’s like riding a bike, how easy it is to let yourself smile and lean into him, to let the banter flow easily between the two of you, fond jabs that edge on insulting coming as easily as breathing.

Joe mentions that he thought the two of you worked together before, and when you reply that you’d dated for almost a year, he goes very quiet, eyes going wide. After a beat, he admits it explains a lot.

“X-Men did you real dirty.” You’re half paying attention to an interview with Roger Taylor that the two of you had been instructed to watch together. You’re both in his trailer, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa as you watch in almost complete silence.

“What?” He asks, after a beat, your words having taken a moment to process.

“Killing you off like that; they could have gotten so much mileage out of your character.” The way you say it is far too well thought out to be an idle thought. Ben smirked.

“You just liked the leather pants.” He muttered, but you’re silence is answer enough. You know he sees your embarrassed smile, but you can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“Hey, do you wanna grab a drink after and go through notes and blocking and stuff?” You’re shooting your third episode, and you’re far more comfortable on set by now. Agreeing easily, you let Ben drive the two of you to what he claims is the best pub in town, and you sit in one of the more secluded booths to talk.

It turns out he’s just as much a fan of you as you are of him; you’re known more for your bit-parts in long-running series, it seems like the only show you hadn’t been a part of so far had been Eastenders, it was only a matter of time. It’s an innocent night, true to his word, all you do is talk, and discuss the script. There is one part of the upcoming script that has you a bit nervous. 

“Listen, honestly just go for it; it’s not meant to be sweet or anything, I’m literally taking coke from you.” You tell him, fidgeting, and he’s hums thoughtfully.

“You sure? We can talk to the director, I’m sure-” He offers, but you laugh to hide your nervousness.

“Nah, let’s knock it out of the park, the script says go for it so just go for it.” You assured him, heart rate already quickening at the mere thought of it. 

The next day, before the scene, the director comes over to talk you through it, making sure that if anything becomes uncomfortable, that you can talk to her. Both you and Ben assure her that it’s fine.

“You’re far too cute for this line of work.” You say as you hold a baggie of “cocaine” up to the light, smile playing on your lips.

“Cute? Ouch, you really know how to wound a man, you know.” He says, leaning back against the sofa in the hallway of the grubby hotel your character was staying in. He’s watching you with interest, small smile playing on his lips.

“Cute’s not a bad thing, baby, but you look like you should be making coffees or playing football in the sun, not here, not with me.” And you tap out a little of the powder onto your hand, pretending to snort it before you turn to him, his expression dark and hungry, and he kisses you, aggressive, almost desperate, and you lean into it, almost forget you’re playing a role with his hand on the back of your neck. When he lets go, when he pulls away, your eyes are still closed and you chase his lips for a moment. Eyes flickering open, you see him smirking down at you where he’s standing, and you both know it wasn’t entirely acting.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He growls, and you know you have to smile like you’re into it, like it’s a challenge, but instead, you duck your gaze, giving a small laugh and wiping at the nostril you’d just “snorted cocaine” through, before looking up at him through your eyelashes.

They call cut, and the director announces, almost a little awed, that she’s pretty sure they got the the take, actually says she’s not sure if she could getting a better take if they tried again. Ben seems far too pleased with himself. 

“They want us to tell the public we’re together.” You’re resting your head on Ben’s chest laying at the back of the tour-bus set, and his hand is resting on your waist, which is bare for the crop top and booty shorts they’ve put you in.

“Yeah, I heard.” He replies, voice equally quiet. “I think we’ve got a meeting about it tomorrow morning.” Gwil and Rami are actually playing scrabble at the front of the bus, and Joe is talking to Singer, the director.

“It’s a bad idea.” You’re so frank that you feel Ben freeze, and you heave a sigh. “It’s good for the movie, but Ben...” You trail off, and you feel it when he forces himself to relax. “It wouldn’t be real, it would just be weird.”

“Y/N, we’re actors.” He says very pointedly, and when you turn, resting your chin on his chest, he looks tired, a little exasperated. “It’s just a business deal.” He assured, and you let out a low, thoughtful grumble. 

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” You allow, and he nods once, shifting to a more comfortable position, and you go back to resting your head on his chest, eyes fluttering closed as Singer called for the shot to be reset and a bunch of people came and straightened your clothes, and touched up your makeup, all without you having to move much.

You agree to the terms set forth in the meeting easily, the story being that your relationship rekindled on set, and that you were now madly in love, mirroring the relationship you were portraying on screen.

“Wait, does that mean-?” Ben leans forward in his chair, with his heart in his throat as he followed their logic, thinking through the plot of the movie. “Like engaged?” He asked.

“Seems a bit fast.” You agreed, voice level enough that someone might mistake you for calm rather than internally freaking out, and your managers shared a look.

“There will be a public proposal during or after the world premiere, that’s up to you both, and after the movie is out on DVD, you can go your separate ways.” They assured, but your mouth fell open.

“You know he left me for X-Men, right?” You splutter, and Ben’s eyes widen as he turns to you with a scoff.

“You’re the one who said the distance was too much for us while I was in Cairo.” He snapped, and you threw your hands in the air.

“I was offering to come and stay with you instead, but you said you were too busy!” That was enough to shut him up, his mouth snapping closed as he turned away sharply, huffing out a resigned sigh.

“We have a few brands and restaurants who are interested in sponsoring, and the producers are willing to increase both your salaries if you go through with it for the full duration.” Your manager informed you both carefully, and you and Ben shared a resigned look.

“Fake intend to marry me for like three months?” He asked, voice low and bitter, and after heaving a long sigh, you look to your managers,

“Fine.”

“I think I love you.” Ben’s character shows up at your character’s door, and you open it in a silk robe. 

“Hello to you too.” You laughed, but he’s so serious, so sincere, and when he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t offer anything else, you step up to him, pressing your lips to his, and he wraps his arms around you, hands sliding against the silk over your hips, and you pull back.

“You’re too sweet for me, baby,” voice so low it’s barely a whisper, he’s the one who chases your lips this time, but your catch his chin, and his eyes open. 

“You’re high.” He says softly, voice raw and a little desperate.

“And you’re my dealer.” You push him back gently, going to close the door and his expression turns angry.

“That doesn’t mean anything; I love you, Maggie.” His words hang heavily in the air, but before you can respond, they call for cut. You’re told to play it more like it hurts to try and turn him down, and you agree, smiling and nodding all the while. Everyone sets up for another take and you close the door.

When you kiss him this time, his hands are holding your face, and you’ve got your arms around his neck, and it’s like the world falls away from around you. It’s not acting now, hasn’t been for weeks, almost months now, not since he’d asked you out officially. Every time you kiss him you’re desperate to drown in his embrace, and he kisses you like it’s just the two of you, no cameras, no scripts.

“You’re-” and he cuts you off with another quick kiss, which has you laughing a little sadly, “Peter you’re too sweet for me.” He rests his forehead against yours, heaving a sigh.

“I know you’re high.” He says gently, and you don’t push him away this time, just lean back, your finger lifting his chin.

“And you’re my dealer.” You tell him, expression falling.

“That doesn’t mean anything, that doesn’t matter; I love you.” And you know that in that moment, the words mean so much more than the script, than these characters, than the show; he loves you. Ben loves you.

You avoid him, outside of filming, until you actually get a call from your manager telling you you’re contractually obligated to be seen in public together at least once a week. Even while filming you’re short with him, and he’s quick to get away from you the moment he doesn’t need to be around you, which was getting to be pretty bad, seeing as how you had been blocking a sex scene.

After the call, you and Ben get a drink. It’s awkward at first, though that’s unsurprising. After a long sip of his beer, he pats his thighs where he’s sitting in the armchair across from you. You make a face at him, shaking your head. 

“It’ll look less suspicious than if we’re shouting at each other across the table.” He hissed, and you groaned, obliging and crossing to sit yourself in his lap. He’s warm and secure, and he wraps his arm around you like it’s second nature. “Let’s not make this weird.” He said gently, and you nod.

“As for tomorrow’s shoot,” you said softly, leaning in to make sure no-one else heard, and he nodded, humming softly, “we’re professionals, and,” after a beat you cleared your throat pointedly, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Not in front of a camera crew we haven’t.” Ben says with a smirk, and you snicker in agreement. “It’s gonna go fine; this is all gonna go fine, I promise.” And when you raise your eyebrows at him in surprised question, he just laughs softly, and brings you in for a chaste kiss. “It’s only until the DVD’s released.” He assures you, and you let your expression fall, already weary.

“Ben, that’s over a year away.”

[trade-baby-blues]

Like No Other

Pairing: Jim x Reader

Word Count: 1894

Warnings: cursing, nudity, general embarrassment (nothing nsfw tho)

A/N: This was shamelessly inspired by an episode of Miranda (which is a great show and you should totally watch it if you like British comedy). Also the second installment of my “Embarrassing Encounters” series. I really enjoyed writing this one, so hopefully you guys like it too!! Plus, it’s a Jim x Reader. When was the last time I posted one of those, lol? (Also, I mention a dress in the fic and there’s a pic at the very bottom if you’re curious about what I was picturing). 

Finally. You finally had a date. Three years in Starfleet Academy and you’d watched so many of your friends fall in love and get married that you were starting to wonder if there was something wrong with you. Maybe you were doomed to die alone. At least, that’s what you thought until none other than James Tiberius Kirk himself asked you out.

You knew his reputation. Rumors jumped dorm to dorm faster than Jim, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. A three year dry spell had made you so desperate, you felt like you were falling in love with everyone who simply held the door open for you. At least Jim had the added benefit of being experienced.

“And drop dead gorgeous,” your roommate said when you finally told her. Of course, she promised to stay over at a friends. “In case you decide you need a little company,” she winked.

You felt your stomach turn at the thought of Jim spending the night. You wanted him to. God, you really wanted him to, but what if he didn’t feel the same? You’d be the only girl in Starfleet Jim turned away. If that happened you knew you’d die alone at home with a tub of ice cream in hand moping in embarrassment and that was NOT an option. The only thing to do was to make sure you were absolutely irresistible.

It started with getting your nails done. A beautiful blue manicure that would match your uniform but still be practical for when you got back into labwork. After the manicure, you stopped by the mall to pick out a jaw-dropping dress and a few bath fizzers before heading home and running some water for a bath. You lit a few candles and set up your speakers to play some classical 1980s music while you stripped down. Finally, you filled a glass with champagne and made your way to the bathroom. Yes, you took spa day very seriously.

The water felt like heaven. Or maybe it was the champagne. Either way, you started to remember why being single was actually great. No one to crowd the bath with you or complain about your off-key crooning to old timey pop songs.

“It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you,” you sang as you swirled the champagne in your glass. You set it gently on the ground and picked up the wax kit you had left to warm up beside the tub. “There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.” You spread the wax all over your leg, enjoying the warmth of it but knowing full well how much it was going to hurt to pull off. “I bless the rains down in-” Your voice sounded like a velociraptor as the song cut off abruptly.

You heard your roommate cackling through the closed door. “Good thing you’re gonna be a medic so you can fix people’s ears after you make them bleed.”

You glared, hoping she could feel it through the walls. “At least I can get along with people instead of just machines.” You heard a muffled snort but your roommate didn’t respond, and you decided to count it as a win, getting back to the wax on your leg. You pulled strip after strip off until your legs felt baby smooth and your eyes were a little watery.

You hoped to dull some of the ache in your leg with a big swig of champagne, but found yourself unable to move. Your eyes shot to your leg, hanging just over the edge of the tub. “This is not happening,” you whispered to yourself as you tried to pull your leg up again. The skin tugged but remained stuck. Leaning forward, you could see some wax had dripped down between the bottom of your leg and the bathtub, sticking them together.

Although you’d been trained to keep calm under pressure, your mind went into blind panic. You were sure you’d learned how to remove wax from skin at some point but nothing was coming to you except the thought of Jim waiting at the diner two streets down while you were stuck here, naked in your dorm room with your leg stuck to the bath. Honestly, you couldn’t imagine a worse situation.

The mirror in your bathroom rattled as your front door slammed shut. All the blood ran from your body and you prayed to hear something, even just the tiniest noise coming from your dorm room. For once, you would’ve given anything to hear your roommate snoring but everything was quiet except the hum of the air vent in the bathroom.

“Jila,” you called. Nothing. “This is not fucking happening,” you muttered as you took stock of your surroundings. A spark of genius hit you as you remembered you had a hair dryer under your sink. Maybe you could heat up the wax and free yourself that way. If you could just reach the cabinet from here, you might even make it in time for your date.

You steadied yourself on the wall, leaning forward carefully to avoid pulling on your skin. You were suddenly very thankful for the yoga classes your roommate had pestered you into signing up for as you stretched out towards the cabinets. Your fingertips brushed the handle but didn’t find purchase and you slunk down with a sigh, hand hitting your champagne and spilling the contents across your bathroom floor.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, standing up again. Your leg was beginning to cramp from holding all your weight, so you braced yourself against the handle on the shower wall to ease some of the tension. When your leg felt better. You set at it again, this time using the same handle to push yourself up and throw your un-waxed leg over the edge of the tub. Unfortunately, your foot landed straight onto a stray puddle of champagne and slid out from underneath you.

There were a series of sharp pains as your waxed leg ripped off the edge of the tub and your elbow slammed against the handle on the wall. Your ass hit the tub floor, sending water splashing up the sides and over your body. Then, everything went black as your head cracked against the tile wall.

Everything was perfect. Even better than you could have imagined. The dress you bought absolutely floored Jim. He could barely even speak when he saw the fabric moved against your skin. In the moonlight, you looked like you were glowing and Jim made you feel like an absolute star. Despite his reputation, he was a complete gentleman, pulling out chairs, holding doors. He even paid the whole bill no matter how much you protested.

Neither of you wanted to go home just yet, so you started wandering around San Francisco together. You talked about nothing and everything, feeling like three years of wondering why you were unlovable finally paid off because you found someone who completed you. Not just someone who covered the cracks in your armor, but someone who, in just a few short hours, had managed to fill all the gaps and build you up stronger than you’d ever felt before. Some who, dare you say it, might even be your soulmate.

A breeze from the Pacific hit you and brought with it a deep chill. You kicked yourself for not bringing a coat, even if your heart skipped a beat every time Jim ran a hand down your bare arms. Still, you were glad when he draped his jacket over your shoulders and pulled you against him. Everything felt idyllic until a loud banging made you jump out of your skin.

You whipped around but couldn’t find the source of the noise. When you turned back to ask Jim if he’d heard it too, there was only empty space next to you. In fact, all of San Francisco had slipped away around you and left you in darkness. Your heart pounded in time with the banging as it got closer, closer, closer 

You heard Jim call your name as you woke up. Your vision was foggy and you couldn't remember how you ended up in a bathtub full of cold water, but the smell of alcohol gave you a hint. At least it was your bathtub. “I’m coming,” you shouted as the pounding continued, wincing as a stabbing pain shot through your skull. You rubbed the back of your head and walked groggily into the living room to open the front door.

“I thought you usually wait to go home with a girl until after dinner,” you said casually, letting your arm drop to your side. You tried not to let the way Jim’s eyes widened raked up and down your body go to your head. His tongue flicked out over his lips and you smirked proudly.

“Usually girls wait to get naked until I’ve bought them a drink first, but I kinda like it this way.”

Your smile dropped as you looked down at yourself stark naked in your doorway and the memories of the night came flooding back to you, bringing with it a throbbing in your leg. “Shit,” you muttered. “Shit. How long was I out?”

To your surprise, Jim laughed. “I thought I was the only one who slept through dates.”

“I wasn't asleep,” you snapped. “I hit my head. God, I’m so sorry. Let me finish getting ready.”

“Wait,” Jim said, grabbing your hand, “you hit your head and blacked out?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still want to go on a date instead of I don't know...going to Medbay?”

You stared at him like he’d just said the sky was blue and grass was green. “I’m training to be a doctor. I see more than enough of Medbay as it is.” You crossed your arms when you saw Jim shake his head and chuckle under his breath. “What? Because I’m a doctor I’m supposed to like being in Medbay all the time?”

“No, no, I just...I’m really glad I came up to check on you.” The way Jim smiled at you sent an entirely different kind of shiver down your spine. You wondered how many other girls had seen him smile like that: soft and innocent. Almost loving. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you dressed and checked out so you can make it up to me for standing me up.”

“Only if I can check you out, too.” You cringed as soon as the words left your mouth, turning to your closet to keep Jim from seeing the blush rising to your cheeks. Jim howled with laughter as you pulled out a pair of shorts and your Starfleet sweater. “It’s the head injury, okay?” You scowled as you pushed past him.

“Of course, of course. I’m sure it has nothing to do with my dazzling good looks and natural charm.”

You snorted. “I didn’t hit my head that hard.”

Jim laughed again and slung his arm around your shoulders. “So are you gonna tell me how you ended up unconscious in your bathtub with a big patch of skin missing from the back of your leg, or should I call the police now.”

“Definitely the police,” you said, “I told you I’d have to kill you and you’re fun to look at.”

Tags:  @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @yourtropegirl @mysteriously-lost-forever @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art @atari-writes @pabegay1 @bolontiku  @brooke-taylor0323 @anotherotter @the-witching-hours12-3

Here’s the dress! I was picturing it in like...red or black though.