#captain killy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurygray · 6 months

Note

Release, for Fred & Brady? 💙

I hope you don't mind, Killy, but I decided to use this as a second part to this piece.

She'd made a terrible mistake.

It wasn't that she'd kissed him - or been kissed, however you wanted to think about it. It wasn't even that she'd run away afterwards - she stood by that decision, even if her knees still hurt from the jump down, and her hands were still sore.

It was that he'd gone out this morning and she hadn't said a word goodbye.

She'd offered to take the early morning shift making the donuts, so she wouldn't have to see anyone, but Mary had places to be in the afternoon and wouldn't swap, so she'd been on coffee duty with Tatty, just outside the briefing room. She was one of them now, part of their good luck charms and superstitions. Hambone would only take a donut if she passed it with her left hand and Curt always spilled the first sip of his coffee, for the angels, and John - John always said good bye and she always said good luck and he'd always say "I won't need it" with one of those small smiles of his.

But not today. Today he hadn't said a word - only glanced at her, and then just as quickly looked away, and he'd gotten in the truck without a word to anyone, his face stormy and closed.

She felt like she had been left holding something - a package that didn't belong to her, a parachute. Good …luck. But what if he needs it today? Superstition closed those loops - if they'd spilled their coffee and made their jokes and wore their sweaters backwards and carried their lucky snow globes then they'd done all they could possibly do, and the rest of it was with God, or Fate. She'd spent the day in nervous watchfulness, waiting for the sound overhead that would let her know that they were back, that it was time to count them in, that she could finally give him back this thing that she'd been carrying for him all day long.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen - everyone back home. A minor miracle, even if someone's engine was on fire, and she could hear, from the far side of the airfield, the rising whine of the siren calling out the fire brigade and the ambulances.

Up in the control tower, she knew that Mae and Cord and Anita would be talking to the pilots on the radio, assessing and evaluating, relaying the information back to where it could be acted upon, and after they got out, those that could get out were bussed over to interrogation, and then they'd come to her - end the day as they had started, with a cup of coffee and a donut, so that Major Bowman and Captain Brennan and Phoebe and the rest could ask them how it had gone, where the flak was worst, how many bombs they'd dropped and whether they'd dropped true, whether the luck they'd carried with them had truly been lucky.

They were always quieter now then when they'd gone out in the morning - no jokes, no laughter. She'd heard Captain Brennan call what they did 'returning to themselves' and so they were. Here was Dickie, and here was Curt, small smiles and grateful gulps of coffee and bourbon as Doc Stover checked them over on the way in. Egan, putting on some sort of smile like he thought she and Tatty would believe him untouched by this.

And here he was.

She was glad there was a table between them. The things she wanted to do wouldn't have stood up to close observation - to grab his arms, observe the cuts on his face from the raw edges of his mask, brush his hair out of his eyes. And her lips longed for his skin - to kiss every last inch of him, to be close the way they'd been close last night in his plane, with the sunset dying around them, and see if it would make him smile the way he'd smiled yesterday, since he certainly wasn't smiling now.

He tossed back his bourbon and didn't even glance at the coffee, and her heart was the heaviest it had been all day.

Phoebe had his table - nine men. Someone was missing and she couldn't tell who. The room emptied; he grabbed his bag and headed back outside, and she did something she wasn't supposed to - she followed him.

"John! Wait!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him around the side of the hut, and when she kissed him, it was like pulling the release cord on that parachute, because everything was falling, but slower and steadier, and his hands were light on her hips, and when they stopped, foreheads touching, she felt like she was on solid ground again.

"Fred." There was a touch of wonder in his voice.

"I'm sorry," she said, her words coming out in a jumble. "I'm sorry I let you leave like that this morning and I'm sorry I ran away and I'm sorry I'm scared." I don't like breaking rules, but I'll do it for you. "But don't you ever forget to say good bye again," she threatened with a waver in her voice that made him laugh, and tighten his hands on her waist. "Now, you - you can't be jealous when I dance with everyone else. And you can't be angry when someone else makes me laugh. And I can't always sit with you, or hold hands with you, or even kiss you. But I'll be yours," she said, feeling like she was flying and falling and foolish for all of it. "Your …best girl."

"And Curt's," he added, with a waver of laughter in his voice, his eyes as blue as oceans. "I'd fight him but I know I'd lose."

The truth of that was worth the laugh. "And Curt's."

"And since when do you call me John?" She punched him in the arm for that, but the truth was the truth, whether she liked it or not. "But Curt doesn't get to do this," he said, and kissed her again. She closed her eyes, as light as air, and thought of sunsets and sunrises and all the luck in the world that had brought her here.

#asked and answered #basilone #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #freda torvaldsen #john brady x oc

48 notes · View notes

basilone · 7 months

Note

Hi Killy? How about #20 caffeine, dealer's choice for characters. Thank you!

Ooo, thank you for this one! 💙 I'm delighted at it being dealer's choice, as this got me to try my hand at writing my fave of faves: Rosie. I do hope I've got him down right! (Slight, slight spoilers for the most recent ep apply!)

caffeine

The base is somewhat beautiful when the sun’s still low. There’s a slight haze hanging just above the dewy grass, too thin to be a full-on fog but lending this early morning a particular enchantment all the same. Gold streaks flicker through the last vestiges of night. If she squints at the treeline hard enough, its greens will mingle with the twinges of red in the dawn. Like Christmas painted through a misty window.

It’ll be a while before Christmas comes, now, though the mornings aren’t getting any warmer.

Imogene puffs up her cheeks. Blows warm air between her hands, then rubs them together briskly. She’s forgotten her gloves again. Margaret’s not about to loan out her perfectly good set of spare gloves, either, if that glare from earlier is anything to go by. And Jeannie is nice and all, but the knitwork on her gloves is absolutely drenched in perfume. Imogene lets out a sigh. Contemplates the risks associated with running back to her bunk and praying her own gloves will be in the place where she put them last.

Truth is, she hasn’t got the time. Jeannie’s already taken off at a dead run for the bathroom for the second time in an hour, which has got Margaret fuming in a way that’ll at least make sure the sink’s going to be so spotless you could eat out of it. Imogene would be more worried about Jeannie if this wasn’t already the fourth time a girl like her was prone to retching her guts out in the morning and being just fine and dandy in the afternoon.

These girls, like some of the men, barely stay long enough to learn their names.

And then, of course, there are those few who seem to stay a lifetime.

“One for the road, Captain Rosenthal?”

His answering laugh is soft, but his joy somehow never fails to meet his eyes. “If you can spare me a cup, yes. Thank you.”

“It’ll be a little minute, sir, sorry.” Imogene shoots him the closest thing she’s got to an apologetic smile. “I hope you can wait that long to get your latest dose of caffeine. These new coffee makers are a bit slower on the uptake.”

Captain Rosenthal hums a little to himself. “I believe I can find the time for it this morning, Imogene.”

“Glad to hear it, sir. Congratulations on your twenty-fifth, by the way!” She’d meant to say that about five days ago, but the party had turned raucous and strange in equal measure before she’d had the chance. And the men had been pretty tightly knit around him, at least before the mood had taken another tailspin downward. “When are you due to go home? Is it a ways away yet?”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot the way he always seems to do when contemplating something important. His gaze fixes on the horizon. Well past the planes on their hardstands, beyond the line of trees and buildings. Like there’s something in the early morning sky only he can see.

Imogene waits him out the way she always does. There is no hurrying Robert Rosenthal, not when he is pondering something important before his first coffee of the day. He might have something interesting to say once the idea lands and takes root inside him. Last time, he had made a small comment about bird migratory patterns that had somehow evolved into a conversation about penguins at the zoo. The time before that, he had asked her something about hairpins – not a topic for a man, or so Margaret had scoffed after – before he’d leaned forward ever so slightly and told her some of his men might have gotten their hands on a second helping of chocolate through the cunning use of hairpins. (DeBlasio, if she had to name one. It’s always the goddamn Italians getting into trouble on this base.)

“I’m not too certain Florida will agree with me.” His smile is almost remorseful, as if he has contemplated the idea and found himself to be rather like a fish out of water. “I’d miss this weather. Gruesome chill in the air this morning.” He shudders just a little, more to himself than to her. “And I have to say, Imogene, I’d be hard-pressed to find better coffee than this.”

“Now you’re just flattering me, sir,” she laughs, grabbing a pristine white cup for him. “We do what we can, but the stateside coffee just tastes better if you ask me. I dream about it sometimes.”

“The perfect cup of coffee? Bit of milk, two sugars. Little bit of foam on top, perhaps.” There’s a twinkle in his bright eyes as he steps closer, keenly awaiting his morning shot of caffeine. “What is your poison of coffee choice in this world, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Imogene hums to herself. “Bit of milk, bit of caramel, sir.” She almost wishes she had enough time to foam the milk up a little, give it a bit of a whisk before stirring it into his cup. “The sugar’s too cloggy. Caramel syrup works just as well to sweeten it.”

“I take it there is no secret stash of caramel syrup on base here?”

“You”– she gestures with the little spoon –“would be correct, Captain. Perhaps you can sneak me some, once you’re back home?”

The shadow that passes over his face is gone as swiftly as it came, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t see it. Imogene sucks in a rather noisy breath. Feels a chill swoop down and back up her spine in a way that’s got very, very little to do with the morning cold of early March. He glances back at the horizon a moment. Wistful, her mind supplies. Then: yearning.

She’s seen it before. In Major Cleven and Captain Rivers, every time they were kept on the ground too long. In Major Egan, once Major Cleven had vanished and left a hole in the fabric of reality itself. In Stella Lombardi, whose eyes never quite seem to meet the ground anymore, and in Two, who might just survive them all. There’s something in the set of their shoulders. Something in their eyes, once you know where to look.

Imogene looks. Sees. “You’re not going home.”

Blue eyes, brighter than any morning, meet her gaze. “Not just yet.” His confession hangs in the air between them a moment. She fills up the space with a mostly full cup of coffee, milk and sugars already stirred in, and is proud when her hand does not tremble. “We have work to do here, don’t we, Imogene?” His bare hand brushes her own before he lifts the cup in clear gratitude. “Thank you for the coffee, as always.”

She takes a deep breath. Steadies herself on the counter, just out of his keen gaze’s reach. “You’re very welcome, sir. Same time tomorrow, then?”

A laugh startles out of him, bright and beaming and so alive that she wants to cry. “Same time as always, ma’am.”

#masters of the air #mota spoilers #rosie rosenthal #oc: imogene #basilonefic #mota oc

41 notes · View notes

heartthrobxhook · 7 days

Note

ᒥ☠ᒧ— It had taken two months of multiple hours per sitting, but today was the last day. He finally finished Killian's sleeve tattoo. Some days it had been painful, tattooing over scar tissue would do that, but some rum and Edward's gentle, steady hand kept the pain to a minimum. "There we are," He adds a few more pokes, finishing the last line of the compass. "All done, Killy!" Edward chuckles, grabbing a rum soaked cloth to wipe away the excess ink so the tattoo could be seen. It was an ornate design, hence why it had taken so long to complete. A map design, specifically Neverland, with a compass and other nautical things.

The tattooing the first few sessions were incredibly painful, that first one the younger captain cried but had remained still. The soft underside of his arm and the old self harm scars made that area had heightened pain nerves. But it was worth it, this art a gift from his beloved designed and meticulously tattooed was beautiful. The last few sessions were better to manage as the sleeve was created and he could enjoy watching Edward work with such care and devotion.

He watched Edward wipe his arm after finishing and lifted it to see the complete work, turning his arm this way and that to get a good look at all sides. "It's a masterpiece. Some of your best work." Killian said in awe. Now he had something of Edward to carry with him always. He leaned forward and planted a loving kiss on Edward's lips.

#fxckin blackbeard

19 notes · View notes

starfall-spirit · 9 months

Text

AN: So, what if my patience is fried and I decided to post a couple of days ahead of schedule. Again, Happy Holidays to those who celebrate, but especially to @eat0crow, my giftee for the @acotargiftexchange! I have been plotting this from the moment I was given a name and have been so excited to share this fic with everyone. To those of you who enjoy mythology as much as I do, here's chapter one of my ACOTAR Secret Santa submission, the embellished retelling of Perseus and Andromeda.

Just before we get started, thank you so much @thelovelymadone and @reverie-tales for being amazing betas and soothing my doubts about the fic. Y'all are the best! 💕

Read on Ao3

Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist

Summary: An irksome trip to the Summer Court on matters of business and assistance against a threat at sea takes an interesting turn when Rhys discovers the solution to Nostrus' problem no longer lies with his army, but a female sacrifice, bound at high tide in hope of appeasing the beast terrorizing Nostrus' shores. He certainly never predicted the rescue mission would result in an accepted mating bond.

Chapter I: The Damsel & the Serpent

Rhysand

Rhysand had never felt so close to falling asleep at a meeting, and growing up in his father’s Court of Nightmares, that was saying something. At least there, brutality kept things from being uneventful. But here in the Summer palace, there was nothing to turn his stomach but overseasoned trout and the High Lord’s too-sweet wine. It was times like these he truly dreaded his looming title and birthright.

Suppressing a sigh, he maintained his mask, nodding along and smiling when necessary whilst making the remarks expected to establish he cared about the nonsense Nostrus was set on arranging. Small talk and an offering of reward for the high demand the male was procrastinating. Forces from the strongest army on their continent to subdue the creature butchering his soldiers and citizens. There was no bravery or gall in cooperating with the cruel court from the north. The male was just covering his ass and calling it an alliance.

But then, wasn’t that the truth of most deals?

Still, his desperation was clear, if the setting around him was anything to go by. High quality tapestries hung from each pillar making up the veranda they dined in, Not the typical everyday decor of the court. The dining table was set for something much grander than a business dinner, when one considered the fine linen tablecloth, crystal glasses, and polished silver.

If his father were present, Rhys was certain he’d be so amused by the effort he’d spend the evening toying with his Summer counterpart.

“Rhysand, I suppose I can’t beat around the bush forever. Would you consider—” Nostrus paused in his inquiry, his attention diverted by a member of his inner circle approaching the edge of the veranda. There was a nervous glint in the captain’s eyes as he scurried over to whisper in his High Lord’s ear, his voice almost quiet enough for Rhys to miss the short message delivered. “The Archeron girl has been captured. High tide is less than two hours away.”

Something twisted in Rhys’ gut, his protective instincts rising as he watched the High Lord’s jaw tighten. Apparently they wouldn’t be discussing the looming topic of the aid Nostrus needed so desperately. “Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he swiped his napkin over his mouth before standing. “If you’ll excuse me, Rhysand, perhaps we can finish this discussion in the morning. I have something rather urgent to attend to.”

“Of course, Nostrus. Tomorrow.” The moment the Summer males turned their backs he was past the flimsy mental shield the captain maintained. One glimpse was all it took to explain the tension the message brought. As Nostrus had wined and dined him, his second in command was sending an innocent female to her death. Rhys didn’t recognize her, and he’d been bred to accept any and all brands of cruelty, yet he’d sooner slit his own throat than let them succeed in killing her.

He winnowed back to the guest room he’d been shown to earlier that day, finding his brother snooping about, as he expected. “Uh oh, I know that face,” Cassian said, smirking. “Who do I get to punch?”

“No one yet. I only know half of what’s happening. First and foremost, this will be a rescue mission. The punching can come later.”

Cassian paused, setting the trinket he was fiddling with back on the dresser. “Rescue? Rescue who, Rhys? What happened at that dinner?”

“A girl they mean to drown at high tide, a little over an hour from now. I need you to create a distraction.”

He grinned wider than ever. “How big a distraction?”

“Big enough to drag a High Lord away from the female he intends to murder this fine evening. And get us home before he can think about retaliating or sending blood rubies for stealing her away.”

Cassian nodded, and despite the utter glee he found on his brother’s face, he knew he was in the mindset of a general. That ability to flip from fool to soldier so seamlessly was what put him above the others he'd grown up with in Windhaven, and another reason he would be in a position of command when Rhys eventually filled his father's shoes. Cassian tapped the siphons he had put back on his hands, nodding sharply as the dark armor rolled over his body, better to hide his position in the late evening. “You go find your damsel, Rhys. I’ll handle the diversion. Give me twenty minutes.”

He appreciated the fact Cassian hadn’t pushed for more information, or tried to talk him out of this. It was certainly crossing lines, meddling in another court’s business, but he had seen too many innocent people die for those who consider themselves more powerful. He didn’t need any more information than what he gathered in that glimpse behind the captain’s shield. It was enough to know staying out of the equation would damn him more than any meddling would.

He’d grant the female sanctuary, if she wished, and he highly doubted Nostrus was strong or stupid enough to push any harder, water beast be damned. At least, he hoped.

He winnowed to where the waves would reach highest, pausing when he heard the familiar voice of the Summer Lord. "Has running ever done any good?" The female beside him clenched her jaw, holding the High Lord's gaze. A brazen thing, Rhys could already tell. One who didn't apologize for actions she deemed appropriate. She didn't appear to be one to beg, either, even as the cold iron clamped down over her wrists and ankles and the ocean tide lapped at her bare legs. Simple enough for Rhys to unlock with a little magic. "Did you really think you could free yourself of this?" Nostrus pried, trying to get under her skin.

"I think it's pathetic you resort to this, killing innocents rather than face the beast born of your selfishness."

The sea serpent sated by sacrifice, one Summer citizen at a time. Rhys didn't bother denying his curiosity any longer, slipping into the female's mind. Deep down she was terrified, understandably, but above that was simple frustration. Her attempt to best the beast herself had only intrigued the creature, and she'd been deemed the next offering. She had run, to her shame. But when the entirety of her potential was to be fed to a monster or married off to another sort, running had seemed like the best option. Rhys withdrew after that, his attention returning to Nostrus who had ignored the jab, watching the waters begin to rise and churn. "High tide draws near. Any last words, Lady Archeron?" She turned her face from his grasp. "Pity. Here I thought you the most clever of your family. Very well."

"I've got a few for you, Nostrus." The girl snapped her gaze over her shoulder and his breath caught. She was truly the most beautiful female he'd ever laid eyes on, blue eyes shining beneath the moon, her golden-brown hair curling with the sea mist. A soft, blooming pressure began to grow in his chest, building, morphing into a glowing thread of gold. Wide-eyed, lips parted, Rhys knew she had recognized him as well. Imagined the future they were one step from loosing. "Get your hands off of my mate."

~~~~~

Feyre

Mates. It seemed like a rather insignificant detail in a situation where she was chained up as a sacrifice, and yet it was all she could focus on. Lady Luck must truly hate her if this was her fate. Meeting the most stunning man she'd ever laid eyes on—who looked deliciously feral with the need to protect her—and yet she was set to die only moments later. And she thought marrying a High Lord's son was the cruelest challenge she'd face.

Nostrus gave her mate a pleased smile. "She is a citizen of Summer until she meets her betrothed at the altar. With her as such, I still have the authority to demand that she... aid her court when necessary. But I'll tell you what. If you can get those chains open before the hunt begins, I'll let you sweep her off to Night. You would of course be responsible for breaking the news to her parents and fiance, but that's really of no interest to me. Good luck."

Her mate let out a soft growl as Nostrus winnowed away, but quickly refocused himself to assess the aged metal binding her to the rock. "They're warded or charmed or something," she said softly. "I have simple magic, enough to unlock things. If it were that easy to escape, the serpent would never eat."

"Hey." He gripped her chin, raising her eyes to meet his at last, the peculiar violet of his eyes made all the more beautiful in the dark of night. "Tell me your name."

"Feyre Archeron."

"Feyre." Gods, the way that rolled off his tongue. "Feyre darling, no matter what happens in these waters, you will not die today. I won't allow it." She scoffed. Well, one certainly couldn't deny his hubris. "We'll talk about my hubris when the beast is dead, love."

"How did you—daemati—I knew you couldn't be entirely perfect."

"Feyre darling, you wound me." Before either of them could resume their banter the sea began to churn, an otherworldly shriek piercing the air that had her wishing she could cover her ears. Her mate, still nameless, to her displeasure, raised his weapon just before the sea monster broke the surface, rows of razor-sharp teeth bared as it reared up, catching the scent of its next meal. "It's Rhys, if you must know!"

"Get out of my head!"

He chuckled, winnowing and lunging faster than she could blink, drawing another ear-rupturing cry from the serpent as his sword found a weakspot between a cluster of dark scales. By the Mother, she felt worthless here, not that a bow and arrow would do her much good against a creature like that. Iron seemed much more suitable in this fight. Rhys really was marvelous to watch, his pattern of winnowing and striking had originally been an effort to distract the creature from her vulnerable position, but he had actually started landing solid blows, the churning waters—now level with her breasts—stained pink as the beast's blood was diluted. The rest happened in bits and pieces, yet all at once.

Twin blurs of gray raced over the body of the water serpent and up to it's massive head, summoning another roar, claws sinking into the soft flesh of it's glowing eyes. Wounded and with only its scent and poor hearing, if her research promised anything, the serpent had lost its advantage.

The spell of her rising hope was broken as slimy, webbed fingers closed around her arms. She screamed at the feeling, drawing Rhys' attention. An unaffordable error, as the tail of the beast whipped across its body, throwing Rhys several yards to the left and under the waves. Gods, if he'd hit his head they'd both drown. A moment later he broke the surface to her relief, his attention torn between Feyre and the recovering creature he meant to fight with his sword, and apparently, shadow magic.

"Our repayment, Lady Feyre," one wraith hissed. "For your kindness at the Tithe." Miraculously, the four cuffs fell open.

"Thank you."

"Our sister's debt is repaid."

"Swim to shore!" Rhys barked.

"But—"

"You have no weapon and your mind is not clear. I won't be focused either knowing you're in danger. Find my brother, on land. He has Illyrian wings and bears red siphons. He will help you."

Knowing she would only be a hindrance in this state, she obeyed, even as guilt weighed heavier and heavier with each step. She'd just reached shore when the massive tower at the center of the city—their most ancient monument—rained down in a blast of stone and sand, a red wave of killing power the only culprit in sight.

This Illyrian was a dead man walking.

She watched, wide-eyed and fearful for him as he took flight, the towns-people still in chaos. Only a moment later he landed beside her, scattering sand in every direction as he smoothed his shoulder-length hair back. "Judging by the fact you look just washed up, I'm guessing you're Feyre. The bastard finally found his mate," he marveled.

"Go help him." His eyes widened. "You have a weapon. Go help him kill that—" One last crash of the waves revealed the creature sinking beneath the water, presumably dead at last. "He actually killed it."

Seconds later, Rhys winnowed to shore, landing between them. "The city monument?" he blurted. "You realize you will never be welcome here again, don't you?"

The Illyrian smirked. "That's alright. Too warm for my tastes anyways. I much prefer the north."

Rhys shook his head, smirking right back. "Come on. Let's go home."

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

#acotar #feysand #fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand fic #acotar secret santa #acotar gift exchange #gift fic #mythology #retelling #perseus #andromeda #Greek mythology #when i tell you this event has tortured me and my desire to share snippets i am not exaggerating one bit #at the mercy of the stars #atmots #an au that explains why exactly Cassian is banned from entering the Summer Court

23 notes · View notes

best-star-trek-character · 1 year

Text

Official DISCO Bracket!

And here’s the final bracket! Round One will go live tomorrow, 4/21 at 10 am EST!

Full List:

Round One:

Left Side:

Emperor (Mirror!) Philippa Georgiou vs. Dr. Hirai: poll here

Lt. Commander Ronald A Bryce vs. Kyheem: poll here

Me Hani Ika Hali Ka Po vs. Carl (The Guardian of Forever): poll here

Mirror! Sarek vs. Gabrielle Burnham: poll here

Ruon Tarka vs. Ripper The Tardigrade: poll here

Ambassador Sarek vs. Commander Ellen Landry: poll here

Ryn vs. Tareckx: poll here

Lieutenant Spock vs. Lieutenant Nilsson: poll here

Haz Mazaro vs. Commander Nahn: poll here

Voq vs. Captain Gabriel Lorca: poll here

Lt. Commander Joann Owosekun vs. T’Kuvma: poll here

Adira Tal vs. Captain Philippa Georgiou: poll here

Ensign Sylvia Tilly vs. Dr. Kovich: poll here

Admiral Katrina Cornwell vs. J’Vini: poll here

Captain Saru vs. Admiral Charles Vance: poll here

President Laira Rillak vs. Siranna: poll here

Right Side:

General Ndoye vs. Captain Michael Burnham: poll here

Mirror! Owosekun vs. Lt. Commander Airiam: poll here

Captain Leland vs. Commander Ash Tyler: poll here

Dr. Pollard vs. Cleveland “Book” Booker: poll here

President T’Rina vs. Lieutenant Linus: poll here

Zora vs. Oros: poll here

Leto vs. Commander Jett Reno: poll here

Amanda Grayson vs. Grudge: poll here

Lieutenant Aditya Sahil vs. Gray Tal: poll here

Lt. Commander Keyla Detmer vs. Osyraa: poll here

Lt. Commander Gen Rhys vs. Mirror! Detmer: poll here

Su’Kal vs. Captain Christopher Pike: poll here

Harcourt Fenton Mudd vs. “May Ahearn”: poll here

Captain Killy (Mirror! Tilly) vs. Dr. Hugh Culber: poll here

Aurellio vs. L’Rell: poll here

Guardian Xi vs. Commander Paul Stamets: poll here

Round Two:

Left Side:

Mirror! Philippa Georgiou vs. Lt. Cmdr. Ronald A Bryce: poll here

Me Hani Ika Hali Ka Po vs. Gabrielle Burnham: poll here

Ripper the Tardigrade vs. Ambassador Sarek: poll here

Ryn vs. Lt. Spock: poll here

Commander Nahn vs. Captain Gabriel Lorca: poll here

Lt. Cmdr. Joann Owosekun vs. Captain Philippa Georgiou: poll here

Ensign Sylvia Tilly vs. Admiral Katrina Cornwell: poll here

Captain Saru vs. Siranna: poll here

Right Side:

Captain Michael Burnham vs. Lt. Cmdr. Airiam: poll here

Cmdr. Ash Tyler vs. Cleveland “Book” Booker: poll here

President T’Rina vs. Zora: poll here

Cmdr. Jett Reno vs. Grudge: poll here

Gray Tal vs. Lt. Cmdr. Keyla Detmer: poll here

Lt. Cmdr. Gen Rhys vs. Captain Christopher Pike: poll here

Harcourt Fenton Mudd vs. Dr. Hugh Culber: poll here

L’Rell vs. Cmdr. Paul Stamets: poll here

Round Three:

Left Side:

Mirror! Philippa Georgiou vs. Me Hani Ika Hali Po: poll here

Ripper the Tardigrade vs. Lt. Spock: poll here

Commander Nahn vs. Lt. Cmdr. Joann Owosekun: poll here

Ensign Sylvia Tilly vs. Captain Saru: poll here

Right Side:

Captain Michael Burnham vs. Cleveland “Book” Booker: poll here

President T’Rina vs. Cmdr. Jett Reno: poll here

Lt. Cmdr. Keyla Detmer vs. Captain Christopher Pike: poll here

Dr. Hugh Culber vs. Cmdr. Paul Stamets: poll here

Quarter-Finals:

Left Side:

Mirror! Philippa Georgiou vs. Lt. Spock: poll here

Lt. Cmdr. Joann Owosekun vs. Ensign Sylvia Tilly: poll here

Right Side:

Captain Michael Burnham vs. Cmdr. Jett Reno: poll here

Lt. Cmdr. Keyla Detmer vs. Dr. Hugh Culber: poll here

Semi-Finals:

Mirror! Philippa Georgiou vs. Ensign Sylvia Tilly: poll here

Captain Michael Burnham vs. Dr. Hugh Culber: poll here

Finals:

Ensign Sylvia Tilly vs. Captain Michael Burnham: poll here

#best disc character competition #st #disc #disco #star trek discovery #discovery #best star trek character competition

79 notes · View notes

chillychive · 2 years

Text

Episode 10

TW Murder, violence

Well, here we are, folks. The point I didn't want to reach in my rewatch. Full disclosure, I'm skipping the scene Hugh dies. My mental health (OCD) cant handle watching that, so I'm not even going to get close. Forgive me if my Voq/Tyler knowledge is off, but I can't watch it.

Anyway, here we go!

gotta love saru's ganglia picking up on Tyler as a threat.

no bc Lorca knew the whole time. He knew that they weren't in their universe and he just acted. Ugh.

I love the "speak of the devil"

Poor Hugh...

Lorca's Scottish accent

Also yay tilly but poor tilly

"captain killy? That's not very clever."

Ew ew ew he's so gross lorca pervert

The defiant?? Like from DS9

Yess tilly

Bro could have used makeup but he broke his own nose instead. Gross.

Noo hughhhhhhhhhhhhh 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I skipped but still.

Terrans have the bridge on the underside of the ship... The ISS Shenzhou does at least. Interesting

#star trek discovery #discovery rewatch #Hugh culber #Michael burnham #Gabriel lorca #ISS shenzhou #paul stamets #Sylvia tilly #Captain killy #mirror universe #terran empire

2 notes · View notes

the-antiapocalyptic-man · 7 months

Note

What would your Earth 3 Superboy be like?

I made a chart

So Ultraman (Killy Kent), Superwoman (Lois Lane), and Captain Alexander Luthor Sr are three legs of an incredibly toxic triangle. Lo and Xander's kid is a metahuman capable of antimatter manipulation and is a host for Uxas Darkseid bred by the Cult of Darkseid's mother, Heggra (made up of the Amazons of Earth-3's Demon Island). Lara Kon-Vex is a clone ("Luthor-El") created from Killy and Xander and she's Earth-3's Ultra(-Humanite) as a counterpart to Superhuman (Earth-0's Lara) and also her world's tallest, meanest lesbian (again, as opposed to Lara-Prime, who's Earth-0's tallest, nicest lesbian--Tim Drake notwithstanding). Jan Lane is Killy and Lois's love child and Alex Jr.'s younger sibling. He has Jon's "raised in a volcano" backstory and some aspects of n52 Lor-Zod that I didn't want to give my version of Chris. "Problem Child" is reference to the "Golden Child" version of Jon. He's the current "Ultraboy" and boyfriends with The Insider, a former Talon (and Damian's E-3 counterpart).

Lara also has a rival in Miss Match, another clone whose slow degradation prompts her to fight the Imperial Regime.

#dc #fanart #headverse #au #redesign #oc #ask #ultraboy #minie-mastermind

14 notes · View notes

fxckin-blackbeard · 4 months

Note

@heartthrobxhook

"You think you can look at me with those big brown eyes and get whatever the fuck you want from me?... Well you can and you're abusing your power over me!"

|| @heartthrobxhook ||

ᒥ⚓ᒧ— He kicks his legs and cackles in the cot. It had been a few weeks since he decided to sail with Killian and abandon the Queen Anne, and he was far happier. He'd dare even say the happiest he's ever been. The professed love was just the start, he didn't know things would keep going up from there, he didn't know they could. And yet, they just did. It was incredible for Edward. He was drinking less and only smoking the opium for pain rather than pleasure.

"Then get the fuck back in this bed, Killy," He opens his arms inviting the other to lay back down a little longer. He even flashed those big, brown doe eyes again. He was certainly abusing their power, especially now that the other had pointed it out.

"C'mon, love, just another half hour and then ya can get ta what you need ta do, please?" Edward used to be an early riser, not anymore. Without the pressure of captaining a ship, he became quiet content staying in bed as long as possible in the mornings. Unfortunately for Killian who was still in charge, that included cuddling him. Ed did have responsibilities, he took on the role of Sailing Master, but he was only ever needed for course charting. Not much of that with no destination in mind at the current moment.

#arr or some shit (in character)#I'm just a product of a living hell | And I don't want to live like this no more (heartthrobxhook)

18 notes · View notes

booksteaandtoomuchtv · 10 months

Text

Witchy Woman (8/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | AO3 | 9 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Killian knew her words were not a response to his emotions flooding her system or the euphoria that followed a vampire bite. With her blood and magic intermingling with his very being, he could feel the depth of affection and acceptance pouring out of her. For him.

He climbed onto the bed and crawled over her - nipping and kissing a path up her stomach, to her ribcage, to her breast before he sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before continuing his journey, repeating the action on the other. She raked her fingernails up his sides, pulling him up to meet her lips.

When he yielded to her request, she greeted him with demanding kisses. He slipped his tongue into the kiss and lowered his weight onto her in answer to the way she tugged him closer with hands woven in his hair. She let out a low groan that went straight to his already aching cock. He pushed his hips against her, finding some relief as his head slid along her folds.

He wanted to draw this out. A way of worshipping her and showing her the depth of his love. He dragged his fangs along her jaw and wrapped her hair around his hand to expose her neck to him.

“Fuck this,” Emma muttered before her magic wrapped around them both and reversed their positions. She straddled his hips and peered down at him with that beautiful, cheeky smile. She rocked her hips and took him in one smooth motion that had them both gasping for a few quiet moments.

“Take what’s yours, love.” Killian encouraged, his hand wrapping around her hip to aid her as she did exactly that. He kept his eyes on hers as she rocked above him, building them both up with each stroke. Letting her take control was the most attractive thing he’d ever witnessed. She chased her pleasure with confidence and determination that had him riding the edge of his own far quicker than he intended. He held off - he wanted her to go with him this time.

Her breathing became ragged and her movements less rhythmic, so he tilted his hips to push his cock deeper into her. “Killian,” her voice was lower than usual, thick with need, “I…oh, right there. Killi…”

Her words trailed off as her nails dug into his chest and her movements started to slow. He pulled her down to him, driving hard into her as she fell over the edge. He sank his fangs into her shoulder her sweet essence flooding his senses before he followed her. A blissful peace settled over him as she snuggled on his chest, her breathing slowing, his cock still inside her as they both drifted off for some much-needed rest.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

The evening was energised by the heat of the flames leaping into the air and the excitement of the gathered crowd representing various states of inebriation. Music threaded through the crowd from the temporary band stage erected on the other end of the small beach. Emma swayed to the distant melody as she refilled her Fire Island Ice Tea, one of the speciality cocktails Anna had crafted for the bonfire beach party she put together for tonight.

After yesterday's stuffy, traditional affair, the beach party felt more like the celebration of the magical and supernatural community that Emma preferred for these ceremonies. Magic flowed better when there was joy and laughter in the air, which made it easier for her to harness and direct it into the ley lines during tomorrow's ceremony. She could already sense the threads of magic dancing and twirling around her. The feeling was as intoxicating as the cocktail she sipped.

Emma headed in the direction of the stage, scanning for her sisters. They would be dancing together and singing - more shouting, loudly and off key - lyrics to every song. (Knowing the song lyrics was not a requirement. As a matter of fact, it was often frowned upon or mocked relentlessly.) She smiled when she spotted them swaying and bumping with the music and yelling lyrics that could almost be heard over the music, even at this distance.

"Ms Swan?" Emma turned to see Smee gesturing to catch her attention. He walked purposefully toward her, eliciting a resigned sign from her. She didn't want to handle real-world things right now. "Can't this wait until the morning, Smee?"

"'fraid not," Smee answered. His face was the very picture of a mournful apology.

"Fine."

"Wha'?" "What do you need?"

"Huh?"

"What. Do. You." She started to shout back, but registering the confused expression still marking his features, she gave up. She indicated the stage where the music seemed to have gotten much louder and then pointed away toward the refreshment tents. Smee nodded in agreement and started away from the noise of the music and the crowd.

He directed her a bit away from the tents, to where the forest met the sand, likely to ensure they could hear one another and not be overheard discussing whatever could not wait until the morning. Emma snapped her head to where she thought she saw something move in between the trees before everything faded to black.

She was snatched deeper into the dark wood before she could finish collapsing into an unconscious heap.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

Emma was certain that she had never felt worse upon waking. Her body felt stiff and swollen, her head pounded, and something essential seemed just beyond her reach. She cracked open her eyes, dry and burning, disoriented by her unfamiliar surroundings. Flickering, dim light illuminated the depths of an abandoned mining shaft. The hair on her neck raised as her eyes registered the damp walls of rock and dirt around her. They were covered in deep burgundy sigils similar to those she had spent researching with Killian over the last few weeks.

She closed her eyes again and imagined Killian’s bedroom, pulling together every detail and emotion she associated with it until she could almost feel the room forming around her. Letting out a breath she opened her eyes and prepared to share everything with Killian, so they could find the cave again together.

She was greeted by the sight of the sigils and flickering light.

Her magic failed.

Panic chilled her when she realised that she could not sense her magic at all. Her heart pounded, adrenaline and fear flooding her body, as the restraints securing to the rocky slab below her made themselves known. I am going to die. And, this is how I die. Woman goes missing. Then, her body would be found in an abandoned tunnel under the city by a tourist. Oh, shit. I'm going to be a fucking podcast episode.

Refusing to accept that bleak fate, she directed her attention to her breath. She took a few slow, deep breaths. The panic and fear drained from her with every exhale, until it finally left her with space enough to think. The adrenaline gave her a sense of alertness that she needed to harness to get out of whatever nightmare situation this was.

She tried to recall how she ended up here. Her memory was hazy after she walked away from the bonfire. Had she been looking for someone? She remembered wanted another cocktail, did she get one? Maybe it was drugged with something? That might explain why waking up had felt so awful. She was usually careful to watch her drinks being made, but something could've distracted her. She thought she recalled someone calling her name. The memories continued to slip from her grasp and dissolve away to nothing.

She did not necessarily need to understand how she ended up here to escape. I hope. She tried repositioning her hands several ways, hoping to find an angle at which she could tug her hand free of the handcuffs. When that failed, she felt the area around her hands as much as possible, praying there may be something within her limited range that she could use as a shim. The search unsurprisingly yielded no results.

She gathered her courage and strength for what she would have to do next. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she tucked her thumb into her wrist as much as possible. She blew out her breath, focusing all her attention on the air she was pushing out even as she pulled her arm toward her body with all her strength. Pain, hot and instant, radiated from her hand. A sickening pop echoed around her and she bit down hard on her lip to catch her accompanying scream. Okay, one hand free. The rest is easy.

"Well done, Ems. I told her those wouldn't hold you long." Neal smiled proudly at her as he emerged from the bend in the tunnel. His smile made her stomach drop and her plans to escape vanished taking her hope with them. “Regina said you wouldn’t be a threat once your magic was scattered,” he continued. His eyes darted to a silver apple charm that she hadn’t noticed before returning to her. “I told her you have always been a scrappy thing.”

He stopped in front of her and swept his gaze hungrily down her body. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek and ran his fingers gently along her jawline. Emma yanked her head away in disgust. He pulled back his hand. A cruel joy behind his eyes as he reached for her again. He wrapped his hand around her broken thumb and squeezed until she let out a high, pathetic whimper. “After Regina is done with you, you won’t find me so repulsive. You’ll follow me around like a puppy. Excited to follow my every command.”

She opened her mouth to shatter his delusions, but he tugged on her thumb roughly. The edges of her vision darkened as an answering shock wave of pain rolled through her. She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. “I’ll have you begging for me, Ems.”

“You’ve had your fun.” Regina snapped at Neal, appearing from behind him. “Everything is in place and we are quickly running out of moonlight.” She disappeared out of view, The noises that followed suggested she was setting up for whatever they intended to do with Emma tonight.

“It won’t hurt for too long, Ems,” Neal said reassuringly.

“What won’t hurt?” Emma asked, her voice sounding weak.

“Regina absorbing your powers shouldn’t hurt. But, for my help, she is breaking whatever bond you have with Killian, which might hurt a bit, and forming a soul bond between us.”

“There is no magic that could make me love you.”

“Oh, but there is. I’ve seen her do it.”

“Step back, Neal. I’m ready.” Regina came into view once more, the apple charm in her hand. She melted it in her hand with the flash of a fireball. Emma felt her magic rushing back around her and scrambled to pull it into her. Regina’s knowing smile sent a shiver down her spine. “I can’t null your powers if I wish to absorb them, but the salt stone will prevent you from being able to access them while I work my spell. Now, Ms. Swan, time to get started.”

Regina began murmuring an incantation. The world seemed to fall away as the dark spell was woven around Emma. She fought against the song of the dark magic as tried to rip away the ribbons that connected her with her power. Emma resisted, but a few strands were painfully torn from her; each severed connection was like losing a piece of her soul.

Regina’s voice grew in strength and volume.

The darkness consumed Emma. The previous attacks had been a weak precursor to the real battle, testing her defences. The dark magic, fuelled by the powerful, ancient sigils, slashed into her carving away pieces of her as it searched to remove all traces of magic from her skin and bones.

Emma registered that she’d started screaming but it was a distant observation, as if noting unremarkable weather outside. Then, the flames ignited in her chest. While the ripping and slicing had hurt, they were minor inconveniences when compared to the burning in her chest as the flames licked at the ribbons and magic connecting Killian with her. She refused to allow the conflagration to devour him, she would feed her soul to the hungry beast before she would allow any harm to come to the strands which connected her heart with Killian’s.

The burning stopped as suddenly as it started.

She had some awareness of her body being freed from the rocky slab before Emma slipped into unconsciousness, once more.

#cssns23 #vampire!Killian #witch!Emma #Emma x Killian #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Swan #CS AU fanfic #CS modern AU fanfic #OUAT AU fanfic #inspired by Stay A Spell #ouat captain hook #killian x emma #cs fanfic #once upon a time #ouat #cs ff #art by cocohook38

18 notes · View notes