#if i must steer this ship alone then so be it…

[yelena-bellova]

I feel like I’m the only Logan x Jean shipper out here.

[freckles-a-constellation]

The Doctor is a tragic character in the best Greek tragedy tradition.

So y'all know how the most common driving factor for intelligence to develop in species is if they're social? (Octopi aren't very social but let's ignore that real quick, the Doctor's a vertebrate anyway so invertebrate intelligence can probably be dismissed as irrelevant) Because after a point, more intelligence isn't really needed to avoid danger or gather food. But more intelligence does make it possible to communicate more efficiently, form more complex social bonds, eventually develop culture. Cue why social species tend to be more intelligent than solitary ones of otherwise comparable lifestyle. And cue why humanity is the way it is.

Now look at Gallifreyans. (I am purposefully ignoring the Timeless Child thing bc I don't rlly believe it and besides, even assuming it's true, The Doctor is similar enough to Gallifreyans to have flawlessly believed himself/themselves/herself to be one for 13+ regenerations, so anything that can be concluded to be true from analysis of Gallifreyans has good basis to be presumed true about the Doctor, whatever the fuck semantics you wanna use) So, Gallifreyans. A species much more advanced than according to DW canon humanity will ever be. More intelligent than humanity. High levels of education and not on the basis of private tutoring. Lives in cities. Has complex language and technology capable of instantly translating pretty much any language of any other species to be understandable to them. (Hell the TARDIS consistently still translates shit to English for the companions while they're outside it.) Complex social structure. That's one fucking social species.

And it gets better. The TARDIS is meant to be operated by a team of six. And even if River was joking about six, it's still clear that it should at least be more than one. Compare the Doctor steering the TARDIS alone to when he was with Susan. I mean, even those two looked like they could use an extra hand. Have you ever seen a human private use vehicle designed with 2+ pilots in mind? Definitely a species more social than humanity.

And the telepathy thing? Hello? Insanely, mind-boggingly social species.

Now take a being this fundamentally social and do something to them so that they see no recourse other than to take one (1) same-species (as far as he was aware disclaimer ig) companion, steal a ship they have little to no clue how to pilot, leave everything and everyone they've ever known and run without ever stopping for breath, no matter how much they miss home, no matter if it hurts. (And I do believe something must have happened to make him run like that, since the beggining, way before the Time War) Have them be scorned, judged, punished, mistreated and rejected by their species, again and again, for ages. Have them love, again and again, only to always lose everyone they've cared about, through abandonment or death. Have them essentially be forced to exterminate their whole species and believe themselves to be the last of their kind, only to be proven wrong by the whole Master situation, which alright is better, but also in some ways is worse. Have them, once again, form deep bonds with companions and once again lose all of them in various varyingly tragic ways until they have no hope left that anyone can ever truly stay for any amount of time even close to satisfactory, that love can for them end in anything but loss and pain. And they can't even avoid love altogether in an effort to spare themselves the inevitable agony of losing loved ones, because they're incapable of not growing to care for those around them. And they can't be without company either, because their sanity goes straight to hell in a handbasket within like,, 5 minutes of being alone.

Let me remind you this is not a human we're talking about. It's a member of a species much more inherently social than humanity. My point?

The Doctor is literally more lonely than the human brain can comprehend.

[astrumark]

── WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER ★.

PAIRING: jacaerys velaryon x female reader.

SUMMARY: you discover a new side of your husband, and it's exhilarating.

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, semi public sex, p in v, soft dom jace, dirty talk (praise), bondage, breeding kink, hair pulling, aftercare.

WC: 2.7K

"You are certain you can do this on your own?"  

Jace sighed exasperated, although a playful smile crept across his face as well while he jumped out of the boat with enormous grace. 

He looked excruciatingly charming today, his face flushed under the sun, and brazenly wearing only a thin white undershirt, the first three buttons undone and showing his chest. 

"My sweet wife, I believe you have forgotten you have wed a Velaryon," He smirked. "What would become of me if I didn't know how to sail?" 

"With all due respect, your brother gets seasick every time he's on a boat," Your eyes twinkled with amusement. "And he ought to be the head of the house one day."

Jace snorted jokingly. "We must be careful not to speak about it in front of him," He smiled mischievously. "It's a sensitive topic." 

You laughed warmly, your whole body reverberating with it, and you glanced at the boat a few steps away from you. It was not extravagant, small, and made to travel shorter distances, the wood a reddish brown with an intrinsic seahorse carved into the bow.

It was his idea to spend the night on a boat, alone and away from the bustling castle, to unwind, he said. Your duties would not allow you to travel anytime soon, but a long boat ride could be just as enjoyable. 

And that's how you found yourself at the docks, with food, blankets, books, and cards, all of which the prince had already stored on the boat a couple of minutes ago.

"Fortunately, I am not my brother." He continued to jest. "You have nothing to fear, my dear. Do you not trust your husband?" 

You rolled your eyes at his exaggeration. "You know I do." 

"Yes, because you did not hesitate for a second to fly with me on dragon-back," He moved closer to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, and your hands went to his neck. "What is the sea compared to the sky?"

"Just as dangerous." You quipped.

"Fair enough, but I will always keep you safe, whether in the sky, sea, or land." 

Your heart leaped, a tingling warmth spreading from head to toe, and you averted your eyes, feeling too bashful. Jace chuckled, doubtless deeming you the most enchanting thing he ever had the privilege to see, and he couldn't help himself as he leaned in and locked your lips in a slow and loving peck.

"Lead the way, husband." You smiled shyly.

He grinned, not wasting a second to twirl you around and help you get into the boat. You giggled uncontrollably. 

It's very captivating to watch him work, his sleeves rolled up and forearms flexing. He easily untied the ropes and pulled the anchor up, giving you quick explanations about how it is done, subtly proving to you he knew exactly what he was doing, a hint of a smug smile displayed when he looked at you.

Meanwhile, you also basked in the sun, it was an atypical hot day, the reason why your handmaids had chosen the lightest fabrics to dress you, and why your husband had taken off his tunic as soon as you two left the castle.

The fresh air nipped at your face, making your hair float, and it was more than welcome. You looked out at the vast blue sea while salt filled your lungs, mesmerized by the crash of the frothy waves. The bouncing of the water was, without a doubt, the most soothing sensation. For the longest time, you have always been delighted to travel, mostly because of the ships. An excitement many would consider childish, but that you could not help.

Jace hoisted the sail, adjusting it accordingly, and you offered to help. He was very patient with you, even if it meant taking a little bit longer and you were genuinely interested in learning, so much that you were beaming to see him steering it with the rudder. You didn't feel confident enough to try it out yourself yet, but you promised one day you would.

Fortunately for you, the sea was calm and the winds steady, and it didn't take long until he could leave the rudder aside to spend time with you, only using it occasionally to remain in the desired direction, and time flew. 

Sometime in the late afternoon, Jace was reading, and you should've been too if only your eyes could concentrate on the pages of the book and not on him in front of you.

He looked stunning, the wind moved through his dark curls, his light brown eyes looked like a honey pool, his cheeks sun-kissed, and his nose had a few tiny freckles, his attractive hand was splayed across the book's cover, and the occasional bites on his beautiful plump lips along the frown of his eyebrows as he focused on whichever he was reading was too much. 

You could never fathom your luck, not only marrying a prince, the future heir to the throne but such a handsome and dear one, who you were irrevocably in love with. Your chest clenched just by looking at him.

Motivated by a sudden craving, you crawled to his side, pressing yourself to him. Although a lot more inconvenient to read in this position, he didn't hesitate to hug your waist with one arm, placing the book on his thigh.

His scent, of mint and lavender, inundated you, and you kissed his jaw before hugging his waist back with both arms and laying your head on his shoulder, snuggling up to him.

"I love you." You muttered. 

Jace's eyes flicked to you, his cheeks growing redder, but this time not because of the sun. He smiled, one of his teeth slightly crooked, which only added more charm to his appearance, alongside his dimple. 

"I love you more." He said, resting his forehead on yours and brushing your noses, which made you chuckle.

But these words were never enough, the immensity of your love for him was terrifying. You desired him in the most primal and selfish way, wanted him to be all yours, although he already was, by all means: legally and intimately. You worried your hunger for him would never be satiable, as there was nothing else to claim, less you two merged. Or perhaps it would be enough if you carried a piece of him inside of you.

"I want to give you children," You said absently, staring at the side of his elongated nose. "Make you a father." 

Jace grinned, his eyes twinkling with diversion, but his heart hammered. "You will." 

"Hopefully soon." You smiled faintly at him. 

"Attempts will certainly not be an issue for us." 

You laughed and with the sun finally cooling down, you closed your eyes. The wind caressing your face and the peaceful sound of the sea quickly lulled you to sleep.

At night, when you were both lying down on thin blankets while stargazing, the sky full of shimmering stars and the moon a waxing gibbous, it was very unsurprising how rapidly you got distracted and found yourselves melting into each other, the kisses heated and desire slowly consuming you inch by inch.

His touches were feather-light and teasing as he undressed you, and the night air made you shiver. His kisses were full of appreciation and delicacy, his thumb stroking your cheek in the most genuine affection. In the short two moons following your wedding, the prince had always been extremely gentle and attentive when bedding you, and you truly cherished it, most of the time. But in that moment you needed more, and so you asked him not to be as careful, but rather rougher. 

He looked at you as if you had grown a second head, getting on his knees and denying profusely at first, claiming he would never mistreat you, but the twitch of his cock and the wild glint in his eyes were undeniable. It took some time to fully convince him, reassuring him that you truly wanted it and would be just fine afterward, and creating a small code between the two of you to stop, in case it became too overwhelming, he seemed keener to accept.

"Please, you might as well break me and put me back together," You whispered against his lips and he swallowed hard. "You can do whatever you wish to me." 

"Anything?" His voice was low and hoarse.

"Anything. I am your wife, I belong solely to you and no one else," Your hand softly played with one of your breasts provocatively, his lower lip caught in between his teeth as he watched. "I am all yours, husband, only yours, to be treated as you see fit, and nobody has a say in that."

Then, he snapped, brown orbs darkening considerably and jawline clenched. In a blink of an eye, there were no traces of your ever-so-kind Jace anymore. His hand found a fistful of your hair, tugging at it with no care, which made you wince and your scalp burn.

"Very well, you asked for it." He growled before harshly pushing you back to the blankets on your stomach. You gasped, your cunt throbbing at the unusual behavior and eyes widening as you noticed him grabbing three of the many ropes around the boat.

Jace pressed his knee to your lower back, locking you in place as he grabbed your arms and tied them up in the tightest and most impressive knots, his ability with it once again surprising you. But he didn't stop at your wrists, he bent your legs and tied each of your ankles to your upper thighs as well with different ropes, restraining you completely and lifting you to be on all fours for him.

You writhed in discomfort, your arms and legs already aching due to the uncomfortable position. Jace stared at you while pushing his breeches down, your glistening cunt exposed to him in the most beautiful and tantalizing way. 

He slammed into you with no warning or preparation, not that your already wet entrance needed it. Loud and whiny moans immediately left your lips, his girth stretching you out spectacularly, and the new position was delirious, you were certain he had never reached this deep before. 

Jace's thrusts were far from gentle, and along with the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls there was also an unusual sting with how careless he was being with it. Which only made you grow more aroused. 

"You look so perfect like this, my dear," He praised and you hummed, lost in the bliss you were feeling. "Fucking perfect."

He slapped your ass hard, his palm imprinted on your skin in a red mark. You gasped sharply as the pain licked your stomach, but all too soon it became a desire. 

"Always taking my cock so well, squeezing me so wonderfully," He slapped the other side of your ass mercilessly, the noise it made strident and you winced once again. "This cunt was precisely made for me." 

His sweet words paired up with his aggressiveness were making you wild, not moaning anymore, but rather screaming. Any boats nearby could've heard you, but your mind was blank with pleasure, not worrying about it. You barely held any control over your body at this point, way too blissed out.

The urge to move and hold onto something, but the complete inability to do so was cruel and incendiary, repulsion and adoration melded as one. It made you whine, your stomach churning and heart thundering, it was agonizing even, but you loved being so overpowered, so vulnerable underneath him. 

Jace pounded into you almost beastly, growling and gripping your hips with an unnerving strength, his balls smacking against your ass. You tried to move, but you only hurt yourself, the ropes scratching your skin and burning you. Your eyes welled up, unable to differentiate pain from pleasure, and you bite your lips, focusing on the overflow of sentiments inside of you.

By being tied up all your senses became more heightened, and even the littlest brush on your skin dazzled you. Every sensation was worth a hundred ones, and you felt it all deep in your core. It was as wondrous as damning. The cool wind kissing your body, the lewd sounds, Jace's unwavering grip on you, the sting of his previous slaps, the burn on your wrists caused by the rope, his cock hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. You were slowly going mad.

Your cunt fluttered furiously, your skin burning and sweat dripping down your forehead. You barely realized you were sobbing, a heavy stream of tears wetting your face on its own accord as you could not help but cry and cry with such strong emotions provoked.

And in the midst of it all, there was also a small amount of gentleness your husband couldn't completely leave behind. Clear in how he brushed your sticky hair out of your face and cleaned your tears as he leaned over you slightly, although his pace continued as brutal as before, if not even more.

"Seven, aren't you just adorable?" He rasped in the shell of your ear. "You are being so nice to me, I might just fuck a pretty babe into you as a reward." 

You groaned in delight at his words, your body was already shaking and your muscles sore. Jace went back to his initial position, pulling harshly at your hair and pounding into you relentlessly. 

"Would you like that, sweet wife?" He chuckled smugly. You tried to answer, but you didn't find words, so you only nodded eagerly as you babbled. "Yes, I know you would." 

He would too, the thought of your belly swollen with his child made him go feral and swell up with pride. The grip on your hair tightened and his thrusts became even faster and desperate, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and goosebumps arousing on his skin with the approaching release. 

Jace came with a grunt, his hot and thick seed filling you to the brim. His heart pounded painfully in his ears, beads of sweat all over his body. Even when quite faint from his peak, his ruthless pace didn't falter. You getting to come as well was just as important to him, and you were pretty close by the clench of your cunt.

It's like you have been shattered into the tiniest fragments and banished to the void, your mind parting from your body and your whole existence ceasing for a moment. You believed you and the stars above have become one, and that even perhaps you had perished from too much pleasure.

You are reminded you are very alive when Jace gathered his spend dripping out of you. "If you want to be the mother of my children so desperately," He started before pushing two fingers back into your sensitive cunt, which made you whine and squirm. "We cannot waste a single drop." 

And as simple as that you are conscious of your surroundings again, too aware of the salty air and the ripples of the waves. You were shivering so much your teeth chattered, and you panted as if you had run a thousand miles, your throat sore from the cries and eyes heavy due to the tears.

Jace deluged you with many caring pecks on the cheek before undoing the tight knots and turning your slack body over.

"You did so well," He praised as he softly kissed your bruised wrists as well. "My perfect little wife."  

He caressed your damp hair before helping you to sit up, flushed against his chest. Jace cleaned you up with the hem of the blanket, for lack of a better option, and grabbed a waterskin near, bringing it to your lips and you didn't waste time to drink it enthusiastically, your chin getting wet as well.

"Are you alright?" He asked concerned, the waterskin soon being emptied.

You took a few deep breaths before answering him, your voice somewhat raspy from the screaming. "Yes," You leaned more into him. "That was… very intense." 

"Indeed." He hugged your waist and you looked up at him, finally regaining your breath. Jace pressed his lips to yours in a long and chaste kiss. "You are the absolute love of my life," He brushed your face with his knuckles. "Don't ever forget."

"And you are my heart and soul." You smiled at him, who stared at you with immense adoration in his eyes as if you hung the moon and the stars.  

Cuddling up, sleep does not find any of you, but instead you spent the night talking away, and got to watch a beautiful sunrise together.

TAGS: @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

[broncoburro]

MEUR TYPES: A PRIMER

Meur (or magic) is a natural force in Vestur. Since the invention of the Andimeur Synthesizer (a device that converts it into a form usable by man), Vestur’s aristocracy has continually found new uses for it. From homes heated by red meur to nutritionally dense food aided by green meur, the Tri-Kingdom has gained the distinction of most scientifically advanced country in the known world.

Children in Vestur sometimes play a clapping game that goes as such:

“Green’s for the beans on my supper plate, Blue’s for the clean water enjoyed while I ate, Red warms my toes when there’s snow on the ground, Yellow’s how a Southern fellow steers his ship around, And if he crashes it upon the shore The Architect alone will decide his score: Black, White, Black, White, Black, White, Black If the man is slack, it’s the work of Black If he avoids the light-- Then thank goodness, it’s White!”

Like all good children’s songs, it ends in giggles about dying a horrible death. But it effectively teaches every child in the Tri-Kingdom about what each of the six meur types, or colors are, and their most common use cases.

Green meur affects the botanical world. While plants cannot be summoned into existence through green meur alone, it can be used to grow plants in conditions that shouldn’t be able to foster them. It may also alter their growth trajectory or physical properties. Almost none the of the plants grown in the Northern Kingdom could survive the nutrient-poor, hard soil without green meur. Specializing in green meur may sound tame or perhaps boring at first (and green meur users are stereotyped as such), but bring domesticated thorny vine seeds onto the battlefield and a competent green meur user will be sending barbed tendrils through an enemy’s torso in seconds.

Blue meur pertains to water. The ability to command water’s flow has several use cases in itself: powering water wheels, irrigation for agriculture, maintenance of sewerways. But this meur type takes on new complexities when you consider water’s other states. Ice can be easily weaponized, and some innovative meur scientists have been doing research into engines powered by steam. Even more mysterious, it seems water’s omnipresence on earth has lent blue meur some properties related to the flow of time. There’s more to blue meur than is currently understood.

Red meur is pure energy in the form of heat. When wielded by man, It’s most commonly seen as fire. Heat is useful for everything from keeping a forge running to warming air in houses. Red meur is (sadly) not a free energy buffet though, and has some major downsides: it’s inherently tiring and energy-intensive on the user. In addition, fine control is difficult. Red meur users have something of a reputation for being none too bright, but many of said users would rebuff this with “easy to use, difficult to master”.

Yellow meur affects air. It’s mainly used to influence wind direction and speed, leading to some of the fastest trade ships in the known world. As a result, yellow meur is an eclectic choice for anyone to specialize in besides Southerners. The current use cases are narrow... but this might be more due to lack of interest in the field than anything else. Who knows, perhaps some sort of yellow meur related discovery is around the corner....?

Green, blue, red, and yellow are the standard meur colors. Upwards of 95% of Vestur's nobility have their specialty in these four. There are two less common meur types though, and they have a lot of mythologizing around them, as well as being less understood.

White meur is usually described by laymen as “the healing one”. Say that to any white practitioner and watch him start pulling his hair out in frustration and screeching through gritted teeth, “its so much deeper than that!”. Those who use white meur must, in addition to finishing standard meur education at Vestur Royal Military Academy, score well on the White College Aptitude Test and be accepted to the College of Divine Healing, where they’ll learn about the human body, pathology, and advanced white meur for an additional two years. Only then can one be certified as a white practitioner. Without knowing what you’re putting back into place and why, it’s horrendously easy to do more harm than good when mending the human body.

All this said, white meur can’t do miracle work. Wound closure or bone refusing is one thing – regrowing a whole arm or bringing someone back from the dead is strictly in the realm of fantasy.

Black meur inflicts death, plain and simple. It is unilaterally outlawed. Its only practical use is in combat, but black meur is considered a dishonorable way to inflict suffering. Any of the standard colors can just as easily be used to kill. Only one nobleman in all of Vestur is registered as a black meur user, and the designation was given as a soft way to say, “you are disallowed from wielding meur of any color”. Though... he really is quite talented at it, as circumstance will soon reveal.

And those are the meur colors! Every noble child in Vestur goes to VRMA and gets educated on the principles of wielding each, but as a graduated nobleman in the service of your community, a person may only specialize in one.

Any given two blue meur users likely have their in very different applications: one might maintain a city’s sewerways, and another might work to provide potable water in an area where there is none. There is a lot of variation and opportunity within any given color.

(The little emblems for the meur types, as with all of Forever Gold's more graphic design-y work, were done by LSDolphin!)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Magic AU? HoH Buck? That is very much up my very specific alley give me those trees

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

And as always by beloved triangles

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

YAY! Okay let's gooooooo.

135 or 1k for 🌲 (whatever I hit first):

---

It’s the right thing to do, as much as it’ll suck to be single again, for the logistics of it all. As much as it’ll suck to hurt another lovely, good woman who likes him more than he can bring himself to like them back. He plans to do it over dinner one week in September.

And then he overhears Bobby and Buck chatting one day in the fire station kitchen. 

“I think I could really love her,” Buck is saying. “Like, I’m not there yet. But I could be? Like, soon.”

“Isn’t the difference between loving someone and imagining you could love someone idealization?” Bobby asks. 

“Wait… Are you saying I do already love her?” Buck replies. 

“I…” Bobby sighs. “Whatever you feel is what you feel, Buck.”

“You’re right. Maybe I do already love her.”

In completely unrelated news, Eddie decides not to break up with Marisol. It seems unfair to throw in the towel on someone really great because of unrelated family stress. 

2024

v. 

Eddie’s hollow back nightmares start back up again the first time he sees Kim. Literally, the night after he passes by her shop on the Promenade. 

He should have taken that as a clear sign. 

For almost a year, all his nightmares have been focused on his sister. Maybe a few helicopter related and Catholic school related oddities after the cruise ship and discovering Marisol’s former life, but… None of his usual torment. Until he glances upon Kim. A veritable clone of Shannon. Alive and breathing and so much like her in so many ways.  

Eddie should have steered clear. Not given into the temptation of revisiting something he has lost. Not let his grief rule him. 

But he doesn’t.

He’s stupid and selfish and shortsighted. He ruins his life over a few stolen hours with the not-real version of a woman he loved and lost. 

Now his son is gone and he’s entirely alone and all he has is the promise that when he goes to bed, each and every night, he will dream of something horrible. Because once it starts, right after seeing Kim, it never, ever stops. Every time Eddie manages to sleep, he has the same nightmares. 

vi. 

The call on Christopher’s fourteenth birthday goes much like all their other calls. By which, Eddie means, he is still locked in some sort of war of attrition with his son and his mother, who won’t really give them any space. It’s been like that since the day she showed up on his doorstep with his father and took Chris to El Paso. 

She’s always around when Eddie calls. Whether on screen or lurking somewhere off camera, Eddie and Chris never really get a moment alone to talk. And, okay. Eddie gets that it’s not her fault Chris is mad at him. He did that all on his own. But for someone who says she just wants to help Chris through a difficult time, she seems to also kind of be intent on keeping him in it. If Eddie tries to talk to Chris about any of the issues between them, she stops him. If Chris starts to open up, Helena suddenly has dinner or something else planned and the calls needs to end. And sometimes… Well, sometimes - and it’s probably crazy - Eddie feels like there’s a haze in Christopher’s eyes that comes over him when she speaks to him. 

Sometimes Eddie is certain he must be reading too much into things. Looking for an adversary where there is none, so he doesn’t have to carry the full weight of his blame. But he does. None of this would be happening if Eddie hadn’t fucked up to begin with. Only… Only shouldn’t his own mother be trying to help him mend the damage? It doesn’t feel like she is. 

Part of Eddie can empathize with her, he supposes. He left years ago. Sophia doesn’t talk to her. Adriana is still… Gone. Though, Helena has hardly done anything to change that. Nevertheless, she’s a mother of three with no children around. Eddie knows there’s a deep sadness to her. Maybe one that having Christopher around has lessened. But Eddie still doesn’t get why she would want to have the same pain unloaded onto him. He wants his child home, too. How much sadness is he supposed to live with as the price for his mistakes?

Buck finds Eddie in the kitchen after the miserable little party Zoom call ends. Tommy is still in the living room. Eddie had turned the TV on pretty quickly after the call ended, so neither Buck nor Tommy could ask any questions. Well, Tommy would ask. Buck would just offer words of encouragement. Maybe some genuinely good advice, too. Eddie can’t deal with that right now. And honestly? He doesn’t want to deal with it in front of Tommy anyway. The guy has been getting on his nerves lately. Eddie doesn’t know why. He hasn’t changed or anything. Maybe Eddie has. 

So Eddie starts taking the cupcakes he’d bought and moving them to containers to put in the fridge. A task to focus on so he doesn’t have to focus on the fact that he hardly spoke to his son on his fourteenth birthday. 

“Hey,” Buck says quietly when he approaches him. 

“Don’t want to talk about.”

Eddie shuts it down before it can even start. 

“Okay,” Buck says. “Uh, can I help clean up?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to help, Eddie.”

“You can’t help,” Eddie snaps. A little unnecessarily, considering they were pretending to talk about pathetic party decorations. “This isn’t something you can fix. Not this time.”

Buck nods. “I know that.”

His voice is quiet. Sad.

---

180 or 1k for 🔼:

---

“And he’s pretty damn special,” Shannon says.

“He is,” Eddie nods. 

“So go fix it with him,” Shannon practically orders.  “Forgive him for the choices he’s made out of pain.”

Eddie looks at her for a long moment. She wants to push him out the truck door in urgency until she remembers it’s his truck and he will need it. Go now, she wants to say. It doesn’t have to be too late, this time. 

“Okay,” he says, as if hearing her thoughts. “Okay, I will.” 

▶️

Eddie isn’t going to tell Buck how he feels about him.

That’s not the point. That honestly doesn’t even seem productive, right now. What he’s going to do is put a stop to this. Whatever misguided, pained attempt Buck is making. He’ll hear him out, and he’ll end it. Reassure him. Instead of getting angry and sticking to his guns, he’ll take Shannon’s approach. He trusts her on this one, he thinks.

He thinks a lot about what she said back in the parking lot was right. It makes him want to be better. If that’s an option. 

He drives straight from Shannon’s to Buck’s. He doesn’t have a whole lot of time before he needs to pick up Chris, but maybe all he needs is a start. To get his foot in the door and get Buck thinking. He doesn’t call or text ahead of time. He’s fairly confident Buck is home. He’s not actively working in the midst of his suit, and after how this morning went? Eddie imagines he’s home alone, feeling awkward. He may have been fuming when he saw him at arbitration, but he could tell well enough from the look on Buck’s face that Buck wasn’t happy either. 

Eddie pounds on Buck’s door. His frustration and day of heightened emotions is evident in the cadence of his fist against the painted steel. 

“Buck!” He calls out.

He sounds a little deranged. Like he’s coming around to settle a seedy debt or something.

Buck opens the door maybe a minute later, looking sort of pale with apprehension. 

“Uh, hey-hey, Eddie,” he stammers. “Um… We’re not supposed to-”

“I don’t care,” Eddie cuts him off. “I don’t care about the rules of the lawsuit, Buck. I need to talk to you.”

Buck’s face warps with concern. “Uh, o-okay. Are you okay? Are Shannon and Chris okay?”

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks. A non-answer. 

Buck nods, looking even more worried. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He widens the doorway for Eddie to walk through. They walk a few paces into the loft, and the door swings shut behind Eddie. 

“Seriously,” Buck asks. “Is everyone okay?”

“Shannon and Chris are fine,” Eddie says. “The baby is fine.”

“Okay,” Buck replies. “Okay, good.”

“I’m not fine,” Eddie says. Something that takes more than he was expecting out of him, just to say. He’s not used to saying it. Admitting it. Even if it’s true. 

“Wh-what’s going on?” Buck asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

“This whole lawsuit…” He starts. “It… It’s pissing me off, Buck. I get that you’re going through something right now. But I’m… It hurts me that… That you’d just do something to sever contact between us without even… I mean, you didn’t even give me a heads up or ask for my opinion.”

Buck chews on his lip for a second, processing. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “I should have given you a heads up. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” Eddie bites back.

And, okay. Not good. Not the point. Not what Shannon was trying to tell him. But… It’s out there now.

Buck flinches a little. “I’m doing what I have to do, Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “You aren’t. Because you would have come back eventually, and now this is all going to go sideways, and you won’t be allowed back.”

Buck shakes his head. “No. No, that’s not true.”

“It is, Buck,” Eddie insists. “In what world do you think you get to come back to the 118 all hunky dory after this?”

“You don’t understand,” Buck replies, guttural and frustrated. 

“No? Then tell me!” Eddie raises his voice. 

“I…” Buck’s voice wavers. “I…”

“What?” Eddie demands. 

“I can’t go back to being alone!” Buck shouts. 

Eddie blinks. What the hell is he talking about? He’s not alone! 

“Why would you be alone?” Eddie asks, maybe not as gently as he ought to. “You have all these people who care so much about you. Who were fucking terrified the past three times you almost died in the last six months. Why would you be alone, Buck? Just because you’re not on active duty?”

“Because…” Buck makes a struggled, frustrated noise. “Because that’s why. That’s why people care, Eddie.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “You think we all only care about you because you’re a firefighter?”

That’s honestly… Well, Eddie can’t tell if it’s heartbreaking or insulting.

Buck crosses his arms. Like he’s physically holding himself together.

“Maybe not consciously,” he says, voice lower. 

“But you do think that?” Eddie says. “You really think that’s the truth?”

“Maybe not being a firefighter, but-but the person I am when I am a firefighter. I never… I never mattered before,” Buck says. “No one gave a shit about me before hand, Eddie. You don’t know what that’s like.”

Eddie frowns. He feels a little cold.

“What are you talking about?”

How could that be true? Even if all the people he’s close to now are from this chapter of his life, what about Maddie? They’re so close. Eddie saw how much she loves him first hand all the times he’s been in danger. She adores him. How could he think that she didn’t until two years ago?

“Before…” Buck takes a deep breath. “Before I came to Los Angeles, I was completely alone. For five years. I didn’t have anyone. I didn’t have a-a home. It was just me and the Jeep and no one… No one stayed in touch. I wrote to Maddie, but she didn’t… She sent me away, and I… No one wanted me around long. I was nothing. I didn’t matter.”

[whereismymindnow]

I'm awful with photoshop, but it doesn't mean I'll stop trying.

I've had this written up for a while, figured I'd upload it and see if it sparks a bit more than a few sentences of inspiration.

Dark!Aemond x OFC x Dark!Aegon

"No, father." Aemyra quickly grabbed Daemon's hand as he immediately moved to release Dark Sister from his scabbard. "Stop." His lip curled as she stood on front of him, guarding the one-eyed prince and Cole from his wrath. "Let them play their games." Aemyra whispered softly. At the sound of her exhausted voice, Daemon looked down at his daughter's face and sighed.

Aemyra was known for her pale skin, the peasants whispered that she had been carved from the moon itself, but she was almost ghostly in complexion now that he saw her in the light. She had holed herself up in her quarters over the last few days and Daemon was certain that she had shrunk. Her once bright eyes were reddened from fatigue. The last thing that Daemon wanted to do was leave his daughter alone with the Hightower cunts, but the King's order stopped him from taking her back to Dragonstone. "Look at mama."

Daemon glanced at Rhaenyra, his heavily pregnant wife ushered the rest of the children on to the ship, a hand resting on her back as the weight of the babe strained her. The stress of the Driftmark hearing and the disastrous dinner had taken its toll and his wife had been insistent on taking her children back to the safety of their home. "I will not abandon you."

"You have no choice, father." Her soft hand cupped his cheek and she stepped forward to rest her head against his chest. "You must protect them. They need you."

"And what of you? You cannot fight against all of them by yourself." Daemon inhaled as his drunken nephew stumbled down the steps to stand beside his brother with a grin. He whispered into Aemond's ear causing the corner of his brother's mouth to lift. "Tell me... tell me what they've done to you." Aemyra avoided his gaze and shook her head.

"I cannot. I cannot say it."

Aemond’s hand wrapped around her throat, the feeling of his cold rings made her flinch. “Shhhh.” His tone was gentle as he held her tightly against his chest with one arm. “Keep looking.” Her eyes locked onto their reflection in the mirror. She felt naked as she was dressed only in her thin nightgown having just finished her evening bath.

“You smell delicious.” Aegon stood beside them, quite enjoying how she was kept captive by his brother as he drank from his goblet. “Good enough to eat…” He slowly dropped to his knees and gripped the end of her gown in his hands. His grin was predatory as he pushed the material upwards until it was over her hipbones. Aemyra tried to look away as she was bared to them both but Aemond tightened his grip around her throat in warning.

“Don’t. You’ve played so well thus far.” He took the material from his brother so that Aegon could have full access to their niece’s body.

“Imagine if Daemon could see this.”

“What would your mother think?”

Aemyra would not admit to her father that her uncles had destroyed her behind closed doors. "Just know that I will continue to fight. I won't let them win. I shall be waiting for your return." She gently pressed a kiss to his cheek and tucked her arm under his, steering him to the ship where her mother stood waiting for him.

"Sweet girl..." Rhaenyra shook her head and exhaled a shaky breath. "I am so sorry. I did not wish this for you."

"Do not worry, mama. I shall see you again soon and you can present my beautiful sister to me." Aemyra painted a teary smile on her face and embraced her mother. "Have a safe journey. I shall look after grandfather until you return." 

“Remember what I taught you.”

"You need only send word and your father will bring you to me. Stay safe, daughter." Daemon held out his arm for his wife to take, and despite neither Targaryen wishing to leave their daughter at the mercy of the Greens, assisted her to board the ship. 

Aemyra waited for the ship to leave port before allowing her tears to fall. Oh, how she wished she could join them. She wished that she could go back to her Dragonstone where she felt protected and happy... but she couldn't. Her grandfather's ruling that she would marry Aemond stopped her from escaping. She would never forget the look on her father's face; the murderous rage that filled his eyes as he listened to his brother's words. Despite being kept apart for years, her father was her greatest advocate. She may be the product of a lust-filled night in a brothel, but she was his and he despised anyone that tried to take her away. Aemyra only hoped that Viserys would live long enough to see the error of his ways and dismantle the betrothal. If she could get some time with him, then perhaps she could change his mind. She had her father's silver tongue, after all.

Once the ship was nothing but a tiny dot in the distance, Aemyra wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She could still feel the presence of her uncles a few feet away and she was determined to keep fighting against them, no matter how much they took from her. They could mark and stain her body as much as they wished, but she was a true Targaryen, and her fire burned hot. She would continue to charge into battle, even if she may not win the war. It was not in her blood to submit.

"Ah, niece... all alone." Aegon drawled from behind her. "Rhaenyra must prefer her brown-haired bastards to you. She didn't even look back."

[hahaifolded]

The Siren, the Cook, and the Sister (7)

Sanji x PirateHunter!FemReader (Masterlist) Chapter 7: Love and Envy (Previous) (Next) Summary: Wanting to move forward, you try to make peace with Sanji. Warning: None

"Dinner's ready!" Sanji called out from the kitchen door.

Despite such an eventful day, the Strawhats seemed unfazed by what had occurred. As they went on with their tasks, you sat under the main mast and just watched them. You found that the crew's dynamic was unlike any other you've had seen. It was endearing how they interacted like a family with no strict hierarchy. That must be nice... a big family.

A hoof gripped your hand, interrupting your thoughts. "Hurry! Before Luffy eats everything!" Chopper cried. He pulled you upstairs into the kitchen. He rushed in, leaving you at the doorway.

In front of you sat the entire crew, conversing, laughing, just existing among one another. You felt very out of place. However, before you had a chance to self-wallow, the friendly cyborg invited you over.

"Don't just stand there! Take a seat," he patted right next to him. I absolutely love this man. You took him up on his offer and sat between him and Robin who nudged you, humming.

"And dinner is served," announced Sanji as he set the last plate on the table. Your mouth watered by what laid in front of you. Hands immediately lunged towards the center as everyone tried to fill their plate. You stayed still, taking in the sight before you.

"Yo, aren't you going to eat?" asked Zoro. Everyone, but Luffy, looked at you. Even Sanji was surprised to see that you had made no effort to eat. Despite his distaste towards you, you still had to eat. Everyone has to eat.

You paused, unsure on how to respond. Thankfully, Robin came to your rescue. She shared your hesitancy in taking off your mask in front of everyone.

"Oh, don't fret. Not everyone is blessed with such clear skin as mine... wait I don't have any skin" assumed Brook with a mouthful of food. You couldn't help but laugh at his assumption.

You shook your head and then explained your mask and the fallacies of your devil fruit. "The Marines made me this mask to help me communicate since I don't have the best control of the volume of my voice. If I'm not careful, I can accidentally blow out someone's ear drums... or worse That's why I try not to eat with others so I'm not tempted to talk. But it's okay. I'll just eat later."

"What about when you're with your sister then?" asked Jimbei.

"She eats my cooking while I recount my adventures out on the sea. I'll eat once she goes to sleep," you shared, "it's better that way though because when we're together, we are talking up a storm. You really wouldn't want to be locked in a room with us, we'll never shut up." You couldn't help but smile under your mask as you thought about your sister.

Despite your robotic voice, Sanji could hear the clear adoration in your voice when you spoke about your sister. It stirred something in his chest. He always felt a little envious to see people get along with their siblings and here you were. He wondered if that could have been him and his siblings in another life.

"You should cook with Sanji!" mentioned Luffy. Sanji immediately choked on his food as his captain kept eating like he hadn't said something outrageous.

"Ummm... I'll think about it," you quickly replied. Still affected by his outburst from earlier, you didn't want to further get on the cook's bad side. You had to sail with him for a week so the least you can do it keep the peace.

As dinner continued, you couldn't help but feel excited for these next few days.

-- -- --

Three days have passed and you couldn't be happier. You quickly connected with Robin and Nami whose room you stayed in at night. It was nice being among other women.

And when you were not with them, the boys of the ship made sure to drag you into their own interests whether that was games, music, steering, tinkering, or training, you did it all.

After being alone for so long, it felt nice to be surrounded by so many characters and personalities.

However, there seemed to be only one thorn on this rose, and that was Sanji. Despite constantly cycling between one crew member to another, the cook never looked your way.

But, while he may have ignored you, you didn't ignore him.

When you first met the cook, you thought he was a machista cruel brute. But you came to realize that he was just a passionate, loyal caretaker. You noticed how he took care of each of his crew mates in his own way. Whether it was by reminding them to take a break or fueling them with a quick snack, the cook was always keeping an eye on his crew.

It was obvious that all he wanted to do was protect them from any danger, which understandably, included you. You gave him no reason to like you in the beginning and your subsequent actions only made things worse.

Now wanting to make peace, you made your way to the cook's domain, seeing if he wanted any help in preparing dinner.

As you walked in the kitchen, you found Sanji deep in the pantry, grabbing ingredients. Hearing the door open, he turned around and gasped as he saw a dark figure by the entrance.

"Sorry, sorry, just me," you excused yourself. Maybe I should borrow some clothes from the girls or something... this cloak keeps scaring people.

Standing up straight, he asked if you needed something. The cook felt awkward being alone with you. He noticed how easily you got along with the crew. Despite him wanting to apologize for his outburst, it just felt wrong to bring it up as you proved to be nothing but a good person. Bringing it up would just be a reminder of his unfounded distaste towards you.

"Not really...umm... just wondering if you'd like some help in cooking dinner tonight?"

Sanji couldn't believe it. Despite everything, you wanted to help him. Realizing this was his chance, he accepted your offer. Something now you weren't expecting.

After grabbing the necessary ingredients, Sanji and you got to work. He asked you to dice up the vegetables while he prepped the meat.

As you cut, the cook couldn't help but notice how sloppy your technique was. However, despite it being void of any professional training, it looked practiced, almost like you've done this for years. He wondered if your mother taught you that. And without even realizing it, the cook accidentally said some of his thoughts out loud.

Your mask let out a deep laugh as you heard his observations. "I know it's not the prettiest but it's gotten the job done. If you wanted to see real beauty in the kitchen, you should have seen my mom. She was a natural."

Seeing an opening, Sanji asked, "did she teach you how to cook?"

"Ha... no. I just watched her from afar as I wasn't allowed in her kitchen," you giggled, "she said just to watch her for now and once I got my own kitchen, she would teach me, but...," you paused. Sanji noticed how your shoulders sagged. "...she never got a chance too." Silence filled the kitchen.

I just had to ask a stupid question, thought Sanji as he thought he ruined the mood. But to his surprise, you started up again.

"So since then," you continued while chopping, "I've been trying to remember her moves and recipes. I haven't gotten there yet, but it's kept my sister fed so I can't complain too much, right?" It's been awhile since you thought about your mother. You tried not to bring her up to your sister as it pained her that she didn't have much of a memory of her. It was nice talking about your mother again, even if just to a stranger.

"I get that," began the cook. And to your surprise, Sanji shared his cooking journey. How his late mother inspired him to cook and how his 'dad' Chef Zeff taught him everything he knew. As you listened to his story, your chopping got slower and slower until it stopped completely.

Worried that he messed again, Sanji asked if he you were okay. You assured him everything was fine.

"It's just... a touching story," you said. He just hummed in agreement.

Letting curiosity get the best of you, you asked him where his dad was today.

"The old man is probably yelling up a storm in the East Blue." He laughed as he recalled the fiery personality that was Chef Zeff. So caught up on his own thoughts, Sanji asked, "And how about your dad?" He lightly gasped as soon as he finished asking.

"No, it's okay. Don't worry," you chuckled. You found it endearing how the cook was trying not to offend you. "My island was destroyed by some brutes when I was a kid. My sister and I managed to escape but my parents weren't so lucky," you said as you finished cutting up the last vegetables.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's okay... it's not like you did it."

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you both continued cooking. With the help of an extra pair of hands, dinner was done in no time.

As you set up the table, Sanji spoke up, “thank you for your help today. Honestly you didn’t have any reason to as I haven’t been the kindest to you. And for that I'm sorry." Wanting to makes things right, he decided to tell the you the one thing that couldn't be denied. "For what it’s worth, your sister is really lucky to have a brother like you.”

After days of tension, it seemed like you and the cook finally found peace with one another. Maybe this could be the start of a nice friendsh-- WAIT did he just say brother?

Word Count: 1668

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Note: Y'all, I read my earlier chapters to see how far I come and y'all I ate... lol. Obviously I don't think it's like Pulitzer award winning but like it's a decent. It makes me proud. Makes me very excited for these next chapters.

Edit (08/05) - I edited this chapter as there were WAY TOO MANY grammar mistakes. So sorry for those who read this when I first posted it. Embarrassing that I was literally hyping myself up at the end and I gave yall that. Oof - lesson learned: Triple read before posting!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

To the Depths of the Sea

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: I don’t know, man. Siren commits a murder? This is out of order, timewise, but it's what wanted to be written, so...

-

His name was different, then.

It was not a clumsy tongue against the roof of a small mouth, flat teeth and full lips mouthing animal grunts without melody. Back then, his name was a lyric, a new line in the sirens' endless, ancient song. 

His very being was a scale of perfect pitch. Sirens sang together, notes dancing up and down that mortal mouths and lungs could never recreate. He and his mother and his sisters sang in harmonies, children of the goddess of moon and tides, the wild water-woman who could turn a calm sea to turbulent waves in an instant. 

He was born, at some point long ago. Borne by his mother, with his sisters huddled around her to be a dozen midwives, while the moon shone on the rock and the goddess watched. Born, yes, but he did not age, his wounds healed, he did not die.

Time shifted around him, like it did for all of the gods’ children.

The waves slapped the sand, sirens sang on rocks, and ships came and brought the men who heard their song. The men who steered their ships, unseeing and smiling, into the reefs to shred them apart, so that their bodies could be given to the sirens, and after that to the sea.

The ships changed, with time. The clothing the sailors they tore into wore changed, the style of shoe, the weight or shape of a sword and finally of the strange rifles. All these things changed.

The sirens didn’t.

They remained the same.

The siren boy had been sunbathing on the beach that day, eyes closed. The heat of the day lay over his brown skin like the humans’ heavy blankets, lulling him into a dreamless doze. Somewhere nearby, his sisters sang for their supper, having seen a ship hovering at the horizon.

But the siren boy was not alone. He was not the only one on the island to hear the song.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the softest crush of footsteps on underbrush. An animal, he told himself, even as he pushed himself up on his elbows, turned to see, half-hidden in the shadows just back from the beach, a human man staring back at him.

The human man’s hair was tangled and dirtied, hanging in clumps over his face. Mud had dried on his face and his shirt was worn nearly to shreds. He must have survived a past wreck, somehow slipped through the sirens’ fingers. Been here since then, wandering the island. He must have somehow held out against the siren song’s pull.

The man’s mouth moved.

He was whispering, but the siren was too far to hear him, leaning against a palm tree’s heavy, narrow trunk to stay upright. There was something wrong with one of his legs, the pants were torn but nothing was there beneath the tear.

The siren got slowly to his feet, tipping his head to one side. His curly black hair shifted, shadowing his own eyes as he moved soundlessly over the burning sand, where driftwood bits of broken ships lay in dried, bleached lines around him, their companions the scattered bones of the sirens’ meals.

Human voices, so flat and featureless, disgusted him.

But the eating would be good, and then the man's foul flat voice would stop interrupting the melodies.

“Monsters,” The man was whispering, but the siren didn’t know this word. He didn’t know any of their words. He knew what those throats tasted like, though, beneath his teeth. “Th-this island is made of monsters… You’re not a boy-... y-you’re not-”

The siren took one step, and then another. Each step sank his foot slightly into sand, brushed against shell and stick, rock, bone, and wood. Each movement a hypnotic sway, and he licked at his dry lips as his mouth watered for the meal.

His sisters’ song was all around them, and yet the man didn’t fall to it.

Their eyes met, then. The man’s were a faded blue, like the sky when the sun nearly bleached out all its colors with no clouds to subdue its power. His skin was like dried animal hides, wrinkled and tough. All bones and sinew, no real meat for the eating.

It didn’t matter.

All men were meals.

“They-... they said there was gold here.” The human’s whining voice, like a child, grated on the siren. Some foul mockery of the beautiful way the sirens spoke to each other, all out of tune, off-key. Not a song at all. This man’s name would be like the harsh screech of the birds the sirens ate during starving times, when there was nothing else. 

There was no song in this man.

“There… isn’t any gold, is there?” The man’s voice tipped upwards, but the siren ignored it. He was so close he could smell the man, human odor of sweat and blood and something rotten where his leg used to be. The man was trembling, voice and body shaking together. He closed his eyes, slowly, and lifted his chin as if offering himself for the taking. Even so, his lips still moved in pointless speech. “It was a-a trick, a lie-... there was no gold here…”

The siren was on him.

He took him down onto his back, the underbrush soft beneath them. A flock of birds took flight with their cries an echo of the siren’s own triumphant song, one that buried itself in blood. A hundred teeth sharper than a shark’s tore out his throat, devoured skin and muscle, picked clean bones. The siren’s melody as it rejoiced in the meal was a sharp thing, rending apart the man’s soul and sending it to be held by the ocean, like all men who died to sirens and the sea.

His prey never fought him.

But it whispered, once more, with dead sightless eyes and unmoving lips, monster.

The siren woke.

He was not in the sun-warmed sand or roaming the island he had always known, his sisters and mother beside him. He was in a cool pool of pointless water hemmed in on all sides by stone, the high windows mocking him with the world he could not escape. The dream was already fading, and the memories of who he had been, more than a century ago, faded with it.

He lost himself, every time he woke.

He found himself only in sleep.

Areyto rolled aimlessly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling whie he floated in the water. He could feel the tingle of the power in the marks the magicians made, each decade, that kept him captive to his master’s whims. He could feel how the marks drained his memories away, the ones he could see in dreams but that were lost to him after. He floated there feeling his sisters fade to little more than shadows, a thought he'd had once. Maybe never real at all.

Moonlight shone, diffused by the windows so much his goddess could not have heard him, no matter how he cried to her. Areyto had long since stopped crying, anyway.

What use was pleading if no one could hear you, and those who could would only mock you and take yet another part of you away?

Like his name.

The magic made sure he couldn’t remember it.

Come.

His master’s command came like an oil slick in the water, slithering slime over his bared skin and pushing him from the water. He shook himself and went, step by step, to the door that was already being unlocked to allow him to leave - but only to go where he was ordered, only to do whatever vile thing his master demanded. The butler on the other side looked through him, saw something else. Saw whatever the master wanted him to see.

As the siren moved through this endless hell, the moon that had shone on him where he slept in the pool shifted behind a cloud. The goddess left him, and his half-formed prayers. It was all lost, everything that did not belong to Guilford Wentworth was gone.

Come, Areyto.

Not his name.

But the name he had been given, and must answer to. The name layered over the song, the lyric he had once been. The piece of the harmony that had belonged to him, just on the tip of his tongue, never coming together.

The melody of his identity had been stolen, replaced with the flat human syllables he went by now. A shrieking off note, a sharp staccato. His master had stolen his name, as surely as he had stolen Areyto’s life.

As surely as Areyto would steal it back.

However small his master had made him, his teeth were still sharp, and his claws were still keen to tear human skin apart. The marks would fade, if he could only keep them from being remade yet again. The power that held him here would crack apart beneath his fury, if the human magician would help him. Her voice held the edge of a song even in flat human words.

Areyto didn’t understand it, yet, but he knew what the song meant even if he didn’t know the melodies.

Hope.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Barbarian Bat: Part One

A/N: It's everyone's favorite day of @nessianweek aka AU Day! And I'm taking everyone to Not-Hoth for it ;) That's right. It's the Ice Planet Barbarians and ACOTAR crossover that literally nobody asked for. Unfortunately, I didn't finish it all in time for Nessian Week, but hopefully, everyone enjoys this first part :) Also, I jokingly named this document Barbarian Bat in my files because I thought it was funny, but then I realized I accidentally matched the actual names of the series in a way (aka Barbarian Lover, Barbarian Mate, Barbarian Mine etc. etc.) so I decided to keep it.

Read on AO3 // Next Part

Nesta just barely swallows down a sigh, curling her knees tight against her chest. She watches across the cave at the way Feyre is curled up beside Rhysand, watches the way he has an arm so casually slung behind her back like it’s the most natural thing in the world, watches the way he leans down to say something quietly and makes Feyre laugh. It’s so comfortable, so easy, Feyre stepping so seamlessly into the role of the Chief’s mate as if the Mother herself predestined it. As if everything that happened, that they went through, is nothing more than a distant memory that led to this moment, this happiness.

Feyre turns her head, tilting her chin up so that she can kiss Rhysand, and Nesta has to look away. Her gaze flits instead around the rest of the cave, to the other human women and sa-khui sat around and in the hot spring that takes up most of the space at the center of the cave. Everyone is chatting or smiling, and Nesta presses her knees that little bit tighter against her chest, digs her nails in that little harder into her arms. She just doesn’t understand how everyone can be so normal. How everyone can act like this whole thing is normal.

“Hello, Nes.”

Nesta snaps her head to the right, finding Cassian standing there, his dark, curly hair falling around his face for once, around the horns twisting up and back. He folds his long legs to settle into the seat beside her, offering her one of his easy smiles that tugs the left side of his lips up higher than the right, that shows off his fanged canines.

“What do you want?” Nesta asks, hoping her cool, clipped tone will scare him off the way the rest of the sa-khui have steered clear of her. Unsurprisingly, Cassian’s grin only seems to grow, his glowing eyes almost seeming to glint.

“I brought you some meat,” Cassian explains, holding out his hands and showing off the food in question. “I have burned it the way you humans like.”

Nesta rolls her eyes and turns away from him. “I’m not hungry.”

Cassian is silent for a moment, and when Nesta chances a glance back toward him, he’s frowning in confusion. “You must be. You have not eaten at all today.”

“What? Are you watching me?”

“Yes.”

Nesta scoffs at that. If there’s one thing these aliens are terrible at, it’s reading a room. She decides not to deem him with a response, hoping that with her extended silence, he’ll finally take a hint and leave her alone. Instead, she focuses on the steam that curls off the hot spring, watching as it floats and dances through the air before vanishing.

“Are you sick? Should I ask Madja to speak with your khui?” Cassian continues when Nesta doesn’t answer. He reaches a hand up toward her face, but Nesta is quick to smack it away before his fingers can make contact against her skin.

“Don’t touch me.”

Cassian shifts so he’s kneeling in front of Nesta. It blocks her view of everyone else in the cave, but it shields her from any prying gazes too. It’s their own bubble, their own cocoon cast by the wide set of his shoulders. His face is pinched with concern, eyes watching her face in that unnerving way of his. Something in that stare has always had Nesta swearing that he could see through her in a way no one ever has, swearing that he could somehow see all the way down to her soul. From the moment Nesta met Cassian back on the crashed ship, that stare had her hackles raising, had her building her defensive walls that little bit thicker, that little bit taller.

“Are you well, Nes?” Cassian asks, his voice quiet and just for her.

Nesta almost wants to laugh at the question, at the absurdity of the notion of her ever being alright. How could anyone be alright after being kidnapped by aliens right from the safety of their bed? She's not sure she'll ever forget the feeling of waking up in a literal cage on that ship. She'll never forget the sight of both her sisters huddled together, both still in their night things and Elain silently crying. She'll never forget the fear that gripped her when Feyre, stubborn and determined as ever, decided to brave the snow of the unknown planet around them. She was sure that she'd never see her youngest sister again, watching her climb out of the safety of what remained of the cargo hold of the spaceship.

She sees it all every time she closes her eyes. She feels the cold metal biting into her skin through the thin material of her sleep shorts. She hears the hum of the engines as they flew through space, hears the clicks of those weird basketball head aliens. She feels that roiling fear twisting in her gut, tastes the tang of failure at the back of her tongue when she realized it wasn't just her but her sisters too that were going to suffer, that she couldn't save them.

Even now, even in this cave supposedly surrounded by aliens who say they only want to help, who swear they'll protect Elain and Feyre, Nesta can't shake that feeling. It still makes her pulse jump. Still makes her stomach twist and turn. Still has bile crawling up the back of her throat. Still makes her chest feel tight enough that it takes active effort to breathe in and out.

So, Nesta lets out a derisive snort, keeping her tone cold and cruel. “Are you fucking with me? I was thrown onto an alien planet covered in snow, and I have this stupid blue alien that never shuts up, that can’t take a hint and leave me alone, and you want to know if I’m well?”

Cassian continues to frown at her, and Nesta wonders if she’s finally hit the mark to drive him away, if she’s finally crossed the line. Wonders if he’ll give up on her now, grow tired of the effort and decide to cut his losses and walk away. She hates the way her heart gives a squeeze at the prospect, quickly squashing that feeling back down.

Rather than hear what Cassian might have to say, Nesta pushes up to her feet and walks away, pointedly ignoring the way she can feel Cassian’s stare prickling along her spine the whole way. She heads for the bathroom, ready to unwind for the evening and take refuge away from any more annoying aliens with piercing stares and concerned words in her personal cave, but when Nesta pulls down her pants, a small, quiet ping draws her attention.

She bends forward, squinting down at the ground in confusion, when she sees the culprit of the sound. Her blood runs cold, a ringing taking up home in her ears and her chest starting to heave with panicked breaths. Her fingers tremble as she reaches down and picks it up.

It’s an IUD.

It’s her IUD, the one thing that’s been keeping her from resonating with anyone.

“Fuck,” Nesta mutters to herself, her heart starting to thunder between her ribs.

Nesta tries to take a deep, calming breath in, but the air stutters in her lungs, catching on the lump pressing in around her throat. She curls her palm around the tiny device, her grip tight enough that her fingers bite into her skin, but just that small shock of pain is somehow grounding. She can’t let the panic get to her. She merely needs to come up with a plan, with her next steps.

The next breath that Nesta takes in is much more steady, and with a decided nod, she steps back out into the intricate cave system. Thankfully, there’s no one around and she’s able to slip back to her personal cave without running into anyone. She quickly slides the privacy screen into place, stepping over to the side of the cave where her furs are laid out. She grabs a pack and starts to stuff her spare leathers inside, tying a pair of snow-shoes to the straps before she stashes it in the corner out of sight.

And then she waits.

Nesta climbs beneath her furs and rolls over so her back is to the cave entrance. She keeps her focus on the wall instead, on keeping her breathing slow to give the illusion that she’s asleep. She’s not sure how much time passes before she hears light, lilting laughter just outside the cave, hears the deep rumble of a response. The privacy screen slides aside and Gwyn steps inside, quiet rustling coming from the other side of the cave as she slips beneath her own furs.

Despite the quiet that settles through their cave, Nesta can still hear the sounds of others in the main cave, but soon that dies down too. And then, just to be safe, she begins to count. She counts all the way up to a thousand before she finally sits up and pushes her furs down her legs. Keeping her movements slow, careful, she rolls her furs up, pausing periodically and glancing back toward Gwyn’s sleeping form. When her furs are gathered, she grabs her pack again, adding the furs and sliding the straps over her shoulders.

She pulls the privacy screen away from the cave entrance inch by slow inch, each scrape along the stone floor too loud in the silent cave and causing her to whip her head back around to check on Gwyn. When there’s finally enough space, she sticks her head out to check everything really is clear. The area around their cave is all empty; although it’s not all quiet. Nesta can hear one of the other women having an exciting end to her evening, and she rolls her eyes. At least, she can use it to her advantage, fully stepping out of the cave and carefully sliding the privacy screen back in place behind her.

She keeps to the walls, to the shadows, as she moves toward the main cave. Her steps are light but quick, and soon, the entrance is in sight. Freedom is in sight. Nesta spies two aliens on guard and standing between her and said freedom, Balthazar and some other name she can’t remember, but they seem to be invested in some sort of game that involves dice carved from bone.

It’s now or never clearly.

Holding her breath and keeping her eyes on the two aliens the whole time, Nesta makes a break for the cave entrance. It’s only when she steps outside that she finally releases the breath in relief, but she doesn’t waste any more time. She grabs her snowshoes and straps them onto her boots, readjusting her pack against her back and marching through the snow. Her steps are slow moving with the way her feet still sink in with every step, but her determination is stronger. She squints up at the sky, at the two moons glowing amongst the inky blacks and purples and tries to remember the way. They had passed a thick forest of trees, or what counts as trees on this godsforsaken planet, and there was—

“Nes!”

Nesta’s whole body freezes up at the sound of that nickname, at the sound of that familiar voice. She decides that she’ll just ignore him. Maybe, he’ll just assume that she’s going for an evening stroll, that she’s just getting some fresh air, and he’ll leave her alone. Of course, she should have known better when it comes to Cassian. Should have known that with his long legs, it would take him only a few strides to catch up with her.

“Nes, what are you doing?” Cassian’s grin falls away as he takes in her pack. “Where are you going?”

“I’m fine,” Nesta snaps, continuing to trudge forward through the snow. “Just leave me alone.”

“You should not be out here at night. It is dangerous.”

“I said I’m fine. I’m just going to the spaceship, the Elder’s Cave, whatever the fuck you call it.”

“Come back inside. We can go in the morning.”

“No,” Nesta argues. She can feel panic beginning to well up in her chest, digging in its claws and clogging her throat. “You don’t understand. I have to…”

Nesta’s words trail off as a strange sort of vibrating starts to take up home between her ribs, sending warmth ricocheting through Nesta’s veins all the way down to her toes. The hum even reaches her ears, seeming to grow faster, louder with each passing second. It’s somehow unsettling and leaves her feeling comforted at the same time, and Nesta is about to ask Cassian if he hears it too when she notices the way his eyes widen. The way he presses a hand to his chest, that odd humming seeming to echo from him too, a response to her own.

Realization of what’s happening hits Nesta like a bucket of ice water, that warm feeling vanishing quickly into icy dread. She swears that she’s going to be sick, her stomach twisting and roiling as she and Cassian continue to resonate with one another. This can’t be happening. She refuses to let this happen.

“No no no,” Nesta mutters, already shaking her head and backing away from him. Her snowshoe gets stuck with the movement and sends her stumbling backwards. Cassian’s hands reach out to her, but almost on instinct, Nesta’s entire body flinches. “Don’t touch me.”

Cassian’s expression looks pained, but slowly he reaches a single hand palm up toward her. “I just wish to help you up.”

Nesta can feel heat start to creep up her neck, but she swallows it back down. She settles her hand in Cassian’s, allowing him to pull her up and back onto her feet. As soon as she’s steady, he drops her hand and takes a pointed step back, giving her space, and Nesta hates the way her heart squeezes and swells at the gesture. Words twist and clog in the back of her throat, pressing and desperate for release, but she swallows them down and wraps her arms around herself.

“Are you going to make me go back inside now?” Nesta asks instead, staring Cassian down, daring him. “Lock me away in your cave?”

“No,” Cassian tells her, and Nesta’s shoulders slump in relief. “But only if you tell me why you wish to go to the Elder Cave so urgently.”

Nesta considers lying to him, considers making up some easy excuse, but she has a strong suspicion that Cassian would see straight through it. “There’s a… device that I have from earth. It’s what kept me from resonating, from having a mate, until now. It’s fallen out, and I need to go to the spaceship because it has a machine that can… put it back in basically.”

“And that’s what you want? To have it put back and to stop resonating.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want to be resonating right now.”

Cassian is quiet for a moment, and Nesta can do nothing but watch as a muscle in his jaw ticks beneath the moonlight. He turns his face away from her, gaze searching across the snow banks, and when he finally looks back at her, there’s something different about his expression, something colder, more closed off. Since the moment that Nesta has met him, there’s always been a warmth to Cassian, an easy openness that’s been a bit terrifying, especially when it’s directed at her, but now, it’s as if his own walls have risen and slid into place.

“Then I will escort you to the Elder Cave,” Cassian finally says. “I just need to grab a pack.”

Cassian turns and starts to move back toward the cave entrance, but Nesta steps forward and reaches out instinctively. “Wait! Will…” She takes a moment to swallow hard. “Will they know? That we resonated? They can't know, Cassian.”

“Almost the entire tribe is already asleep,” Cassian explains, not bothering to turn and look at her, his shoulders tense. “And if you stay out here and wait for me, then our khuis should be silent for now.”

“Okay…”

“Just stay here and wait for me.” Cassian finally turns to look at her again, a flicker of desperation dancing across his face. “Please.”

When Nesta doesn’t say anything else, when she doesn’t move, Cassian jogs the rest of the way to the entrance of the cave, and Nesta watches as he vanishes inside. A breeze blows past her, a shiver skittering its way up her spine, and she wraps her arms tighter around herself to fight off the chill. She glances out toward the expanse of snow around her, the light of the two moons bouncing off the crystalized flakes and leaving everything with an almost eerie glow. It’s unnerving, the quiet and the dark, and while Nesta would never admit it aloud, she’s suddenly glad that Cassian will be traveling with her.

As though her very thoughts have summoned him, the sound of a deep voice prickles her ears. The sounds of multiple deep voices. Nesta whips her attention back toward the cave entrance, her stomach dropping when she sees not just Cassian but Azriel standing there. They stop just outside the cave entrance, too far away for Nesta to hear what they’re saying, but it’s clear what, or whom, the topic of conversation is from the way Azriel’s gaze darts toward her.

Nesta waits for them to approach her. Waits for Cassian to announce their journey isn’t happening. Waits for Azriel to tell her to come back inside the cave. She considers what would happen if she refuses, if she decides to take her chances and see how far she can get trekking through the snow. But before she can even take a step, Cassian and Azriel are clasping forearms, Azriel turning and vanishing back inside the cave.

Nesta watches warily as Cassian walks back over to her. She tries to read his expression, tries to look for any sort of clue about what was said between him and Azriel, but Cassian keeps his face decidedly blank. It’s odd not seeing that teasing smirk he always directs at her, the wrongness of it all clanging through Nesta hard enough that she has to look away.

“What was that about?” Nesta asks once Cassian is close enough. “What did Azriel want?”

“Do not worry about it,” Cassian dismisses, tugging her pack off her shoulders and slinging it alongside the one on his own. “It’s this way.”

Something about his tone, about the way he starts to walk away from her through the snow without even a glance back, has her anger flaring. Those flames lick across her skin and leave her blood simmering. She’s been itching for a fight for a while now, pushing down the urge to let it all boil over, to release her claws, but she gives in to that feeling now. Clenching her fists at her side, she whirls around, storming after Cassian through the snow.

“So, what? Now you’re mad you have to escort me?” Nesta calls after him. “Did you forget that I didn’t ask you to? I was perfectly fine on my own.”

Cassian stops walking, turning back to face her, his tone dripping with a dry sort of sarcasm that Nesta didn’t know the sa-khui were capable of, as he drawls, “sorry I thwarted your wish to get eaten by a snow-cat.”

“You have no idea what I wish,” Nesta seethes, daring to step closer until they’re toe to toe.

“I know that you do not wish to be mates. You have made that perfectly clear.”

The words hang in the air between them, carried away on the night breeze. The world is quiet around them, nothing except their heaving breaths as Nesta glares up at him, Cassian meeting her stare head-on, a twin flame to meet her own blazing through his eyes. But it’s Cassian that breaks away first, taking a step back and readjusting the two packs slung across his backs before he continues the trek through the snow.

“It’s this way.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Emergency Medical Hologram

By Ames

Please state the nature of the medical emergency. For a hologram who was never constructed to be left on indefinitely, the Emergency Medical Hologram sure does get a lot of development. He starts off Voyager as an insufferable computer program, grows to learn to fight for his own agency, and ends Voyager as an insufferable computer program of an entirely new ilk! What an arc!

Your hosts here at A Star to Steer Her By are quick to cringe at some of the Doctor’s squickier moments (that are interestingly heavily weighted toward the final seasons of the series), but there’s a lot to champion him for as well! The EMH makes us view artificial lifeforms like him as people, in the same way that Data did on TNG. So make sure your mobile emitter is firmly attached as we dive into the Best and Worst Moments of Voyager’s chief medical hologram below and on this week’s podcast episode (activate at timestamp 1:05:06). Hey, I’m a blogpost writer, not a doctor.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Inside you there are two Beowulfs For the first chunk of the show, the Doctor is confined to sickbay for the most part due to his holographic nature, so when he gets to do a hologram-appropriate mission in “Heroes and Demons,” it’s an adventure unto itself! He romances the bonny lass Freya. He solves the mystery of the disappearing crewman. He literally lives out an epic tale and it’s so engaging!

Before I met you, I was just a disease If you liked the Doctor’s relationship with Freya, you’re going to love his relationship with Danara Pel in “Lifesigns.” It’s probably the most genuine we’ve seen the Doc so far, as it’s clear he wants to do what’s best for the diseased Vidiian woman who hates her own body. But he urges her to keep fighting and keep healing because he loves her, the real her.

A physician must do no harm Boy, do we love it when our chief medical officers get righteous about their patients. We saw it with McCoy, we saw it with Crusher, and we saw it with Bashir. And now the EMH ends up being the only person on the Voyager to not silently condone splitting Tuvix in half in “Tuvix.” Sure, he doesn’t do anything to stop it either, but he makes it clear that what Janeway is doing is wrong.

You’re too sick to get better We’ve given B’Elanna and Tom some credit for helping the Doctor experience what it’s like to have a family in “Real Life,” but the actual growth we see is all his own. Deciding (with some encouragement from his friends) to be with his holo-daughter Belle as she dies is heart-breaking, but also encouraging for the Doc to treat the situation so realistically.

Two holograms, alone. Romulans on one side, Starfleet on the other. Alarms beeping everywhere. We see time and again the EMH use cleverness to resolve a situation, even when he’s severely out of his depth as he was in “Message in a Bottle.” But that’s where two EMHs are better than one! He and the EMH Mark 2 are able to take control of the Prometheus back from Romulans, keep the ship from exploding, and even reconnect with Starfleet in the Alpha Quadrant!

History is written by the victors Hands down, one of the best episodes of Voyager is “Living Witness,” and the EMH (or his backup program, who is essentially the same guy) really gets to shine throughout. Awoken 700 years in his future, he saves the reputation of the Voyager that the Kyrians and Vaskans have misrepresented, empowers Quarren to think critically, and keeps the two species from civil war.

Luke, I am your father We still can’t get over the fact that, when the Doctor went down to the planet in “Blink of an Eye” to perform some reconnaissance, he comes back claiming that he somehow had progeny. We never learn in what capacity and by what method, but it definitely blows up our skirts to know that the EMH somehow had a son whom he sadly had to disappear on.

You have the audacity to turn a house of worship into a prison? Jake just loves this little moment from “Spirit Folk” to death. It’s just the line delivery of the EMH as Father Mulligan in the Fair Haven holoprogram storming into the church and shouting “Sinners!” at all the Irish townsfolk who’ve taken Harry and Tom prisoner. He does get captured too and his mobile emitter gets swiped, but what a great line delivery from Robert Picardo.

Extremely Marginal Housecalls When the EMH’s creator, Dr. Zimmerman, is terminally ill in “Life Line,” our hero packs his bags for a trip to the Alpha Quadrant to cure him. And it takes a lot of coaxing and even some covert subterfuge to get to two egomaniacs to see eye to eye, even if all of those eyes belong to the same actor. But the Doctor succeeds! Turns out you can teach a Mark One new tricks.

My Treatment Coefficient is one When he’s kidnapped and forced to work on the Dinaali hospital ship in “Critical Care,” the Doctor is quick to observe the unethical medical practices, classism, and hypocrisy in their systems. And not only that, but he finds a clever way to work around their tight regulations to force the medical administration to care for all of its patients, not just the elite.

Hoshi, eat your heart out Though not the linguist that Ensign Sato is on Enterprise, the EMH is able to create a language that Fantome’s people can use to communicate in “The Void.” It’s no surprise that it’s derived from music which both the Doctor and Fantome share an affinity for, but it’s also a great moment of empathy when Doc and Seven determine these alien pests are more than they appear.

The holoprograms have nothing to lose but their chains We’ll go off in our next section about how the EMH is kind of a twat when he writes his holonovel, Photons Be Free in “Author, Author.” But on the flipside, his words also prove to be empowering to other sentient holo-people like the obsolete EMH Mark Ones out there. His depiction of subservient life as a holo-person may just start opening minds to their human rights.

—

Worst moments

The Strange Case of Dr. Doctor and Mr. Doctor Whoever gave the EMH the power to tinker with his own programming was just asking for trouble. One of the first things he does in “Darkling” is turn himself into a Mr. Hyde who is even more appropriate to the Robert Louis Stevenson novel than Kirk in “The Enemy Within.” And he somehow becomes even grosser around Kes than usual, which is saying something.

You are out. Auf wiedersehen. Fascinatingly, almost all of our Worst Moments take place after Seven of Nine has joined the crew. Maybe it’s because the Doctor starts getting more to do, and that includes more BAD things to do. Maybe it’s because he spends way too much time sexualizing Seven, as he does in “The Gift” by designing for her the ugliest, cringiest, most uncomfortable catsuit we’ve ever seen. Maybe it's something else. Let’s explore this trend…

Now you will cluck like a chicken And we already have a really awful example in “Retrospect” when the EMH peddles really problematic pseudoscience on Seven instead of impartially investigating the circumstances. He’s not even a little bit unbiased when he surveys the Entharan lab for evidence. But what we can’t forgive the Doc for is literally hypnotizing Seven – some mystical claptrap with no science behind it!

Rise and shine! The EMH has always been a bit of a prick, but usually he knows how to compromise for the good of the crew. So it’s actually a big negative to see how selfish and rude he is to Neelix and the other displaced crewmembers in “Demon” when the whole ship is bunking up to save energy. Dude, everyone is being inconvenienced here. The least you can do is let them sleep.

By George, I think she’s got it! Here’s another example of the Doctor treating Seven of Nine like a sex object instead of a peer! We’ve already given Tom grief for this one, but in “Someone to Watch Over Me,” the EMH recasts himself in the role of Henry Higgins to Seven’s Eliza Doolittle, and it’s just upsetting! Why can’t these men let Seven have her own agency without making it all about themselves?

Yep, here’s your problem: someone set this thing to evil It really shouldn’t take just turning off the EMH’s ethical subroutines for him to turn into a psychotic torturer like he does in “Equinox.” Does he not have common sense or the Hippocratic Oath or even anything better to do than torture Seven just because he’s told to? Just because he now CAN do unethical things apparently means he can ONLY do unethical things.

The dream dreams the dreamer… in bed I admit, I can’t judge someone for their private thoughts since no one other than telepaths would even know what they are. But the sheer concentration of the Doctor’s perverse daydreams all through “Tinker, Tenor, Doctor, Spy” is a little much. When you can tell that he’s painting Seven in the nude just to titillate the audience, that might be bad writing, Berman.

Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, DOLT There’s something about seasons six and seven that turns the Doctor’s insufferableness up to eleven. When the Qomar inexplicably fawn all over him for his singing ability in “Virtuoso,” the ol’ doc really lets it all go to his head and is ruder to the crew than ever before. He’s even prepared to stay with the tone-deaf aliens because they unconditionally treat him like a celebrity.

This one takes the [cheese]cake Everything from “Body and Soul” paints the Doctor in a really ugly light and, especially in the final season of the show, it makes it hard to come back from the impression of him as unsympathetic, self-centered, and abrasive. So when Seven expresses that he has violated her body while he was possessing her and his response is to blame her, that is starkly unforgivable.

Anything you can do I can do better – I can do anything better than you This is the same as one of the extremely out-of-character moments from Harry Kim’s Worst Moments list from last week, but it warrants repeating. What the hell was the deal with the dick-measuring contest between the ECH and Kim in “Workforce”? For that matter, what is the Doc even doing as the ECH right now? Chakotay is back and in command! Step down already!

Once upon a Seven of Nine We gave the Doctor credit for speaking for holo-people in getting Photons Be Free published in “Author, Author,” but the way he workshopped it left much to be desired. How freakin’ hard would it have been to make the characters in his story more randomized and NOT just exaggerated, cynical versions of the crew? It would’ve been so easy to save face, my dude!

One Po-turd-o, Two Po-turdo-o, Three Po-turd-o, Four! I may be alone in my hatred of the turd people in “Renaissance Man,” but I maintain that the EMH shouldn’t have so eagerly (and boringly!) helped them. But what we can all agree on is that his confession to Seven when he thinks he’s dying is disgusting and a terrible impression for his character to basically go out on:

“You have no idea how difficult it's been, hiding my true feelings all these years, averting my eyes during your regular maintenance exams.”

VOMIT!!!

—

Computer, deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram. That’s all from the EMH, until we maybe revisit him when we get around to character spotlights for Prodigy which you are surely watching because it is stunning. For now, we’ve got some more Voyager characters to spotlight here and some more Enterprise to watch for the podcast over on SoundCloud or wherever you listen. You can also give us your medical prognosis over on Facebook and Twitter, and maybe tone down the “I’m a doctor, not a”s a little bit.

[half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk]

Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 29 !!!

we're in the second half of season 2 batchersss (was gonna say were in the end game now but I'll save that for tomorrow 😫)

The Bad Batch 2x09

her voice 🥲 she sounds so down it hurts

"sounds dangerous" *giggles* ilysm Wrecker 💕

Hunter sniffing dirt again hehe

Tech says "without Echo" and Omega immediately droops her head 😫

creeper peekin 👀

I love how Wrecker was carrying the case with one hand and Hunter needs two and keeps adjusting it 💪

Wrecker checking in on Omega 🤲

oop Omega dramatic sigh count 👀

Hunter lifting Omega up 🥺

"chain reaction, explosion got it 🙄" tbb dealing with teenage fett mood swings now

gentle hands 🤲

that is not your ship kid 👀

Hunter slams the highly dangerous explosives into the ground lmaooo

Hunter hearing the ship power up !!! his turns so fast and jumps over the stairs 🙌

the bickering batch

they're literally all so feral at each other rn 😮

Wrecker giving Omega water first 🥺

she's calling Echo for help 😭

Tech knows he disabled his comms... have they been chattin 👀

Hunter's senses on fire this ep 👌

Hunter pushing Omega in front of him and steering her out of the way 🙌

the Lion King ???

Tech: "protect the ipsium!" Wrecker: bruh 😑

the ipsium survived Hunter slamming it on the ground I'm sure it'll be fine

Wrecker: "why don't you carry it 😠" Tech: "fine" lolol

Tech is so strong omg he carried it like Wrecker 👀

Omega needs something to cover her face in this sandstorm 🥲 give her a helmet

THEY'RE SO SHITTY BOYS CALM DOWN !!!

Omega bby someone hug her !!!!! 😫😭

"what is your issue" 💔

how soft Hunter said her name 🥺🤲

Tech doesnt understand the emotional connection she has to everything but they probably all struggle to see that being soldiers, they're taught to let go of things, stay in the moment to be able to be the best they can, she's just a kid who wants her brother and her home back after just losing everything, I can completely understand both sides of this 🥲 I'm blabbing and it's not making sense anymore 🙃

"thats not the only mistake you need to fix" Hunter's dad mode applies to Tech now too

Tech: "but she said she wanted to be alone" 🥺

they're getting so much better at the whole dad/big brother thing 💕

Tech said her name so gently 😭

Omega and Tech having the same ideas 🥰

"I am fully aware you are capable of the task" 🥺

TECH BLINDLY FOLLOWING OMEGA WHEN SHE FALLS MY HEART

oop I forgot the 😫 Tech falls count: we're on 5 now

THE WAY HE GRABS HER IN THE WATER OML 😭 he was so desperate to save her

Hunter sensing they're in trouble 👀

Not only do I love Hunter's senses but I also love how aware they all are of him, like they all question him every time he pauses or looks off at something, they're all just so aware of each other 💕

Tech and Omega lying down out of the water 🤲

Tech emptying the water from his glasses !! 🥺

"we are alive" ~ bro I love how often he responds like this I can't wait to hear it again hehehe

Omega's wet droopy hair is getting so long 🥺

"the narrow crevasse" i love the way he talks he's so fancy 💅

Putting a bunch of quotes in bc they're iconic 💕

Omega: "everything is changing and you don't even care"

Tech: "I am not sure how I should care about change, it is a fundamental part of life"

Tech: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on. That's what soldiers do."

Omega: "we're more than that. We're a family aren't we?"

Tech: "yes of course we are"

Omega: "why don't you act like it?"

Tech: "Echo chose a different path, as did Crosshair. I have to respect their decision. Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you"

I have to put it all in bc this scene means so much to me 🥺🤲💕

Wrecker's scream and the big *fwosshhh* landing in the water vs Hunter's tiny *bloop*

Omega's wave 🫶

the way Hunter just tosses Tech's stuff out of the water and he's still holding Omega's bow is the difference between brother and dad

wet hair Hunter when 👀

Omega "see that wasn't so bad" Wrecker: 👍

Tech being almost as precise as Crosshair 💕

Tech and Omega looking at each other 👀🤲

Hunter noticing somethings different with Omega now after talking with Tech 🥺

CID 🔫 I want to hunt her for sport fr 😈

Omega quoting Tech 💕💕💕💕

oooohhhh this ep holds a special place in my heart fr

[shunin-gumis]

Mistery on the Moonlit Passage - Track 03

Seasonal Event Story

Things are getting interesting!

Location: Cruise Liner - Party Venue

Yukikaze: What’s wrong, Ryui?

Yukikaze: Oh, I see. They’ll need pillows if we want them to sleep comfortably.

Ryui: Wrong. There’s obviously something off about this if they all ended up snoozing at the same time.

Ryui: Doesn’t matter if they’re all “just” asleep, someone did this to Toi, and I’m not resting till I deck that fucker. 

Muneuji: A culprit… So you believe someone orchestrated this? 

Nanaki: Wha… So they’re hiding somewhere in here…? 

Netaro: Indeed! There are no intelligent life forms outside this vicinity. Which means that aaaalll the humans onboard are asleep, in here! 

Yukikaze: Is that right? 

Netaro: According to my invention, the “Buzzy-Buzz Life Detector Heartbeat Radar,” that would be the case indeed!

Nanaki: (Why does he have something like that on him…) 

Netaro: Why do I have this on my person? Because I created it just now! 

Ryui: That means… 

Muneuji: The culprit is among the 5 of us? 

Yukikaze: Oh no… Could it be possible that I caused this mass-sleeping incident without even knowing it…? 

Netaro: A culprit who isn’t even aware of their own actions! You rarely see those in mysteries~

Nanaki: Nah, no way. Kamina-san was with me on the sky deck and all the way back here. There’s no way he could’ve done it. 

Netaro: And what about before then!? Nana and Yuki, the two of you were on your lonesome before you met up on the sky deck, is it not true? Perhaps you could have pulled it off then! 

Nanaki: Erm… Even if you say that… 

Netaro: Nana, why did you go outside? 

Nanaki: T-That’s… 

Sleeping Yodaka: I want to know… All about you… Every inch… 

Sleeping Yachiyo: Oh… please forgive me… pardon me… Munya… 

Netaro: Nay! You shall not be pardoned! I suggest we conduct a thorough investigation!

Yukikaze: I do not wish to doubt my little brothers. 

Nanaki: Even if you tell us to investigate, none of our smartphones are working, so we can’t even call for help. Shouldn’t we prioritize other things, like whether the ship is operating like it’s supposed to? 

Muneuji: On a positive note, this ship is steered automatically, so we should still reach the port in due time. I believe we should focus on looking after our colleagues, and leave this matter to the police—

Netaro: No, no, NO! We MUST search for the culprit~~~! Otherwise I might simply melt away from the boredom… 

Ryui: And the cat’s out of the bag. 

Netaro: But Ryui, surely you’re dying to know the truth behind this incident, yes?

Ryui: …First, we share our alibis. We’ll decide if one of us is behind this after that. 

Netaro: Yes indeed! Yuki and Nana are not the only ones who are suspicious, after all.

Netaro: Uji seemed strangely out of breath when we had met earlier, and Ryui was wandering about alone, carrying a large and suspicious clump of fabric!

Ryui: Suspicious this and strange that, you’re the last person I wanna hear it from. 

Netaro: Why of course! I am plenty suspicious as well~

Muneuji: Well then, as fellow suspicious individuals, allow me to speak first.

Muneuji: I would like to share what I witnessed, to prove my innocence. 

[sapphobolide]

FFXIVWrite Day 1 — "Steer"

“But why do you do it?” She was six summers old, and full of questions.

There was another riot in the city. Her parents had sent her to stay with Aunt Ealhild and Uncle Gellmar—her mother’s cousin and her husband—at their farm in the Peaks. She didn’t like Ealhild and Gellmar, not as much as she liked Uncle Anselm, who wasn’t really her uncle but her father’s best friend since forever and ever. And she knew what he and her father and her mother would be doing while she was away, they would be trying to keep a bunch of very angry people safe while they shouted and raged at the Mad King, except really they’d be shouting at the palace, because the Mad King never came down to the streets of Ala Mhigo anymore. What she really wanted to know was were they safe, her mother and father and Uncle Anselm, but no one at Aunt Ealhild’s farm could answer that, so she asked other questions instead. Right now she was asking why they castrated billy goats.

“They’re not billies once you do it, they’re wethers.” Stubborn Brook finished untangling a kid that had got itself trapped in a bramblebush, and sent it on its way with a gentle toss. The young goat bleated as it hit the ground, then scrambled away in search of new trouble to get into.

“But why?”

Stubborn rolled her eyes. She was one of Aunt Ealhild’s hired hands, mostly because both her parents were mercenaries and away all the time fighting Lominsan pirates on big Ul’dahn merchant ships and needed somewhere to stay most of the time. She also knew everything, mostly because she was thirteen summers old, but also because she was a Roegadyn and so was already taller than everyone else her age. She brushed off her hands and leaned back against the fence, not even looking at the annoying little Hyur girl from the city she’d been forced to babysit. The sky was full of mountains and no clouds, and sunset turned the air crimson.

“Because they’re too much trouble otherwise,” Stubborn Brook explained. “You let a billy keep his balls, he gets mean, and bossy, and he’ll bother all the nannies. And he’ll stink, too.”

“Wethers don’t do all that?”

“Gods, no! Wethers are sweet, and strong, too. Good pack goats, good for travelling. They’ll get protective of their herd without being possessive about it. They’ll let you know when a nanny’s in heat, ‘cause they’ll still mount ‘em, but they won’t get ‘em heavy and spoil your stock. And they’re good eating, too.”

“Why do you let any of the billies keep their balls, then?”

“Ha! Mam’s asked Papa that before. Only I don’t think it was about goats.”

“Other kinds of beastkin can be wethers?”

“That’s not what—I mean, yes, but they’re not called that. Castrate a chocobo and you get a gelding. Do it to a bull, and that’s a steer.”

“And they all get nicer when you do it?”

“Pretty much. I’ve heard some shite-faces say that a bull what can’t rut is only fit for slaughter, but they must never have had the chance to plow with an ox before. One alone can do the work of six birds.”

“Truly?”

“True as Rhalgr’s aim.”

"And what about with people, what do you call it then?”

Stubborn snorted. “You mean fantasia-seekers?”

“What does that mean?”

“Uncle Anselm? Who does he know?”

“Uh—“ Stubborn looked embarrassed. “Nevermind. I don’t know anything about that.” She shot the younger girl a queer look. “…Though if any of what Ealhild says about your papa’s friend is true, he might know a few.”

“Nevermind, I said!” Stubborn Brook stood up. “I got better things to do than teach a baby city boy how to ranch. Go bother your aunt for a change. I gotta get the rest of the herd in before dark.”

She pouted. She didn’t want to talk to her aunt and uncle—all they did nowadays was try to pretend they weren’t worried about Ala Mhigo. About revolution. She couldn’t stand it. But Stubborn Brook was already walking away, leaving her alone with a score of unanswered questions about steers.

Slowly, the bloody glow in the sky began to dim.

[namorslutfanfiction]

Gen neutral reader that lives on a boat sailing around, Namor has already rescued them from drowning three times and when is close to hitting again tries to like intimidate them into going to coast and reader decides to flirt with him instead

Not sure if I really understand this one. But I will try my best. Gen Neutral is a little bit out of my realm but I hope this works out.

Summary: He found you amusing but also incredibly stubborn. But he would save you every time. And every time your teasing would make him almost regret it. Almost.

General, humor,

The waves were colossal with the force of this storm. For the first time in your travels you were actually worried that your little sail boat would actually capsize. You held on to the mast for dear life as your boat climbed the wave and hit the peak. You screamed as you were thrown into the ocean. You could not figure out which way was up or down as you flailed in the strong riptide. Oxygen escaped you quickly as you panicked, and soon darkness enveloped you.

When you came to you were sprawled spread eagle on the deck of your small boat. The sun was shining bright in the sky. Hurriedly you sat up and checked that you had all your limbs. The hardy laugh that escaped you spoke of your relief.

There was a scoff that came from behind you. You shifted to look at the bow of the ship and found a familiar tanned god tying your mast into place.

"Namor!" You yelled excitedly as you stood and lunged to give him a hug. He side stepped you and then pinched you by the ear, "Ow, ow, ow!"

"Idiota! I thought you would at least have the sense to anchor down at a port instead of attempting to weather the storm in this kayak you call a boat, but I guess I thought too highly of you," The Talokan King flicked you between the eyes then released you.

You rubbed your ear and your forehead as you addressed the king, "Come on, Namor. I made it didn't I?"

"With my help! If I hadn't suddenly thought to check on you with the storm hitting so hard, you and your boat would be at the bottom of the sea," Namor huffed as he continued his work repairing some of the ropes.

"It wasn't that bad, you're exaggerating," You had an amused tone to your voice that seemed to only anger the king.

"Three times this has happened! Three times where your life has only been spared out of the kindness of my heart. But I will not have this! You are to return to wherever you hail from and stay away from the sea. If I find out you have even poked a toe into the water I will throw you so far inland it will take you days to find a coast," Namor chastised you and steered the boat, catching a draft in the sails.

"One, you can't just tell me what I can and cannot do. You're not my boss. Two, awe you were worried about me?" You gushed hugging yourself to the King's bare arm, squeezing it with affection to your chest. He gently but firmly extricated himself from your grip.

"These waters are mine to protect you just happen to almost die every time you enter them. Now, tell me where to take you and you may return to the land where you belong," Namor said with finality.

You sat down heavily on one of the benches and crossed your arms, "No. I will not be going anywhere."

"Your recklessness will get you killed," Namor sighed. "I am fond of you and that is why I do not want to hear from my people one day that they found your body floating away after a shipwreck."

You continued your silent treatment which was one of the few things that Namor hated in the world. He took a seat next to you and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, "Why must you be so young and so stubborn? Can you not see how dangerous this is? Sailing the seas on your own like this?"

"It is the only thing I know. Not all of us were so lucky to come from such a pretty and loving kingdom as Talokan, Namor. Now just leave me alone. I need to get to Argentina before the next storm hits," You busied yourself with tidying up the boat and redirecting your sails.

Namor watched you. The few times you had met you had never revealed to him where you were from. You spoke many languages and were never in the exact same spot as the previous time. You were a mystery but all he cared about was how to convince you to be safer.

You turned when you heard him sigh again in exasperation, "Namor, I know you care but sometimes you can't win. And this argument is 100% gonna end with me doing whatever I want."

"You are insufferable."

"Damn right, and for some reason I'm charming enough for you to keep saving me," You joked as you finished tidying up what was left on the boat, thankfully everything else was inside and hopefully not too messy.

"You are not charming. I just don't want your blood on my hands," Namor stood up and stretched a bit. He was probably going to leave you soon and you weren't quite ready for that. It was nice having someone to talk to after spending weeks alone.

You looked him up and down. His undressed state was so appealing you had to admit. You had made jokes when you had first met him about how calling him a god was fitting because he looked like one. He did a particular hamstring stretch and you let out a long whistle, "Are you trying to seduce me because you might be succeeding?"

Namor turned swiftly to you and realized you were teasing him. His eyes narrowed, "Trust me when I say this. If I wanted to seduce you then you would have already been on your knees."

You smirked, it was so fun to tease him, "Oh really? I haven't heard anything about a lover or wife or husband so I think you don't have what it takes."

Namor took too long strides and was chest to chest with you. His sudden invasion of your space made your heart skip a beat but you still grinned at him indulgently. His face was close to yours, "I have no problem pleasing whoever I wish. No one has ever complained otherwise."

You took a small step back and eyed him, "Your skin in the sunlight really is like gold. And that broad chest and shoulders,"

You ran a finger down his chest, "I don't doubt you've had men and women alike swooning over you,"

Your eyes travelled downward and focused on his green shorts and stared. You stayed silent and kept your gaze on the short garments. Silence rained and you could see in your peripherals that Namor was flexing his fingers as he grew uncomfortable under your gaze. When his foot shifted the slightest to step back you broke the silence, "I bet you're a grower not a shower. I'm sure the cold water hides your true size."

Namor's jaw dropped, his hand instinctively trying to cover his crotch, "Stop looking at me!"

"What? Don't tell me you're shy now," You joked as you followed him around the small boat as he picked up his spear and checked for anything else he may forget.

"I'm leaving, chan maak. (little one) Before you drive me insane," Namor swung his legs over the side of the boat but still turned to you, pointing accusingly, "Don't you dare drown in my seas again or I will drown you myself."

"I'll see you soon then, oh K'uk'ulkan! Wear those shorts again and we will see who can seduce who first," You were in a full giggle fit at the look he gave you. He shook his head but still gave you a small amused smile before leaping back into the sea.

You leaned against the side of the boat as your laughs died down. The sun was higher in the sky now and you were on your way to your next destination. You hoped the next time you saw the Talokan King wasn't another dire situation either. Maybe, just maybe, he would visit you just because he wanted to.

...

I hope that works for you anon!

Thank you

[detective-and-dreamer]

Going on a trip and coming back with a new tattoo should be more fun than this (678 words about fear, pain and the inconvenience of being unable to call someone to come pick you up from a terrible location. also Nemesis spoilers):

No winter in the Neath or on the Surface could be this cold. Thankfully she is dressed warmly, though she does not recognize the clothes. Still, the wind bites through the fabric and freezes her tears to her face. Lenora is alone, oh god she is alone at Zee-

She catches herself before she can begin hyperventilating. If she starts, she will not stop until she drops dead in this frozen wasteland. Clenching and unclenching her hands as she forces herself to breathe evenly, she turns to look at the gate. Its winged, ice-encrusted guardians stare down at her.

Lenora has heard people speak of "going North" before. Those people tend to disappear, and she thinks this is where they must end up. Whatever lies beyond that gate, it is not for her; she turns and heads for the ship at the island's edge. She wonders if the Lady in Lilac knew she was no zailor when she abandoned her here. It must have been her, given the gap in her memory...the month-long gap, she finds once she has discovered the ship's log.

For a moment, she leans against the desk and waits for the urge to scream to pass. It would be terrible, given the way her tongue is throbbing. There is the next question to be answered. It gives her something to focus on as she wanders the cramped halls. The steamer is mostly empty, and all its furnishings and supplies look ancient aside from a small package of food, but surely somewhere there must be a mirror?

There is no surface in the tiny washroom that looks safe to touch. She doesn't even raise a gloved hand to wipe away the grime from the mirror. Leaning as close as she dares, she sticks out her tongue and prays she isn't catching some horrid disease just by standing here.

Is that...Correspondence?

Tilting her head, she does her best to study the blurred sigil. It isn't one she immediately recognizes, but it hasn't harmed her (yet). A more thorough study can wait for a warmer, safer, cleaner environment.

She returns to the cabin and shoves aside the useless log. Underneath it is a map. Her fingers trace the currents and islands as she recalls Emory's lesson.

"You have to know the basics, at least. Just in case."

"I won't argue, darling, but I truly hate to imagine any scenario where I am somehow the only person available to steer the ship. If we're ever in such imminent danger, can't you just kill me?"

"If I get the chance, Nor, I'll do whatever I have to, but this is just...look, if the worst ever happens, I want you to at least try to get away. Now, you know the currents run anticlockwise..."

Lenora imagines she can feel their hand on her own as she draws a curving line from the northern edge of the map towards London. All she must do is begin following this path and account for the northern wind...and avoid the center of the map...and escape any zee-monsters or people who might attack her...

She takes a deep breath and touches the hilt of her knife. She will die fighting if she must, but not to her own fear.

Before setting out, she takes stock of the ship's flags. Most are faded and tattered, which means semaphore is out of the question. Just as well; it's been some time since she memorized it, and she would hate to accidentally provoke a fight instead of asking for help. Morse code it is, so long as she can manage to keep a lantern lit.

As she leaves the frozen island behind, Lenora tells herself that she will jump (literally, if necessary) on the first ship that responds without immediate hostility. Whatever payment they may demand, whatever they may ask of her, whatever it takes to make it home. There is so much time she has already lost - with her family and friends, with herself - and she cannot bear to lose much more.

[yoshiyomi]

You are my happiness the only treasure I adore with a complete passion since the day you came into my world;my life has never remained the same. You brought and endless smile to my face, amazing joy to my heart, darling I love you! My love for you has no beginning nor a end.(and no end) it is cyclical, like life. It is ever-flowing, like the oceans. And it is boundless as the sky and as vast as the universe. When I see your face, I see my past, my present, my future. When I hold your hand I feel everything inside of me expand. You are my everything. I will love you forever. When you came into my life I left all my past behind me, I just love this newly found love that is making me feel like a baby again,my sugar I adore you so much. I must be the luckiest person in the world to have such a special person for their love. When I am next to you, I am always pinching myself to confirm what am I seeing is real confirm that what I am seeing is real. You are my everything that I ever needed in this life and I cannot imagine this life without you. I love, darling. You are my strength. You are not only the sails that steer my ship, but you are also the waves below that carry me. Without you, I would cease to have a backbone, as youare the entire foundation holding me up. I could never think of a day where you are not with me. I imagine if that day came, I would become weak. I would crumble into a coward. But together we are strong. We are unstoppable. That is why I love you. Listen to me okay? You're to me a best friend forever. I love you every second of the day. And I've never loved any1 as I love you. I cry over you not because I'm in pain but because I feel so blessed that I just can't hide my emotions. You are on my mind every moment. I've never missed any1 as I miss you. You are som1 special to me. Please be with me 4ever and ever. With ferocity filled with tendernes, you have caltured my soul every bit of me, making me feel like I'm the only person on the world. Life without you is like living without a backbone system. Your raft of live and kindness has held me afloat and will keep me on lighting our path. I promise to never leave you. Your mine and mine alone darling. Stay happy for me. <3❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ those r more than a hundred hearts

I counted

i feel appreciated and loved