#in a situation where he needed a fight or flight response he opened up a portal instead

[thematicparallel]

I have great respect for your husband, and I know what he wants me to say... that you have no choice but to use me and my men to hunt for you, that I am your only means of survival. But let's be honest. If that is all I can offer you, then my men and I are dead before the sun rises tomorrow, because you know there is always a choice to be made, and you don't trust me at all. So... let us assume that I can offer you something better. You have hidden in this place for a lifetime, hidden from the harsh realities that lie beyond this veil that you have constructed here, but the moment that that shot entered his belly, that veil began to unravel, and sooner or later, you are going to have to confront these realities, chief among them being that England takes whatever, whenever, however it wants. Lives. Loves. Labor. Spirits. Homes. It has taken them from me. I imagine that it has taken it from you. And when that veil drops altogether, they will come for more. You're suggesting that you could help us prevent England from taking these things? No, I am suggesting that we help each other start taking things back, and it starts with Nassau. You cannot stay here. This camp's secrecy is its virtue, but that secrecy is going. Nassau is defendable. Nassau can supply itself. Is that not exactly the sort of place that could replace this? A place that you could settle? Settle? Governor Woodes Rogers holds Nassau Town with a full company of British regulars. He holds the harbor with a small navy. He holds the men on the street with his pardons. Woodes Rogers has an inoperative fort, responsibility for an administrative nightmare that isn't going away just because he wants it to, and an island full of hunters that may be placated for now, but could be awoken. That I could awaken. How do you propose to do that? They pledged to follow me when they thought I was alive. They turned when they thought I was gone. So I will come back from the dead and lay claim to what I am owed. Let's say that by some miracle we could dislodge the British from Nassau. I could not possibly hope to defend it with my numbers. Your numbers? For every man in your camp, there are thousands somewhere in the West Indies living under the same yoke, chained in fields, pressed on ships, sold into indenture. When they see a sitting governor protected by his majesty's navy, deposed by an alliance of pirates and slaves, how many consider joining that fight? How many thousands of men will flock to Nassau, join your ranks, and help you defend it? What does a colonial power do when the men whose toil powers it lay down their shovels, take up swords, and say, "No more"? Bring down Nassau, maybe you bring it all down.

[irisintheafterglow]

just too soft for all of it

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: taylor swift - "sweet nothing"

summary: you only call bakugo when you need his body. what happens when you need him for a different reason? (prohero!bakugo x reader)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: fwb to lovers, no explicit smut (just implications and allusions but mdni just in case), descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack, angst/comfort with happy ending, swearing, pet names (sweetheart, baby, babe), broken glass, stubborn reader and even more stubborn katsuki

note: is this my coping mechanism for all the 'casual' inspired fics i've seen lately? possibly. will i continue to keep reading said 'casual' inspired fics? definitely. haven't written kats in a hot minute, hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

"I need you." 

"I'm busy. This new report shit is going to be the death of me, I swear–"

"I need you right now. Please." Your voice shakes and he mistakes it for horny desperation.

"Aww, you need me that bad? Need me to come and make you feel good, is that it?" He smirks patronizingly and you hear it through the phone, despite your vision going in and out of clarity.

"Katsuki," you breathe, and his hand goes deathly still over his paper. You never said his name like that; you always addressed him outside of the covers as 'Bakugo' or 'shithead' or 'asshole.' He hears you swallow, his senses finally returning and realizing just how exhausted you sound. "I can’t breathe–I think I'm...I think I'm having a panic attack and-and I can't calm down and it's–it's too much and–"

"Breathe, sweetheart," he says before you can continue, his hand flinging open his front door and blasting himself into the darkness. "Just hold on, I'm on my way." 

By the time he’s let himself into your apartment, it’s nearly midnight. He considers toeing off his shoes at the door but quickly decides against it when he spots the broken glass scattered across your dining room floor. You’re hugging your knees close to your chest, so backed up against the floor cabinets that he almost missed you when he looked for you in the kitchen. The glass crunches beneath his shoes as he crouches down to look at you, relief flooding him as he realizes the glass didn’t injure you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trembling even as he peels your arms away from your sides. “It just–I was making late dinner and one of my glasses broke and everything just came crumbling down…” He’d never seen you like this; you were always the collected one, the one who was always teasing him for being stressed when, in reality, you were just better about hiding all the weight on your shoulders. Your breath comes in short inhales and pained exhales and it’s like Katsuki’s body instinctually knows what to do. Taking your hands in his, he presses them against his chest at the exact spot where you can feel his heartbeat. It’s steady as a steam engine, thumping below your fingertips. In through the nose. Without breaking eye contact, he exhales a deep breath, nodding encouragingly when you copy him. Out through the mouth. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he murmurs, breathing deeply again and again and again until your body ceases its fight or flight response. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing.” 

“Katsuki…” 

“We’ll talk after, I promise,” he gently reassures you, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. “For now, I need to make sure you’re okay.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. Even when he knows the situation is de-escalated, he doesn’t dare move his hands, nor stop modeling deep breathing. He waits for you to say that you’re done, to yank your hands away and mock him for being so caring and thoughtful, attributes that didn’t come with your strictly physical relationship. You don’t; you stay there on the floor with him until the tension in your body completely releases, leaving you slumped against your cabinets. You move to position your knees under you, but his hands catch your wrists a split second before your palms hit the floor. You glance at him with a confused expression. “The glass, babe. Lemme put you on the couch and I’ll clean it up.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can clean it when I’m–” You’re cut off by the sensation of being lifted off the ground, his arms effortlessly bringing you against his chest and laying you on your living room couch. “Wait, I can just clean once you leave."

“Stop,” he grumbles with a burst of intensity that takes you aback. “I’m gonna take care of you, so sit and wait until I’m done. Got it?” You blink at him but he doesn’t relent, and you’re forced to nod and wait as he meticulously sweeps and vacuums every single particle of glass until sleep is nudging at your eyelids. He’s just stuck your vacuum back in the closet as you muster up the energy to stand, stumbling in the direction of your room. “Fucking hell, you don’t know when to quit,” he mutters, sweeping your legs out from under you again and carrying you the rest of the way to your bed. 

“Who knew you could be so doting?” 

“You’re mocking me when I’m literally carting you around your own place. Unbelievable,” he scoffs, carefully settling you on the covers and taking a seat at the edge. 

“I’m not being sarcastic,” you reply, your eyelids sleepily opening and closing. “I really am surprised that you’re taking care of me like this.” 

“Of course I’m taking care of you, dumbass,” he grunts. “I know we said no attachment, but you’re more than a body to me.” His voice quiets but you hear it anyway, smiling against the pillow. 

“When were you gonna tell me that, idiot?”

“Not sure. Was waiting for the perfect moment.” He shrugs, reaching over to run his hand up and down the side of your thigh. 

“And you think this is it?” 

“It’s definitely not, but it felt like the right thing to say.” You hum in contentment and he slyly rubs his hand backward just to see what happens. 

“Easy there, cowboy,” you chuckle, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Even when I’m broken, you can’t resist grabbing my ass.” 

“You’re not broken. Don’t say that about yourself. And even if you were,” he scolds, though you know there’s no venom behind it. “Guess who’s gonna be the one to put you back together?” You hum again and he can feel your consciousness slipping. “You gonna let me stay the night, sweetheart?” 

“Is the sky blue, dumbass?”

“Just checking,” he grins, positioning himself beside you and flipping you over to face him. You groan in protest but still mold yourself into Katsuki’s chest, his arm securing you against his body. “G’night.”

“Night, Katsuki. Don’t let your alarm wake me up early or I’ll kick you in the dick,” you warn, your body further relaxing in his warm safety. 

“After everything I’ve done for you tonight? So ungrateful.” You snort, drifting off with a smile on your face that makes his heart stutter. He double checks that all his alarms are off and, for good measure, turns off his phone entirely. No one’s reaching him tonight, not when you’re his first priority. When he’s sure you’re out, he whispers the real reason why, even when it wasn’t a booty call, he rushed to you in the middle of the night. 

“Mmm,” you hum and he freezes, having no idea whether you were responding or just making that noise in your sleep. “I love you too, Katsuki.” 

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[eu-nicola]

Strong Love - Enzo Vogrincic x Reader

summary: Enzo makes a bold decision to save his relationship after rumors of infidelity spread. warnings: without

from a request

You have been in London recording a film for a month now. You initially planned to travel with your boyfriend, Enzo. However, unforeseen circumstances kept him back in his home country, managing interviews for his new film and other commitments. Soon, your name flooded social media, not for your movie but due to a particular photo everyone was tagging you in.

It was Enzo with his ex-girlfriend, Sofia, seemingly happy and together on the streets at night. The moment you saw it, confusion and pain set in. You wanted to believe it was a mistake, but the evidence was there. Unable to gather the strength to confront him in person, you sent him a text message, desperately seeking an explanation.

On the other side, Enzo anxiously stared at his phone, feeling the tension building up as he contemplated your message. "I saw the photos, Enzo, and I need you to explain what's going on," your message read. The realization of the photo's error struck Enzo, and he feared you wouldn't believe him.

As you noticed his delayed response, you tried to focus on your work on the film set. A mix of emotions overwhelmed you, from surprise to anguish. The images of Enzo and Sofia haunted your thoughts, creating a knot of insecurity and sadness. While attempting to concentrate, you awaited the answers Enzo was willing to provide.

Enzo, understanding the gravity of the situation, desperately sought to explain. When you finally checked your phone, you saw his rushed messages justifying the encounter. Amidst the filming chaos, you struggled to concentrate and process the flood of notifications that made you feel powerless and hurt.

"Love, you need to know it wasn't what it seemed. I ran into Sofia on the street by chance, and we only talked for a moment. There were no hidden intentions, I promise."

"Sofia is part of the past; you are my present and future. I made a mistake not anticipating how it could affect you, and I take full responsibility. I am willing to do whatever it takes to fix this because you are the most important thing to me."

"I know the photos may seem compromising, but I'm being honest with you. It was an unexpected coincidence. I'm sorry; I love you."

You loved him, and you knew he was being honest, but it didn't ease the pain, especially considering Sofia's past harassment when you first started dating.

"Enzo, the photos are hard to ignore, but I appreciate your honesty. I need time to process it all. I'm hurt, but I want to believe in you. We need to talk when I return." There were still a few months left until your return, but if he was truly willing to fix things, you hoped he would understand and wait.

Enzo, feeling overwhelmed by the distance and the anxiety of waiting, made a bold decision after days of reflection. He decided he couldn't wait months to resolve things and was determined to fight for you.

Within a few days, without saying a word, Enzo arranged a flight to London. Landing in the bustling city, his heart pounded with nervousness about your unexpected reaction.

That same afternoon, a few hours before you finished filming, he appeared on the set, searching for you everywhere, asking everyone where you were, and the consistent response was, "in her dressing room." When he finally found your dressing room and knocked on the door, you opened it, thinking it would be anyone but him. Seeing him, you were completely surprised.

"Enzo, what are you doing here?" you asked, a mix of disbelief and excitement.

"I'm sorry; I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you, talk to you face to face. Explanations and apologies aren't enough through messages," he replied, determination in his eyes.

You were moved by the fact that he flew there just to see you, a mix of emotions overwhelmed you. He continued, "I made a mistake; I shouldn't have talked to her, and I'm willing to face the consequences. But I'm also willing to fight for us, to show with actions that this is what I want most in my life, that I love you."

After hours of conversation and shared tears, you forgave Enzo because you truly loved him and saw that each of his words was sincere. During that time, he stayed with you, and despite the rumors, you paid them no attention. Every day, you both seemed more in love than ever, and everyone noticed.

After some time, you returned home, and the return flight felt different; you were better, and you liked that. You didn't know how things would unfold, but something inside you told you that everything would be okay.

[callsign-rogueone]

fireproof - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (young Brennan and Duchess!) words: 1.4k 🏷: no book spoilers because this happens before the events of fourth wing hehe. more of bb bren and bb duchess. set soon after the events of allies, so read that first! near-death situation / mortal peril, but no actual injury happens. I promise these two will communicate their feelings soon lol

You come to a stop in front of Brennan’s door, heart pounding. You hadn’t thought about this part, and you’re not sure what to do; you don’t want to knock, don’t want to wake up any of the other cadets -- it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re not supposed to be out of your room.

You’re not supposed to be talking to a second dragon, either, but here you are.

Brennan pulls the door open, sparing you the decision -- Marbh must have woken him up. He’s quick to usher you inside, scanning you for injury. 

“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you breathe, “but Marbh is in my head right now.”

He blinks the sleep from his eyes, still not fully awake. “What?”

“Marbh is talking to me. I have no idea why or how, and for some reason, I can’t reach Ban to ask.”

You both hear the orange daggertail’s response at once. “She is otherwise occupied, so she sent me.”

“That’s not vague at all,” Brennan says aloud, exasperated.

“If you must know, she is defending herself to the Empyrean right now.”

Your eyes widen. “The dragon council? Why?”

“That is for her to explain to you.”

Brennan notices you’re fully dressed, your longsword sheathed across your back and a thick cloak covering your shoulders. “If you’re going to find her, I’m coming too.”

He turns to open the closet, digging through it for a clean pair of flight leathers.

Your eyes catch the dark orange of the relic spanning his back, your cheeks warming as you realize he isn’t wearing a shirt. You whirl around, averting your eyes, but the sight is already burned into your brain.

You’d never realized how toned he is.

Focus, you tell yourself, shaking the thought from your head. Ban could be in mortal danger right now. 

“Ready,” Brennan says, shouldering his sword.

It’s absolutely freezing out, still the thick of winter, though there’s been a break in the snow this week, so you don’t need to worry about leaving footprints as you cross the courtyard.

Brennan leads the way, taking a shortcut through a door you’ve never even noticed before. 

Making it out of the fortress is the easy part. You step into the wet grass, and you realize you have no idea where to go.

“Marbh?” 

Silence. Literal crickets. Great.

You gather the slack of the black string connecting you to Ban and pull gently, seeing where it leads. Northeast, to the flight field and the vale. You make the climb silently, worried that if you speak, you’ll somehow alert whoever is threatening Ban to your presence, or that you won’t hear them coming.

You’ve never been out here, never been allowed to -- you still aren’t, and you probably never will be, but you push the thought aside as you continue. It’s surprisingly deserted out here, which is as equally concerning as it is relieving.

It’s so dark out that you almost mistake the orange daggertail ahead of you for Marbh. Almost. 

Marbh isn’t missing an eye; this is Melgren’s dragon, Solas.

His jaws open, and you know there’s no time to run, to fight, to beg for your life.

You yank Brennan behind you, praying to whatever gods will answer that your body will be enough to shield him from the fire.

It is.

You hear the roar, feel the heat, see the grass on either side of you catch, but you’re protected by an invisible wall that extends from your outstretched hands, keeping back the flame.

You plant your feet, fighting to stay upright and to keep doing whatever this is. It feels like you’re pushing a thousand pounds uphill, but if you stop, if you falter for even a second, or it will cost both you and Brennan your lives.

The blast stops, leaving a wall of flickering orange fire in front of you that fades after a split second.

You nearly collapse as you step backward. You’re exhausted, soaked in sweat and overheated despite the chill of the night air, your heart pounding and lungs burning like you’ve been running for miles.

Brennan holds you up, undoing the clasp of your cloak to help cool you off.

The ground shakes with the landing of multiple dragons. If they’re as mad as Solas is, you’re absolutely cooked. You have no idea how to do that again, or if you even can.

You want to tell him how sorry you are that you’d dragged him into this, that you shouldn’t have knocked on his door to tell him, you should have just gone alone, that when you die together, you'll spend the rest of your afterlife making it up to him, that your biggest regret in life will be not telling him how you felt about him, that you--

“Sorry I’m late, noble one.”

You whip your head up to see a black leg next to you. Ban. She’s brought company — Marbh, and a giant brown swordtail that you’ve never seen before. Brennan’s eyes widen in shock, but he stays silent, his arms still wrapped around you.

Marbh does not greet you, instead stalking past you toward the other orange dragon and baring his teeth in warning.

Oh, gods, are they going to fight? If Solas kills Marbh, it’ll kill Brennan too.

The brown steps forward, cutting Marbh off and stepping dangerously close to Solas. They lock eyes for a moment, and Solas backs up, but the other takes a step forward, forcing him to retreat. Solas quits while he’s behind, taking flight and disappearing over the ridge.

The brown dragon looks back at you, satisfied with his work.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, still terrified. If he could scare off Solas, he must be even nastier — or he must have said something to him that made a difference.

He nods his head at you in acknowledgment before he takes off.

The sun is starting to rise over the mountains, casting the scorched ground in gold. 

Brennan’s hands are on you instantly, checking you over for injury, but you’re more focused on the perfect half-circle of green grass beneath you that hadn’t been burned.

“You’re a fire wielder,” Ban answers, sensing your confusion. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

It had taken Brennan just over two weeks to discover that he was a mender, the rest of your class following suit quickly. You're the only first-year who is yet to attend Professor Carr’s lectures. 

You were beginning to think you might not have been going to get a signet at all.

“We never doubted you for a second,” another voice purrs -- not Ban or Marbh.

You startle. “What?”

A different one replies, a gruff male who sounds absolutely terrifying. “We’ve been watching you with great interest. I now understand what she saw in you on conscription day.”

This has to be a dream. There’s no way that four dragons are in your head right now.

“You’ll get used to it,” yet another adds. Five? 

“How many of you are there?” you ask aloud, eyes widening.

Another answers. “A dozen, for now. I am sure that many others will come to accept you in time.”

“Accept me? What?”

“As a human ambassador,” Marbh replies, as if it’s obvious. “We haven’t had one in nearly a century. It was about time.”

You notice a new string now sits beside the one you share with Ban, multiple threads of different colors twisted together into a thick rope.

You laugh in shock, processing. “But why me?”

“Because of this,” Brennan says softly, touching your forehead, “and this,” he rests his fingertips against your chest, keeping them there.

Your eyes meet, and you feel that magnetism you’d felt the day he’d first spoken to you. Your heart races under his hand.

“The boy is correct. You are the first in two human generations with this deep of a respect for our kind.”

You’re still looking at Brennan. You bring a hand up to grasp his, completely forgetting about the soot coating your fingers. It smears against his skin, leaving streaks of black across his knuckles, but neither of you seem to mind.

“Now would be an excellent time,” Ban prods.

You part your lips, working up the courage, but someone else speaks first; a human, that Brennan hears too, and the both of you freeze, turning toward the voice.

“Of all the students that I’d think to find sneaking out, you two were certainly not on the list.”

Professor Kaori. He looks thoroughly unamused, eyeing the four of you and the burned patches on the ground with suspicion.

Brennan looks back to you, and you nod in permission — there’s no lying your way out of this, not when the whole riot will know of the night’s events in a matter of minutes.

“You’re gonna want to hear her out, Professor.”

[darkstarofchaos]

Having seen some frankly irritating opinions from both sides of the aisle, I think some of y'all need to chill about the way the Decepticons were handled in EarthSpark.

Decepticon fans are allowed to be upset that the faction's depth and potential for development was tossed aside in favor of "Decepticons are just evil".

However, depth and potential doesn't mean the Decepticons have to be buddy-buddy with the Autobots. Depth is amoral, you can be a villain who resists "redemption" and still be a well-rounded character.

My issues with S2 vs S1 are as follows:

The lack of good explanation for why the sides are fighting again. I am not upset that the Cons are villains again. They have no reason to like or trust any human or Autobot, and gratitude for having your life saved only goes so far. My issue is that S2 literally opens by saying the Cons started the fight again just because that's what Cons do. Obviously the story is from the perspective of the main cast, and there are hints that they could be intentionally unreliable narrators (Starscream refers to them as oppressors, Breakdown challenges Bumblebee about giving up on Cybertron), but we aren't given enough time with the Cons to draw a solid conclusion about the intentions here.

The way the heroes treat Spitfire, i.e. a literal newborn. She was 100% in the right when she said that she didn't know the moral rules she was being expected to follow. But because she wasn't born with morals and an understanding of mortality preinstalled, the heroes condemned her instead of trying to de-escalate and take responsibility for their part in the situation (granted, Megatron was the only flight-capable adult present and he argued against de-escalation. Which tracks because he's Megatron. But someone should have pushed for a peaceful resolution).

How much depth do individual Decepticons still have? Who knows, Starscream, Shockwave, and Breakdown are the only ones with any focus. The others are only seen fighting, causing trouble for fun, or just standing around growling. Twitch - i.e. one of our main characters - literally spends an entire episode in the Con camp and we still manage to see nothing of Decepticon life when they're just hanging out. And yes, I know that the more characters you have in a scene, the harder it is to show their personalities. You can still show them playing cards or arm-wrestling or something. Anything to show that they're actually people and not just a hive mind that exists to fight.

Starscream. Specifically the last 20 minutes of the S2 finale, because everything else in his characterization fit S1 until that point. He literally calls the Autobots oppressors, so of course he's going to fight them. He wants Aftermath kept out of the way (that's a child, so that's perfectly reasonable) and he's frankly patient with Twitch-as-Spitfire, in spite of Skywarp's incredulity that he lets her "get away" with causing trouble (again, that is a child. Patience is the correct response). He even seems to like Spitfire after meeting the real her. The only issue I had with Starscream leading up to the second half of the finale was that his motivations didn't seem to be much deeper than "I want power" (I could be misremembering that point - there may have been an "Earth is going to be our home, let's make it better to live on" when he and Shockwave discussed Cybertron). And then the last 20 minutes happened and I can't see any logical extrapolation from S1 to that. It was just a generic "Starscream goes mad with power", and it came completely out of left field. Not even any remorse about what he "needed" to do or any attempt to justify himself, it was just, "Yeah, I'm worse than the people I called out for being oppressors, isn't it great?"

If there is some big plot twist where it turns out the heroes were unreliable narrators all along, some of my issues will actually be fixed. However, I find that extremely unlikely, for one major reason: all of the non-Decepticon characters who disagree with the heroes are either villains or they "come around". The Quintessons felt betrayed by Quintus? Nah, Quintus was a great guy, you can tell because he tortured a kid for wishing she had never been chosen by him. Prowl doesn't like the Autobots' reliance on children? Silly Prowl, those kids are special, we want them to fight. The narrative never, at any point, entertains the idea that those dissenting voices might have a point. Which means we're probably meant to take the heroes at face value on most, if not all things.

TL;DR: the Decepticons being villains makes perfect sense, even with the context of S1; it's the heroes acting like they're only fighting for power after we had several episodes about second chances and not all Decepticons being the same that makes it feel like a cop-out. And Decepticon fans are allowed to be upset that some of their favorite characters had interesting stuff going on only to be functionally relegated to Voiceless Grunt Number 3 (and yes, several Autobots have also been relegated to Voiceless Grunts. If one of your favorite characters has fallen victim to this affliction, regardless of faction, you have my sympathies).

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 39 of????

1733 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

Namjoon had lain you down in one of the newly renovated bedrooms for a nap. The fresh paint smell tickles your nose as you rouse from your sleep, only acutely aware of the weight around your waist. Light still streamed in through the window on the far side of the room, signalling you hadn't lost too much of the day to your unplanned sleep. 

You try to sit upright only to find yourself blocked by the weight on your stomach. You look down and find an arm, tracing it with your eyes until you land on its owner's slumbering features. You push the dark tresses away from his face and admire how peaceful Taehyung looks sleeping beside you, or at least you thought he was... One of his eyes blinks open before squeezing tightly shut when he realizes you're staring at him.

"Taehyung-ah?" 

The man doesn't answer you, instead, he lets out a loud snore that could rival even Namjoon. 

"Tae?" You try again.

You tug at his hair to get him to move but his eyes just screw up tighter. 

"We really should talk," You sigh.

"But not talking is so much nicer, things aren't real if we don't talk, we just pretend to sleep forever." He mumbles into the pillows as he buries his head away from you.

It would be nice not to have to talk about anything, at least for a little while longer, but no one seems to have told that to the knot in your stomach. 

"Come on it's time."

You push him until he rolls, almost tumbling from the edge of the bed. His hands shoot out to grab your arms before he can fall but he in only succeeds in pulling you on top of him with a big thud. He groans out as your elbow lands in his stomach but you can't stop yourself giggling just a little.

"Guess you're definitely awake now..."

"Still don't want to talk about it," He pouts, sitting up with you in his lap "Can't I live in a world where you haven't turned down my proposal just a little bit longer?"

You choke a little on your saliva. It had been in the back of your mind how much you must've been upsetting Taehyung, but your own flight or fight response had been suppressing the thought. You force the bad feeling back down into your stomach and get to your feet, offering him a hand up.

"Why would I say no?"

"I don't know, the giant panic attack immediately after I asked you didn't seem like the most reassuring sign,"

"But I'm... We... are not about to lose you. Of course, I will marry you Taehyung-ah,"

His face lights up with barely contained-excitement, and the two of you sit on the edge of the bed

"Really? I don't want you to do this just because you think you need to, I'm sure we will manage. Maybe my wife would be open to affairs?"

Even when he is making light of the situation his eyes betray him. They skip around your forehead instead of meeting your gaze head-on like he usually would. 

 "Well if that's something you'd like then perhaps I should let you marry her, I'm not sure how comfortable I would be knowing my husband would so openly plan an affair," You sigh dramatically, falling back on to the mattress. 

He follows you down, crowding over you with a hand on either side of your head. 

"Not even just little affairs? Perhaps with an adorable redhead, or an overly anxious bunny?" He pouts.

"What if I want you to be just mine? What if I'm a horribly controlling wife who never lets you leave our house? Or what if I insist we move in with your father, he seems like such a wonderful man," 

With each teasing remark, Taehyung mocks offence, and your stomach untwists just a little bit, but it's enough.

"I have a feeling there will be some very surly hybrids around if you suddenly sequestered the two of us away, and I have no idea which one of us being missing they would be angrier about... although I have a feeling it would be your absence with the edge."

He leans in and pecks your lips and you wrap a hand around his neck to keep him in place as you deepen the kiss.  The horrible feeling isn't quite gone, but you realise he is right, no one in this house is going to let you be hidden away ever again. And that realisation has you wanting to show your appreciation for how much they all seem to care about you. 

Taehyung's lips trail along your jawline, hot open-mouthed kisses left in their wake. He pauses at the base of your neck.

"Before I continue, just tell me you're sure, one more time... Will you marry me?" He asks

"Yes, I will marry you," You say with far more confidence than you feel.

Then there's no more hesitation as Taehyung makes quick work of both of your clothes. You manage to push yourself on top, straddling across his thighs. His hand reaches up to caress your cheek.

"I love you," He murmurs.

"I should hope so..." You chuckle, lowering yourself forward.

"I hope you know that I'd want to marry you even without my father's influence," He says brushing a hair away from your face. 

You don't answer him, a lump suddenly in your throat. You switch directions instead, shuffling down the bed until his hand falls to the mattress and your mouth lines up with his half-hard cock. You start gently, teasing him with flicks of your tongue to the slit as your hand wraps around the base, squeezing ever so slightly. His toes curl in anticipation, as your hot breath ghosts across the cooling saliva you leave behind. 

You flick your eyes up to meet his just as you take the full tip between your lips, you take him down further than you should for a first pass, your teeth barely scraping the shift as he twitches in a way you don't preempt, he groans but doesn't complain, pleasure flooding his features in place of pain. His hand wraps into your hair keeping you in place just below the head until his features unscrunch.

"Has anyone ever told you, you're too good at that?" His voice comes shakily.

You pull up as he lets you,

"I think you might be just too easy if that's all it takes," 

You raise an eyebrow at him but he just waves his hand as a silent plea to continue, so you do. The hand on your head controls the speed as his other fist into the sheets making a real mess of Jin's new silk bedding. 

With him setting the rhythm you place your hands on his thighs to both steady yourself and prevent him from thrusting upwards unexpectedly. Considering his near accident at the beginning, your jaw begins to ache before Taehyung shows any sign of actually cumming, even so, you're surprised when he pulls you back away from him.

"Everything okay?" You ask, rubbing at your jawline in what you hope is a subtle way

"I don't want to cum before I see you riding me," He practically whines. 

His hand make grabby motions to signal you back up until you are face to face once more. This version of Taehyung is a mess, he is pouty, his lips red and bitten, his hair is a mess from being rubbed against the pillow, and there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He looks beautiful. Not that his normal controlled image isn't stunning, but this was something else, and it left you wondering how often he let people see him like this. 

Clearly, you've paused to watch him for too long as he lets out a whispered plea for you to continue. Looking at him now you aren't sure how anyone would ever say no to him. Then you realise that perhaps few people ever had...

His hand wraps around himself to provide a guide as you lower yourself down onto him. Barely prepared, you clench your teeth and release a hiss of air until you manage to reach the base, settling nicely on his hips.

His hand wraps around your neck pulling you into a kiss. You grind back and forth as the kiss gets deeper, rubbing your clit against him in a futile attempt to achieve satisfying friction. His arm snakes between the two of you in the limited space, fingers reaching out to provide the much-needed stimulation. For a moment you forget that you're supposed to be riding him, instead allowing yourself to get lost in feeling so full. You sit back up allowing him a better angle to pleasure you.

Your hands find purchase on his thighs behind you as you rock back and forth into his hand. Taehyung demonstrates no complaints as you take what you need from him, watching you closely as you lose yourself in the pleasure of him.

Your orgasm builds slowly but surely as you clench around Taehyung's cock still buried deep inside. His fingers fall back to the sheets as he groans through the new tightness surrounding him. 

"I really need you to start moving Y/N" He half growls, but it fades away into a whine as you do what he asks.

You ride out your over-sensitivity, only mourning the loss of his fingers slightly as you return to your previous mission of appreciation.

 You ride him as fast as your shaking legs will allow you to. His hands trail along your thighs until they find purchase on your hips, his finger pressing in, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he helps you to keep going. His hips meet yours, becoming sloppier with each thrust until he reaches his end. One final push and he releases inside, fingers crushing into your hips as he holds on. 

You lower yourself next to him, careful to make sure he stays inside of you, not prepared to deal with Jin's wrath at the mess letting go would create.

"I think we should take another nap," Taehyung suggests, his cocky and casual persona reappearing.

"Personally I was thinking a shower was in order," You complain, motioning at the glistening sweat along your torsos. 

Next

Masterlist

Soz fam...... I lost all motivation plus I'm hella busy at work in June and July so this took a back burner. I won't promise that I'm not gonna dip for 2 months again, but i hope not

I hope the smut makes up for the absence... What do you think will befall our wonderful eight as they tell Taehyung's family and the wedding approaches?

[finalgilmoregirl]

☆ random thoughts about what i think being in a relationship with mike would be like :

a/n : no gender specified, no y/n + no mentions of the actual movie plot

he’s actually pretty quick to open up after the first couple of dates. i think he would want you to know his situation as soon as possible and understand what you might be getting yourself into if the relationship has any chance of becoming long term.

he also does it for abby’s sake, he doesn’t want you to meet her and accidentally say the wrong thing, or be surprised by their situation so much that you get scared off, leaving poor abby confused.

likes watching horror movies, but only over the top, borderline goofy ones (i.e. nightmare on elm street, child’s play, gremlins, signs). he gets fidgety and even anxious during any where the antagonist is human, some might hit a bit too close to home.

cheesy low budget slashers have a pass. the acting is bad enough and the plot is predictable enough to keep him entertained but not lead him to spiral. those and again, goofy ones are when he pulls out the “here, i’ll protect you” move about fifteen minutes in, of course just wanting an excuse to hold you.

he’s the worst at grocery shopping. he always goes when he’s hungry which leads to too many snacks and frozen meals. and as much as you love the convenience, you know he and abby can’t live like this. which leads to you pushing the cart around while he holds the list you made and grumbles things like “when are we even going to eat rice?” and “i don’t need all of these vegetables, they’re just going to go bad.”

in the end, he’s grateful. and abby is too now that you introduced them to the world of easy to make side dishes.

stealing his clothes duh!! he could groan about how he’d been looking for that hoodie or his sweatpants and sometimes even socks (yes even the ones with the holes in them) but at the end of the day he’ll allow it because he loves the way his clothes look on you, and you love smelling like him.

like i mentioned earlier, he lives for touch. it’s something he didn’t know he was missing until he met you. then it’s all he wants when he’s around you. it can be you running a hand through his hair, or him pulling your back into his chest with an arm around your shoulder.

he loves forehead touching. he loves it when you do it as a way to cheer him up, making a silly face, causing him to pull away and giggle into your neck. he loves it on late nights where he’s just woken up from another bad dream and you do it to calm him down, allowing him to match his breath with yours. he loves it after a moment of passion, and as he stares into your eyes all he sees staring back is pure adoration. it’s the intimacy in the close proximity that he never gets tired of.

he has a temper but it’s hard to blame him. it comes from a place of anxiety, where any high stress situation causes a fight or flight response in him. he hates it about himself, and even after you forgive him after an argument for snapping at you or abby or for shutting you out at a time when he shouldn’t, he still kicks himself for it.

abby usually taking your side in debates just to spite her brother. even if its about something she has no knowledge about, you're in the right! which usually leads to mike jokingly mumbling about how much she likes you more than him.

finally, date nights!!! and as much as mike likes the idea of going out for drinks or for dinner and a movie, he and his wallet favor a more intimate night in at his home. these kinds of dates are few and far between, since its hard for mike to find someone he trusts enough to send abby away with. but on the rare chance that she gets invited to a friends slumber party just a block over, he takes it and spends the night drinking and laughing with you over a plate of your guys' favorite take out orders.

-----------------------------

hope you enjoyed! ☆ requests are open btw

[deathmetalunicorn1]

hey there, how have you beeeeen? I hope the sickness has gotten better or that you are back in full health :[

part two of teen!reader that needs to hide a body but this time, it is for real. she had fake blood in her room for a project or something and one day she does come home after actually killing somebody, then asks for help lmao i would especially love to see odin, hades and poseidon's reactions to a corpse by their little angle.

-When the front door slammed open then closed, several of your family members were ready to scold you, as they’ve told you not to slam the door.

-Their voices were caught as you ran in, covered in blood and dirt, looking completely panicked, “I need help hiding a body- for reals this time!!”

-A few thought that you were pranking them again, they were still a bit salty about your prank the last time, and they knew you had more fake blood in your room, for an art project.

-Hades was going to grin, to tease you, before he inhaled, smelling the scent of iron- the scent of real blood.

-He stood slowly, looking a little panicked as he touched your shoulder where some of the blood was, looking at his hand before he inhaled sharply, “This is real- Y/N WHAT HAPPENED?!”

-Hearing Hades’ words, hearing that this wasn’t a prank this time…. PANIC!!!!!!!!

-You were trying not to cry, as you told them of a bully at school who had been escalating with his actions towards you, and he tried to assault you in the bathroom, pulling you in after school.

-You had run, trying to get away, rushing into the nearby forest to hide but he kept close, wanting to catch you to finish the job. When he tackled you into the mud, you swung back, using the fighting training your family had instilled in you.

-You were panicking, in a flight or fight response, and as he grabbed you again, you went into fight, grabbed a rock, and beat him to death with it.

-Adam was on the phone with the police, calling them while Eve and Odin were trying to calm you down, and Hades and Poseidon headed to the school, both looking murderous as the police was going there, the forest, and here.

-You wound up not getting into trouble, as the security cameras had caught the attempted assault, you acted in self-defense. The school tried to get you into trouble for fighting, but Odin showed his rare scary side for once- you were clinging to Thor as Odin was shouting so loudly, telling them that you had been going to them about the bullying, but they had done nothing to investigate or protect you, and then this happened, and you had no choice but to fight back.

-You were pretty shaken up, staying home from school, being able to attend online, but your family knew that you were fragile- you just killed a guy.

-The only thing you did get in trouble for was your reaction, about hiding the body, but some, like Leonidas and Lu Bu thought it was rather funny, which got them into trouble.

-Perhaps some of their ‘lessons’ on what to do in certain situations needed to be revised to avoid other situations where you might react in a way that you were taught was just meant to be funny.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Broken Wings - Part Two

What's this? A second chapter one year after the first? More fic writing from me in the same week? Idk guys, I'm just riding the motivation wave as far as it'll take me...

Thrawn x pilot!reader | 2.5k words

Content warnings: Cursing, only a little Thrawn/reader interaction (slow burn anyone?), also I gave the reader tattoos for funsies

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Hangar 12 was massive. Not even the largest rebel hideout could equal this space you found yourself in. TIE fighters hung from their docks in the ceiling while larger transport ships were lined neatly along the slick floors. And there was still plenty of room to spare. Room to reconfigure the ships in a thousand different formations and never run the risk of them crashing into each other.

Thus, the set up of a little podium and rows of chairs in the middle of the hangar was comical. It looked like furniture for a dollhouse. The pilots milling around the chairs seemed tiny, too, the details of their faces and flight suits barely remarkable when compared to the expanse of metal and space surrounding them.

You stood by one of the entrances to the hangar, having just emerged from a hallway into the location you were instructed to be in this fine morning. Well, a biological morning, anyway. Here there were no suns, no atmospheric skies with clouds or stars, no indications of whether you should be awake or at rest. Here, time did not exist. The viewport at the end of the hangar boasted of a vast outer space, likely deep within the Empire's control, far from the places you were used to. And yet, it still stirred that itch within you, the desire to go into it. To explore. To fly.

"Oh good, you've made it."

A flash of blue and white appeared in your periphery. You quickly closed your eyes, as if by not seeing him, he couldn't see you in return. You'd been dreading this moment, but your damned curiosity compelled you to show up anyway.

"I will introduce you to your squadron," Thrawn spoke to you anyway, not commenting on your lame attempt to hide from the situation. "They are among the Empire's best pilots, though still not close to your level of expertise. For now you will set the standards for their training, help them understand what is required. But I expect to see intensive training within the cockpit soon."

There was a pause before he spoke again, one simple, inquiring word. "Captain?"

You opened your eyes. Everything from before was still there: the ships, the tiny pilots, the viewport into darkness. But now added to the view was the imposing form of the Grand Admiral, looking down at you with those piercing red eyes, waiting for you to agree to being on board.

"I didn't realize titles transferred across war lines," you said in response.

Thrawn did not seem phased by the venom you put behind your words. Or perhaps you hadn't put in enough for him detect. You weren't exactly in pique form at the moment, your body still feeling like it'd been wrung through a trash compactor a few times. The rest and rehab you'd received the day before was far from rejuvenating your fighting spirit.

"The goal is to have you become Flight Commander for the squadron. But we'll retain your title of Captain for now, until you prove yourself. Even if it creates more paperwork for my staff."

He nodded slightly behind you and you turned to find a few officers standing nearby.

"This is Officer Amara Tilde, the fleet's logistics liaison. And Sergeant Lou Mam, from the Chimaera's tactical division. They'll be overseeing the training and provide assistance where needed."

While you were arguing against the small voice in your head that sounded strangely like your mother's, telling you to be polite and smile or nod at the two in acknowledgement, Thrawn continued.

"But for all intents and purposes, the squadron will report to you. As their leader."

"Like it or not," you heard Sergeant Mam mutter under his breath.

If Thrawn also heard, he ignored it, instead turning to indicate he was ready to proceed with this grand plan of his. "If you are ready, Captain, we'll begin."

"And if I'm not ready?" you couldn't help but ask.

One corner of Thrawn's mouth twitched upward. "Then you'll have roughly a hundred meters to gear yourself up, Captain."

And with that, he set off, striding confidently into that dark and massive hangar, his staff members falling in to flank him on either side. You found your feet guiding you to follow along, making you ponder with each step what you were doing here and how you could possibly get free.

"At attention!" called out Sergeant Mam as they approached the group of pilots.

There was a rustle of boots, with a small squeak or two, as the pilots hurried into proper standing positions in front of their chairs. Thrawn and his two officers strode past them toward the podium, but you chose to hang back just behind, out of view. For one, you were still in denial and any little thing you could do to delay the inevitable, be it closing your eyes or pausing in your steps, you would shamelessly do. But for another, that short trek from the door to the middle of the hangar already had you beat. Your body had not fully healed from your crash just a few days ago, and what little rehab you'd done so far to gain mobility back did not prepare you even for a walk. Your body felt flushed, heated, and you were pathetically out of breath.

"At ease," the Sergeant stated as he took his place behind the podium. Thrawn and the other officer stood off to the side, the former giving you a questioning look that you didn't know how to answer from this distance.

The pilots relaxed into their chairs at the command.

"As you all know, you have been selected as the top graduates from the Academy to serve in this special training unit aboard the ISD Chimaera...."

As the Sergeant spoke, you couldn't help but unzip the top of your flight suit and shake at the fabric a bit, trying to get a breeze onto your sweating skin.

"Training?" one of the pilots interrupted, apparently interpreting the at ease command a little too loosely. "We were told Special Forces Unit."

"Indeed, you will become a force to be reckoned with. But first we must train you to get there."

There were grumbles and whispers but you weren't focusing too much on the scene. You still felt too hot. Confined. Trapped. Screw it, you thought, and pulled the zipper all the way down and shimmied out of the sleeves. The top of your suit now hung at your waist, leaving your top half in only a black tank top. Your tattoos would be showing now, as well as the many bruises and barely-scarred wounds you'd recently sustained. Even amongst the rebel forces you'd be considered indecent. But at least you now felt just a little freer.

"With all due respect, sir," another pilot spoke up, "we already received our training, at the Academy."

"Yeah," a third chimed in. "We're enlisted soldiers now. Not cadets."

"And not only that, we're the best," said another. "You said it yourself. Top of our class. What else could we possibly have to learn?"

You couldn't see their faces but you could hear their smirks. Oh, these were cocky SOBs. Something stirred in you at their behavior, very similar to the feeling you got whenever you looked up at the sky or out the viewport into space. In fact, one could argue the two feelings often went hand-in-hand. You had an insatiable desire to fly, yes, but also to prove others wrong. These smug pilots, fresh from the Academy, with their clean suits and fresh haircuts, thought they were on top of the world. But they didn't know what it was like to be in an active war zone. To feel pressure in the cockpit. To be faced with impossible decisions. They had a lot left to learn.

Thrawn chose this moment to step forward, and the murmuring of the crowd quieted down.

"The Academy has prepared you well enough," Thrawn addressed them with that quiet confidence you'd already grown used to. "But we can no longer afford to settle for only enough. The Rebels are growing in their strength and number, and most importantly, in their skill. Do you know who the best fighter pilot is at the moment?"

There was a silence as the pilots looked around to each other. One happened to catch you from the corner of his eye. He frowned in confusion at your presence before turning back around.

"A Captain in the Rebel forces," Thrawn answered his own question, following it up with your name. There was murmuring as some seemed to recognize the name. You weren't sure if you should feel flattered that your reputation preceded you.

"Can any of you confidently say you are better than her?" Thrawn threw out another question but this time didn't wait for a potential response. "No. You are not the best. But, you can be trained by the best. And then there may be hope for the Empire yet."

The pilot who'd noticed you before swung back around to look at you, starting to piece two and two together. You figured this was about as good a time as any to finally push yourself forward.

The whispers returned as you came into view, shuffling amongst seats to get a better look at your disheveled appearance. Or perhaps just your presence in and of itself. They were in as much disbelief as you were over the situation.

One pilot was a little slower than the others and called out, "Who the hell is this?"

Thrawn cooly responded, "The best," before stepping back to give you room.

You took in a deep breath, mostly to get your panting under control, and a little to calm the nerves. You were surrounded by enemies, you reminded yourself. These pilots meant nothing to you. You had nothing to prove to them.

And yet, the itching inside continued.

"Is this a joke?" You recognized the voice as the first pilot who had spoken up. He was a handsome guy, round face and clear skin. His smirk was as mischievous as you'd pictured it earlier.

"I wish it were," you said, hating how your voice betrayed your physical exhaustion.

The pilot didn't seem to know how to respond to that, so the one sitting next to him spoke up instead.

"So you're telling me this Rebel twat knows more about flying than we do?" She seemed to be questioning one of the officers or Thrawn himself, but her eyes were fixed on you.

"There's no need to be vulgar, Heva," the one who'd noticed you earlier spoke up, albeit in a soft tone. "She is the best..."

"For a Rebel," Heva scoffed, settling back in her seat with arms crossed. "Which isn't saying much, now, is it?"

You desperately wanted to scratch the itch, to put these MF-ers in their place, but you'd need to pace yourself. Battles weren't won in a day, as you unfortunately knew firsthand.

"Test me," you said, straightening up a little.

This earned you a mix of snorts and incredulous smirks.

"Alright," Heva sniffed. "How do you reprogram a misaligned targeting system mid-flight? Smoke is coming from the underside of a TIE starfighter cockpit, what has been damaged? Do you use concussion missiles or proton torpedoes against a particle shield?"

You noted her questions were specific to Imperial tech, things you would likely not know about. But even if you did, they were hardly the most important things to be quizzed on, so you didn't feel particularly demeaned like she probably hoped.

You hummed. "I confess, I don't know."

Heva wore a self-satisfied grin while a few snickered around her.

"Now let me ask you something," you continued, not letting them enjoy their petty victory for long. "You're flanked between two enemy crafts and no wiggle room on either side. Ahead is a building, or some other obstacle, where impact would be fatal. What do you do?"

Some of the pilots seemed to be considering the question while others, like Heva and the pretty boy next to her, were more reluctant to play along.

"How far away?" asked the soft-spoken one.

You looked out across the hangar. "Let's say... from here to the viewport. A hundred meters?"

"Wait them out" said the pretty pilot, and it was then you noticed he had some chewing gum in his mouth, further accentuating his blasé attitude. "The enemy craft won't risk a collision either. As soon as they peel off, you follow."

"They're Rebels," you pointed out. "Some of the crazier ones. Flyers who know how to bank last minute and won't let you breathe for an inch. You can wait to bank with them, but if you're even a hair's length out of sync, you'll collide."

"Pull up sooner," someone shouted out.

"Collision," you asserted. "They're flanking, not mirroring. You won't fall far enough back before they do, too."

"Alright then, Best Pilot in the Galaxy," sneered Heva. "What do you do? Or are you trying to use a trick question to make yourself sound smarter?"

You took in a measured breath to maintain your composure. "You drop. Kill the engine, drop a few meters, fire it back up in time to bank."

There were even more scoffs and snorts than before.

"That's not... you can't..." the soft-spoken pilot's face was screwed up in deep thought, trying to make sense of your outlandish idea. "I mean, the physics of it alone... How could you even calculate the timing of it?"

"A situation like that, there's no calculating," you agreed. "There's no recalling a classroom lesson or reciting a manual. There's only feeling."

You hadn't exactly held their respect before, but now you'd really lost them. You were preaching about feelings, to a crowd who didn't think they needed to be taught anything in the first place. The looks on their faces, the not-so-polite words they were sputtering at a not-so-subtle volume, were proof they found you ridiculous.

You risked a glance back at Thrawn, whose expression was deadpan and gave away nothing of how he perceived this whole exchange. Not that you needed his approval. But he'd staked a lot in this plan of having a captured Rebel pilot teach an Imperial squadron; you were nervous about the consequences of failing him.

Your gaze shifted from his apathetic eyes to a starship just behind him. A TIE Interceptor by the looks of it. There wasn't much you envied about the Empire, save for this one vessel. The itching intensified; you were practically chomping at the bit now that the idea popped into your mind. A way to kill two birds with one stone.

You steeled yourself with another breath and turned back to face your disgruntled audience.

"...it's just not possible," someone was saying.

"It is possible." You raised your voice to be heard over their ruckus. Whatever fatigue your body had been suffering was now muted as adrenaline began to ramp up inside you. "I've done it before."

This hushed them up a bit, though skepticism was still written across their features. You couldn't help but grin in response.

"Would you like me to do it again?"

~ ~ ~

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[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.5 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Necrosis

cw: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, angst, swearing, anti-jedi sentiment, Death mentioned, violence, Medical abuse, Medical talk, seizures and neurological symptoms, Nala Se being cruel

Tag list (THANK YOU): @spicydonut25 @notgonnaedit @amazonian-bae @tentakelspektakel

The ship ride to Ringo Vinda was stressful. To pass the time and keep yourself busy, you counted the supplies in the pack you had brought.

Tup killed a Jedi…

How? Why? This was Tup. Sweet, shy and honest Tup! He’d never kill a Jedi without reason!

The transport landed in The Resolute hangar. As soon as the doors opened, you were greeted by Fives and General Skywalker. 

“Doctor,” the General offered his hand and you shook it in greeting, “I’m glad that you’re here.” 

“I’m glad Fives called.” You responded, walking in between both men, “What's the situation?”

You were informed of the disaster of Ringo Vinda. Jedi Tiplar was shot point blank by Tup. Ever since the trooper had been in and out of it, only repeating one phrase.

Good soldiers follow orders. 

To make matters more confusing, the Seppies had kidnapped Tup as well. He had only just been rescued but his health was at a steady decline. The 501st doctor was trying their best to keep him alive, but they were overwhelmed with the amount of injured and dead from the defeat on Ringo Vinda. 

Fives called you for help. And based on everything you heard, and the chaos of the ship, he made a good decision. 

You were led to the transport ship where Tup was loaded. They were preparing for a second attempt to Kamino. The clone trooper was restrained, and an oxygen mask was fixed over his face.

Immediately you snapped into gear. 

“Let me see his latest scans,” you commanded, going to Tup’s side. Your fingers pulled a pen with a light and clicked it on. Lifting one of the troopers eyelids you shone the light and flicked it away. You repeated the small test with his other eyes and pulled back, “Pupils are fixed and dilated.” you announced, standing straight. 

Traumatic brain injury. 

Neurological problems made sense given the symptoms. But what part of the brain could have been injured….?

The anomaly. 

Kix, a medic you’ve met before, handed you a datapad. Your eyes roamed the screen, unhappy at the lack of actual data. Where was that lesion the 501st doctor sent you months ago?!

“There's nothing here.” you stated, looking up, “I’ve gotten scans before. From your field surgeon.”

“The umbaran scanner,” Kix perked up, confused, “We still have it but-.”

“Get it,” your tone was sharp, “And we need to get to Kamino as fast as possible.” He needed intense surgery if this was as bad as you thought. 

It was less than 2 minutes later when you had the scanner and used it.

The data had your body in fight or flight. It was worse than you thought.

Glutamate: 20um (Alert Too Low)

Gamma-aminobutyric acid: 45.89 umol/L (Alert Too High)

Synaptic response time: 15ms (Alert Too Low)

You swallowed, eyes going wide, “We need to go, now!”

“Mesh’la?” Fives asked, sitting down on the ship as it hummed to life. Captain Rex remained silent, deciding to stay with Tup after the Separatist attack. However, his head was turned to you, waiting for an explanation.

“Total neurological failure,” Your response was full of dread. You tapped the screen, focusing on the anomaly. The news only got worse.

Alert: Necrosis right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

“His brain is necrotic.” 

Just as you spoke, Tup seized. His body convulsed, spasming violently. 

“Tup!” Fives yelped, dashing to the side of the hover stretcher.

Immediately you ripped off the restraints, and flipped the clone trooper on his side. Your hands held him down just enough to keep him steady as he thrashed and twitched. Mentally, you counted the seconds, needing to keep track until he stilled.

3 minutes and 26 seconds.

“How many seizures has he had before this one?” You looked up at your lover.

You were met with a shake of his head. When you looked to Rex, he also gave the same response. 

Damnit. You mentally swore, Working with almost nothing.

The neurological issues couldn’t be dealt with here. So you switched your methods to life support. Using the supplies you had, which wasn’t enough, you slowed the breaking down of his neural tissue as much as you could. You could buy him time. That's what matters. 

“Mesh’la?” Fives spoke up, “What…do you think is the cause of this?”

You shook your head, “Without the umbaran scanner I’d assume virus or bacteria. Hell, maybe even prions or parasites.” Your eyes glanced over at the data on the tablet, “But…based on what I’ve seen, this is a genetic issue. Caused by a specific area in the brain.”

Captain Rex perked up, “Could this happen to anyone else?” 

You shrugged, “possibly? Even though you're clones, you're only identical with your base DNA. Since the Kaminoans have been stretching genetic material by adding different genes to fill in the gaps, it could be unique to Tup.”

It's been brought up during the ethics committee meetings. Since Jango Fett had been killed, the genetic material for the clones was in limited supply. So the Kaminoans had to find ways to make it last. 

You once tried to argue that since they weren’t exact genetic copies, the definition of clones no longer fit. Nala Se had shot you down and practically called you an idiot when you suggested that the troopers weren’t clones but children of Jango Fett. 

With a sigh, you gently pet Tup’s head. You’ve pulled his hair out of its tight bun, to at the very least help him feel more comfortable. 

Thankfully, he was stable for the rest of the travel to Kamino. As soon as the ship landed, you were rushing him down the ramp. Thunder crackled overhead and the downpour was brutal, but you didn’t care.

Your patient needed you. Tup needed you.

Some troopers in gray and white surrounded you as soon as you got inside. and in your panic you tried to shove one of them away. 

“Easy, Doctor.” Shaak Ti’s voice caused you to look up. Next to the beautiful togruta was Nala Se.

“General, Doctor,” you greeted the both of them, though you were breathless, “Tup’s brain is necrotic. I need to-”

“You must calm down.” the Jedi stepped forward, putting a hand on your shoulder. She pulled you away and let the Kaminoan take Tup.

Fives and Rex were behind you, “No, you don’t understand. His brain is literally failing him.” You desperately tried to explain, “I think I know what's causing it, there's a…anomaly. A tumor or lesion that's in his brain.”

She looked at you in interest, “You’ve already been looking for the cause of this?” 

“Here, General.” Fives handed the umbaran scanner to her, “It's an umbaran scanner. The field surgeon of the 501st had-”

“We will run our own tests,” Nala Se called back, head snapping to stare at him, “We don’t need to use unreliable, primitive technology.” The Kaminoans stare was empty and cold, “The most likely cause of this is a virus.” she reached and snatched the tablet out of Fives’ hands.

“But-”

“Do not worry,” Shaak Ti tried to calm the both of you, “Doctor Nala Se is the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino. She was one of the primary engineers of all the clones, and she’ll know what to do. I trust her judgment.”

You swallowed, and nodded. You didn’t like Nala Se, but you’d be a fool to ignore her skill and intellect. Honestly, you could be wrong and that anomaly on the scan was just…nothing.

The Jedi continued, “Now we must take care of you.” Her words were directed at the ARC trooper, “Since you’ve served with Tup the longest.”

“Me?” Fives perked up, “There's nothing wrong with me, General. I’m perfectly fine.”

You shook your head, “Possible contamination.” Your sigh was tired, “We’ll have to do a physical exam. Possibly even a blood draw.” You explained to him with a reassuring smile. Now that Tup was in capable hands, you felt much better.

“You haven't entered the advanced stages yet, as Tup has,” Shaak Ti looked at Fives as she gave her reasons for the tests, “but any information we can gather from you could help to find a cure for Tup.”

Your lover sighed and nodded, “All right, General, If it’ll help Tup.”

The Jedi then addressed Rex, who had been silently walking behind you, “Captain Rex, General Skywalker has ordered you back to the war zone.” She stopped walking beside a door to an examination room, “You are to leave immediately.”

Rex frowned but nodded, “I’m sorry, Fives. I wish I could stay, but duty calls.”

The ARC trooper patted his friend's shoulder, “It’s fine, Sir. Fighting a virus is a nice change of pace from all those clankers.” He tried to joke, if only to make himself feel better.

The Captain put his helmet back on, “Take care of yourself... and Tup.” Without another word he nodded and turned to get back to the ship. 

You were separated from Fives. He had to be examined alone while you stayed with Tup. He was your patient, and he was your responsibility.

“Your help is not needed, Doctor.” Nala Se spoke rather coldly when you walked into the testing room where the sick clone trooper was placed. 

“He is my patient.” You answered, “And I will not abandon him now.”

The Kaminoan was about to argue, but Shaak Ti cut through first, “I see no reason the doctor cannot help in the tests.”

“Tests?” Your surprise was clear, “No, there's no need for tests. You're just wasting time. We know the most likely cause. There's necrosis-”

“We need to be certain of that.” Nala Se snapped, “Unknown, unreliable technology from a formerly enemy planet can give false information. Besides, the breaking down of his brain could be linked to a virus.”

“But-”

The Jedi stepped next to the Kaminoan, “Nala Se’s theory of a virus should be confirmed first. If we do not locate the virus and cure it, no surgery will stop the…spread.”

“General, with all due respect, I don’t believe it’s a virus.” You argued, “No virus can cause such damage in such a short amount of time. And my scans have confirmed some type of…malignancy in the brain. It's not a virus.”

“Unless it had been engineered by the Separatists.” Nala Se chimed in, large eyes not breaking away from yours, “In which case, isolating the virus to create a cure is priority. So it doesn’t spread.” 

“Well my priority is saving Tup’s life.” You slammed your hands on the table, raising your voice slightly. 

Shaak Ti acted as mediator again, “Enough,” her tone was sharp, “Nala Se, perform rapid tests, if they do not come back with an answer, the doctor shall do what they need to treat him properly.” Her lavender eyes flicked between you and your adversary, “Arguing helps no one.”

You could see out of the corner of your eye that Fives was watching you argue. He looked out of his element, and so…afraid. 

Your breath was shaky at best, “Very well. Forgive me, General.”

“Let’s begin the tests.” The Jedi announced.

Nala Se nodded, turning to the medical droid next to her, “Administer the stimulant.”

Wait, stimulant?

The droid stabbed the needle directly into Tup’s chest. 

“Wait, stimulants will-”

Nala Se cut you off, “Remove his mask.”

As soon as Tup’s flow of oxygen was cut off, he gasped. The clone trooper seized again, spasming wildly. He had been restrained, and immediately you reached to free him.

“Do not interrupt the test.” The Kaminoan commanded, “His reactions are normal.”

You snapped, “He’s seizing!”

“It is all part of the test.” She responded. 

There was a bang and you whirled around.

Fives was slamming his fists against the observation glass. His eyes were wide and he was panicked. He shouted, desperately trying to get information.

Shaak Ti raised a single hand, blacking out the window, blocking his view. 

I’m sorry, my darling. You thought, heart breaking. He must be terrified without answers.

“His reaction will subside,” Nala Se stated so coldly. She was disinterested, as if bored by Tup's suffering, “The patient must be awake for the next round of tests.”

“How is that needed!?” You snapped, “He doesn’t need to be awake to find a virus!”

“I agree.” Shaak Ti stated, “I am not fond of these hyper tests.”

The Kaminoan continued with her cruel tests, “Yes, but they do give us all the information we need in a timely fashion.” 

You approached Tup, grabbing his hand, “He’s scared.” You mumbled, “He’s scared and in pain.” 

Nala Se’s flat voice spoke up as she typed on a tablet, “There does not seem to be any sign of infection in the blood.” Her large eyes stared down, reading the information, “How curious. The subject has tested negative on all accounts.”

Tup went slack, gasping and wheezing. You squeezed his hand, hoping to let him know he wasn’t alone. “Good! No virus! Can I treat him now!?” You asked, looking to Shaak Ti for help. 

The clone trooper mumbled, breathless, “W-Why am I here..?” 

“Is he conscious?” The Jedi next to you stepped closer. 

Tup tensed, his foggy gaze zeroed in on the togruta, “Follow orders…” He croaked, beginning to thrash against his restraints, “Kill Jedi. Kill Jedi!”

“Are you finished with your tests?” Shaak Ti remained perfectly calm in the face of such stress. 

“For now.” Nala Se confirmed. 

“Sedate him.”

The medical droid turned with the sedation oxygen mask. However, you snatched it out of its metal claws, “Tup, Tup look at me.” You whispered, getting his attention. 

The trooper seemed to calm the moment you blocked his view from the General, “Orders…I need to…Follow orders…” 

“I know. You're a good soldier, Tup.” You pet his hair, “I’m going to give you oxygen, alright?” 

He swallowed, laying back fully. Once he got a few lungs full of the medicated oxygen, his eyes closed. 

The Jedi beside you hummed in thought, “It appears this clone has orders to kill a Jedi. Perhaps the Separatists found a way to brainwash him.” her gaze was on Tup, “A surgery may destroy the effects of the brainwashing, and any evidence it occurred. We need to understand it.”

“General, please…” you begged, “I have the umbaran scanner-”

“I disposed of that primitive thing.” The Kaminoan scientist responded, turning her back to you, “Such technology is nothing compared to what we have here.”

“What?!” Your shout was full of rage, “That wasn’t yours to throw away!” 

“We have better scanners here, on Kamino.”

“Oh you self-centered, long-necked, cun-!”

“Enough!” Shaak Ti’s voice sliced between the both of you like a hot knife, cutting off your very vicious insult, “This petty fight between the two of you ends, now. Nala Se, continue whatever tests you can do while he is under sedation.” She snapped, finally reaching her limit, “And you, check on Fives.”

You furrowed your brow but let out a tense sigh, “Yes, General.” Your steps rushed from the surgical room and went to where the ARC trooper was held. 

Once the door opened, Fives shot up, “Mesh’la!” 

“Please sit back down,” a small hovering medical droid ordered; however, your lover ignored the command. 

His arms wrapped around you as soon as the door was closed behind you. He pulled back to hold your face and give you a heated kiss. 

You returned his affection eagerly before you broke the kiss to speak, “Thank goodness you’re alright…Nala Se isn’t listening to me. Neither is the General.”

He tensed, “What? Why?”

“I..I don’t know. Nala Se threw away the umbaran scanner that originally found the…” Your words faded off. With a cold realization, it became clear to you. 

The umbaran scanner found the anomaly in the clone's brains originally. The scans were sent to several doctors in the Grand Republic Medical Facility. The Ethics committee was informed by Dr.Mila, that's why they left for Kamino. Then they were attacked and killed. The other deaths, the murders that ended the lives of more of your colleagues, occurred afterward. Then you were nearly killed…

At first, you thought it was the Separatist plot to make the Republic look weak. But now, you realized the true reason. Behind the death. The despair.

Everyone who died knew about the brain anomaly.

Nala Se is hiding something.

[superstaridolstart]

I'm bored and don't got ideas so Pokèmorph Au Abilities ranked based on how much it affects the users human life!

If your new here, basically the Pokèmorph au is a magical girl au where different pokemon characters gain magical warrior forms based on different pokemon.

they can have multiple forms and each form comes with an ability that doesn't have to relate to the form it came with or even exist in a real pokemon. And depending on how the ability works, it can be used in any of the Pokèmorphers forms, including human, if they do wish

Now without further due, let's discuss the ranking

How it will work is I will rank each ability on a scale of 0-5, 5 being "Very powerful even in human form" and 0 being "Can't affect human form"

Now let's get it started now! This will be in A-Z order

Arven: Guard Dog: 2-5 default Fight or Flight response is Fight and the Attack Buff will make the ensuing punch hurt more

Calem: Prankster: 0-5 Move dependent

Clair/Ethan: Multiscale 3-5 most people go generally without injury so this could be very useful in an emergency, other wise it wouldn't come up very much

Gladion: No Guard: -0.5-5 he doesn't get into fist fights in his human form, plus it would make it easier for the enemy to get the first drop on him

Grusha: Cursed Body: 0.5-5 fairly useful but very situational

Hilbert: Quick Feet: 1-5 also gets a speed boost when sick and more ways to activate it than cursed body despite it having a less useful effect, but still very situational.

Kieran: Supersweet syrup: 0-5 form dependent

Leaf: Chlorophyll: 2-5 fairly useful but weather dependent

Lucas: Torrent: 0-5 Move dependent

Marnie: Hunger Switch: 0.5-5 theoretically she could still be in hangry mode when she transforms back into human form, but only affects personality and Aura Wheel and very situational

N: Illusion: 5-5 very powerful ability, need I say anything else?

Penny: Terastal Adaptability: 0-5 form dependent

Serena: Competitive: 0-5 she can't exactly use. Psyshock in her human form so there's no real need for this ability to work in her human form

Shiftry Mask: Wind Rider: 1-5 can't glide cause no cape, but can still get an attack boost

Silver: Pressure: 2-5 can make others use more energy than necessary.

Silver, Again: Regenerator: 4-5 heals quicker than most, very useful.

Wally: Inner focus: 3-5 can't flinch or be intimidated

That's everyone! Hope you enjoyed this list, if you have questions, clarifications, or objections, my asks are open!

[gtsdreamer2]

*creeeaack* "EEP!" *click*

"I can't believe we can't get Lulu out of this thing. Szasmara was stuck in one of these three weeks ago, and all it took was Brogan playing on her breeding kink and five minutes of rubbing." Gridley pressed his fingers to his temples and cursed under breath as Szas's face reddened.

"Well Szas is easy." Brogan half joked, adding to her embarrassment. "Even after all our healing...'sessions', I don't think Lu's ever come close to getting off from it. Not even once." As he worked his thick fingers around the opening of the chest, his frustration was a clear indicator that he wasn't getting the results he expected. "Come on Lulu, just let us get you out of there!" A mumbling whine could be heard from inside the incubox and Brogan put his ear up to the keyhole.

"If you're trying to listen to what her lips are saying, that's the wrong pair, but please, keep making a fool of yourself." Szas teased. "She can't speak out of her cunt." She moved him out of the way and got down on her knees, putting her ear up to the side of the box and knocking. "Lu, sweetie, say it again."

"I need my mommy!" Luciet cried out from inside her prison. She clearly sounded very distressed and scared.

"She said she needs her mommy?" The sorceress reported back to her party, standing up and dusting herself off.

"I don't know who her mommy is, so that's not very helpful." Gridley replied. "Maybe she has her 'mommy' registered as a next of kin with the guild. Szas, can you open a channel with them so we can ask?

"Of course."

"Hello, is this Faldha? Can you see and hear us?" Brogan could see the woman through the portal clearly. This was the woman that the guild gave them information for. Luciet's only contact.

"Yes, this is she. Who are you to contact me?" Faldha was the same barbarian class as the tall, thick half-orc who was addressing her, but her size was even larger than his. Clearly she was a mixed breed of some larger race and her equipment put her a good few levels above Lu's current party.

"Well," Gridley stepped in "We're Luciet's party, and, well..."

"Speak up. What?" Faldha had a habit of using her intimidation skill in normal conversation and this sent an immediate fight or flight response though the party on the other end of the connection.

"Right. Szas chimed in, pushing Gridley out of the way. "She's stuck in an incubox and we can't get her out. Nothing we have tried is working and she's been begging... well she's been being for her mommy...?" Szas's face grew red again as she uttered the words to this hulk of a woman that was clearly not biologically related to their party member. Faldha let out a relieved sigh.

"Show me the box. Put my portal as close a you can to where you think her ears are."

"Don't you think that you need to be here to get her out?" Gridley asked skeptically.

"No. I don't think it'll come to that."

"Lu, we've brought her." Szasmara said sweetly. "She said she's going to get you out of there." The sorceress adeptly maneuvered the portal right up to the side of the chest where the winning was loudest.

"Hi bunny." Faldha's low, grizzled tone reverberated through the box and found Lu's ear crystal clear. Immediately her whining stopped and she let out an "eep!" at the sound of her mommy's voice. The chest immediately stirred in response and let out a growl. "Your friends called me and told me you got stuck in here. Were you being careless and trying to loot on your own again? Silly stupid girl. I've told you that it's dangerous to wander off alone." A different kind of whimpering could be heard coming from the box now as Luciet was beginning to feel arousal from her lover's voice. This was only amplified by her situation and the active humiliation that she was being put through. The little trapped cleric pressed her smooth slit against the keyhole as her juices began to flow out from the opening. The cold metal couldn't even begin to fight off the heat that was emanating from her.

"Now I know that you know I'm a very busy woman. And I know that you know that I'm the only person in the whole wide world that could possibly get you out of here. I also know that you don't want me to have to come down here in person to get you out because you know what I would do to you if you made me take any more time out of my busy day to be here. You should feel both ashamed and grateful that you even get to be graced by the sound of my voice right now. Isn't that right, Lulu?" She could hear a small, embarrassed "mhm" come from deep in the box. "What was that?"

"Yes mommy! Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to be here and help your silly dumb bunny who's stuck in this box because she was bad and stupid and curious!" Her whole body grew hot whenever her domme made her speak up for herself in a demeaning way. She was so worked up at this point and full of shame and lust that the box was having a hard time containing it all. Her juices now freely flowing were pooling on the floor for her whole party to see.

"Gods, you really are easy for me, aren't you bunny? I bet I could make you gush for me with just one little touch right now."

"Mmmph! yes mommy. I want that." Luciet began to wildly undulate against the keyhole in some fruitless attempt to gain some additional feeling of pleasure. As her wet cunt pressed against the opening over and over, a loud squelching sound echoed throughout the dungeon.

"I already said that you don't want me to have to come down there and physically get you out. It sounds like you're so so close just from my voice. You can be a good bunny and cum for mommy, can't you? Don't you want to show your little friends how good and obedient you are?"

"Yes yes yes mommy. I'm a good girl. I'll show you! I'll...I'll...! Mmm!" As Luciet lost control and gave into orgasm, her sopping pussy began to gush and squirt out the opening of the chest as the room filled with her the pheromones of her succubus half. Immediately, her lust began to spread through her comrades before the chest finally popped open and she tumbled out. She was naked from having her clothing dissolved by the mimic. Her body was slick with her own sweat and the box's saliva. She sat with her warm tush pressed against the cold wet floor of the dungeon in a total haze. She had been edged and denied by her lover for longer than she could remember, but now she was so overstimulated just from words alone and her euphoria was almost palpable in the air.

Basking in her afterglow, her succubus blood began to boil over as her party started to suffocate in the thick miasma of her pheromones. This was different than when she would pleasure them to relive them of their injuries. This was an unholy side of her that only surfaced when she selfishly put her pleasure above that of others. Faldha watched as Luciet began to undergo a change.

"This is why I don't let you cum except on very rare and special, contained occasions, bunny. Just look at you." Luciet's Tiffany blue eyes lit up and scanned her party. She was pleased with how badly they were lusting after her naked form. Her body took in their stares and their hunger for her flesh. Her appearance began to take after her father as her horns and dark blue wings grew in. Her breasts plumped larger and her nipples grew erect to maximize her appeal and womanly charms. Lost in her own arousal, Luciet began to groan and grunt and grasp towards her fellow adventurers, who, entranced by her, began to slowly move towards her.

"That's quite enough!" Faldja bellowed, loud and assertive with her intimidation skill in full effect. Like a sun piercing the clouds, the haze of the succubus's miasma was immediately burned away, and the whole party snapped back to their senses. Luciet's horns and wings retreated back into her while her breats shrank down to their normal petite size. "I won't have my girl throwing herself at her friends for any lascivious reasons. You've made pacts and vows specifically against that."

Lu was finally coming back down from her high. "Yes mommy. S-sorry mommy." She mumbled, her face bright red as she realized she was sitting naked in a pool of her own juices in front of her team. Szasmara reached out a hand to help her up.

"Don't worry." She said, softly and full of warmth. "I've got some extra clothes, and we can ask pretend like this never happened."

"Ya, until she gets stuck again and starts crying for mommy!" Brogan laughed. Lu turned and even brighter shade of red as Faldha quickly stepped through the portal which closed behind her.

Cracking her knuckles loud enough for the whole dungeon to hear, Brogan turned around to find the source of the noise only to catch her fist right in his jaw. He flew across the room and landed hard on his ass. "No one makes fun of my bunny but me." She said sternly, throwing Lu over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "Let's go home, Lulu."

"Yes mommy."

[thewhumpcaretaker]

♥︎ Whump Dating Sim: Longing for Flight - Part 2 ♥︎

Current Heart Level: ♡♡♡♡♡ (0/5)

Last Poll | Masterlist | Image Source

Last week, the winning answer was to kick the medical supplies towards Allister and let him patch himself up. You get two relationship points!! I think I forgot to mention this, but each heart costs five relationship points. The second response would have given one point, and the third one would have given zero points, if you're curious.

Time to pick up where we left off...

CW: passing out, hospitalization, panic attack

“Suit yourself. I won’t come any closer.” You kick the medical supplies towards him and they slide to a stop next to his lap. He looks between you and the box for a minute as if he’s expecting it to explode. Then their brows furrow in confused gratitude. “…Thank you,” he says, but it sounds more like a question. They're still holding the gun on you as they open the box with shaking hands and start looking for what they need. But at least they don’t seem quite as paranoid about your presence.

You watch him sadly. He’s not going to get much done without your help. The blood is draining out of his face. He struggles for a minute, then tips his head back against the window and curses, fighting a wave of wooziness. His gun arm is becoming too heavy. It drops to his side and he starts slumping sideways. You rush forward and catch him before his head can hit the floor. So much for his protests. But at least he felt like he was in control for a moment before passing out.

You manage to slip him out of the building without incident, carrying them down the stairwell while the next wave of guards emerges from the elevator. It’s easy enough to get them back to headquarters, but it was a close call. The medical team confirms that they were only minutes from death when you brought them in.

The first thing to do after he’s stable is embed a tracking chip under his skin, in case he escapes. He looks so innocent with his eyes closed and his flesh covered in bruises, an IV trailing from his arm. It’s difficult to believe that he’s killed almost a hundred people just from the counts your own team knows about. But the fact remains that he’s dangerous.

The wallet in his pocket contains a huge amount of cash and a fake ID that reads “Bruce Silver.” But when he finally wakes up, he gives a different first name – Allister. You tell him yours as well, and apologize for the situation that he find himself in. You also confirm what you had thought - that he goes by he/they. But they won’t give a last name no matter what you try. So you'd better just start your main line of questioning, preferably by making him feel safe enough to talk.

Tagging: @bluelolblue

Please comment, ask, etc. to be added to a tag list for updates!

[acourtofthought]

"Those affected by trauma can sometimes appear to make strange or adverse decisions."

"Trauma impacts all parts of a person’s life. It influences their emotions, their brain, and, unsurprisingly, their decisions. Those struggling with conditions such as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) or complex PTSD (C-PTSD) often find their decision-making alters after experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event. This is because people make decisions based on emotion rather than logic."

"Those who experience trauma can have trouble regulating emotions, such as anger, sadness, anxiety, and shame.[2] This is known as emotional dysregulation. Emotional dysregulation affects how people dealing with trauma make decisions. For example, some individuals can struggle with feeling too much or feeling numb."

"This dysregulation stems from the changes that trauma creates in the brain. Here, the amygdala, which is the part of the brain responsible for sending warning alerts to our body, sends us a message whenever it feels like we may be in danger. However, for those living with trauma, the amygdala can’t recognise the difference between a past threat and a current threat.[3] If a person is triggered, the amygdala responds as if experiencing the actual traumatic event for the first time."

"Unfortunately, this has a significant impact on decision-making. Upon experiencing a trigger, an individual may make unwise decisions to escape the situation. These can include some of the following responses:"

Fight – Struggling or lashing out to escape a scenario which they perceive as dangerous.

Flight – Running or hiding to get away from a situation.

Flop – Doing what you are told without protest to get through a problem.

Fawn – Attempting to please someone who is harming you.

Freeze – Being unable to move or do anything.

The "Elain's choice" argument is tired at this point.

The "Elain owes Lucien an answer" argument is tired at this point.

Is stabbing a man for the first time to save your sister from death a valid reason to experience PTSD?

Is witnessing your father's murder a valid reason for one to experience trauma?

Is being turned into a brand new species after you were forcibly held down and thrown into a Cauldron though you kicked and screamed and fought and cried the entire time a valid reason to experience trauma? Where the transition itself can also be difficult?

Elain doesn't know who she is right now or what she wants. She is still finding her footing after repeated traumatic situations.

Thinking she's healed and happy because she's got gardening and baking and "friends" she met because she was pretty much forced into living in the NC and had no other choice but to make the best of her situation out of what was available to her doesn't mean she is in fact healed and happy.

Claiming Az is her choice is ignoring that Elain should probably not be involved with anyone right at this moment because she still has not opened up to ANYONE about how she feels after stabbing someone, the death of her father, living in the fae lands as a new species.

And acting like Elain should make a decision one way or another regarding a life long bond is also belittling her trauma.

I love Lucien but his mate should not be deciding if she wants to break their bond or explore their bond until she's in the right mental space to do so, otherwise any decision will not be made for the right reasons.

Again, I love Lucien but he's a 300+ year old fae who's had centuries to deal with his major losses (and he's still not completely over them). He can deal with his human recently turned fae 24 year old mate taking time to figure herself out, make a few mistakes along the way, then finding her footing based off what she wants and not only what is available to her through her sister. A few years is a blink in a fae lifespan and he still needs to figure out his own life before worrying about romance.

I'm sure they'll eventually figure themselves out and come together when the time is right but it clearly hasn't been the time so far.

Just because Elain is quiet in her trauma doesn't mean expectations should be placed on her, "She's not hiding in a corner so she should be ashamed of herself for not dealing with her bond!" or assuming she's healed enough to be making smart decisions "She's obviously happy because she's out and about so it's proof she wants Az for the right reasons!" 🤦🤦🤦

No SJM heroine starts off her book in a good place making all the right decisions (Feyre almost married Tamlin though she was having reservations about the wedding and Nesta was hooking up with random fae after spending her nights drinking and gambling).

No SJM heroine starts off her book worrying about what's best for a guy rather than needing to deal with her own issues (did Feyre give a shit about what Rhys wanted at the start of ACOMAF? Did Nesta care about Cassian's needs at the start of SF? )

Why would Elain be any different? Why is anyone faulting her for taking the exact path her sisters did?

[biblioflyer]

Starfleet Doesn’t Shoot First: The Case Against Militarism (Discovery rewatch)

Standing their ground and telling the Klingons “no, you move” got a LOT of people killed.

This is not going to win me many accolades among those who gripe about Starfleet never taking its defensive duties seriously, but I think the meta is very clear here. T’Kuvma was hoping he could create an interstellar incident and he seems to have been counting on a “just so” Starfleet response. One that wasn’t so timid as to make his claims that the Federation represented an existential threat seem silly, but also not so robust that it satisfied the conditions for a “Vulcan Hello” - a forceful response that makes the Federation seem like it would require too much effort. 

Reading between the lines, its law of the jungle logic. Predators need a certain amount of calories to be worth the effort expended in hunting, but the greater the odds of sustaining a debilitating injury the more reticent a predator will be. If we scale this metaphor up to international relations, the difference between a colony and a regional power is whether or not a great power can regime change a state without breaking a sweat or if the cost in blood and treasure would be unacceptable.

Given how events play out in the Battle of the Binary Stars and T’Kuvma’s martyrdom, I think it's very clear that had everyone on the Starfleet side been gifted clairvoyance, the best outcome would have been for Shenzou to be the only ship present when the Great Houses arrived to see who lit the beacon and assess the situation. Shenzou is at extreme risk but it can collect intelligence right up to the moment it needs to either fight or flight. 

An even more cautious approach would have been for Shenzou to withdraw to regroup with the fleet at a central mustering point, but with the risk that the coffin ship and its aspiring Great Khan cloak and vanish to threaten Federation colonies. 

The upsides here are that Shenzou is not sitting there facing down a foe that vastly outclasses her, its harder to start a shooting war if there’s no one around to shoot, and it buys time for cooler heads: the skeptical Great Houses are given no reason at all to respect T’Kuvma because he’s clearly an alarmist trying to seize moral authority based on a non-credible threat. 

The T’Kuvma curious could potentially be mollified by recognizing the legitimacy of the Klingon claim to the system, as represented by the artifact. If a key element in T’Kuvma’s argument for unification is that the Federation is a sneaky, assimilationist power that deconstructs and homogenizes culturally distinct societies, then respecting a Klingon heritage site might undermine that argument. 

Hawks are entitled to grouse about ceding territory based on dumping an invisible artifact there centuries ago and then not bothering to tell anyone, but you don’t have to like cultural relativism for it to potentially be a tool to get you out of a shooting war. This also means that the Federation has time to reassess its defensive posture and start making preparations in case this is one of those times where history decides to validate the other hawk objection: that appeasing a bully encourages them to make ever greater demands.

Because Starfleet’s response was just large enough to make for an interesting fight for the Klingons but not large enough to inflict heavy casualties, the outcome sealed the deal for the Houses that were open to T’Kuvma’s pitch: unite to conquer the Federation and potentially get cloaking technology for your trouble.

But wait! This assumes that the characters have clairvoyance! 

They’re clearly extremely ignorant about the subtleties of Klingon society and the power dynamics that have created conditions in which a proletarian rabble rouser and spiritual leader could arise and pick the right moment to gather the Great Houses, pitch them on unifying against the Federation, with the expectation that Starfleet is going to halfass its response: neither fully committing to deescalation nor exercising strategic prudence and pulling back its forces until it has sufficient force to match the Ship of the Dead and the assembled Great Houses, AND maybe get killed in the process.

Yes, yes, yes, but this entire scenario is why Starfleet practices deescalation in the first place. Burnham screwed up epically, not just in trying to mutiny, she read the situation wrong: a decapitation strike wouldn’t necessarily end the threat of a Great Khan if the Great Khan is actually a Messianic figure, something she only realizes after she’s had time to think things through and chat with Sarek in the brig. She even admits that her judgment was clouded by her desire to protect her ship and crew and, implicitly, the idea of nipping a Klingon crusade in the bud was an irrational, irresponsible rationalization of the instinct to destroy that ship because Georgiou wasn’t going to back down with civilians at risk.

Because ultimately for the “Vulcan Hello” to make any kind of sense, it can’t be just about defeating random Klingons, not just about shooting first. It's about demonstrating the force and the willingness to use it as a credible deterrent. Thus if the Great Houses arrive and see that T’Kuvma got himself blown to smithereens by a vastly inferior Starfleet ship, would they have sized up the situation and decide the Federation is full of mighty warriors or will they correctly ascertain that T’Kuvma was killed by treachery or his own stupidity?

The entire scenario of “The Vulcan Hello” seems to rest upon, at least superficially, the idea that the Klingons are relatively simple brutes who will be deterred by lethal force, whereas Starfleet standing policies take into account that hidden variables are often present in tense situations and prudence almost always favors trying to buy time to figure out what those hidden variables are. 

As Lorca says “context is for kings.”

There’s blame for Georgiou here too, but it's very muted. She put her ship and crew at extreme risk trying to talk the Klingons down, but she also had the secondary motive of recognizing that Shenzou was the first line of defense for nearby colonies that we can infer likely didn’t have defenses that were up to the task of dealing with a dreadnought that can appear and disappear at will. 

She made a choice and it wasn’t an unreasonable choice, it just wound up being the wrong choice. Starfleet should have ordered her to pull back and link up with the fleet outside the system when the Great Houses arrived, if not earlier. Prior to the arrival of the Great Houses, their rationale was likely the same as Georgiou’s: keep hailing, keep talking, and keep gathering intelligence, but once the Great Houses were in place Starfleet should have recognized that if things went sideways, they weren’t arriving with enough firepower to win that fight.

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

Skylight: Chapter 1

2.4k words. Hawks and an OC (Not Romantic!)Fluff with some angst, Found family sort of. Content Warnings: Cursing, isolation, mentions of abuse, blood-letting, let me know if I missed any

Summary: Hawks crashes through a random roof during a fight with a villain, only to find that there's something in there that definitely shouldn't be.

A/N: I am nothing if not a sucker for mistreated people finding that there are good people in the world. I've also been on the Hawks brainrot for a hot minute and finally managed to write this out. I don't know how many chapters it's going to be, but that's purely because I haven't split it up into chapters yet. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

It had been days since the giant villain attacked Fukuoka. Hawks had managed to get all the paperwork done, arranging to stop by the house to collect the remainder of his feathers and speak to the homeowner about their roof. He had the forms they would need to sign to allow him to hire construction and technically “alter” their home, as well as an extra pen in case they wanted an autograph. He’d gone without one exactly once, and it was the one time the person he needed to talk to had been a massive, raging fan that also didn’t own a single pen in their house.

He tried to remember where the villain was, how far he’d been flung. It gave him the neighborhood to look in, at least, and he took off for patrol about twenty minutes early just to be sure he could get the insurance taken care of. The flight there was peaceful, quiet. He waved to the few people who looked up and spotted him, texted a few fellow heroes, and enjoyed the feeling of late autumn wind in his feathers. He was already close enough that he could start pulling them to him.

Four or five shot through the sky towards him, and he homed in on the area they’d come from. One was missing though, encountering resistance as it tried to return to him. He tried a little harder, and the resistance only grew. He focused on the feather, feeling through it. He didn’t get much. Something warm and skin-like, and what sounded like breathing. Probably some critter in the attic that liked the color.

He landed in front of the door, double checked his paperwork and pen, and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He waited a minute more and knocked again. Again, there was no response. He tried the doorbell, and the breathing he felt through his feather stopped. Whatever was pinning the feather became damp, and it felt like the delicate thing was being squeezed. It was too strong a grip to be a small pest like a squirrel. Something felt wrong about the whole situation, and he took off again, landing on the roof and glancing into the hole he’d accidentally made days prior.

The shadows were too dark to see into, and the hero carefully slipped through the hole, avoiding the rafters that he was astonished he’d missed when he got thrown. He touched down, boards creaking under his feet. Whatever had his feather squeezed tighter still, and he could start to feel a racing heartbeat. This thing, whatever it was, could see him.

He pulled a small flashlight from one of his jacket pockets, thankful he’d been about to go on patrol. The small circle of blueish light contrasted sharply, almost unnaturally, with the warm light of the sun streaming from the roof. His footsteps thumped quietly against the wood boards as he swept the light around the attic. There were a few boxes stacked around, covered in uneven layers of dust, but they were mostly pushed to the walls. Most of the attic was open to wander. He stepped out of the circle of light, sweeping his flashlight around as it glinted off something and passed over boxes.

He slowly brought the light back until it caused the same thing to glint again. Two somethings, actually. Low to the ground and connected to some darker shape in the shadows. The shape was at once too big and too small, a gangly outline that lent the thing the air of a starving predator. It was crouched awkwardly, as if covering something, and it had begun growling at him. It was a quiet thing, one that he felt through his feather too.

He brought the light to shine directly on the creature, hoping to startle it back enough for him to let him retreat out of the attic. He had no idea if this thing had been here when he’d first fallen, why it was in an attic of all places, but he wanted nothing to do with whatever this thing turned out to be.

But it wasn’t a thing that his flashlight found. It was a person. Worse, it was a child. Thin and pale as if they had never seen the sun, crouched on all fours like a wild animal. They were quick to squint their eyes, refusing to close them entirely. Their teeth were bared, but dull and human as they were they wouldn’t likely be able to do too much damage.

The kid did rear back, letting Hawks get a good look at the tattered clothes they were dressed in and the dust built up on their skin. He saw the dirty bandages wrapped up and down the kid’s arms, beginning to fray and tatter but still somehow tied. He could see his feather, clutched tight in their left hand and fluttering to get back to him. And he could see a small sparrow underneath their chest.

He pulled the light away, both so he wouldn’t blind the kid and so he didn’t have to look at the mutilated bird anymore. Its wings had been snapped the wrong way at the joints, its beak had been broken, and it had been nailed to the floor with three nails. One through each wing, and one through the chest. Had the kid done that? He didn’t doubt it with how they were glaring at him now, murder in their eyes as they bared their teeth.

“Sorry about that,” he said, as calmly as he could. He didn’t want this kid to get aggressive with him, he needed them to be calm so he could escape and get the proper authorities. He tried to step backwards, only for the kid to snarl and swipe at him. Their nails were surprisingly long and sharp, and his foot landed further back than he intended at first. The kid withdrew, crouching over their mutilated sparrow.

“Alright, I get it. I’ll stay still.” He brought his other foot back, only for it to crunch on glass. He peered closer at his feet, seeing wires and glass. It looked, at first glance, like the smashed remains of a camera. But the only reason to have a camera in a closed attic that no one lived in was to keep an eye on something.

Or someone.

The kid was still glaring at him, though they had stopped baring their teeth. He gestured at the feather gripped in their hand.

“I need that back, alright? I can get you out of here, but I need my feather. Can I have it?” He held out his hand for the feather, gently pulling to him again. The kid crouched lower to the dead bird, hissing at him and splaying sparrow wings that he hadn’t seen earlier.

“I’m not trying to take your… your friend. I just need my feather back. See?” A few feathers drifted from his wings and hovered around his hands, dancing in the shadows. The kid froze, watching the display. Their eyes widened, tracking one feather, then the next, as their grip slowly loosened on the stolen feather. He started to slip it from their hand, only for them to snatch it back with a distressed, almost feline chirp, and pull it back close to the bird. They almost tucked it under the body, staring at him in fear and not a little anger.

The kid curled around over top of the bird and feather, as if keeping them safe from him. But the kid didn’t have a good grip, and he was able to slip the feather away from them. He felt bad, they looked ready to cry. But they didn’t make another sound, just stared after the feather as it and the rest attached themselves to Hawks’ wings.

He could hear the front door opening, and he watched as the kid went from tearful to terrified, freezing, staring at nothing. But as the door closed they bared their teeth again and snarled at him, advancing as he stood to retreat. The snarls were much louder than earlier, loud enough to be heard at least a floor down.

“Oi, brat! What’s with the fuckin’ noise?” a man’s voice shouted from the ground floor. He was stomping up the stairs ever closer, each step causing the kid to flinch as they backed Hawks towards the light. He stepped on a creaky floorboard, and heard the kid stifle a whimper as the man below him cursed. He took off through the hole in the roof, leaving a feather or two behind while he crouched on a nearby roof.

“What’s with the damn ruckus?” His feathers picked up on the man’s footsteps and the low crooning from the kid. He felt the man pick one up, hands softer than the kids had felt. Then he chuckled.

“Scaring off more birds, eh? Hm. Good brat. Catching that last one was damn annoying. Good to see you learned your lesson about keeping pets. Now stay. I’m sleeping here tonight, and I don’t want you to ruin my night by making a damn peep.”

The man’s footsteps retreated, down a set of stairs Hawks hadn’t seen, and closed a door behind him. He pulled his feathers from the attic, seething as he stared over the roofs in the neighborhood. He hadn’t tracked down who owned the house, but he would make a point to now.

He remembered the kid clinging to his feather and sent one of his secondaries back to them. He felt them snatch it from the air and gently place it on something soft. The sparrow, he thought. He said something about pets, that has to be why they were so protective of it. They’re trying to make a grave as best they can.

He pulled out his phone as he took off for patrol. He had to get an investigation going into whoever that man was, whoever the kid in the attic was. And he had to make a stop before he came back tonight.

It took him a while in the craft shop, partially because one of the late-night staff was a fan and partly because he needed to be certain he had the right materials. The moon was dull, its light filtered through clouds and only just providing enough light to see. He was thankful for the feather he’d left, leading him to the hole in the roof that he dropped through. Even with the clouds, there was still a halo of light where he stood compared to the rest of the attic.

The growling started up immediately this time, and he shone his flashlight near where he heard it. The kid was still crouched over the bird, his feather carefully laid across the small body.

“Hey, it’s just me.” It didn’t seem to reassure the kid, and he tried to take a slow step forward. The kid swiped at him again, but not close enough to actually strike him. A calculated feint. His foot landed on the floorboard, and the creak it let out seemed to hit the kid like a blow. They let out a quiet yelp and shrunk back from him, turning their head away for half a second, before snapping it back and quietly snarling at him.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down,” he muttered, slowly kneeling down an inch from where his foot had been. They kept growling at him until he’d been sitting still for three minutes. They kept glaring at him as he slowly reached for the bag he’d brought with him, cursing that he hadn’t just carried his supplies in his pockets.

The rustle of the plastic bag startled them, but he was able to slowly withdraw the wooden box and the glue he’d bought. It was a simple, plain wooden box with a flip lock, the kind people would buy to let their kids paint, but it was big enough to fit the sparrow’s body in, he hoped.

“It’s for your friend,” he explained, but the kid just kept glaring at him and the box. “I know you can’t properly bury them, but they can at least have a coffin, right?” They didn’t move. “I’m gonna put them in here, okay? I promise I’ll be gentle.” He reached towards the kid and their bird only to be met with more quiet growling.

“I’m just trying to help. Please don’t-” the kid lunged for his hand, placing their hand wide. It put them slightly off balance, which was the only thing that let him pull his hand away from their snapping teeth. Human they may be, but he’d still rather not find out what kind of damage their teeth could do.

He sighed, letting some feathers fall from his wings to dance around them again. It had worked before, maybe it would work again.

The kid watched them dance, eyes going wide again as they followed the twirling red feathers. He carefully sent a few down feathers towards the nails in the bird when the kid raised a hand to softly swipe at the feathers dancing above their head. Just one hand, but it was enough to slip them through.

The nails were carefully laid on the ground to avoid making noise, and the bird was in his hand before the kid noticed. They curled in on themself, whining as they watched him handling the dead bird. It jostled some, and they looked like they wanted to lunge at him, but some invisible force held them back. Fear did that to people; he’d seen it before.

He carefully placed the bird into the box and closed it. He flipped the flimsy, ill-fitting latch, and pulled one of his feathers from his wing and used the glue to stick it to the box. His work done, he carefully slid the box across the floor. The gentle scraping seemed to grate on the kid’s ears, and they snatched the box from him and scuttled further into the darkness. He waited for them to return, but they didn’t come back.

He stood slowly, testing each footstep as he walked the few feet to the light. The last thing he wanted was to scare the poor kid worse or wake the man sleeping here. He flew up and out of the hole before poking his head back down.

“Night, kid. I’ll see you soon.”