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dirty-bear-rick-sanchez · 2 years ago

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Double Dessert

Trans Morty oneshot! I was thinking of my own grandad while writing this, because he was very supportive of me when I came out but also worried about me getting discriminated against.

Also there are two very subtle Red Dwarf references in this. If anyone catches them please let me know as I will be so happy you have no idea. There’s no clear timeframe for when this is set apart from the fact the Citadel still exists but it’s not really really early on in the show.

Summary: while visiting the Citadel, Morty makes friends with another Morty whose Rick seems to be unusually overprotective. ~3.9k words. Warnings for mention of sexual assault (the Mr Jellybean scene) and its aftereffects, stressful coming out, discussion of trans stuff in terms that might not be everyone’s preference (e.g. a trans guy saying he used to be a girl), some ignorance of trans stuff (nothing hateful, just a lack of understanding), eating insects (I know a centipede is not technically an insect but you get the idea). There’s also a brief joke about Mortycest, but nothing like that actually happens and I don’t think it’s anything out of the ordinary for the show.

Disclaimer before we go in that I’m a trans guy.

Despite Morty’s much shorter strides, he keeps pace with Rick easily in his excitement to be on the Citadel. True, his grandpa might hate it, and he has his own fair share of bad memories of the place, but there’s something about the hustle and bustle that appeals to him. Maybe it’s the benefits of getting to go somewhere that clearly isn’t Earth without the risks that are usually present in the places he goes with Rick. After all, everything in this place is designed for at least one of the two of them, unlike the alien planets they visit, where even the most innocuous-seeming things could be deadly.

Rick pulls him into some sort of shop and instantly makes for a particular section. It’s clear he knows what he’s looking for, and Morty can identify the look in his eye that means he’s about to spend 45 minutes deliberating between two practically identical products. Not wanting to get involved, he wanders off alone to check out what the store has to offer. The best possible description he can find for it is ‘electronics store’, but there are plenty of items that don’t fit this category. Although the bulk of the shop is clearly intended for Ricks, he notices a small section at the back that seems to be aimed at Mortys, and wanders over, curious.

He’s looking around in interest when his eyes land on another Morty with the unmistakable expression of shock that indicates he’s never been here before. The Morty looks fairly typical, with no clear modifications or mutations of any sort. Even so, there’s something about him that looks subtly different in a way Morty can’t quite place.

“Hey, man.” he greets the other Morty, who starts at his voice, as if being startled out of a trance.

“Oh! H-hey.” the other Morty responds, his voice slightly high, like he’s scared.

“I-is this your first time on the Citadel?” Morty asks, trying to make the other Morty feel better, but also genuinely interested in having an actual conversation with another version of himself. Rick’s disdain for the Citadel means that Morty has spent fairly little time in the presence of his other selves.

The other Morty nods. “Y-yeah. Rick told me about this place, but he doesn’t really like to come here. This is the first time he’s let me come with him.”

“Yeah, my Rick’s kind of the same way. He doesn’t really like the Citadel. I-I think it’s kind of cool, though!”

“Me too! Check out this thing!”

The other Morty indicates a machine that reminds Morty of the stands at theme parks that sell photos taken on rollercoasters. On the screen are many pictures of Morty posing with various girls. Some might be real, taken in other dimensions, and some are clearly edited, but both Mortys amuse themselves by looking through the options, especially when they discover there’s a whole folder for Jessica. The machine has prices listed in a currency Morty doesn’t recognise for printed copies of the photos.

“Why would we pay when we could just take a picture on our phone?” Morty asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a photo. When he opens it, instead of the picture he’d been expecting to see of himself with Belle Delphine, the screen shows Rick’s laughing face, flipping him off, with text reading ‘LICK LICK LICK MY BALLS’. The two Mortys spend a couple of minutes tilting their heads at the screen, trying to figure out how it works, even though they both know neither of them has a hope of understanding.

Eventually, the two get bored and turn their attention to a selection of stim toys in various shapes and colours instead. The Mortys are joking around and laughing together when they hear heavy footsteps and a Rick calling out for his Morty, slightly frantically.

“Geez, I wouldn’t want to be that Morty, am I right?” Morty quips, before noticing his counterpart’s guilty expression.

“Aw, geez, that’s my Rick. He’s gonna be mad that I wandered off.”

Morty opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by the other Rick as he spots them.

“Morty! I-I told you not to wander off like that!”

The other Rick crouches down and takes his Morty by the shoulders in a manner that’s uncharacteristically affectionate for a Rick. His eyes shift to the side and he notices Morty. “Wh-wh-who’s this? What’ve you been doing?”

“I-I’m Morty C-137. I, uh, I actually didn’t ask your dimension, did I?”

“A-70.” replies the other Morty, at exactly the same time as his Rick snaps “None of your business.”

“Rick!” protests the other Morty. “Can you not be rude to my friend?”

“Oh, your friend? Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was in the presence of your esteemed friend. How could I be so selfish as to worry about my only grandson, wh-when he’s busy hanging out with his friend?”

Again, while the sarcasm is very Rick-like, there’s an air of over-protectiveness beneath it that Morty finds unusual for a Rick or, at least, unusual in that it’s expressed so openly.

“Rick, come on. This is the first time I get to meet other Mortys!” the other Morty whines, and something about it seems to wear the other Rick down.

“Fine.”

“H-hey, Rick, do you think Morty could come over sometime? To our dimension, I mean.” the other Morty asks excitedly.

Rick A-70 eyes Morty suspiciously. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Morty, remember what we talked about? Before I agreed to let you come with me here?”

Morty’s emotions shoot between indignation and confusion and concern. He really doesn’t understand whatever is going on here. However, it’s clear that the other Morty does, as he looks down and sighs.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, come on, we’ve gotta get home so I can stabilise these cadmium-II coils.”

“Aw, but Rick!” the other Morty protests.

“But nothing! This is very sensitive machinery, Morty! Do you know what happens if I don’t get it home where I can store it properly in the next 10 minutes? Do you? It’ll be useless, Morty, and I’ve just paid 200 blemflarcks for it, so say goodbye to your friend.”

“Aw man.” sighs Morty A-70. “I-it was really nice to meet you. I wish we could’ve hung out some more.”

“Hey, why don’t you stay here with me and my Rick for a bit? Th-that way your Rick can go back and, and sort his stuff out, and we can keep hanging out!” Morty suggests.

“Can I, Rick?” the other Morty pleads.

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon, please, Grandpa?”

Even Morty can see the other Rick’s face soften slightly at the word ‘Grandpa’ for the briefest of moments before he scrunches it up in annoyance.

“Who did you say your Rick was again?” Rick A-70 asks, turning to Morty.

“C-C-C… C-137.” Morty stammers, something about this Rick’s harsh tone making him nervous. Recognition flashes across the other Rick’s face, and Morty worries that he might say no. But, to Morty’s surprise, he sighs and gives in.

“Fine. Where’s your Rick?”

“Th-this way.” Morty heads in what he hopes is the correct direction, the Rick and Morty of dimension A-70 following behind him. Finally, he rounds a corner and finds his Rick, exactly as he knew he would be, poring over two identical-looking products.

“Hey Rick, can my new friend hang out with us for a bit?”

“Sure, whatever, Morty.” Rick responds, clearly not paying attention. The other Rick taps him on the shoulder. “Morty, I’m trying to - oh.” he cuts himself off as he sees Rick A-70.

“Look, pal, I’ve gotta get back to my dimension and deal with these coils before they go critical. My Morty has decided he can’t bear to be apart from his new friend, so will you look after him while I jump back home?”

“Please, Rick?” Morty begs.

“Eh, sure, why not.” Rick responds with a shrug and turns to go back to his items but the other Rick catches his shoulder and stops him. Morty can see him squeezing hard enough to cause pain.

“You better not let anything happen to him, got it? I’m trusting you because you don’t trust other Ricks either, but if anything happens I will know and I will fuck you up.” Rick A-70 hisses, staring intently at Rick for a few moments before pulling out his portal gun and pressing a button. Rick’s own portal gun glows in his pocket and Rick A-70 portals away.

Rick rubs his shoulder irritably and turns to Morty A-70.

“Geez, kid, your grandpa’s a real bag of laughs, huh?” Rick snarks.

The other Morty chuckles nervously. “Yeah, sorry, h-he’s kinda protective.”

Talk about understatement, Morty thinks. It’s unusual to see a Rick act like that towards anyone, let alone a Morty, but part of him is almost jealous that his new friend’s grandpa actually displays affection for him. Morty snaps out of his reverie to see A-70’s nervous expression and quickly pushes away the thoughts to deal with later, smiling at his counterpart.

The two Mortys start to kid around again while Rick picks up and pays for what he wants. Once he’s done, Rick turns to his two grandsons.

“You kids wanna get some lunch?” he asks. Both Mortys agree enthusiastically and Rick portals them home to drop off his purchases before they get into the ship. Surprisingly, Rick remains on Earth, flying to a relatively local restaurant. Morty wonders if he took the other Rick’s threat to keep his Morty safe more seriously than he let on.

The restaurant is fairly quiet, so they don’t have to wait long to be seated or served. Rick is quieter than usual, content to scribble what appears to be blueprints on a napkin until the food comes and then wolfing it down, leaving the Mortys to their bonding. Morty is fascinated to learn what the two of them have in common and what they don’t, amazed that another version of him can be so different and yet so similar at the same time.

At first, the other Morty seems to be enjoying himself too, since it’s quite a novel experience for both of them to actually interact with a kid their own age, even if it is just another Morty. As the meal goes on, however, Morty notices A-70 start to get more uncomfortable, eyes flicking around uncertainly, squirming in his seat.

“H-hey, man, you OK?” he asks his other self. A-70 starts slightly at his question.

“Y-y-yeah, I just, I, um… I need to pee.”

Morty is surprised. “Oh, well, I-I think I saw the bathrooms just over there.”

His other self shakes his head. “Yeah, I just, I, um, I, my Rick, um, my Rick normally comes with me.”

Morty feels his eyebrows raise. “Your Rick won’t even let you go to the bathroom alone?” Rick A-70 had seemed unusually overprotective, but that seems too far for any Rick.

“N-no, it’s not that, it’s, um, I… I don’t like going alone. He comes with me… to make sure nothing happens.”

Ah. That makes more sense. Morty remembers all too well what had happened to him in that tavern in the giant courthouse steps. It had taken him a while to be able to go into public bathrooms after that, too. In fact, he clearly remembers a time when he’d wet himself in Rick’s ship because he hadn’t been able to bring himself to even enter a bathroom on one of their adventures, much less use it. He knows Rick must have known the reason because, for once, Rick hadn’t snapped at him or made fun of him for it, which, in a way, had been even worse. Still, that had been a long time ago, long enough that Morty is now usually able to use public bathrooms without too much of a problem. However, it makes sense that something like this could have also happened to this Morty, and that he’s still affected by it. That would explain why his Rick seems so overprotective, too.

“H-hey, man, it’s OK, I get it. I’ll come with you.”

A-70 seems to brighten at that. “R-really?”

“Sure!”

The two Mortys head for the bathroom. When they get there, A-70 heads for the stall, which surprises Morty slightly, given his own history, but he concludes that maybe this Morty had something happen to him at a urinal instead, or that the lock makes him feel safer, or maybe he just has to take a dump. However, A-70 comes back out almost immediately after entering.

“I-it’s out of order.” He says, wringing his hands nervously.

“W-well, hey, we’re the only ones in here. If you want me to guard the door while you use the urinal-”

“I can’t.”

“I-it’s OK, I can even wait outside if you want-”

“I can’t!” the other Morty cries. His response surprises Morty, and he flinches slightly.

“W-why?”

“Because I don’t have a penis!”

“Wha-I… d-did something… happen to it?”

“No, I never had one!” A-70 is getting increasingly frustrated and Morty doesn’t understand. “I-I’m transgender.”

“You’re a girl?”

“I was a girl. Not anymore.” A-70 responds, looking at the floor, one arm wrapped across his chest, clutching his opposite arm. “I-I thought you knew.”

“N-no, I-I didn’t realise. Sorry, man.”

A-70 doesn’t respond, and Morty feels himself talking nervously to try and make the situation better. “Can’t you, like, use the women’s?”

A-70 grimaces at that, and Morty knows he’s said the wrong thing. He panics more and keeps talking.

“O-or, hey, I think my Rick has a centipede you can swallow that eats your pee! D-do you want me to ask him?”

The other Morty nods, and Morty thinks that he must really not want to use the women’s if he’d rather swallow the centipede. He doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t want to make things worse for his other self. He places a hand on A-70’s shoulder.

“C-come on, let’s go ask him.”

A-70 seems hesitant. “W-w-what are you going to tell him?”

This stuns Morty. “Uh, that you need to pee but you can’t because the bathroom is out of order?”

“You won’t tell him that I’m… trans, will you?”

Morty blinks. “Why not?”

“My Rick said I shouldn’t tell people. He says they might try and hurt me.”

“What? Come on, it’s Rick. You’re his grandson. He doesn’t care if you’re different to the other Mortys. There’s Mortys that are cowboys a-and hammers and all sorts of things.”

A-70 seems a bit more willing but still worried. “OK. B-but can we at least ask him in private?”

Morty smiles reassuringly at his other self. “Sure thing, man!” A-70 smiles back at him, weakly, and he feels a slight sense of relief.

As they walk back to the table, Morty sees A-70 holding his hands together at his solar plexus, exactly the way he does when he’s nervous. No matter how many other versions of himself he sees, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being amazed at the similarities.

They reach the table and Rick looks up at them.

“R-rick, can we talk to you outside?”

Rick’s eyes flick between the two Mortys, trying to work out what’s going on.

“Fine.” he gives in after a few seconds, standing up. The three of them walk outside to where the ship is parked.

“Wh-what is it, Morty? I-if you’re about to ask if you guys can go somewhere private so you can masturbate with twice as many hands, fine, but at least wait until I’ve had dessert.”

“What? No!” Morty exclaims, shocked by the suggestion. “No, Rick, I… do you have the centipede?”

This seems to throw Rick off his rhythm. “The… centipede?”

“The pee centipede. The one that you swallow it and it makes you not have to pee.”

“Oh, that. I-I mean, sure, but didn’t you just go to the bathroom? What do you need the centipede for?”

“It was out of order.”

“What? No it’s not. I used it earlier.”

“The stall is.”

Rick’s expression is a mixture of confused and exasperated. “It only eats pee, Morty. If you have to take a dump, y-you’ll just have to go in the bushes or something.” he waves vaguely in the direction of some nearby bushes.

“No, Rick, it’s not for me. It’s for A-70. He can’t use the urinals.”

Rick eyes A-70 questioningly. “Why not?”

Morty pauses, looking at A-70, not sure whether he should tell Rick or not.

“I-I don’t have the… equipment.” A-70 mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards his crotch.

Rick shrugs and tosses the centipede to A-70, who catches it and chokes it down in a way that tells Morty this isn’t the first time he’s done this. Poor guy must really not want to use the women’s if he’s voluntarily choosing this option instead.

“So, you have an accident, or you just never had one?” Rick asks, casual as ever, pulling his flask out from his lab coat and sipping from it. Despite having already swallowed the centipede, A-70 chokes again.

“Rick!” admonishes Morty. “Y-you can’t just ask that!”

He regrets his outburst immediately, worried that it makes the answer obvious. He’s never had a Morty friend before, and he doesn’t want to lose this one.

Rick shrugs. “Why? I-it’s not a big deal, Morty. You think I’ve never met a trans version of you before?”

“There’s more like me?” A-70 exclaims.

“Sure, there’s loads, in both directions. Plenty of Ricks who thought they only had granddaughters just to learn they actually had a grandson, or vice versa.”

“Why did you - why did my Rick never tell me?” A-70 seems shaken.

“I-I dunno, kiddo. Maybe he never met any. N-no offense, but your Rick, I don’t get the impression he gets out a lot.”

“Will you take me to meet them?” A-70 asks.

“Oh. I mean, I-I guess I could. I don’t exactly know their dimensions offhand.”

“Hey, yeah, y-you could like, form a club, o-or a support group, or something!” Morty suggests excitedly.

“Psh. La-ame!” Rick snorts. Morty shoots him a disapproving look, and he quickly backpedals. “What? Everything you’re into is lame, Morty. A-anyway, I want my dessert, c’mon.”

Rick ushers them back into the restaurant and Morty notices his other self seems much happier and more animated. He decides not to comment on the fact that Rick lets A-70 order first, or the fact that he lets him get both options when he can’t decide between two. The rest of the time passes pleasantly, much more so than usual, and Morty can’t help but feel a tiny prickle of jealousy at the fact that Rick is rarely so nice to him. At the same time, he’s enjoying having a good time with his grandpa, enjoying actually having a friend.

A few times, he catches Rick staring in the way he recognises to mean that Rick is doing something inside his own head. Once they finish, Rick pays, and they walk out of the restaurant before portalling back to A-70.

That dimension’s Rick is sitting on the couch, idly channel-hopping through interdimensional cable. However, his expression and the speed with which he gets up when he sees them betrays his nervousness.

“H-hey, buddy. Did you have a good time?” he asks his Morty, ruffling a hand through his hair as Morty A-70 runs into his arms for a hug. Again, Morty feels a familiar pang of envy at their easy affection. He wonders if this Rick was more affectionate with Morty when he thought he was a girl, and the habit never broke, or if they’re simply closer than he and his Rick are. He thinks again of the way his Rick treated this Morty earlier, but quickly pushes the thoughts away to deal with later.

“Rick! A-apparently there’s other trans Mortys! Can we go and see them sometime?” Morty A-70 asks, and his Rick visibly stiffens.

“What did-” he begins, but Rick cuts him off, pressing a spot in his temple where Morty assumes an implant is hidden.

“I’ve sent a list of coordinates to your portal gun, if you want to check ‘em out. T-they’re split by gender, depending if your Morty wants to just meet other guys or not.”

The other Rick doesn’t look pleased, but his Morty grins massively.

“Thank you, Rick!” he exclaims, and his Rick’s expression softens as he sees his Morty’s happiness.

“C-come on, Morty, we’d better go.” Rick turns to him, waving off the other Morty’s gratitude.

“O-OK, Rick.” Morty turns to his other self. “I-I had a lot of fun today! We should do this again sometime! I’ve never been friends with another Morty before!”

“Yeah!” the other Morty replies enthusiastically, grinning at being called a friend. He turns to his Rick. “Can I, Rick?”

Rick A-70 looks at his Morty’s pleading eyes, then at their counterparts. “I guess so.”

“Yes!” the other Morty punches the air.

The two Mortys wave at each other as Morty steps through the portal with Rick. They emerge next to the ship and both get in.

They fly in silence for a few minutes while Morty tries to decide if it’s worth spoiling the happiness with his question.

“What is it, Morty?” Rick sighs.

“Wh-what?”

“I can tell you’re building yourself up to say something. Just spit it out.”

“W-well, I, um… you were really nice to that other Morty.”

“Weird way to thank me for paying for a meal for you and your friend.”

“I just mean… why do you never do that for me? You’d never let me get two desserts.”

“How else should a grandpa react to his grandson’s coming out?”

“C-coming out?”

“Coming out, like out of the closet? C’mon, Morty, you must’ve heard that one before.”

“I-I have, I just… would you do that, for me, if I came out?”

“If you came out, sure. Why, you got something you want to tell me? Or you just want double dessert?” Rick looks at him expectantly, and Morty isn’t sure how to respond.

“D-did you say there’s girl Mortys? Like Mortys like me who… became girls?”

“Sure, Morty. I-i-is that really such a shock to you? Ah, what am I saying, you had your mind blown by a cowboy version of yourself.”

Morty takes a moment to think. “So… it would be OK if I was one of them? If I wanted to be a girl?”

“Boy, girl, anything else you can think of, whatever you want. Y-you’ll still be the same pain in my ass either way.”

Morty feels a small smile spreading across his face. He knows what that means in Rick-speak. And though he’s never given much thought to his gender identity before, it’s nice to know that he’ll be accepted whatever happens.

The jealousy he feels at the thought of Rick A-70 openly worrying about his Morty, hugging him casually, treating him like a grandson instead of a problem still needles at him, but it’s easier to ignore in the warm glow of acceptance. He knows it’s something that will come back to haunt him at the worst moments, usually when he’s trying to sleep or shower or when he and Rick have an argument, but he hopes that thinking about gender will occupy his mind enough to keep his thoughts from drifting too far towards the negatives for a while.

#rick and morty #rnm #rick sanchez #morty smith #trans morty #trans morty smith #trans #transgender #rick and morty fanfic #rnm fanfic #my fic #my writing

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years ago

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Jungkook: Deep Breath (6) 🔞

In which Jungkook finally asks what's on his mind.

Tags/warnings: Alien!Jungkook part 9643 I guess, human!Reader, futuristic, Angst, Fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut, jungkook is VERY touchy, Alien shenanigans and scary human things

Additional Chapter Warnings: no straight up smut but VERY steamy themes wink wink, male masturbation, implied mutual masturbation, some kumya-alien anatomy lessons lmao

Chapter Length: short/mid

<- Previous | Next ->

It's a few days after your little drunken incident, and right now, you're both having a modern western-style stare down in the middle of your apartment.

You're standing across from him, a few steps worth of distance between you; his eyes never moving away from you at all. You both feel insanely caught doing something bad- though it's technically just a huge misunderstanding. Normally, everyone else would laugh it off and move on with their lives- but you're not in a normal situation.

No, because he's got his mask off, having made himself some breakfast, believing you're not home- and you're walking around half naked, panties and short sleeveless top covering almost nothing, because you thought he'd gone off to work.

Well- certainly, this was a moment of major miscommunication.

"uh-" you start, but you're frozen as well. You've never seen him with his facemask off, but you had certainly tried to figure out what he looked like. Nothing came close to actually seeing it though- in your eyes, he looked way better than anything you could've imagined.

His mind, however, isn't so innocent.

He blames it on that time of the month for him- his libido heightened to annoying levels, making him hyperaware or things he'd normally easily dismiss and explain. But right now, his mind isn't functioning like normal- suddenly, it starts to come up with sinful explanations to every small detail about you in this moment.

How your pupils dilate at the sight of him, possibly a sign of arousal? Maybe you want him too, maybe you'd like his hands to roam under the fabric of your dark top that does little to hide the outline of your breasts, nipples peaking against the inside, clearly visible to him. How your underwear sits snug against your form- incapable of keeping his thoughts at bay as he imagines his hands slipping between the black fabric and your skin. Or how your legs look so soft to the touch-

He has to snap out of it.

He swallows thickly, apologizing under his breath before he rushes past you, door to his room slamming shut.

Instinctively, you blame it on yourself. You should've called out, done something- he must be so uncomfortable now that you've caught him like this. You carefully walk towards his door, knocking. "jungkookie?" you ask, receiving no answer but a frustrated sound from the other side. "I'm sorry, I forgot you were home today.." you say, unaware of what's going on on the other side.

"it's o-okay, don't worry about it!" jungkook hurries out on the other side of the door, voice desperate and words actually spoken out and not telepathically- and you believe its because he's either embarrassed or he just wants you to forget.

"I'll be more careful from now on, I promise." you say defeated, and Jungkook simply hums an answer, before you leave to walk inside your own room to figure something out.

It's all fine until you hear.. Something inside your head, and it's him; his familiar voice in your thoughts like he'd done in the past as well-

Though this time, it's not at all the sweet and friendly tone when he says your name.

"ugh.." he breathes, and it sounds so close, as if you're right there with him. His sounds are definitely ones lf frustration and desperation- but you also know lust when you hear it.

He's.. Jerking off?

You instinctively want to dash out your room and tell him that you can hear him, but you also dont want to make it a even more awkward for him. At the same time, you can't help but be affected by it; who wouldn't be, if they heard their crush getting it on by himself next door?

In his room, he's already got his sweatpants dropped to his ankles together with his underwear, back sprawled over his bed as he breathes heavily. One of his hands is over his mouth, careful to be quiet, while the other desperately pumps his length, thumb occasionally flicking over the sensitive head of it. He's embarrassingly hard just from the sight of you dressed in mere underwear- how the funk is he supposed to ever face you again anytime soon? He feels bad, but he also can't stop himself, imagining it's your hand and not his.

What if it wasn't even your hand? What if he got to just push his cock between your thighs, nice and slow, your skin probably soft and warm. He'd love to have his seed on your skin to claim you, or better yet, have it inside- he'd take contraceptives just to get to cum inside your warm cunt, to be this close and have you bare. He's got no idea if you'd be freaked out by his tongue, or his knot, or him in general- but in the heat of the moment, he likes to believe you wouldnt. You'd accept him, you'd want him just as much as he wants you.

With a choked moan he finally cums into nothing; white ropes covering his fist and nothing else as he comes down from his rather dissatisfying organsm.

He really needs to avoid you during his monthly high he decides, before he gets moving to clean himself up.

unknowing that in the other room, you're doing just the same.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #Jungkook smut #deep breath au

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slothgiirl · 3 years ago

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the spy part 1(keith x reader)

8k. explicit content. while on medical leave reader meets the red paladin of voltron during the war against Zarkon.

The corridors are well lit. It’s like being in a brand new hospital, this ship in the rebel fleet.

People hustle around, landing, taking off in smaller ships to distant planets. Your hand goes to your arm. The medic had given you a movement’s leave, so you were resting for now on this ever moving ship.

Outside the widows, you spy an assortment of ships, each one’s origins clear from the design. So many planets, so many peoples banding together against Zarkon. You’d win the war.

It was what you kept telling yourself.

You would.

It was just a matter of time.

You round the corner, stretching your arm across your chest, a simple form of physical therapy in deep space. You hadn’t seen earth since being deployed. The galaxy garrison seemed like a dream from another life. You had been on track for the chemistry department, long term missions to mars to analyze soil and dust, not this, not a war. You take a breath.

And spot the Red Paladin.

He’s one of the most recognizable people in the universe, and his grungy hair and distinctive outfit does him no favors. You’d never seen him before, not in the flesh. Sure. Voltron had saved your ass a handful of times. You wouldn’t have survived the assault on Arrakis if Voltron hadn’t rammed the shield. Trapped. Piloting a fighter craft that was closer to a mosquito irritating the Galra then pushing them back.

But you hardly knew him.

He’s gripping the railing tightly, trying to camouflage into the wall as an alien with crystalline blue skin and hair like saturated indigo leans into him.

The line of his shoulders is taut, brittle.

You don’t even think.

“There you are,” you force yourself to be synthetically cheerful as you smile easily at the paladin, who you realize quickly you don’t know his name but you know what he is and that must be an awful feeling, being so recognizable without being known. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you lied, elbowing the blue alien out of the way. You could never tell much from a single glance at themis species despite their largely humanoid appearance.

You put your hand on his arm loosely, “come on, we’re late enough and you know how annoyed the others get.” Good, that seemed convincing enough.

The red paladin’s eyes go wide, his mouth a grimace and it’s then that you notice the feverish flush to his skin.

But he doesn’t pull away or argue.

You ignore the alien and decide small talk was the way to go until you put some distance, “I’m kind of hurt you didn’t come visit me while I was healing,” you stick close to the truth, “but since it only took an hour? a varga? for me to heal I won’t hold it against you.” He’s too warm.

Maybe the space flu?

Was that even a thing?

You weren't sure.

Mostly, you snuck into work camps and blew up strategic targets using whatever you could get your hands on to make a bomb. The chemistry came in handy.

He sways as he walks, looking like your roommate at the garrison after a few too many hits after an exam. “Do I know you?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just,” you look back, but the alien’s been left a couple turns back, “you looked uncomfortable.” You take a step back, letting go of him. “Are you okay?”

His expression furrows, mouth a pinched line as he goes from suspicious to annoyed, takes a u-turn back to suspicious as he studies you, before relaxing. “Yeah. yeah. . .who are you?”

You introduce yourself, taking on the meaningless garrison designation at the end, “technically second year member, though I’ve been with the runners mostly.” No designation more than a number.

“You do look human,” he replies simply, moving to get a look at your ears, “not many of those out here.”

“And yet somehow the sentries always look the other way,” you muse, “not very bright. I’m almost convinced the Empire’s in it’s failing bureaucracy days.”

He winces, before deadpanning, “eh, I don’t know how useful a lion is against the DMV.”

You laugh.

He takes slow deliberate breaths, steadying himself, “I’m Keith.”

“Seriously though, do you need to see a medic?” He looked in serious need of a tylenol. The ships were usually crisp, you wore a jacket most of the time to stave off the permanent chill.

Keith shakes his head, chewing his lip before meeting your gaze with an intense concentration in his violet eyes, as if he was gauging how much titrant he could add before hitting the endpoint and if half a drop was worth the risk. “I’m just. . .going through something.”

“Anyone I can call for you?” You weren't about to abandon him here. Sure, he was a paladin and could probably look after himself. But you couldn’t in good conscience walk away.

He swallows, looking down for a moment and you are startled to find how much you miss his attention boring into you with the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen.

“No,” Keith replies mulishly as he jerks away from you. “I’m fine.”

Which was a total lie. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling well but you weren’t about to get on his case. You were sure he had people for that. He wasn’t some random soldier in arms with you that you watched out for and hoped not to have to watch die.

You swallow the bitter thought away, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leaning back against the hall, you watch evenly as Keith stumbles, catching himself on the wall. His mouth is a drawn line of determination.

You didn’t understand why.

There was aid here. It wasn’t the same as crawling through cramped mining tunnels and swallowing back pain forcing yourself to work through it until the mission was accomplished.

“Do you need help,” you ask.

“No.” He leans a hand against the wall.

You raise a brow, wondering if he would pass out for whatever weird space flu he had clearly caught and you could only hope it was nothing like the infections that ran rampant in the work camps, or if he would give in and accept your offer of help. The former seemed more likely.

You don’t ditch him though, focusing your attention on the porthole to the stars.

There was no rush: no reason to help him by force. People didn’t learn if you babied them you’d caught on quick back on earth during your tutoring hours. You had to let them fall and smash their face in sometimes.

So you stay, watching the stars.

Keith makes no move to take another step.

It still got you, looking out into the vastness of space and realizing this really was your life now, you were out here, further than you’d ever dreamed. Everywhere you looked, novel stars, distant planets teaming with life. You could have done without the war, but it was what it was.

“And here I thought Mars would be the furthest I’d go,” you comment more to yourself than Keith.

The red paladin makes a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Earth’s, or was, at the beginning of our space age. People had barely begun to live on the research bases on Mars,” you watch him out of the corner of your eye in case he really does pass out, “so no Star Trek for me but now I’m here.”

“There’s a war going on.”

You turn over to look at him, sort of annoyed because yeah you got that, spent enough time in the trenches without a fancy lion spaceship, but the bubbling annoyance dissipates when you see the upturned corners of his mouth. Keith was teasing you.

Shifting your weight, you add, “yeah well, instead of being a footnote in a Mars base’s history I’ll be a footnote in this war instead.” Gallows humor. You needed a lot of that when regularly infiltrating camps and posing as a slave, as a prisoner, the bottom of the barrel that wouldn’t get a second glance from the Galra soldiers.

He frowns. “I don't think anyone’s just a footnote.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Keith looks away.

You feel bad. “It’s probably better not to be so cynical,” you muse, “but it’s like the vice president thing, no one remembers them unless the president gets assassinated.” God you couldn’t help how dark your humor could veer even when trying to be positive.

He looks over at you, head tilted, considering. Despite being standoffish, Keith was easy to read unlike the slick space pirates you’d encountered.

You meet his gaze head on.

“I might need some help,” he allows.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. “If you’re sure,” you utter, regarding him carefully and unable to keep the teasing from your voice. You shouldn’t. You barely knew him and what little you’d learned made it clear he wouldn’t take well to your teasing.

War made quick brothers out of everyone.

But Keith held himself afar.

A questioning glance danced in his uniquely violet eyes as he tried to get a read on you. “I am.”

You nod, stepping besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. You were always caught by surprise by how heavy a grown adult could be. And depending on the alien. . .

He takes a step, still holding himself afar from you, barely resting any weight on you. His muscles were stiff under your touch, back rigid that matched the uncomfortable look on his chiselled features.

You follow his lead.

At Keith’s sedate pace, it would take quite a while before you dropped him off where you needed to go. Being personable was part of being a leader or it’d lead to mutiny. Not that you had ever gotten that far. The Galaxy Garrison had slapped the graduation badge on your uniform and sent you into space.

You scrabble for familiar territory, earth and the garrison. The Black Paladin was a Garrison member returned from the grave. Rumor had it all the paladins were garrison deserters.

Veronica McCain did share a familiar resemblance with the blue paladin. It was probably true.

“I attended the Garrison campus at Guiana,” you offer. “I was hoping for Texas or Florida to be closer to home, but I didn’t test into pilot or engineer.”

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat.

Even through the fabric of his uniform, he felt warm. How anybody could be warm in such cold halls was anybody’s guess. A permanent chill had sunk its way into your bones. You missed the humid heat of Guiana.

“It was nice though. The jungle was pretty close and it was always hot,” you tell him. “I thought I wouldn’t miss the humidity, step outside and it was like having just showered but I do. These ships have to be at 15 C.”

“Texas is hot too.” Keith utters quietly.

“Isn’t the desert cold at night though,” you ask, already knowing the answer. It had been basic earth science.

“Yeah. It is.” There’s longing in his voice. You wish he’d say more just to hear him speak.

Warmth spreads, an embarrassing tell, through your cheeks.

“I did miss the snow while there,” you continue, “it didn’t snow much up in Vancouver but it was never as hot as Guiana, and the rain was warm!” You had never gotten over that. The rain would spot and start throughout the day but the sun would keep on shining.

“What were you,” Keith asks bluntly.

“Chemisist, more the physical and inorganic type,” you admit, “it was fun doing wet labs.” That had gotten you hooked back in regular school. “Then got shunted to command track after a few too many volunteering opportunities. Guess the lesson there’s to not try too hard.”

That gets a laugh out of him.

“You,” you ask him as he shifts more of his weight onto you, finally accepting the help he asked for. Stubborn guy.

“Pilot.”

You look over at him, his wild hair brushing against your cheek and the simple action shouldn’t excite you but it does. He was hot with sharp features offset by a certain enthralling earnestness but he could run a comb through his hair.

Keith didn’t seem the pilot type: arrogant, loud, generally strong personalities.

“You any good,” you ask though you’ve heard about Voltron so he has to be pretty fucking good to be part of them. How did Voltron choose its pilots?

He smirks easily, close to a smile at the mere mention of piloting and you knew that moment he loved it: didn’t matter if he was good at it or not. You swallow hard as anticipation buzzes under your skin for no good reason.

Get your head out of the gutter, you tell yourself.

“I’m a pretty good pilot,” Keith answers, somehow managing to sound like he’s stating a fact instead of bragging.

“Just pretty good?” You smile at him, letting him know you were only joking around as you both round another corner, finally making it to the transient quarters. People were always dropping in and out of mobile spaceports like these.

He snorts. “Better than most.” Keith shrugs, smiling over at you.

“Don’t be modest on my account,” you utter, looking away, not sure what to do about the growing heat in your body that had nothing to do with temperature controls.

“It’s true,” he says simply.

Honesty was a hard thing to come by. You were finding more and more reasons to like the red paladin as you reach his current room. No special treatment here.

Or maybe it was politics and optics, making sure everyone knew Voltron was of the people and not aiming to replace Zarkon as rulers of the universe.

Keith places a hand against the door, putting space between you both.

You swallow, glancing away, feeling some of the tension ease.

“You sure you don’t want me to send a medic,” you ask him, looking over at his striking eyes. The heat under your skin is a live wire: you curl your toes in your shoes. People usually didn’t affect you this much. Even the smell of him was so distinct, drawing you in.

It was an unprecedented reaction.

He must feel it too.

Keith studies you with an enraptured fascination shining in his wide eyes, mouth parted on the verge of answering. Both your bodies sway towards each other like branches in the wind: sunflowers orienting towards the sun.

You shift your weight from one foot to another.

It relieves enough tension for you to shift away.

“No. No medic,” Keith finally answers.

“Right then.” But you don’t make a move to leave.

He says nothing.

The silence is broken by the hum of the ship's engines under your feet. People move about and you can hear their footsteps echoing on the metal floors.

Supposedly quintessence powered ships smelled like ozone.

This one was powered by crystals and some Olkari engine. You wouldn't know the specifics, they were beyond you. And not your job.

You look back at him, ready to leave. The space between you could so easily tilt to awkward and you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you found yourself so entranced by Keith. You barely knew him. You didn’t want to be one of the soldiers with a photograph in your pocket and a farflung hope that you’d-

He’s looking at you, cautious, movements slow and deliberate as if he’s caught between thinking and simply doing.

Then Keith’s demeanour becomes determined: deciding to take the leap without looking down. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you.

For a second you’re baffled, trying to figure out how you got to point B when this wasn’t a bar and you had no agenda, before you shrug and kiss him back. Keith was undeniably attractive. He was even a bit taller than you which was compelling, you were on the tall side for a girl.

It’s not some unsolvable thought experiment, you kiss him back.

And a current of static electricity runs through your core. Heat pools after only just a kiss that steals your breath away.

You can’t get enough, his hands warm against your skin, igniting a delicious sensation in your very core. You want more. You kiss him harder, your mouth against his, sucking on his bottom lip.

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his shift.

Keith kisses you back, matching your frenzied energy, his mouth parting against yours and pulling you flush against his chest.

It does nothing to dissolve the tension, the charged energy between you spikes. Like a fire fed by wood it grew.

It was a heady feeling, his hands caressing your cheeks as Keith kissed you with a vigor you thought only existed in soapy dramas. Heat pools in your belly like a sinking stone: you liked his intensity.

Keith pulls away, catching his breath, resting his forehead against yours.

Some of the muddled list clears from your head, now completely in the gutter as you press Keith against the door to his room.

Oh. . .were you really doing this?

Keith looks a fuckable mess, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. Still, he hesitates.

You can feel the question linger in the air, can feel it in the featherlight touch of his hands ghosting over your cheeks as he makes to pull away, to let you go if you want to turn back now. But you don’t.

You want to run your hands through his hair. You’re practically burning up wondering how Keith would look splayed on the bed between your thighs. . .how he would feel.

Would he be just as intense in bed as he fucked you?

“You feel it too,” he asks quietly.

You furrow your brows, thrown. There were a lot of intense emotions coursing through you all narrowed down to feeling horny as a teenager back on earth. Masturbation only went so far.

You swallow, trying to rack your brain cells together and say something. Yeah. It was a bit. . .much. Space much. But that didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t taken any drinks from strangers.

The connection was too strong to discount the possibility of space weirdness affecting both of you.

“Yeah,” you reply, sounding more whiny than you’d like to. The apex of your thighs throbbed with want. Anticipation had built up and he was right there; Keith

s breath fanned over you, his forehead against yours like a touchpoint.

Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his shirt.

In the hall.

Where anyone could see.

“So what now,” you ask, “medic?”

Keith snorts, “No. I just-do you want to come inside?”

You smirk. Everyone knew what that meant. There were so many variations with the same outcome.

“Yeah. Okay.” You put a pin in any alien space nonsense and slip inside Keith’s assigned quarters for however long Voltron was here for.

The lights are off. You don’t bother to study the room when Keith crushes his mouth against yours. You stumble around in the dark, feeling emboldened now that he’d voiced an invitation, he wanted this as much as you did, and run your hands up his chest. He was lean and lithe. Keith leans into your touch, a shiver running down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair and run your tongue over his bottom lip.

Keith moans, the sound scratchy from the back of his throat excites you.

It was thrilling to know you could elicit such a response from someone. You liked feeling hot and sexy. And from a guy like Keith who you were vibing with. . .

He finds the jagged hem of your cut tank top, which had doubled as a bandage, and slides his hands under your shirt. His fingers are calloused, skin hot against yours and there was always something so carnal about skin on skin touch. Keith clutches at your sides and leads you backwards.

You trust that he knows the layout.

Your mind has boiled down to simple desires.

“Keith,” you mumble against his mouth as he guides your hips against his and you feel his cock beneath the fabric. It goes straight to your ego: straight to your pussy.

More heat. It’s unbearable how much your body throbs and you moan against him, against his lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling.

“Mhm,” he asks, just as overcome with lust as you were. Keith tilts his head up, and you kiss his jaw, kiss the side of his throat, nipping at the flesh and enjoying the breathy moans he makes as your knees hit the bed.

You want more.

You move your hands to his shoulders, “let's get this off,” you utter softly, pushing at his jacket.

“Okay,” he replies, crowding you against his bed until you have no choice but to sit down. Keith discards his jacket, and pulls his shirt over his head.

Your breath hitches in your throat. It’s dark. You can’t see him well. You still react like a charged electron.

“Now you,” Keith states simply, not exactly a command. It was nice, the lack of mind games and subterfuge.

You scoot up further on the bed, shrugging your bomber jacket off.

He’s watching.

Awkwardness creeps up on you. There was no sexy way to take off a sports bra.

You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Then you peel off your sports bra. The elastic worked too well.

Keith’s sitting up on his knees.

“You’re beautiful,” he states.

“Come here,” you utter, inviting him closer.

He complies readily, cupping your cheek and kissing your mouth eagerly, closer to a lover than a random encounter.

You grab his other hand, guiding him up to your chest, to your breast. Keith runs his thumb over your nipple, gooseflesh rises on your skin. He trails bruising kisses down your throat.

Your breath catches in your throat. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you, savoring the feel of his chest against yours.

“Fuck,” you groan as Keith bites down hard at the crook of your neck, harder than you’d expected.

He stills. “I’m-I,” making to pull away.

“No,” you reach for him, tilting his head up as you move to straddle his waist, “it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.”

“I won’t do it again,” he stammers out.

“I didn't say I didn't like it.” You push him down against the bed, topping him. “Just warn a girl.”

Keith wraps his hands around your hips, tugging at the waistband of your trousers. “These are kind of in the way.”

Laughing, you reply, “could say the same to you.” Your hands pop the button of his jeans.

It’s a fumble to pull your trousers down. Neither of you care, eager to get on with it. He shoves his jeans down his legs along with his boxers.

You straddle Keith, completely naked and lean down to capture his lips against yours. His cock twitches against your thigh and your toes curl up. His tongue runs over your top lip, you part your mouth, letting him in.

You cup his cheeks between your hands, your hips rolling against his.

He thrusts feverishly against you. His fingers dig into your bare hips, skin against skin.

“Come here,” Keith utters hoarsely, “I wanna fuck you.”

“Think I’d rather ride you,” you reply back breathlessly.

“You can do that after,” he whines, a rumble emanating from his chest but your head is too fucked up to make sense of it.

You sit up, hands on his chest. “That’s presumptuous of you.”

Keith grins, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and rolls you over so he’s on top. “Is it,” he asks rhetorically as his hand reaches between your thighs, ghosting over the wetness of your pussy, “when you’re this wet?”

You moan, canting your hips, cashing the feel of his hand, wanting relief. It was a mounting pressure in your belly, a forest fire under your skin and you needed Keith. “Okay. yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes when Keith bent his head and licked a stripe from your nipple to your collarbone. You whimper, lost in the sensation.

“Tell me what you want,” Keith asks.

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” you utter, you hands clutchinf at his shoulders, bringing him flush agaisnt you.

Keith aquieses.

You bend your knees, spreading your legs as he positions his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Keith mutters as he pushes into you.

Fuck indeed. You moan his name without thought, closing your eyes and laying your head back against the bed. His cock fills you up, sliding into your pussy with ease given how turned on you were.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he stretches you out.

“God, yes,” you utter dazed.

Keith moves his hips. You roll your hips up to meet him. He nips at your collarbone as he thrusts into you with favour.

As promised he fucks you.

Keith captures your mouth in a kiss that catches the moans you make as he reaches between you and runs his thumb over your clit. His pace, the way he was kissing you madly. . .the heat that had been building since you’d met him comes crashing down.

You come.

Leaving you boneless.

“Keith,” you whimper.

“Sh,” he tells you, kissing the shell of your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

“You..sort of already did,” you utter completely fucked out.

“Turn over.” Keith says even as he’s already helping you move, his arms supporting your weight. He presses his lips on the back of your neck, as he grabs a pillow and sets it under you.

You bring up your knees, laying on your legs, “thought I was going to go next,” you tease, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

He stills, “if you. . .”

“No. No,” you shrug, “I did ask you to fuck me.”

Keith runs his hands over your shoulders, sliding down your sides. He squeezes your ass with his hands.

“Best two out of three,” you offer, half joking half serious because while you were still blissed out from having just orgasmed, you could already feel your pussy clench with anticipation. Seriously, the effect he had on you-

You can feel his smile against your skin, “If you think you can handle it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you reply, arching your back into him, titling your head back, and pulling his hair so you could kiss him. It was sloppy, and the angle was awkward, but none of it mattered when Keith stroked your pussy with his fingers, dipping into your wet folds.

Already stimulated, you shudder with pleasure.

Your tongue strokes his in an open mouthed kiss. He tastes as good as he smells, Keith filling up your senses like an incense stick wafting through a room.

He wraps an arm around your chest, his hand caressing your breast, pulling you against his chest, both of you melding together. Keith thrusts his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hand fisting the sheets of his bed, moaning into his mouth.

It was a combination of his cock in you, his thumb rolling your nipple in his hand, that set you aflame.

You couldn’t get enough, your hips jerking back, up to meet his. Keith fucks you against the bed.

He palms your breast in his hand, pulling you up to him, keeping you close as he plants a kiss at the juncture of your ear and jaw, on the side of your neck whilst nipping the skin and you moan, his cock hitting just the right spot as he slams into you.

First he grows comfortable, pulling almost entirely out before thrusting hard as he finds a pace that leaves you both a mess.

“Right there, right there,” you utter.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, his fingers draw a circle around your clit without giving you the satisfaction you desperately seek, already building up to another climax.

You nod jerkily. “So fucking good Keith. Your cock feels so fucking good,” you manage to reply.

He speeds up, faster, deeper, at your words. The bedframe, bolted down into the floor, creaks.

“Just like that.” You moan wantonly. “Right there.”

He responds to your words, pulling out to the head of his cock, teasing your entrance just so before slamming back in.

You shut your eyes and whimper, over sensitive to your very marrow. It was too much. Keith was trailing kisses down your spine, his breath warm, his cock twitching inside your filling every inch of your pussy up.

With a shudder, you come, stars behind your eyelids and short circuiting. You never knew sex could be this amazing. Not in real life.

You got what people meant about the right partner.

The right sexual energy to match.

You collapse, a puppet with its strings cut. Keith’s hand across your chest is the only thing keeping you from melding into the mattress like a blob. His hips thrust against your ass mindlessly, chasing his own climax.

With another couple of thrusts, his hips snapping against you, Keith moans your name and comes undone behind you.

He comes inside you, hot and sticky.

His hand grasps the back of your neck, holding you in place as he comes inside you. It’s unexpectedly hot. You didn’t know you could like this in bed.

You didn’t know how much you liked an obstinate expression with wide eyes until you met Keith. He had the type of soulful eyes you could drown in.

He had drawn out something in you that you hadn’t even been aware of.

Your thoughts center on him as he finishes inside you.

“You take my dick so good,” he says with a surprising amount of softness for what amounts to a one night stand and a pang strikes your chest, wishing you had met him under better circumstances where there might be-

Keith gets off you, slumping next to you on the bed.

There’s a thrum of satisfaction running through you as you look at his face in profile. The insane idea that you might just stay and cuddle plants itself.

That was impossible.

It was time to cut and run.

Sure, he’d fucked you. But he was also still half a stranger. No matter how jumbled your thoughts were, you refused to give into the pull he had on you.

You wanted to lay there with him.

Keith blinks slowly, looking as blissed out as you feel, reaching out a hand towards you, but stopping himself halfway.

You feel a little disappointed, but say nothing. It was just a one off thing you remind yourself, no matter how you felt.

Now that you can think a little more clearly, though the sensation remains like a lump in your throat that starts there no matter how much you swallow, you glance around the dark room. Only the barest red lights on the floor illuminate enough to cast shadows.

Keith’s own eyes reflect the light like a cat. Just a glimmer of traffic sign yellow.

But you’re too tired to think, so you file it away in your head under the nebulous details you’ve learned about the red paladin.

You blink, grimancing as Keith’s come runs down your thigh onto the sheets. At least they weren’t yours.

He closes his eyes.

“I’d say sorry about the mess,” you break the easy silence lulling you into staying there, “but it's your fault,” you tease way too familiarly.

Keith sounds embarrassed when he utters, “sorry about that. I can get carried away.”

You smile softly, tracing over his shadowed form with your eyes but resisting the urge to reach out. That part was over. “It was good.”

“You did mention.”

So he could joke.

You giggle in the darkness that envelopes the room. You were good at being friendly and taking charge but you understood the hesitancy to open up to people you just met.

Keith’s chest makes a rumbling sound akin to a cheetah purring.

You try and hold onto the thought, sure it means something, but the sound draws you in and you lose the battle against yourself, curling up into his side.

He takes this as the permission it is, and tangles his limbs with yours.

A thrum of warmth surges where Keith’s skin touches you and you’re not sure if its his running warm or if it's all in your head or-

your eyes drift closed.

He’s purring.

You know Keith would be embarrassed if you pointed it out.

So you say nothing.

Everything seemed so intangible anyhow. The world had been turned down a notch. The post orgasm glow remained unrivalled.

Even a hit from a bong didn’t measure up.

Your first time had been a real embarrassment (you hadn’t managed to get the boy’s cock in you), this was just a weird quirk of his, and it was soothing.

You close your eyes.

Keith’s breathing is deep and steady, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but don’t feel pressured to check.

It was nice, not scurrying off, not being more than a little drunk. War was exhausting. Earth had only been in it for less than three years. No wonder some aliens were in such shit moods.

You exhale.

There’s no way to mark the passage of time.

The bed shifts under you. Keith runs the back of his hand gently over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open.

“So would this be round two or three,” you ask lightly.

Keith smiles lightly, “you did say…”

“I did,” you laugh easily, blushing, the flush creeping from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

You swing a leg over his waist, straddling him, but not without feeling the start of a soreness in your legs. It doesn’t deter you.

Keith lays back, watching you through his lashes as you sit up. He looks lovely.

You lean down and kiss his mouth, reaching for his cock with your hands. He was already half hard when you wrap your hand around his shaft.

His breath hitches in his throat as you move your hand. It’s been a moment since you’d jerk anyone, but it’s not rocket science. You press kisses down his throat, moving your hand firmly up and down his length until he’s completely hard. You nip at his collarbone, marking him the way he’d left bruising kiss all over you.

His cock twitches in your hand, Keith’s hips thrusting up into you.

Anticipation builds in your belly, but you want to set the pace, stay in charge. So you still your movements.

Keith whines under you, his hands holding your waist.

“Be a good boy for me,” you tell him. “Can you do that?”

“Mm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yeah,” he manages hoarsely, “I can be good.”

You smile, lining him up against your entrance. You shift your hips, teasing his cock against your wet folds, closing your eyes as you moan at the feeling.

Keith thrusts up, trying to get more friction.

You still wanting to drag it out. Though your thighs ached and your pussy throbbed and you wondering if you should just-

You rub his cockhead against your pussy, “oooOH,” you moan. Your nails scratch his chest lightly, trying to steady yourself. Your heart raced, back arching down to him.

“Come here,” Keith groans, his fingers trailing up, asking for more, his hand on the small of your back.

You give in, sinking down onto his cock.

He moans your name, shutting his eyes.

It’s pornographic, the way Keith rises up to meet you, hips bucking against yours, the expanse of his pale throat.

You roll your hips slowly, fucking yourself on his cock. At this angle, the way he filled you-

“Fuck,” Keith moans, “you feel so good.”

“I could say the same,” you reply, sliding against his hips, picking up speed. You hold yourself up, hand on his chest.

You suck in a breath as his cock thrusts into you. Static filled your head as you chased your pleasure, grinding against him. You tilt your head back, moaning his name, everything but Keith becoming background noise.

He palms your breast.

Your breath hitches when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Ah,” you sigh.

Your stomach was taunt.

He doesn’t go further. You sort of wish he would. You trusted Keith not to hurt you. . .too badly.

The idea excites you, as he wraps his hand around your throat.

You match him, curling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard, “look at me,” you try and order but your voice is a whine. You’re too hot and heavy to think.

His cock twitches inside you, filling you up and fuck it felt good to be streched out.

Keith’s thumb strokes the side of your throat, his grip firm. “Do you like this,” he asks, his gaze heavy on you. He was entirely concentrated on you. It was like being worshipped.

It sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“I wouldn’t mind if you got rougher,” you admit, finding it easy to trust him.

He looks away.

You falter. Had you read things wrong?

Keith bucks his hips up against you and you let the thought go, sinking onto his cock and groaning, “Keith…”

It was easy to let go when it felt this good. His hand around your throat, fingers digging into your hips, you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. Not that anyone would be able to tell from over your uniform.

A shudder runs down your spine, you squirm on his cock mindlessly, thinking about bruises in the shape of his hands, about the marks on your neck you could already feel blooming on your skin. Heat surges in your chest, something primal as your thoughts linger there.

You nails run down his chest, leaving shallow scratches as you try and get a better hold, desperately grinding against Keith, down on the bed, his cock ramming into you. “Fuck,” you think, “fuck. . .Keith. . .”

You can’t stand it.

The pressure in your stomach, the heat scorching your pussy, the sound of Keith’s whines and moans, your name tumbling out of his mouth like a hymn that raised your heart beat, blood pounding in your ears.

Keith squeezes your neck, your throat bobs under his fingers and fuck-

You come.

Your legs tremble, unable to support you any longer as you collapse, a quivering mess on Keith. His hands move down to grip your thighs, pulling you down flush against him, down to the hilt of his cock as he comes, moaning erotically.

The thread of heat doesn’t dissipate entirely as you rest on his chest, boneless and sticky with sweat, but it relaxes and you breath the scent of him in instead of pulling away entirely.

Keith strokes a hand down your spine, an afterthought, “that was. . .”

“Yeah.” You’re exhausted.

You close your eyes, listening to the inhuman rumble of Keith’s chest as it rises and falls with every breath you take.

You end up slipping out. The halls are in the light cycle, but no one bothers you as you walk.

Getting up the next morning is hell.

Your legs are sore, and that’s not even mentioning how much your pussy hurts when you take a step. You take a dose of painkillers still remaining from your injury and check your messages.

Nothing from earth.

That was expected.

The meager universal communications were taken up by the war effort. You still sent your family messages, even if it was just one way. It was a way to keep in touch. It felt like watching starlight and knowing it was millions of years old, a form of time travel.

You shower.

Keith’s come was a mess on the inside of your thighs and the thought is not as gross as it should be, your skin warming up, zapped by static. You run your fingers over your clit and fuck yourself in the shower thinking of the red paladin and his come.

You get out, brushing your hair out, not looking in the mirror at the purple hickies spread out like a constellation on your chest, and realize how weird you were being.

Come was gross.

You hated swallowing so you never did. The tentative relationships at the garrison had been short, you had all been teenagers, and now anything that happened was a one off thing sometimes involving aliens.

You swallow, gripping the counter of your sink. You were horny again.

No.

Not going there.

No space weirdness this morning.

Because you’re on leave for the space equivalent of 6 or 5 days, you don’t have much to do. You get food. It had taken getting used to, and figuring out which brightly colored pastel goo thing was good, but there was a variety. You still had no clue what was plants or animals up in space.

The more liberated planets, the more supplies trickled in. Pirates loved to take a cut.

You eat as soldiers stop by to refuel, fill up on supplies. Despite the stress, you missed being out on the front. Being out of the action sucked.

Sitting around on a spaceship was boring.

It wasn’t like they had shops or movie theaters. Walking around too much ended up with you being in the way.

You clench your jaw, feeling feverish.

And you had just been getting better. . .

You shove the thought away.

You end up watching space TV: reality TV shows like Galra Ninja Warrior and nature docu series on plants, some you’ve been on, before finally sliding your hand under the waistband of your trousers and rubbing your clit.

It takes the edge off, but the heat’s still there, pressed up in the pit of your stomach, cheeks flushes and you sigh, unsatisfied as you click to something other than the marine biomes of Kmeolsuahr. For aliens larger than a schoolbus, they were peaceful creatures. Since they were filter feeders, agriculture had never developed a hold on their planet, but water generators were plentiful.

Yet another show starring Galra. It was the most common type of show in the Empire. Hijacking communications had given this traveling spaceship TV. You were glad for it now.

You curl up, the communicator snug around your wrist translating everything instantaneously. It was the part in the soap where there has to be a duel for honor. What a load of crap.

The two Galra circle each other, close ups of their face like a mexican stand-off. Through TV you got to know the Glara in the empire as more than just soldiers. Spending time in the camps taught you that even Galra citizens could be arrested for treasonous statements against Zarkon.

They make growling alien sounds, something between a jaguar and a sound not found on earth, an underlying clicking that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You connect the dots.

The glowing eyes, the purrs and rumbles, and whatever weird alien thing was going on: the red paladin was part Galra.

Only that made no sense.

He was from Earth.

First contact had been what, when the paladins had disappeared? When the Kerberos mission had been abducted, and boy had that made fringe conspiracy theorists happy. . .how could he be part Galra?

Was it even your problem?

Surely this would go away. . .

You were leaving in a little over five days.

You curl up and watch TV until you fall asleep, determined to enjoy the rest while it lasted and your weren’t trudging through waist deep mud.

“Read through the debrief,” a commander with a nebulous rank above you asks. In your line of work, so much was redacted. Information gathering was a fancy way of saying spy. It was why you worked so closely with the rebels.

You don’t even blink at the slight pale easter egg yellow alien, ears that resembled hair, long and droopy like a rabbit: there were four of them. You’d met stranger. “Yeah. Long mission.”

You were not looking forward to being on a planet with an inhospitable surface. A sun close enough that set the surface on fire with it’s rays, no thanks.

Still, it was your assignment.

“It is vital.”

They always said that.

It seemed to be extracting some key players. Who they were remained unknown until you had to know. It was a lot of flying blind to keep information from leaking to the wrong ears. Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz.

“I’ll treat it that way,” you nod, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It would be fun flying a hijacked Galra fighter ship. The planet was pretty deep in Empire controlled space.

“And,” the alien looks you up and down like a Garrison RA finding a stain on your uniform during morning inspection, “get rid of that scent.”

“What,” you ask plainly, “scent.”

The alien raises a hairless muscle over its eye. The gesture is human enough. “Voltron has docked here.”

It was subterfuge. Both of you were in the same line of work, you could do this dance in your sleep. “As far as I know, yes.” You are careful to keep your expression neutral, feeling stupid for not having used negating get. It wasn’t even rationed, but used pretty widely. There were many aliens who relied primarily on scent, and those whose sense of smell was far sharper than yours.

“Mm.”

You hold their gaze.

You weren’t one to waver.

“Any further questions?”

“None.”

“Good.”

You walk blithely back to your room, intending to shower, again, and probably take care of the warmth in your gut. The heat was like an uncomfortable itch under your skin that stubbornly remained no matter how much you ignored it.

How was it even possible that Keith was any part alien let alone Galra? You were pretty sure the entire planet would have known if the Galra arrived on the planet.

It was intriguing.

Your mind drew up the details you knew, trying to make them fit. It was half mental exercise, half the urge to actually get to the bottom of this. Keith didn’t look half Glara like Prince Lotor and his gang of misfits. . .quarter, one sixteenth. . .

Occam's Razor.

The mystery occupied your mind as you made it back to your quarters.

Keith is pacing outside your door.

How did he even know where your quarters were?

“Did you sniff your way here,” you ask, genuinely curious. Maybe the traits might not be apparent. . .just how Galra was the red paladin. You were reminded again how little you actually knew him.

Understanding fills his eyes; he knew you knew. Keith looks over at you for a second before ducking his head dejectedly, a straw dog expecting to be run off.

Your heart ached.

How a paladin of Voltron could be so self conscious despite going toe to toe with the Empire on a daily basis. . .you didn’t know. They were only flesh and blood after all.

You take pity on him, “so is this going to be a thing,” the corners of your mouth lift into a small smile. You were still a little sore. You wouldn’t mind going another few rounds. . .

But you needed to clear some things up first.

Just how much of this between you was space Galra funkiness?

Keith snorts, looking up, meeting your searching gaze. His shoulders were still tense, unsure that you weren’t about to tell him to shove off. Not the loner type entirely by choice then, his innate awkwardness must have made it hard to connect.

It wasn’t a problem you’d ever had, rushing into everything headfirst, taking charge.

“Not like there’s a lot of humans to choose from up here,” he says self-deprecatingly.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m down for some alien funkiness,” you answer evenly, taking a step towards him. He inhales sharply, looking away again, this time in thought.

The lines of his face increase, clearly uncomfortable, frowning.

“I can’t usually,” Keith admits in a tense voice, “smell this well. . .though I can smell better than Shiro.”

“Shiro?”

“The black paladin,” he explains, surprised he has to explain at all.

You answer his unvoiced question, “everyone tends to focus on the color of the lion rather than the pilot inside.”

“Oh. That’s dumb.” He looks a little relieved at the anonymity that grants.

“Is it just me then,” you ask, getting to the bottom of things.

He nods, meeting your gaze. “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking of fucking you,” he says without ceremony.

You find yourself blushing. The connection went both ways, the very alien connection. “Don’t hate me but I think we should go to the medic.”

Keith frowns. “Or we could just fuck.”

“That horny,” you tease, raising a brow, “or was I just that good?”

Keith cusps a hand against your cheek, his thumb running over your lips.

Your mouth parts, the tip of your tongue grazing his thumb.

“So you don’t want to fuck,” Keith asks, a playful smirk on his lips.

You swallow, the urge to say yes right there as his touch on you entranced you, sending desire cascading through your body down to your toes. “This isn’t just alien weirdness is it?” You wanted it to be more.

“No,” he shakes his head, his breath mingling with yours. “That’s-I’m not that impulsive.”

“Good,” you mutter, pressing your body against his, and opening the door to your room.

#keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #keith kogane imagine #mine #smut #surprisingly soft for being esentially a take on the whole galra heat thing in fanon #part 2 will b just sex lol #feedback much appreciated (as a motivator too)

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scarlettriot · 3 years ago

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Mina Ashido Headcanons!

@jewel116 requested some headcanons of our Alien Queen and I am here to deliver!

Some of these also could be considered BakuSquad HCs, hope that's alright.

I also went ahead and included some Adult Mina and 18+ Mina Headcanons too. Both are below the cut and clearly stated. Warnings are posted at each header mark.

If anyone has any other requests, lemme know!

Basic Mina Headcanons

Warnings: It's as fluffy as her dang hair! (Swearing)

. Most definitely has ADHD! In class, she is constantly tapping her foot on bouncing her leg as a means of trying her best to keep focused.

. Has a collection of shirts that she has designated for sleep and loungewear because she's burned acid holes in them by accident. Sometimes she'll wear them to concerts and shows if the design is cool enough.

. Loves piggyback rides! Frequently will run and jump on the backs of the guys in the BakuSquad. Even Katsuki himself puts up with it after a while.

. While Katsuki is the 'mom' of the squad, Mina is the one everyone goes to when they need comfort. Denki will curl up in her lap after a long day, Eijiro frequently goes to her when his insecurities creep back in, Hanta shows up late at night and they talk in her room about nothing just because he doesn't want to be alone, and Katsuki, well, he shows up to her room, slams the door and complains for a solid half-hour after reading a particularly heartbreaking scene in a manga while she listens to every word and validates his feelings.

. Mina worries far more than people believe she does. Her bubbly, loud, personality usually masks it but she knows when people are lying to her about what's going on in their heads.

. Sitting properly in a chair physically bothers her. She'd much rather be hanging upside down off it.

. She lowkey likes that the boys get protective over her.

. Mina is the type of person who gets A LOT of random thoughts that pop up in her head and one of the few people who actually will engage with the sheer randomness of the ideas is Shoto. Not only does he engage, he comes up with his own! The two can talk for hours.

. Loves hosting 'spa parties' in the common area of the dorms, everyone is welcome to join.

. When road trips happen, she's making the playlists (technically, she and Kyoka switch off).

. Tries teaching Tenya, Izuku, and Shoto how to flirt. After a very embarrassing first hour, Shoto didn't learn a single thing, Izuku was only good at it when paired with Shoto and Tenya... Tenya had her SHOOK! Man has game and she made sure everyone knew!

. Has weekly meetings with Yuga where they drink tea and spill the tea.

. She is so damn ticklish. Hanta was teasing her one day, she warned him to stop, he received an elbow to the face for not listening.

. Tried to grow her hair out once but it didn't grow down... it grew OUT. Mina thought she rocked it, and she totally did but ended up having it cut back down so poor Tsyu could see in class.

. Wakes up early three days a week to practice her hand-to-hand combat with Eijiro. Mina wants to improve her technique and Eijiro needed to work on his mobility, it benefits them both.

. Just Dance is her favorite game, she dominates.

. Easily forms new interests.

. Won't admit it but she gets jealous super easily.

. Will be the first to attempt to throw hands for a friend! I HC she was picked on as a child for looking so different but it never really phased her too badly, she likes looking different but understands that not everyone thinks like she does. So, if someone were to say something about Mezo's facemask, she's stepping in to defend the guy without hesitation.

. Knows every TikTok dance EVER. If a new one comes out, she's mastered it by end of the day and her account is always up to date.

. (Popular idea but important to reinforce) Mina and Eijiro co-founded a club, Horn Buddies, specifically to make Eri feel more welcome. They take her on trips and group outings. The only horned person who's not allowed to join is Pony because she was rude as heck to Mezo.

. Mina gets extra competitive over board games.

. She can ice skate and roller skate like a champ.

. Mina is resilient, dedicated, and passionate. She has goals and the girl will achieve them.

Pro Hero - Adult Mina Headcanons

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol use and swearing

. Gets several tattoos and piercings.

. Starts a roller derby club with most of the girls from 1A.

. Loves going out to the hottest dance clubs just as much as she enjoys staying in and munching on take-out food with friends.

. The Horn Buddies club she formed with Eijiro has now expanded into regular society and both young heroes couldn't be more proud. Together they've formed a foundation that strives to help those with non-flashy, unconventional, or misunderstood quirks feel welcomed and loved.

. Does her best to shop small whenever she can. Mina wants to help her community in as many different ways as possible.

. Becomes a fashion icon for many small, just starting out, alternative clothing lines. They love her look and the standard she sets.

. Goes to fashion and runway shows with Momo on the regular. While Momo prefers buying right off the rack, Mina goes to thrift stores and buys items that are coming back into style.

. Does her best to stay in touch with her classmates. She really cherished the friendships she made and goes the extra mile to make sure everyone stays connected.

. Has told off Shoto's father. Sent the man an anonymous bag of flaming dog shit as well for making his son so damn stressed. Sorry, not sorry.

. As long as she isn't in the middle of a fight, Mina will always stop to take a photo with a fan or sign an autograph. In or out of costume, she doesn't care.

. In high school, Mina's room was always decked out for the holidays. She goes decoration crazy and it is always done well. But, now that she's an adult with that pro hero money and her own place, she's the best house on the block decorated for each and every holiday! Inside and out! Also throws holiday-themed parties.

. Got absolutely trashed with the BakuSquad one night and taught them all how to twerk. By the end of the lesson, she deemed Katsuki was the best of her students.

. Loves to drink. Is a lightweight. Katsuki and Eijiro have carried her home more times than they can count.

NSFW 18+ Mina HC Below - Minors DNI

Warnings: Drinking, rough sex, mentions of orgies, handcuffs, impact play, and praise kinks. Subtle sexual relations with BakuSquad, Jiro, Todoroki, and Ochaco.

. The Queen of stripteases and lap dances.

. If any of her friends are at a party or some event and they need a fake date, Mina is their go-to person. She's handsy. She's flirty. And has no problem with platonic make-outs.

. Always encourages kissing-themed games at parties. Seven Minutes in Heaven, Spin the Bottle, those sorts of games. Mina also loves to play cupid and has rigged a game or two to get people together.

. Has made out with every member of the BakuSquad at least once as well as Kyoka, Shoto, and Ochaco simply because she was curious.

. Has attempted to start an orgy with the BakuSquad before when intoxicated. Still mentions it in passing just in case they change their minds.

. Has gone further with Katsuki and Eijiro though. Maybe both at the same time once or twice or several times...

. Wonderfully filthy dirty talk. Can even make Katsuki blush.

. (A personal favorite of mine that was in a previous post) When they were first years, Eijiro asked innocently enough, to touch her horns. He was gentle but that didn't matter. Our poor girl was so damn flustered! Her face turned red bright, she felt hot, and she had to go take a very cold shower!

. Ei felt terrible about it. It took them both maturing for her to explain exactly why she reacted that way... and then asked him to do it again.

. Is likely to send NSFW texts and photos while people are indeed at work. She is a Pro Hero though so only certain people are allowed to have those photos. A scandal is the last thing she wants.

. Very good at communication and is not afraid to speak her mind about what she wants and needs out of a relationship and her sex life.

. Loud, very loud, very needy.

. Fuzzy handcuffs in every color she can think of and adores impact play.

. Let her know she's doing a good job, Mina responds well to praise.

. Big cuddler after sex. Wants to snuggle into you and more than likely take a nap.

#mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha #mina ashido #mina ashido headcanons #mina ashido fluff #bakusquad #bakusquad headcanons #mina ashido smut #katsuki bakugo smut #eijiro kirishima smut #kirishima #bakugo #denki kaminari #hanta sero #shoto todoroki #bakukirimina

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats.

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

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tyrantisterror · 4 years ago

Text

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SAFE! YOU THOUGHT THAT THE TIME OF MONSTERS WAS AT AN END! BUT YOU WERE WRONG, FOR NOW YOU MUST WITNESS…

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

That’s right, it’s back! Celebrating the publication of The Atomic Time of Monsters Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! (which in turn completes The Ballad of Tyrantis arc for this series), I’m holding another monster design jam. The third of such jams, in fact!

Like the first A.T.O.M. Create a Kaiju Contest, the aim of this contest is to create kaiju that would fit within the setting of my big kaiju story series, The Atomic Time of Monsters. Think of it as me letting you into my sandbox to play with my toys for a bit, or like you’re being put in the director’s chair of a new ATOM-verse kaiju movie. That means your entry does have to fit into ATOM’s world, which in turn means that yes, there are limitations to your creativity here. But limitations can be good sometimes - they can make us explore options we wouldn’t consider when given completely free rein to do what we want!

(also you don’t have to make a three dimensional image or anything, the title’s just a pun on how the third movie in a monster movie franchise will often be a 3-D film)

Read below the cut to learn the rules and whatnot:

THE RULES:

1. You are limited to one entry per person. Work hard and make your entry count!

2. Your kaiju must have some sort of description of its physical appearance and its personality - you can submit a drawing or a written description (or both!) for the physical appearance depending on what you’re most comfortable with. Using the same template/format as my official ATOM Kaiju Files (https://horrorflora.com/monster-menageries/atom-kaiju-files/) isn’t required, but it was cool when people did it in the last contest, so feel free to do so this time too!

3. The kaiju you create must specifically be created for this contest - no repurposing characters you made for other, wildly different stories. This is not “trick TT into drawing/canonizing my main OC” time.

4. The kaiju must fit the setting and aesthetics of ATOM. I’ll explain this in more detail down below.

5. The kaiju should add something meaningful to the world of ATOM. The more unique and interesting your kaiju is, the more likely you will win the contest.

6. Don’t make your kaiju too dependent on pre-existing ATOM characters - no “Tyrantis’s long lost evil brother who’s the strongest kaiju in the world.” These should be to Tyrantis’s story what War of the Gargantuas is to Godzilla’s movies – heroes (well, monsters) of another story in the same world.

THE REWARDS:

I will make pencil sketches of the top 5 entries in the contest.

I will then make fully rendered illustrations (lineart, colors, & shading) of the top three entries.

The winning entry will be made into a model ala the ones I’ve been making for ATOM’s core 50 monsters, which can then be shipped to the person who created it (should they be able to cover the shipping costs). That’s right, your kaiju could be brought to life in THREE GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOR DIMENSIONS! (Hey, we worked the gag title in to the prizes!)

THE DEADLINE: All entries must be submitted by July 3rd, 2021. You can submit it here on tumblr, via the horror flora e-mail, or any other channel you know how to reach me through. I’m in a lot of places.

THE GUIDELINES (TO HELP YOUR ENTRY FIT THE RULES AND WIN):

The smartest thing you could do if you want to win this contest is familiarize yourself with the world of ATOM by, y’know, reading all the material I’ve published on the subject. In addition to the many kaiju files that are free to read on horrorflora.com, there are now TWO, count ‘em, TWO novels in this series for you to peruse, both of which establish many of the rules of the setting as well as its general themes and tone! You can get them in either paperback or e-book formatting (I’d recommend the former over the latter since I lack the technology to make a really nice ebook, but if money is an object, the kindle version is only $1). Here’s the links again if you missed them:

Vol. 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us!

Vol. 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth!

However, since I know reading a bunch of stuff is, y’know, not something everyone is inclined to do, I’ll jot some good bullet points for you in an attempt to outline how ATOM works in a brief, easily digested way:

ATOM is an homage to the monster fiction of the 1950’s and 60’s (i.e. the Atomic Age), and is set in those two decades, albeit an alternate universe version of them where, y’know, monsters and space aliens exist. If you aren’t familiar with the monster fiction I’m referring to, there will be some reference material provided at the end of this post along with some recommendations for further research.

Kaiju/giant monsters in ATOM work under very specific rules. There’s a full description of those rules at this link, but here’s the jist:

ATOM Kaiju are created created by the radiation of a mineral called Yamaneon, which naturally converts harmful radiation into its own unique energy. In natural circumstances, it takes hundreds of years of exposure to Yamaneon radiation for a creature to become fully transform into a kaiju (luckily, Yamaneon radiation slows the aging process while speeding up the healing process). However, an explosive burst of energy - such as the geothermal and kinetic energy released by an earthquake, or the blast of a nuclear weapon - can speed up the process, turning a normal animal into a kaiju within a matter of seconds.

All ATOM kaiju can heal grievous wounds within minutes or even seconds, are supernaturally strong and durable, and can convert harmful radiation to harmless energy that they then feed off of. Kaiju do not have an equivalent of old age, and can theoretically live forever (though their violent lifestyle means that few do).

ATOM Kaiju generally don’t need to eat unless they are severely injured, getting most of the energy they need from solar or geothermal radiation - but many still have instincts that drive them to seek out food from time to time.

Most ATOM kaiju stand roughly 100 feet tall (depending on their body shape), i.e. smaller than the original 1954 Godzilla. There are exceptions to this rule - younger kaiju can be smaller, while exceedingly old kaiju can be significantly larger, but these are rare.

In general, ATOM kaiju are significantly more intelligent and emotionally complex than people expect animals to be, though most are incapable of speech or complex tool use. There’s a reason ATOM Kaiju Files have a “personality” section.

Most ATOM Kaiju are tooth and claw fighters - ranged weapons are a rarity in this setting.

While the terrestrial monsters in ATOM look strange, they are intended to fit within the taxonomy of animals in reality - reptiles, mammals, fish, arthropods, molluscs, etc.

ATOM’s mesozoic era was dominated by a fictional clade of crocodile-relatives called retrosaurs, which are based on the outdated paleoart that one would find in the 1950’s/60’s fiction - i.e. when dinosaurs were viewed as trail dragging lizards instead of strange birds. You can learn more about retrosaurs here (https://horrorflora.com/2016/11/15/atom-kaiju-file-bonus-a-guide-to-retrosaurs/).

Kaiju appear on every continent in ATOM, but certain areas tend to be dominated by different types.

North America is mainly besieged by retrosaur kaiju and giant arthropods.

East Asia is technically also mainly plagued by retrosaurs and big arthropods, though they tend to look more fantastical and mythic - and, often, oddly well suited to being portrayed by a person wearing a monster suit.

Russia is beset by prehistoric monsters that seem to come from the Cenozoic, particularly the Ice Age.

Western Europe is plagued by creatures that vaguely resemble creatures from myth, if they were also prehistoric. Dragon-y lizards, fiery birds, etc.

Towards the mid-way point of ATOM’s timeline, earth is invaded by a coalition of aliens from different solar systems called the Beyonder Alliance, and as a result a bunch of alien monsters can be found on earth.

Mars and Venus both host (or hosted in Mars’s case) animal life. The surviving Martians colonized Venus, and sent some of their kaiju guardians to earth to help us fend off the Beyonders (who are responsible for the destruction of Mars’s ecosystem). Martian and Venusian kaiju have specific anatomical quirks, which you can see by looking at these kaiju files:

Venusians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/03/atom-kaiju-file-29-karamtor/

Martians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-39-kemlasulla/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-40-podritak/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-41-sombarvot/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-38-ullawdra/

Giant robots exist in ATOM, but are big, bulky, and incredibly expensive. Fancy beam weapons also exist, but are similarly clunky - there are no sleek, elegant machines in ATOM.

Since the fiction ATOM takes inspiration from was made at a time when interplanetary travel was only just beginning to be possible, its scope is significantly smaller than modern sci-fi. Alternate universes/dimensions were pretty uncommon because the idea of alien planets still held a lot of wonder to it. So, as a general rule, don’t try to go farther than the one galaxy.

ATOM is a setting for stories that are focused on humanity learning to coexist with monsters, rather than humanity destroying them. A certain level of sympathy is put into almost every creature of its canon, even the ones that are meant to be villains.

REFERENCE MATERIAL

Here is a playlist of 1950′s monster movie trailers.

Here is some reference material from various monster comics of the 50′s and 60′s.

Good movies to track down to understand ATOM’s inspiration and tone include Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster, Son of Godzilla, Destroy All Monsters, Them!, The Black Scorpion, 20 Million Miles to Earth, Gamera, The Giant Claw, and The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra.

And here’s the intro cutscenes for all the different giant monsters in the PS2 videogame War of the Monsters.

#The Atomic Time of Monsters #The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3D

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crystal-witchiness · 3 years ago

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***Okay so I found this in my notes from May 2021 as a reaction to the scenes in the beginning of Endgame when Captain Marvel first brings Tony and Nebula back to Earth, when they first get off the ship, and when Tony yells at Steve a few scenes later when he looks like ‘Death Warmed Over’ in his robe and i thought I’d share -

Every time someone argues with me about my ABSOLUTE 100% belief that Steve and Tony had romantic feelings for each other, I’ll just show them this scene. “And I needed YOU.” He didn’t say “You guys” or “Your help.” Tony looked at Steve with so much pain in his eyes and said, “I needed y o u.” And Steve is just as broken watching Tony. This isn’t the first time this has happened between them. They had MANY scenes like this in Civil War (but I like to pretend that movie didn’t happen cause ‘ow blow a hole in my ship why dontcha?’) I mean technically I could submit that whole movie as evidence of their feelings but there are too many negative emotions wrapped up in it and it hurts. This movie is the first time they’ve seen each other since Civil War and when Tony first gets off the ship he basically falls into Steve’s arms. First of all, Steve fricking S P R I N T S when he sees Tony getting off the ship, then Tony sighs in relief and lets Steve take his weight. AND IMMEDIATELY begins unloading his grief about losing Peter cause he knew Steve would understand and comfort him. You can SEE s e e when Pepper runs up that (Ofc Tony does another sigh of relief that the snap didn’t take her (which I wish it did sorry Pepper your character stopped being interesting in the 2nd Iron Man)) Tony has to pull himself off of Steve and pretend to have it more together than he does because Pepper immediately begins crying and Tony has to comfort her. But Steve doesn’t leave his side. Tony cradling Pepper but he’s turning his body so that Steve can cradle him and ugh. Honestly I would have accepted a polyamorous relationship. Tony NEEDED someone to be the leader. THATS LITERALLY WHAT PEPPER WAS TALKING ABOUT. Tony NEVER rests because he always thinks he has to be the one to do everything, EXCEPT for when Steve’s around. Steve is the Captain and even though they bump heads (a lot, awww couples’ squabbles) Tony ALWAYS defers to Steve when it’s important. And Steve? Steve HAS to be a leader, to be helpful, in a healthy way because he couldn’t be that for most of his life in the past. He was a scrawny defenseless guy who always had to depend on Bucky. So to be able to take care of this group of wonderful people who are so powerful and yet STILL NEED STEVE? It’s who he his. It’s who Tony is too but he doesn’t WANT to be that way, he does it because he has to. He does it when no one else can or he doesn’t want to lose anyone else. This scene right now is Tony feeling helpless and so he lashes out at the easiest person, Steve. Steve is their leader and has saved them many times. Tony saw that picture of Peter and couldn’t handle his own feelings of helplessness so he lashed out to bring down the next ‘leader figure’ of the group. Steve and Tony have always been the parents of the Avengers. Steve is the most dad-est dad ever to dad. Meanwhile, Tony invites everyone to live with him while feeding them, clothing them (armor and civilian clothes) and making sure they have top of the line protection. HE LITERALLY EVEN SAYS THIS IN AGE OF ULTRON. SUCH a mom. So he wanted to make Steve feel his pain because Steve made a promise that they would lose together and Steve wasn’t there on that moon. And OF COURSE Tony knows that Steve was on earth fighting his own battle against Thanos but he wasn’t WITH Tony. And they are always stronger together than apart. (Civil War kinda proved this too) Tony sees Steve’s absence as the reason they lost, because ‘if only they’d been together’ ‘maybe we could have won if we’d only been together.’

ALSO DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TONY LITERALLY GIVING STEVE A REPRESENTATION OF HIS HEART. I know he did it out of anger and to make a point but he took away this piece of him, that he made SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE HE FELT VULNERABLE WITHOUT THE ARC, and gave it to Steve. Once again shedding that responsibility and giving it to Steve. Because even with the residual anger over Civil War, Tony trusts Steve. He says otherwise in this moment out of anger but that “vision” he talks about here? He literally watches Steve die (YEAH THATS RIGHT I SAID STEVE. Not PEPPER, NOT RHODEY, NOT ANY OF THE OTHER AVENGERS.) Wanda showed him his worst fear in Age of Ultron and it was the death of the Avengers, but he didn’t see THEM die. Everyone else, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint were already dead. Tony watched STEVE die and it was STEVE saying that Tony could’ve saved them that spurred him into creating Ultron. He was so scared of losing them and letting Steve down (and letting him die) that he wanted to wrap the whole world in armor to protect him. And he tries to do it again in this scene. He means it to be spiteful but he gives Steve his armor and tells him to hide from Thanos. WHICH IS ANOTHER THING UGH. Tony doesn’t know that out of all of the people who fought Thanos in Wakanda that day, Steve was the one who engaged in hand-to-hand combat with him. Everyone else had armor and suits, weapons, etc. Steve has his serum strength and he u s e d it. It didn’t help for very long but he used his BARE HANDS to fight an alien-monster wielding 5/6 of ALL POWERFUL infinity stones, and ofc he was never going to win, but even Thanos looked at Steve in incredulity at his bravery and resolve. A human (a super charged one at that but still a human) fought him with his bare hands and wasn’t going to stop. (Steve proved this again at the end of Endgame when he’s the last one standing against Thanos and his entire army and just tightens the strap on his broken shield, (and most likely broken arm, based on the flinch/hiss) and readies himself to fight alone. Steve also gave Wanda time to destroy the mind stone (unfortunately, that didn’t mean anything in the end)

AND YET Tony doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t know how hard Steve fought, just like Tony did on Titan, to stop Thanos. And I REALLY wish we had seen Tony’s reaction to Steve standing up to Thanos at the end of Endgame OR EVEN WIELDING MJOLNIR, but anyways.

Back to the basics. Boss level stuff most people don’t remember or think about- Tony’s dad very unhealthily IDOLIZED Steve. He canonically compared everything Tony did to Steve. So Tony grew up idolizing this man that he also despised because it fueled his father’s abuse of him. Tony shows this anger in the first Avengers. When they have their argument on the quinjet. “Everything special about you came out of a bottle.” He even says something about how Steve didn’t live up to his father’s hype (I don’t remember Tony’s exact words but that’s the gist) And ofc Steve says Tony’s nothing without his armor. But then they go on the prove each other wrong multiple times, but mainly in their last moments in the MCU. Steve proves it by standing alone against an ENTIRE alien army and later by picking up mjolnir. And Tony? Tony is that ONE factor in a million that Stephen sees. Tony, a beautifully pure human-being, with no powers or serums to help, takes on the powers of the stones. KNOWING it would kill him. He had proof. It nearly killed Thanos and Bruce and they were hulking (pun intended) beings with super strength and all that.

Tony and Steve were always set up to be spoils to one another and that makes them perfect together. They balance each other out. Pepper was a boss b****, no doubt, and I loved their relationship in the first two Iron Man movies, but as their characters grew and Tony’s personality was intrinsically changed through trauma- Pepper was no longer right for him. She was good for him, no doubt, but Tony couldn’t relax with her as he did with Steve. Tony could trust Steve to take over and everything could be fine. Pepper was like that for Stark Industries but not in other ways. Tony always saw himself as Pepper’s protector. I will 100% give her props for telling Tony that he’d never rest until he tried Scott’s time travel theory, but other than that she wasn’t particularly supportive of Iron. Man. What Pepper never seemed to understand, and what Steve didn’t understand when he FIRST met Tony, is that Tony and Iron Man are synonymous. Their is no ‘man outside the suit.’ Tony Stark is Iron Man and Iron Man is Tony Stark. Steve was placed into an already created persona of Captain America. Steve didn’t create Captain America even though that’s who he was. He was literally MADE for the role. Tony on the other hand, MADE Iron Man. He was the one who built the first suit - dying in a cave in Afghanistan. He was the one who took responsibility for Obadiah and his father’s actions and became a superhero to save the countries that were affected by Stark tech. Steve may have volunteered to be a superhero because he felt like he had no one other choice but Tony DIDN’T HAVE TO. He had fame, money, power, ALL OF IT. He could’ve EASILY hidden his company’s dark underside once he found out. But instead, Tony was like “Hey um so my company has done some bad things and instead of delegating aid through my money and power, I’m going to personally handle this with a titanium alloy suit and technology that I helped create in a cave while being held captive by a terrorist cell.”

Where was I going with this? OH YEAH.

I will believe in TonyxSteve (Stony) for the rest of my life and I will use fanfiction to fill the void of their deaths. Basically, if I lost anyone in the word vomit above, what I’m trying to say is that- Steve and Tony completed each other. They provided something the other needed. Tony needed stability and protection. He needed to feel like he could let go. Steve needed an anchor in the present. Someone lively and opinionated, SOMEONE ADVENTUROUS AND FUNNY, who Steve could smile with and protect. But also. Steve trusted Tony to be a leader as much as Tony trusted him. They had their ups and downs. Trauma and the Accords didn’t help their relationship at all, but should’ve been it for each other. And I honestly believe they would have t h r i v e d.

Honestly I applaud anyone who made it this far. I don’t know where this all came from but I will not apologize✌🏻

I rest my case your honor.

#avengers endgame #steve rogers #tony stark #captain america #iron man #stony #marvel endgame #steve x tony #i will die with this ship #i ship them #rip stan lee

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firelxdykatara · 4 years ago

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Reader anon here with a thought!

Do you like love triangles? I personally don't, there is something about them that is incredibly frustrating lol. Same thing for harems, though there are some that do it tastefully 😌 so I can't be too upset by them.

It honestly depends on the love triangle and the way the author writes all three relationships (and, for any genuine love triangle, there should be three relationships--they don't all need to be romantic, but there needs to be an existing and strong relationship between all three points on the triangle, otherwise I'm almost certain not to be at all invested), how they are presented, and what the narrative purpose of the love triangle is.

Ironically, one of the best examples of a love triangle done well (at least... to a certain point in the story, which I'll explain in a bit) happened in a television show that is fairly notorious for turning to utter shit in the latter four seasons and alienating pretty much the entire fanbase, to the point where most of us dipped well before the end and everyone celebrated news of the show's cancellation.

I'm talking about The Vampire Diaries.

(under a cut because i went on a LOOOONG ramble about tvd and why that love triangle worked initially and then why it failed, and then i talked a bit about another love triangle that was pretty weak and failed almost from the outset in OUAT but was ultimately axed in favor of the stronger relationship and character being given focus, and what all of this means for how i feel about love triangles in general)

While this is still very much a case where I only shipped one side of the triangle, hated the other, and couldn't wait for it to be resolved so that I wouldn't have to deal with the side I disliked any longer (the writing was on the wall as far back as season 1, no matter how in denial a certain portion of the fandom remained right up until the series finale) the development of the triangle itself and how it affected all three characters and their relationships with one another was done very well for most of the first four seasons. Damon and Stefan were brothers, with a bloody and complicated history and relationship, and they both fell in love with this human girl--Stefan almost instantly, because she looked just like Katherine and he found himself... (and here I'm going to be as fair as I possibly can to him, but if you want my full anti stelena rant I have many of them prepped and ready to go) following her, at first to make sure she wasn't Katherine, and then inserting himself into her life to protect her. Damon, on the other hand, took much longer, because he was still in love with (and trying to rescue) Katherine, and so when he did fall in love with Elena, it was because of who she was, not because of some idealized 'Not Katherine' pedestal he placed her on the instant he met her.

(I swear, I swear I'm trying to be fair to Stefan, it's just very hard.)

The thing is, Elena was in love with Stefan almost from the jump. (And one of the reasons I never really shipped stelena is because that kind of insta-love with very little conflict that isn't manufactured by the plot just isn't compelling for me, and I fully jumped ship about halfway through s1 when Damon and Elena took a road trip together. It's a long story, but that remains one of my favorite episodes in the entire show and it marks the beginning of their actual journey together.) Stefan showed up at a time when she desperately needed someone, and to his credit he did help her through her early depressive spiral--in large part because Elena's recent trauma (survivor's guilt due to her parents dying in a car crash from which she was the only survivor) meant that finding out Stefan was immortal and could not die and would not leave her resulted in her getting fiercely attached.

He was safe, he was stable, she could rely on him. But she could not grow with him, because for him, she was essentially a morality pet/the anchor to his humanity, and that meant that he could not accept when she began to grow out of her need for him. The fact that this coincided with her becoming a vampire only made things worse--because she settled into being a vampire much more easily with far less strife than he'd ever managed, and an Elena who enjoyed being a vampire in ways Stefan simply couldn't could no longer function as the idealized reminder of humanity he was desperate to cling to.

Damon, on the other hand, was the one who fell in love with Elena--not Not Katherine. He never put her on a pedestal, he never asked more of her than she could give him--when he realized how deep his feelings for her ran, he made her forget his confession because he knew he did not deserve her and he didn't want her burdened with his feelings when she was still in love with his brother and was always going to be. Elena's growing feelings for Damon coincided with her growth from a depressed and suicidal teenage girl into a young woman who began to realize that it was ok to want things for herself--to be a little selfish, to take what she wanted, to admit what she wanted. And, again, the fact that this coincided with her transformation into a vampire (although her growth within her relationship with Damon began well before that), meant that Damon's reaction to Elena-as-a-vampire was thrown into sharp relief against Stefan's--because he accepted her where his brother couldn't.

Ultimately, this led to Elena fully outgrowing her feelings for Stefan, and accepting, nurturing, and reveling in her feelings for Damon. The triangle was resolved, all three characters had growth separately and in their different relationships, and they could then move on from there along their different paths. Stefan could have had some truly excellent character growth involving moving on and finally living for himself rather than trying so hard to be this perfect brooding tortured vampire because he was the Good Brother, since there was no longer any need for that Good Brother/Bad Brother dichotomy. They'd both grown past it, as characters individually and as brothers together.

Unfortunately, where TVD ultimately failed (and this coincided with the way the show utterly lost the plot in terms of storylines, character arcs and cohesiveness and became an unsalvageable mess) is in refusing to let the love triangle die.

What should have happened is that once the love triangle was resolved--Elena growing as a character and moving on from her immature first love and fully embracing her feelings, as an adult, for her much more adult relationship with Damon--they abandoned the love triangle premise and let all three characters continue to grow outside of it. Damon and Elena should have been allowed to grow together and explore their relationship, Stefan to figure out where he still fit in their lives--as Damon’s brother, and one of Elena’s closest friends who she still loved dearly even though she was no longer in love with him--and then explore relationships of his own outside their family unit as he finally began to fully move on and grow out of his own overly idealized feelings for Elena.

Instead, what wound up happening is that the stelena side of the love triangle kept being teased--probably to keep the avid stelena shipping contingent invested in the story, hoping for ‘another brother swap’ as was lampshaded in one of Nina’s final episodes before she left the show (and, indeed, many of them remained utterly convinced that stelena would be endgame, right up until the series finale)--and rather than growing together, delena fans were constantly hit over the head with how ‘toxic’ Damon and Elena were for each other (even though this ran contrary to everything we’d seen in the show to that point, including having Damon regress repeatedly for, presumably, no reason other than to never let fans forget he was the Bad Brother and always would be, and Elena just couldn’t help but love him anyway), and all three characters and their relationships wound up suffering horribly for it.

That is an example of a love triangle that had a very promising foundation and development, right up through what should have been a resolution, and the reason it is generally looked on so unfavorably in fandom circles is because the show refused to move on from the triangle organically when the story needed it to, because it had already served its purpose.

For an example of a love triangle that, in my mind, simply didn’t work from the very beginning, I’d say my go-to example is from Once Upon a Time--the short-lived love triangle between Emma, Killian, and Neal. I think the first stumbling block there was that there weren’t really three relationships that mattered. Technically, Killian did have a connection to Neal--because they’d met in Neverland, prior to Neal remaining in the Land Without magic--but it functioned more as a backdrop to explain why Killian knew him when they got to Neverland again in the story, and why Neal didn’t trust him. It wasn’t actually developed as anything outside of that brief flashback, and they didn’t have any connection in the present outside of one episode where they essentially fought over Emma and she (rightly) got angry at them for it. There was no real exploration of who they were to each other outside of the fact that both of them had feelings for Emma, so it really was just one woman torn between her feelings for two different men, and with no real stakes attached to her choice.

The other problem with this particular triangle is that one side of it was... conspicuously weak. While Emma’d had a full season and a half worth of interactions and development with Killian--where they went from enemies, to grudging allies, to Killian openly acknowledging that he hadn’t ever believed he would be able to love again until he met Emma--she had... very little to support her potential relationship with Neal outside of their history. History which consisted of then-young-adult Neal knocking up underage Emma (she was 17 at the oldest because she was still in Juvie when Henry was born, and he was already ten years old the day she turned 28; so she was either 16 or very newly 17 when she got pregnant) and ensuring that she got sent to prison for his own crime, at which point he didn’t see her again until she was nearly 30. When he did see her again, he treated her incredibly poorly, up to and including getting angry at her about the fact that she didn’t tell him that Henry was his son--even though he had no right to that information, because Emma was in prison because of him at the time she found out, and she had no clue that he was in any way connected to the Fairy Tale world until she was helping Mr. Gold track down his son and it turned out to be Neal.

A big point is made, throughout the early seasons especially, about Emma’s walls and how much difficulty she has trusting people--and a great deal of that stemmed from Neal’s betrayal. This could have been the foundation for a story of healing and growth and two people coming back together--however, with the way Neal treats Emma in the present and how little closure she actually gets for what he did to her in the past, it comes across more as ‘well, she never did get over her feelings for him, so maybe he still has a shot even though she has no real reason to want to be with him now’.

Killian, on the other hand, never doubted Emma’s abilities and always had the utmost trust in and respect for her (after they became allies), and it was obvious that this is something Emma experienced very little of in her life. It’s notable that the first episode where they really interacted is the one in which Emma’s history with Neal is revealed, and it very deliberately paralleled and contrasted with her interactions with Killian. This already presented him with a leg up on the love triangle once Neal did show up, because Neal was the reason for a lot of the walls Emma had built around her heart, and it wasn’t until meeting Killian that she finally began to let some of them down.

I think that the show recognized this, and it pulled something that is actually a very frustrating pet peeve of mine--rather than write out the story that makes sense and have the main point of the love triangle make a choice and stick to it, the third point of the triad was simply written out. In this case, Neal essentially killed himself via his own stupidity, allowing Emma to angst about losing him without actually having to tell him she wasn’t in love with him and wasn’t going to choose him. (Veronica Mars pulled something very similar with the Logan/Veronica/Duncian triangle in season 2--rather than admit within the narrative that her relationship with Duncan was built on flimsy feelings of infatuation bc of their history, and a ‘stability’ that didn’t really work for who Veronica was at her core, he simply got written out of the story, running away for Plot Reasons and never forcing Veronica to confront the fact that she wasn’t actually in love with him and hadn’t been for quite some time.)

I think that in OUaT, the love triangle could have worked if a relationship between Killian and Neal was not only established in the past but developed in the present--Killian was in love with Neal’s mother centuries earlier, and something I’m actually really upset we never got is the two of them talking about Milah and maybe Neal getting some closure for his mother’s abandonment and someone apologizing to him for what they put Baelfire through as a child--giving stakes to Emma’s choice beyond ‘one of them will be all uwu sad that he wasn’t picked’. It also would have worked much better if we were given any reason for Emma to still have feelings for Neal in the present beyond the history they shared, which caused Emma nothing but pain for the last decade and change. If Neal had treated her more fairly--if he’d treated her like someone he actually cared about and even still loved, rather than blaming her for things that were his own fault and undermining her belief in her own abilities, among other things--then their relationship might have been strong enough to stand on its own opposite Emma’s relationship with Killian. I don’t think it ever would’ve been a relationship that appealed to me, personally, but then I could have at least enjoyed watching the three of them grow together and seeing all of their relationships grow and change.

So, ultimately, TL;DR: I do like love triangles, conceptually, but there are a few requirements they must meet for me to feel anything other than irritated at the inclusion. One: there must be at least three equally important relationships between the three characters. If it’s just one character torn between her (or his, but it’s usually a woman) feelings for two unrelated people, that can be compelling for a short time but ultimately I’m going to be left feeling frustrated by her refusal to just make a damn choice and put me out of my misery. Two: there should be some sort of development in each relationship which makes the presence of the triangle narratively significant. Why is it important for one character to have conflicting romantic feelings for these two other people at the same time? What purpose does it serve either their character arcs or the story as a whole? While I am both a Bangel and a Spuffy shipper, I’ve never considered Angel/Buffy/Spike to be a love triangle--they are very different relationships that she had at very different points in her life, and while her feelings for Angel never really went away (and do cause some angst for Spike near the end of btvs) they are never really competing for her affections in any meaningful sense. If that competition does exist, there needs to be a compelling reason why. And, as a further addendum to this point, I need to at least understand why the main point of the triangle is invested in each relationship, even if I don’t ship it and actively dislike or even outright hate one side of the triangle. (I loathe stelena, but I’ve always understood why Elena was in love with him in the beginning of the show, for example. And before s5/s6, I was really pleased with how the show handled her feelings for him and finally allowed her to grow and move on from them.)

And finally, three: the triangle needs to be resolved at some point--and, when it is, it needs to stay that way. Where TVD ultimately lost me (aside from the ridiculous plot contrivances and rampant character assassination) was the refusal to let the love triangle die a natural death when it is what the story called for, and all three of their characters, their relationships, and the show as a whole suffered massively for it. So, when the primary point of the triangle makes a choice--particularly if she had made one choice in the beginning of the story, but it was clear that she was ultimately moving towards choosing the other side as she grew and her feelings and relationships grew and changed with her--let that be the end of it. Move on to exploring what that choice means for the main pair and the party not chosen, sure--maybe explore their feelings about not being chosen and how that affects their relationships with both of the others afterwards--but don’t constantly tease the possibility of the ‘losing side’ getting back together just to keep shippers invested. It’s only going to hurt your show and make everyone look callous and stupid.

Alternately, a final possibility: make it an ot3 instead. But again, if the other three conditions aren’t met (particularly number two, and its addendum; if I don’t understand why the main point of the triangle is in love with both other points, an ot3 is unlikely to resolve that issue and I’m only going to wind up resenting it), then this won’t work, because it’s just going to wind up a lopsided and stilted mess of a relationship that leaves me wishing the offending point of the triangle had been killed off just so I wouldn’t have to keep hearing about them.

#tvd #delena #anti stelena #ouat #captain swan #anti swanfire #reader anon #oh man i rambled for days lmao im sorry #i hope this answered your question #on love triangles

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

Note

in regards to ur recent post—i have been waiting so so long for someone to mention that song in relation to Fundy and i wanna hear u elaborate on how well it fits cuz ur thoughts are interesting 👀👀

Hello anon! And yeah I tried to explain why the song fits although I might not get some points across since I'm not ver articulate with my thoughts. I also apologize for responding so late since I actually posted my post at like... Past midnight so I wasn't able to respond immediately. But anyway, here's the sort of lyric analysis (??? Is this right lol) of why Not Your Seed is a Fundy song. And I mean Character Fundy not the actual person. So the Fundy mentioned here is the character.

This is long because it's me lol.

TW: brief mention of drugs, brief mention of sex (cause it's literally part of a song lyric and quite honestly I don't even want to talk about that kinda stuff), a lot of parental neglect, insane!Wilbur Soot, and possible cheating (cause Fundywastaken is mentioned). Stay safe everyone and please read the trigger warnings.

I'm not your girl anymore

I'm not that tween that you drove here for

I'm not your girl anymore

I overtook her body with an infectious spore

Okay, first of the first part of the song doesn't make sense out of the context of the musical (obviously). However if we kinda try to look at this in a "metaphorical" sense, it just gives off the message of Fundy not being the person who he used to be. If we were to say that Fundy was a kid during the first war, it's like a way to saying that he's no longer than innocent kid that he used to be. And for the "infectious spore" thing, if taken metaphorically, could mean the bitterness and anger that Fundy feels against the rest of the server (or at least against Wilbur) for the way they've treated him. Those bitter feelings have led him to just doing things that he would have never done (such as the 'blowing up L'Manburg's supply thing before the Doomsday War').

Also AU where Fundy gets infected the red egg and Wilbur gets ressurected I guess.

You left me out of your sight for one second

And look what happens, nightmare time

It's worse than you could imagine

Not sex and not drugs

Just alien invading minds

Okay for the first two lyrics, we all know very well that Wilbur did not look away for a second (he looked away for an entire damn arc is what he did lol). So essentially, from that first line it just implies that Wilbur (and I say Wilbur mostly cause 'Not Your Seed' is literally a daughter singing this to her father song) looked away from Fundy. Except, Wilbur looked away or ignored Fundy for a very long time, enough so that the last time Fundy saw Wilbur alive was Wilbur pretty much calling him a traitor and then promptly ignoring until he can back as Ghostbur. Which then leads to the second line since that neglect left some impressions on Fundy even after Wilbur was gone.

For the next three lines, combining the first two lines together, the usual fears that a parent would have regarding their children are well... Them engaging in sex and drugs (well the drugs is debatable cause Wilbur literally made a drug van so). However, Wilbur's issues regarding were never those matters but instead he had to deal with the aftermath of his emotional neglect that Fundy gained from Wilbur's parenting. As for the last line "Just alien invading minds," again does not make sense out of the context of the musical. However, metaphorically it could be seen as like... "alien" as in "different/outside emotions" that Fundy had never felt before (am I reaching XD). Essentially, negative emotions that Fundy had never felt before (or at least witheld for a very long time) have pretty much engulfed Fundy's mind and kinda led him down a terrible path.

No more family vacays together

'Cause your only daughter's under the weather

And if you actually paid attention to me

Okay, I have to admit that the first two lines are kinda out of the Fundy interpretation thing and I guess if someone wanted to, just alternate the family vacays to family hangouts since... They never took vacays lol. As for the second line, one could interpret it as just well Fundy drifting away from Wilbur... Essentially, he's sick of Wilbur. (This is reaching and I know that XD).

But it's the third line here that's definitely a Fundy line. "And if you actually paid attention to me," is a line that I believe embodies Fundy to an extent. Yes, Wilbur was there for Fundy and one could argue that whe was a doting father but that does not necessarily mean he was a good one. Wilbur was there for Fundy but he never paid attention to him, if anything, he babied Fundy. During the war? Babied him. During the time L'Manburg gained independence? Babied him. During the election arc? Babied him. Wilbur was there but he never listened to Fundy, he never saw Fundy as anything more than a child. There are many ways that a parent could be neglectful towards their children and I believe that though Wilbur was very doting he was not very attentive towards what Fundy had to say (and this is only hitting the beginning, I haven't even gotten to the "I despise you" part of the Pogtopia Arc.)

You'd see, I'm not your seed

I'm not your angsty teen

No matter what you believe

The apple's fallen far from the tree

Alright so for the first two lines, these could easily be equated to the fact that Wilbur, again, babies Fundy. What especially strikes me is the fact that Wilbur refers to Fundy's creation of Coconut 2020 and his sudden change of clothes to Fundy being in his teenage rebellious phase. Wilbur thinks that Fundy is just being rebellious and it's really just Fundy trying to separate himself from just being Wilbur's son and finding a way to make his dad proud via his own accomplishments, essentially finding something to get Wilbur's acknowledgement or approval while also doing something for himself. This line is like Fundy refuting the idea that everything he's done is just him going through an angsty teenage rebellious phase when he wasn't going through one in the first place.

For the third and fourth lines, I honestly think this represents Fundy's way of trying to separate himself as being known as Wilbur's son. He doesn't want to just be acknowledged as that, he wants to be more than his father's son. He wants to be his own person. In all honesty, I'd like to think that this is Fundy actually saying this to himself. He truly wants to believe that he's being independent but at the same time he's still looking for Wilbur's approval. No matter how much he wants to be his own man, he still looks to Wilbur because at the end of the day he wants to prove himself to Wilbur while also wanting to be independent. It's odd but it's kind of understandable. It's difficult to try and step out of somebody's shadow without turning around to see if they actually notice what you're doing. Fundy is like that. At least he was, and probably still is (with Phil before the whole breakdown arc).

It's not my fault anymore

No more curfews to be late for

It's not my fault anymore

No more being worried and waiting by the door

Again, these four lines are essentially just normal parent-child stuff. Children usually have curfews on when they should be home and parents tend to wait by the doors everytime their kid is a little bit late to arriving home. The thing about this kind of thing tho, if it was something that happened during the L'Manburg war, Fundy would have definitely felt constricted within the walls of L'Manburg. It wouldn't have been easy to just leave the safety of L'Manburg since the enemy could literally be waiting outside to ambush anyone they could. So, if character Fundy were the type of person to occasionally leave L'Manburg (and I believe he would be), he'd definitely feel guilty at times since it would have been very stressful for Wilbur. It's the middle of a war, Wilbur's a general and a father (tho he definitely he focused on one more than the other) and the least Fundy should be doing is to just stay within the walls. So, in a scenario where Fundy occasionally leaves L'Manburg, he would definitely feel guilty and blame himself for adding any unnecessary stress to Wilbur...

Again tho, this is an imagined scenario since this never really occured within the actual storyline... But then again Wilbur did claim the walls as "The wall I built to keep him (Fundy) safe." So it probably did happen and Fundy would have probably felt guilty for just leaving every now and then. Although Wilbur would have a point (it's literally the middle of a war), Fundy would have wanted to see the outside world and not have been forced to stay within the confines of L'Manburg (Fundy would have some slight fault here, that should be noted.)

Like I said, this is more of an imagined scenario that may or may not have occured.

Did you know that I wanted to live with you? (Look what happens, nightmare time)

O-ooh

And when you needed to fight, you gave her that too (aliens invading minds)

Ah-ooh

Alright so the first line really hits me since "live" could almost sound like "leave" (I know they're pronounced different don't @ me). For this piece of line, it sounds like a confrontation between Fundy and insane!Wilbur (Wilbur in Pogtopia Arc). At the very beginning of Schlatt's Administration, Fundy had always made it clear to at least himself (and Eret) that he was a spy on the inside. Fundy - at the beginning - didn't support Schlatt's administration at all. So if one were to think of the line with the word "leave" instead of "live," it gives off the context that Fundy wanted to go with Wilbur and Tommy when they were exiled... But he didn't because he wanted to be a spy for them. Technically, you don't have to change "live" with "leave" cause it essentially means the same thing, it just feels more painful this way cause it implies that Fundy forced himself to stay even if he didn't want to. Tis sad times for Fundy's hidden spy arc.

As for the third line, in the context of the musical this is referring to Bill (the father) essentially giving up custody of his daughter Alice to her mother. Of course in Fundy's case that doesn't work. But if this line were to be though of in a metaphorical way, it could come out as something else. "And when you needed to fight, you gave her that too." Think of it as Wilbur choosing L'Manburg over Fundy. Wilbur never "fought" for Fundy. Pet war? Nope. Tommy publicly disowning him? Nope. People calling Fundy a furry despite him being an anthromorphic fox (and as far as I'm aware, this is canon)? Nope. Schlatt hitting Fundy with a bottle during the November 16th war? Nope. Wilbur never cared enough to defend his son, but he was always ready to fight for L'Manburg.

Did you know mom let Deb sleep over?

And you're right about Deb - she's a hardcore stoner

And if you wonder what led your daughter astray

Well, daddy wasn't here to stay

... listen *gets bonked* Okay, serious interpretation first before I make the crack joke. This line really doesn't work cause this is essentially Alice (the daughter) talking about Deb (her girlfriend) who Bill (the father) does not really like. If anything, I'd like to say that... Change these lines to Fundy admitting that Schlatt is actually doing a great job as president? (Let's all be honest, Fundy at one point did express that he thought Schlatt was a good president). So yeah just Fundy admitting that Schlatt is a good president even though he is an alcoholic.

("Did you know Schlatt let Dre sleep over?

And you were right about Dre - he's a hardcore liar.")

For the last two lines. I imagine this could be said to two versions of Wilbur. If we're talking about insane!Wilbur then this is just a confrontation of how Wilbur pretty much just left Fundy in a hostile country where he was forced to adapt unless he wanted to get executed like Tubbo or imprisoned like Niki. There's a reason why Schlatt asked Fundy about his parentage and his association with Wilbur. As such, Fundy had to learn how to be another person because Wilbur left.

Another way to interpret this is Fundy telling it to Ghostbur. The reason why Fundy is bitter and the way he is is because Wilbur left him... Both emotionally and physically, the man died and they were never able to resolve their issues before Wilbur died. Fundy is the way he is because Wilbur never stayed to resolve their issues. The line "Well, daddy wasn't here to stay" really hits how Fundy is influenced by what Wilbur did, and Fundy is still looking for that one person - the one person - who would stay for him. His dad didn't stay for him, his grandfather stay, Eret did not go to the adoption, and his best friend (Ranboo???) didn't stay... Everyone has left him and that hurts him since that is exactly what Wilbur did and it still continues to haunt him even after Wilbur is dead and gone.

Not your seed

I'm not your perfect teen

I'm fucking sevente-en

At least I was before you left me

With the first two lines, I suppose one could say that this is how Wilbur saw Fundy. "I'm not your perfect teen," is one way that Wilbur could've seen Fundy or at least how he forced himself to see Fundy as. Since the beginning of the L'Manburg War, he regarded Fundy as a child and during the Election Arc he regarded Fundy as a rebellious teenager... But with slight endearment. Like he's honestly amused by Fundy's sudden show of rebellion... It's only when Fundy sides with Quackity that Wilbur begins to realize that Fundy is serious about the whole separating-himself-from-Wilbur thing and even then continues to look at Fundy condescendingly, especially when Fundy ran for presidency. And, although this is my own interpretation, that part of the Election Arc where Fundy wanted to run for the presidency too and Wilbur just allowed it after a moment of awkward silence, feels like a parent who just decided to concede with their child's wishes cause it's amusing and "hey, what's the harm in letting the kid have what he wants?" But... Fundy is not the kid that Wilbur sees him as at all, but Wilbur can't get over that and it even translates over to the way Ghostbur looks and regards Fundy as.

As for the last two lines, there are two ways this could be interpreted as. In the first interpretation, don't look at the age but at the context. Fundy was a kid who was born and grew up in a war-torn country, Wilbur may have been there physically but he had long since emotionally left Fundy since Wilbur was busy with the war effort to really be there for Fundy. Fundy, like Tommy and Tubbo, was forced to grow up because it was a war and they had no choice but to grow if they wanted to survive. The second interpretation is... A bit sadder. I don't really know what Fundy's age is. Like... Is he older than Tommy or Tubbo but how was he born in L'Manburg then??? But confusion aside. If we were to assume that Fundy was 14 during the Election Arc (as Ghostbur said but he's unreliable) or at least Fundy was a teen at that point of time, Wilbur left his son in an enemy country (though of course not any initial fault of his own since he was exiled XD). Fundy - like in the first interpretation - was forced to grow up and adapt because Schlatt could have literally just killed him for being Wilbur's son.

Why does it hurt to love you?

Why am I in pain?

Why does it hurt to know you?

You'll let me down again

If I turned my insides out, would you even know that I was there?

Ah ;-; the lines that make me cry.

Alright so I can definitely say that all of these lines are just relatable to Fundy. "Why does it hurt to love you?" Fundy does probably care a whole lot about Wilbur but with this care and love comes the pain of how Wilbur emotionally neglected and disrespected him. Fundy loves Wilbur. He does. But it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. He still recognizes Wilbur as his father to some degree and does love the Wilbur that was his dad, but with everything that's happened, loving Wilbur has become too painful for him to bear. Everytime he tries, it just feels like a stab to the heart since he's reminded of how absent Wilbur truly was in his life.... Even if Ghostbur tried to be there for Fundy, it doesn't erase the pain that Wilbur inflicted when he was alive.

For the second line, "Why am I in pain?" Fundy's character is undeniably one of the most tragic characters (at least from my perspective). The guy has been through a lot and even if this line isn't supported by the first, it still indicates that Fundy has suffered a lot (and yes a lot of characters have suffered too and I am not invalidating any of the other characters). He's hurting. And to be honest, they're all hurting. Everyone has their own ways of coping, and Fundy is honestly quite lost in what he should be doing. He's still reeling from everything, enough so that he canonically took a break and left the DSMP altogether (yes it was canonised that his character had taken a break).

For the following lines, I'd like to think this is directed to Ghostbur. "Why does it hurt to know you?" It feels like Fundy meeting Wilbur - or at least a version of Wilbur - after everything that's happened. He knows the real Wilbur and although Ghostbur reminds him of the father that he used to have, he can't just forget what the real Wilbur did. It hurts to not be able to move on even though he has a second chance with Ghostbur. It hurts because everytime he sees Ghostbur he'll just be reminded that Ghostbur is nothing more than a remnant of a once broken man. He knows Wilbur, he knew the real Wilbur. And it hurts to not be able to move on from the real Wilbur. The reason why it feels like something Fundy would say to Ghostbur is furthe remphasized by the next line in the song.

"You'll let me down again." That is definitely something that Fundy would say or at least feel towards Ghostbur. He wants to get to know this new version of his father, he wants to... But he can't. Cause again there's still that underlying fear of Ghostbur just messing up again and further hurting Fundy. In a way, Ghostbur did in fact hurt Fundy and he did in fact let Fundy down again. The issue with Ghostbur is that he refused to acknowledged the problems that he inflicted to everyone around him. When Fundy confronted him, Ghostbur ignored it. He ran away. So yeah, Fundy couldn't let himself know Ghostbur because Ghostbur would have and did let him down again.

Finally, the last line, "If I turned my insides out, would you even know that I was there?" As we've already seen, Fundy has tried to gain Wilbur's attention and acknowledgement in the past. First, with the running for presidency and secondly, with the spying for Pogtopia thing. Fundy has gone - and would have possibly gone to even worse - to great lengths just to gain Wilbur's approval. This line just shows the desperation that Fundy had just so he could get his father's approval. He tried to be independent, but it didn't work. He tried to help his father against Schlatt, it didn't work. He went so far as to burn the flag down since he wanted to get into Schlatt's good graces so he could be a better spy. He went to great lengths for Wilbur's acknowledgement... But he never got it, at least, not in the way that he wanted to.

Why does it hurt to love you?

Why does it hurt to love?

For the first line, "Why does it hurt to love you?" it just really shows how painful it is for Fundy to try and love a father who was barely even there for him. He does love Wilbur - as I said before - but loving Wilbur comes with a lot of pain (as I'm sure even other characters affiliated with Wilbur can attest). Wilbur went crazy before he died and he wasn't the best father towards Fundy and though Fundy still holds on to some semblance of love for the man he once saw as his dad, he still feels hurt over everything that's happened. Wilbur is a sore and touchy subject for many people within the story, not even just Fundy. They all suffer at the thought of Wilbur... At least, Alivebur.

Ohhhh... Like...this is obvious. The second line is obvious for Fundy XD. Because: his father was barely there, his possible last words to Fundy were "I despise you," and then he died and came back as a ghost who straight up ignores all the problems that he caused when he was alive, his grandfather disowned him, his fiancé broke up and possibly cheated on him (if you consider fwt canon), his best friend called him a coward and left, his home got destroyed thrice, Eret never showed up for the adoption, and he went through a breakdown arc in which it was so bad that he left to take a break from everything that happened. Everything that he's ever loved just finds a way to hurt him.

I'm not your seed (not your girl, not your girl)

Now maybe you'll listen to me (listen to me, listen to me)

Or do you let me bleed? (let me bleed)

Now your daughter's not a girl no more (girl no more, girl no more)

Now that Fundy's gone through a possible recovery arc (since he canonically left the server for one year or was it fours years?), he's probably more well-adjusted to everything else. If Wilbur does indeed get ressurected at some point. This is a way of like showing how Wilbur and Fundy may interact. (Also, I know it could also sound like Villain Fundy but I honestly have moved on from that particular thing and just want Fundy to recover). "Now maybe you'll listen to me," is just Fundy trying to confront Wilbur after everything except this time Fundy has recovered enough to actually speak to Wilbur without getting mad or upset once Wilbur refuses to acknowledge anything's wrong. Still, this is just in the case where Wilbur is ressurected and Fundy is recovered enough to confront Wilbur for everything that's happened.

So for these last lines, I'll only focus on the third line which is "Or do you let me bleed?" If Fundy and ressurected!Wilbur do interact, there are two possible ways for that to go. Wilbur either acknowledges and apologizes for what he did wrong, Fundy apologizes for the things he also did (come on, burning the flag, tearing down the walls, and disowning Wilbur is very painful regardless of what Fundy was trying to accomplish), and they both learn to accept the past and move on so they can beat that stupid egg (red egg, my beloved) and maybe Dream. Or... Wilbur could just ignore Fundy all over again and refuse to acknowledge what he did wrong. Hopefully this time, Fundy would be recovered enough to just realize that Wilbur is never gonna change and that Fundy needs to move on from Wilbur. So, yes. In this possible scenario, Wilbur and Fundy could either make up ("Now maybe you'll listen to me") or Wilbur refuses to acknowledge anything that went wrong and Fundy moves on by himself ("Or do you let me bleed?") Again, this is just a possible scenario.

Not at all your seed!

Cause I'm not your girl anymore

Just, well, further emphasis that Fundy isn't the same person he used to be and he never will be again. Like everyone else, he's gone through a lot. He's different, he's changed.

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So yeah... I am so sorry to the anon if this is just so confusing or me rambling and I'm pretty sure you didn't ask for a damn essay. But ye... Have this... Sorry if it’s not the analysis you wanted tho ;-;

Apologies tho if this seems confusing and I would gladly clear things up if there's some points that are confusing.

So...ye... Have fun with this

(what do I tag this as, pls help—)

#fundy #fundywastaken #<--- briefly mentioned tho #pls read the trigger warnings

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gemsofgreece · 4 years ago

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I know the Byzantine Empire was Greek, as in the rulers/nobility were Greek and spike Greek. So why did they call themselves Romans? This is something I’m always confused about, especially because as a Pontic Greek from Turkey, we call ourselves Rum, which comes from Roman. Even though we are Greek.

No wonder you are confused about that, we all are. I’ve not found yet an entirely satisfying answer to that. But from my little knowledge and my experience as a Greek living in Greece, I think I can reach some conclusions that are generally safe. I’m gonna explain this in two sections and, again, this is based on my personal understanding of the situation. I might be wrong. Also, this is long because, hey, it´s me, I can´t help it.

1. Why did the Byzantines call themselves Romans?

The Byzantine Empire was the Eastern part of the Roman Empire, coming into existence after a division which did not happen with a revolt or a war or some other violent change. The Roman Empire would often be divided and ruled by more than one emperors because it was apparently too challenging a task for one person and because of how vastly different the West and the East were. Not only that, but the East was growing powerful and the West couldn’t keep up with it.

Emperor Constantine the Great played the most crucial part in this - maybe it was his Greek descent or maybe he was ahead of his time and could see there was no hope for the western part. He moved the capital to Constantinople and focused almost entirely on strengthening the East, and left the West to its fate. A few decades after his reign, the empire got divided forever. And in about a little more than a century, the Western Roman Empire was but a memory.

On the contrary, the Eastern Roman Empire lasted another 1000 years. This is why, in terms of influence and power, the Byzantine Empire is the true successor of the Roman Empire. I think the name was kept as a token of its origin, its power and glory. Besides, the Byzantine Empire was largely Greek but multi-national too. There were Illyrians, Armenians, Slavs too, and they too had positions of power and they could all ascend to the throne. Something that was true of the Roman Empire even before its division.

So, I think Roman served as an umbrella term and described citizenship, not ethnicity, not at the time. Most historical evidence, most knowledge we have of famous Roman and Byzantine people is clear about their descent, so apparently it was clear to the Byzantines what each man’s origin was. Just like we know Constantine the Great was a Roman Emperor but he was half-Greek, half-Illyrian. Just like everyone born in the USA, they all say they are American but if you ask them for more detail, they’ll say they are Native or of Irish, Spanish, Italian, Nigerian, Thai descent and so on.

And why Roman Empire and not Hellenic Empire once again? Well, first, exactly because it was multi-national. I think power in the Roman Empire was most accessible than in the Hellenic Empire, where mostly Greeks gathered the power. And, second, because simply the Roman was closer in terms of time and more familiar to the Byzantine Greeks. Let’s not forget, people back then didn’t have our science and technology - they couldn’t easily get as familiar with periods way back in time like we do nowadays.

And one more reason: at its late age, the Roman Empire was a synonym to Christianity. The Hellenic Empire meant paganism and Byzantine Greeks loathed this as much as they loathed Satan (and the Pope).

So, long story short, for these four reasons: imperial power, multi-national character, religion and comparative familiarity with the culture, the Byzantine Empire retained the Roman title.

2. Why did the early Modern Greeks call themselves Rum / Romioi / Romans?

I ‘ve read that at its late period, when the Byzantine Empire lost its eastern lands to the Seljuk Turks and was left mostly with the Greek lands, the Byzantines would then often replace the name “Romans” with the name “Hellenes”. So, even back then, people were fairly aware of their descent and background. Culturally and lingually, the Empire was always Greek but now it was also becoming by name so. This does not mean that the title “Roman” had lost its official character though.

So, when the Ottoman Turks came and annexed the empire, they knew they conquered the Roman empire. And because its population was largely Greek, it’s the Greeks whom they called Roman, or “Rum” in Turkish. And I don’t think the Greeks were in a place where they could dictate to be called Hellenes now that the empire had fallen. Frankly, I don’t think they even cared at that point. Like, at all.

Romans / Rum was the name the Turks had found when they first encountered the Greeks and this became their common name in the Ottoman Empire. As subjects, the Greeks took that name and lived with it. The Greek variant of Roman Ρωμαίος (Roméos) became Ρωμιός (Romiós) so it changed both in writing and sound. This makes me think that Romios derived from Rum, as a double lexical borrowing, and at this point it had changed meaning entirely. It didn’t address the Roman citizenship anymore, it certainly did not have any glorious connotations either. It simply meant Greek (subject of the Ottoman empire).

The names Greek and Hellene never disappeared, thanks to the Western Europeans and the Greek Orthodox Church respectively. The New Testament is written in Greek and there are references to Hellenes in it. So Greeks knew these two were also names for them but they didn’t feel much connection to them at the time. There’s a reason the Ottoman rule is considered the Greek Dark ages. All education Greek peasants received was their language and their religion. Forget about heritage and history and all that jazz. They were disconnected from these. The Greek language and Christian religion was where they entirely based their sense of different identity from the Turks. The connection to the ancient cultural heritage was maintained by rich and educated Greeks that had fled in Europe and a few privileged ones who still lived here.

The last century before the Greek Revolution sees an awakening, a rise of the Greek sense of identity, now more familiar and more reconciled with its past. The wealthy intellectuals had to do a lot with that and here’s one rare bright example where the wealthy and the religious actually helped significantly, if not decidedly. (The latter.) In all historical evidence we have, the Revolutionaries, the intellectuals, the war chiefs and the captains all use Romiós, Greek and Hellene interchangeably. So, we can be certain that early Modern Greeks meant Greek by the name Romios.

So, long story short: It had changed meaning throughout the ages, simple as that.

In Greece, the name Romios can technically still be used, although very rarely. Before and shortly after the Independence, the region of Central Greece was called Rúmeli. The name has been famously used even in the 20th Century by poet Yannis Ritsos (Την Ρωμιοσύνη μην την κλαις / Tin Romiosíni min tin kles / Do not weep for Hellenism) and then set to music by Mikis Theodorakis.

Its use rapidly gets weaker here because the more we grow distant from the Ottoman past and the more knowledge we gather about the Byzantine Empire and the Romans before it, the more alienated we feel towards it.

But as a Pontic Greek living in Turkey, with the Turkish language, you are still close and familiar with it. It just means Greek. And we don’t have negative feelings towards it here, we just don’t choose to use it I suppose.

#greece #history #byzantine history #greek history #romans #byzantine empire #roman empire #ottoman empire #greek language #anon #ask #mail

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writingithink · 3 years ago

Text

Improbable Multiversal Transcending Temporal Spacetime Event Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Rated: T Word Count: 7,101 Summary: The best way to show someone you care is to blow up their job ... right? Notes: I'm back! And it's not a Tangled Timelines update (sorry!) But it is something? I've had this in my WIPs for awHILE now, and when I was cleaning my studio the other night I found a planning page for it in a random tote bag and was like ... oh yeah. And the ending just came to me and I love it when that happens. Hopefully there will be another chapter up for Tangled Timelines soon, though!

As always, infinite thanks to my wonderful beta, @hey-there-juliet who is fine with me randomly sending her fics at all hours and with no warning XP

All mistakes are mine, as always.

<<READ IT ON AO3>>

If the other him in the other universe had taken the time to imagine their human life together in a parallel universe, the Doctor doubted he would have pictured this. His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was always quite whimsical. Happiness had made him impractical, really. Because despite all of the drawbacks, all of the reasons he currently loathed himself, the Doctor knew every single reason why the other truly felt like this was the best possible option.

But maybe it wasn’t.

Sometimes, despite it not occurring too often, he was wrong.

They had spent five and a half hours on the beach at Bad Wolf Bay.

(I create myself.)

She had been so upset; said that after everything they’d went through, everything she did to get back, the other him owed her a proper goodbye. She had stopped speaking to him when he told her that, actually, he would never give her a proper goodbye.

And she didn’t let him explain why. Now that he finally could.

Now it had been 57 days since she’d last spoken to him. Since he’d gotten more than a brief glimpse of her with his own eyes. That he’d spent piecing together a picture of what her life had been like here, without him. Such a short time, really, now that it was over (almost over), but yet also some of the worst moments of his entire existence.

It seemed fair that the multiverse would demand just that extra sequence of pain, considering everything he could potentially get in return. What another version of himself could only hope for, bitterly gambling eternities, following their timeline through all of it’s complicated swirls and turns, names weaving around each other, stamping themselves on the structure of creation.

Forever isn’t something that ends.

(How long are you going to stay with me?)

Quite the opposite, actually. And he knew, eventually, she would remember that. Knew it, but didn’t feel it.

The Doctor finally understood what all of the human writers meant about falling in love. Not just the terrifying sensation of the unstoppable freefall, but also the immense pain of crashing into the immovable object at the end of the journey.

They had sat on opposite ends of a Zeppelin. He had gone back to the Tyler Manor with Jackie, and Rose had gone back to her flat. Hoping to see her, talk to her, he had immediately joined Torchwood (once they agreed to his very detailed, highly specific, entirely ironclad contract). Their paths rarely crossed, and when they did it was just tiny, insubstantial moments.

A flash of her at the far end of a hall. Her name in a report (a lot of reports). Snatches of her voice, there one moment and gone the next.

It all made everything hurt so much more, somehow, having her so close but yet further than he could have possibly imagined.

But yet …

His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was still quite whimsical. So when he tried to think of the bigger picture, waxing poetic, alone on his office couch, the Doctor tried to look at the last few years as the impact, and this as the aftershock. Still, philosophical jaunts weren’t exactly a solution to his problem. A temporary solution was moving his office even further away, so that’s what he did.

Plus, he found it kind of fitting, commandeering the inside of Big Ben. UNIT may have it in the prime universe, but in this universe he had the fancy landmark office. Well, office-slash-home (without Rose Tyler, a proper house with doors and things was absolutely unthinkable). Not that it was just about having a private laugh. The gears soothed him, the sound of ticking helped the gnawing emptiness that had filled his mind ever since the TARDIS dematerialized without him in it. The Doctor had thought it was kind of fitting - the closest he could possibly be right now to time.

Not that he wasn’t spending every possible spare moment working on the baby TARDIS, just a tiny piece of coral still, currently sitting in the extended electro-percussive environment chamber. He wondered if, in three years (his best-possible projected timetable), when the new TARDIS would be ready for flight, she would still not be speaking to him.

Incidentally, the emergence of that thought and the start of his supposed ‘self-isolation’ coincided to an alarming degree for how coincidental the two really were. The fact of the matter was, he was busy. Tons of experiments to run, alien equipment to identify, classify (and more often than not remove from Torchwood entirely), a baby TARDIS to tend to, and a backlog of Rose’s mission reports to hack into made spending slightly over three weeks in his tower easy.

The problem was the fact that during that time the Doctor avoided sleeping, barely remembered to eat, and existed on overly sugared tea alone. Not sleeping didn’t put the demons at bay, but at least when he was awake he wasn’t forced to confront the man he never wanted to remember being.

It had been 57 days since Rose Tyler had last spoken to him, and the Doctor detonated a bomb in the abandoned annex Torchwood had scheduled to be demolished and rebuilt.

Then the counter reset to zero.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she yelled, barging into the top floor lab where he had been checking the readings on the EEPEC.

Everything that he wanted to say to her, and the Doctor was struck mute.

“Whatever plans you think you have, however good of an idea it is, for the good of the planet or, or the galaxy or what, you don’t just go blowing up buildings without a word to anyone! Do you know that everyone else was too scared to come up here and have a word with you, because that highly confidential ridiculous contract you drew up made its way through the gossips and isn’t so classified anymore. Now no one wants to go toe to toe with the man who ‘speaks for the planet’,” Rose growled through the air quotes. “So tell me, Doctor, what genius reason you’ve got for blowing up the Records Annex?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“It worked.”

“What?”

“Remember ‘run’?” he asked, bouncing away from the baby TARDIS and circling her, picking up his new sonic screwdriver as he did and deadlock sealing the only door off the floor.

“Run?” she frowned as he circled back.

“Run,” he whispered in her ear as he passed, running up a small set of stairs to flip a giant switch that activated the clock-lights outside of their automated timer. Likely no one noticed outside with the sun still out, but it lit up the lab. “Henrik’s basement, Nestene Consciousness, shop window dummies, you and me. How did that night end?” he asked, with a manic grin as he skidded to a stop in front of her.

“Oh, that ‘run’,” Rose breathed, trying to fight back a smile. “You blew up my job.”

“I blew up your job.”

She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, and crossed her arms. His shoulders fell, exhaustion pressing down onto each and every bone of his new, much more fragile body.

“I just want to talk,” he told her, only a moment away from begging.

“Alright then. Talk.”

Everything he wanted to say to her, and all of it felt disjointed in his overtired mind. Yet she was here now, and if she left he didn’t have a new idea for getting her back again. So he talked.

“I’m sorry. That I made this choice for you, even if it was technically a different me who did it. I’m sorry that this is the best option, the safest option. I’m sorry I never got the chance to explain everything to you before. But I am never going to say goodbye to you, Rose. Never. And I know that the power of words doesn’t translate as well for you, the science of psycho-kinetic-telepathic influence on the elements of creation. But there are some things I can never risk saying aloud. There are some beings that exist, at least in our original universe, that could easily- … still, no matter what universe we’re in, I’m never going to say it. Forever, Rose Tyler. It’s longer than you can comprehend. An eternal silence stretching infinitely ahead, timelines swirling in every direction. This one is ours, if you’ll- if you could just- if you could see in twenty-odd dimensions and focused on individual temporal waveforms, the quantum reality of specific-”

“Doctor!” she shouted when his legs gave out, immediately grabbing hold of him, joining him on the floor.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he moved to get back up she easily held him down. Rose gently manipulated his face, giving him a basic medical check. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how much she had learned while they were away, only to then frown at how hard he imagined it all must have been for her. Floundering, he tried to make a joke. “So, I’m still the Doctor?”

Which went ignored.

“You look like a wreck,” she told him, and it wasn’t new information. The Doctor now made much more frequent trips to the restroom and was well aware of how pale he was, of the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He had at least been making a disjointed effort to shave, which was another activity that had increased with his meta crisis, and admittedly it had slipped his mind for a couple days.

“It’s not easy, doing this without you,” he admitted. “But if you need more time, I want you to take it. I really am alright. There’s just so much I need to tell you, now that I can.”

“What do you mean, ‘now that you can’?”

“Different universe, firm walls in between. I don’t have to worry about using the wrong words at the wrong time and having cosmic consequences … for a lot of things, not all things. With our timeline in a different dimension and reality back as it should be, at least for the moment, I can tell you all sorts of things. Though the most important one, the one I’m never going to miss an opportunity to say, is that I love you, Rose Tyler. Forever.”

“I love you, too,” she sighed, caressing his cheek for a moment before helping him up. “But I’m still mad at you. Now you need sleep.”

“But I’m not done talking,” the Doctor complained, dragging his feet as she led him over to the sofa in the corner.

“We’ll talk more after you’ve gotten some rest, okay? I promise.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, more horizontal than he remembered being just a moment ago. Something soft and warm ensconced his body. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been until just then.

Another breath and black oblivion overtook him. Peaceful until it suddenly very much wasn’t.

A shockwave. A rift in time and space. A breached void. A crack in reality. A big red button. No more. Howling, howling, howling.

“Wake up!”

His eyes snapped open.

He didn’t know where he was. Nothing felt right; not the air, not time, not even his own body. The Doctor tried to do a quick systems check, and the results were all wrong. His hand flew to his chest, where only one heart was beating.

A choking scream echoed through the space, which seemed to be tick tick ticking, and he didn’t realize that it was him who shouted until soothing hands were brushing through his hair. Vision focusing, he saw Rose Tyler kneeling next to him, or at least it was something that looked like Rose Tyler. She felt too cool. Or maybe he was too warm.

“Are you real?” he asked, hoping that she wouldn’t lie to him.

Just one heart working, and it was beating too fast, refusing to slow down. The air was too thick, he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah.” A sad smile. “I’m real.”

The Doctor didn’t know if he believed her, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the moment she inevitably vanished. “I’m dying,” he told the being-who-might-be-Rose as he shuddered and collapsed back onto some sort of sofa.

“You’re fine,” she lied, but it was a lie she seemed to believe.

“Only got one heart beating,” he admitted, trying to get his breathing under control as his malfunctioning body began to sweat. The room ticked away, and he wondered if all of this was about to explode, if he should be running, if he even could run. His legs felt like lead. So did his arms. The air was too thick, dragging him down.

“That’s-”

The Doctor shut his eyes tighter, tears escaping that he hadn’t even realized were there. She must have vanished, just like he knew she would. And if she was never real to begin with, why did it have to hurt so much for her to go?

A weight rested on top of him, and he would never forget the feel of her. He vaguely wondered what it meant for him, to be having tactile hallucinations. Olfactory hallucinations. Even the buzz of time that had never left her skin after she took in the vortex was present.

“You’ve still got two beating,” Rose whispered as his arms wrapped around her in a tight hold that didn’t feel nearly strong enough to keep her. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her.

Her heart beat steadily over where his right heart had failed.

“I’m scared,” the Doctor admitted, eyes still closed though it was oddly easier to breathe.

“I’ve got you.”

“Please be real,” he whimpered, even as his mind grew foggier.

She said something, but he didn’t know what. Everything was fading away, darkness becoming darker, becoming void.

Nothing.

The Doctor awoke alone on the couch in his office. According to his time sense, he had slept for eighteen hours and twenty-one minutes. He felt better than he had in weeks, but also so much worse. He grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.

“What’s wrong now?”

The pillow dropped from his hands and his eyes locked with Rose’s as she raced up the slight stair onto the platform that separated his primary workspace from the rest of the top floor.

“What?” His voice cracked.

Rose Tyler sat next to him on the couch, hand immediately resting on his forehead, primitively gauging his temperature. The Doctor cleared his throat before trying again.

“Rose, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad, I’m so very, very glad you’ve come.” Her hand dropped away and he was able to get a good look at her, dressed in a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts (Jackie had bought him a ridiculous amount of clothes before he left the manor, all of which he sent out to be cleaned). He swallowed audibly. “W-why are you wearing my clothes?”

“‘M locked in here. Door’s deadlock sealed.”

Flashes of memories began to speed through him. Attaching a re-calibrated Tziklian implosion grenade to a newly-repaired retroreflective Clishtahrr drone. Obsessively trying to circumvent his vision in order to peer at his own timeline, making himself sick. A contained rift event in the lower levels of the tower that made him feel like he had looked into the untempered schism again.

(Run, run, run!)

“I’m sorry. I don’t … I’ll just …”

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs, found his sonic screwdriver and unsealed the door. And he wished he hadn’t trapped her with him, even if he was starting to remember why (inky black terror crawling up his spine, wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe).

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” she asked, following him as he went to check the TARDIS on autopilot, looking as if she was worried he would collapse (again).

“It’s coming back to me,” the Doctor admitted. Still had a good four hours to go before the shatterfry process would be complete. He straightened his shoulders, trying to stand tall as he turned to face her. “Things got a little, uhm, unpleasant. I’ll do better.”

“Unpleasant,” Rose scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you had a bleedin’ breakdown!”

“It’s been a difficult regeneration,” he deflected, turning away, leaving the platform and making a beeline to the tiny kitchenette tucked off to the side. Tea. He just needed more tea.

“So, this how it’s gonna be, then? All that stuff about wanting to talk, but now you’re just done?”

He nearly spilled the kettle with the speed of his turn, brows furrowed and mouth falling open. “What? Of course I want to talk!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Just, er, what did I say? Before?”

Memory was still a bit of a blur. Successful energy funnel for the TARDIS’ growth tank. Vodka tasting different in a universe without potatoes. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. No contact.

“You don’t remember?”

“I said it was coming back to me, it’s just not coming in the right order.” he sighed, refocusing on the tea.

“Well, what’s the last thing that you vividly remember?” Rose asked, moving around him, easily finding mugs and sugar and milk.

“Thirteen days ago, creating a temporal disruption chrono-field manipulator. Needed to siphon rift energy for our TARDIS. She needs a very specific growth environment.”

“Thirteen days?! Wait, siphoning the-” She leaned against the tiny countertop and covered her face with her hands. The only sound for a few moments was of the electric kettle quickly boiling the water. “Our TARDIS?”

“If you want,” the Doctor muttered, lifting a hand, wanting to touch her, but then thinking better of it. He clenched his fist as it dropped to his side.

Rose groaned as she turned back to him. “Of course I want that, you daft alien git! But you don’t exactly make things easy, do ya? I spent years getting back to you, and then suddenly there’s two of you and one of you abandons me just like I was always afraid of, but one of you stays and I’m expected to be able to process any of it? And then for weeks it’s an effort just to give myself space, knowing that wherever I go you’re so close, part of me wondering why I’m even trying to stay away when all I wanted for ages was to be back with you. Then suddenly you’re gone! I still know where you are, but there isn’t a chance that I’d actually run into you. And I still don’t know what to feel, but coming here yesterday, seeing you … I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so broken.” There were tears in her eyes. His nails dug into his palms with the effort it took not to wrap his arms around her, to wipe them away. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not. It’s my own fault. You haven’t done a single thing wrong,” he assured her.

“That’s not true and you know it,” she tried to laugh, but it came out watery. “I’ve been an absolute cow. And I still haven’t answered your question. You’d said some things about words being a type of science, and that you could say things here that you couldn’t in the other universe. Like you were paranoid, under surveillance or something? I think you tried to describe how your time sense stuff works, but you almost fainted.”

“Fifty-seven days without you and that’s what I was talking about?” The Doctor grimaced.

The kettle clicked off.

“If it makes you feel better, it was kinda romantic. The stuff about not saying goodbye and forever and blowing up my job.”

“Blowing up your what?!”

“That’s why I had to come here. You blew up the old Records Annex.”

“Riiiiight. That explains the drone bomb. It’s not like they weren’t going to blow it up anyway. Didn’t I help?”

Rose rolled her eyes before moving to fix both their teas. “We’ll get into that later. Right now I don’t even want to talk about us. I wanna know about you, what you’ve been doing these past two months. Because I didn’t even stop to think what this all must be like for you.”

Cuppa in hand, the Doctor led her back to the couch as he tried to think of how best to explain something that he barely understood himself.

“I was created in a two-way human-Time Lord instant biological meta crisis. Hundreds of years as one being, then suddenly two. Exact same mind, almost the exact same body, but different enough that I can barely comprehend existing in it. If you remember, the first forty-eight hours of the regeneration cycle are complicated and dangerous. Barely a few hours into mine I was dropped outside of the prime universe that all Gallifreyans are meant to exist in, cut off from all telepathic contact as the walls of reality continued to sway, slowly falling back into place. It’s been … an adjustment. Sometimes things don’t feel real, even when they are. Sometimes things feel incredibly real, even when they aren’t.”

“You had a nightmare,” Rose told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles through his layers. “I woke you up, tried to help. You didn’t think I was real. You thought you were dying, because you only had one heart.”

He tried to smile, and the action felt painful. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been so selfish-”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I want you to put yourself first.”

“But I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this. What can I do to help?” she asked, a desperation in her eyes that he couldn’t bear.

“You’re already helping,” the Doctor sighed, finally giving in and leaning into her touch, lying his head on her shoulder. It was the closest he’d felt to time since they’d been left on that bloody beach.

Memories were still racing through his head. Energy coils radiating artron energy into a centrifuge. The smell of burnt flesh against the remains of a Bverni navigational system. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. No contact.

“The other Doctor said that you needed me.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yes, because he needs you. He also said that I was dangerous. I am. He is. We are. But you already knew that. It’s easy, you know, to yell at yourself. Not often that there’s actually a separate you there to yell at. I destroyed the Daleks, but we’d already done that before we met. In fact, so did you. The other me was lashing out, knowing what he would have to do but not wanting to do it.”

“That’s another thing,” Rose said, moving to face him, dislodging his head, “you said that us being here, in this universe, was the best, safest option. What was that about?”

“Something’s coming. Has come. Ended and began. There’s a massive paradox surrounding me in the other universe. Incredibly dangerous, potentially catastrophic. All I know is that it has something to do with a woman named River Song who claims to be my wife.”

“Your wife?!”

“I said claims. And she did seem to be telling the truth, besides the fact that what she was saying was entirely preposterous. My soul is entirely bound to yours.” The Doctor took her hand and squeezed it. “So I think I have an idea of the kind of man I’ll have to become in order to keep the universe intact.”

“What’s that?”

“A liar. If she is going to believe that I could possibly join myself to someone else, someone who isn’t you, I’m going to have to lie. I’m going to have to forget. I’m going to have to lie so well and for so long that even I believe the fiction I’ve created for myself.”

He wondered what the other him in the other universe would think, then, whenever he caught a rare glimpse at their timeline surrounded in gold, bound with Rose’s for all eternity. What kind of explanation he would craft. The Doctor shuddered.

“But that sounds horrible!” she cried.

“It’s the sacrifice he’s making for the sake of the universe. My timeline is dangerous and someone, something is tampering with it. You and I made one tiny little paradox and it almost destroyed everything. This one is circular, might be able to be maintained, but the scale of it, Rose. And who knows if it will even work. River seems great and all, at least I hope so, but I don’t think she has much of a handle on time travel. That, or she’s a manipulative psychopath. Suppose that’s a surprise for the other me to find out.”

Rose sniffled and he pulled her into a hug.

“He’s going to be all alone.” The words were muffled into his shoulder, his shirt growing damp with her tears. He cringed and tried to think rationally, that of course she would feel this way, that it had nothing to do with how she felt about him him. But then again, maybe it did.

“He won’t be alone. He’ll find someone. I always do, eventually.”

“B-but I-”

“We’ll figure it out. How to get you back there, once it’s safe,” he whispered into the top of her head. Maybe that would be it- what she needed this him for. And if so, it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“Really?”

The Doctor nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“So it’s not- you really weren’t abandoning me here?” Rose lifted her head, eyes brimming with a hope that had been missing before.

“Never.” The word felt as if it was torn out of his very being.

She cupped his cheek, stubble beginning to smooth out into the beginnings of a beard. He really needed to shave.

“I thought you said to never say never ever?”

“That was before.”

It occurred to him that he had tea, so he took a sip - it had gone cold.

“Oh, right, all the, uhm, psychic-kinetic-telepathy science stuff.”

He opened his mouth to correct her - she was very close, though - but was interrupted by the ringing of the giant clock. It was heavily muffled by the sound proofing adjustments he had made while setting up the office, but still audible enough.

“It’s eight now, yeah?” Rose asked, even as she moved away.

“Yes.”

She walked over to his desk, where the Doctor now noticed a pile of her folded clothes sat. He frowned when she brought them over to him.

“Do you think you could sonic these clean for me? I’m gonna quick hop into your decontamination shower.”

“Th- there’s a proper shower, it’s two floors down. First left, third right, door marked ‘Security Level Alpha’.”

“What, really?”

“Didn’t want random lab techs using it. Has a retina scan. It’ll let you in.”

Rose laughed, ruffled his hair, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing to get ready for work. The whole thing left him confused. He went through his list again, checking and double checking to make sure that this all was real . It was, just as it had been all morning.

More memories. Recalibrating the tower’s new sub-basement weapon’s vault. Burnt toast and no more jam left. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. Contact made.

It wasn’t fair that she had spent almost an entire day with him yet he had missed most of it. Still, he sonicked her clothes, as well as his tea. Finished his cuppa, and then had a second before Rose came back from her shower.

“Why’s there no one around?”

“Dangerous radiation leak,” the Doctor shrugged. “I fixed it almost as soon as it happened, but apparently there’s ‘procedures’. How’d you get in?”

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Mighta shot a few of your doors,” Rose admitted, picking up an electro-pulse blaster off of a nearby cart. Non-lethal on organic matter. Very effective on fancy doors. “Nobody told me anything about a radiation leak, though.”

“Classified radiation leak.”

“And why’s that?” she scowled, hands on her hips.

“Everything to do with time travel is classified to this office. Bethany is not being very cooperative about putting you down as a liaison-whatever. Please believe me, I wasn’t trying to keep anything a secret.”

“Oh.” Rose glanced over at the EEPEC, absently biting her thumbnail.

The Doctor didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t know if he should ask. After a moment she disappeared into the loo to change, promising to be back in a tick.

It was a funny multiverse, really, that his reunion with Rose Tyler would be such a stilted thing. That it would be about him and her, but not this him. Acknowledged with a few questions after his health, sure, but that was just polite. She’d always been compassionate, caring for others. Rose didn’t see him as the Doctor. Not the proper one. Sure, she used his name, but it would be easier for her to do that this time around.

He looked just like him.

He was him.

But he wasn’t.

Memories were still coming. Adjustments to Torchwood’s alien tech retrieval protocols. Nutrition shots. Reports reading: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. Contact made.

He went through the list again. Still real.

Unless it wasn’t.

Unless he wasn’t.

What would have stopped the other Doctor from knocking him out and uploading him into a matrix? Giving him a half-life with a programmed Rose Tyler?

The air here felt wrong.

(Wrong universe. Wrong universe. Wrong universe.)

“Doctor!”

(Daleks exploding. “What have you done?!”)

Pressure against his hands. Why was it so dark?

The Doctor opened his eyes to see Rose in front of him, pulling his fingers away from his palms. Oh. He was bleeding. Hadn’t even noticed.

“Sorry, sorry.” He spun away from her in order to grab the first aid kit from his desk.

“What happened?” she asked, vibrating with barely contained panic.

“Nothing, nothing. Things just got jumbled for a second,” he assured her, efficiently cleaning his palms and wrapping them in gauze in a practiced motion.

“How often do you-”

“Hard to say. I’ve been graphing them. Seems to be stress contingent, but generally decreasing. My senses are gradually acclimating to this universe, so I have to hope that once they do, I’ll be fine. Perfect. Molto bene. No inconvenient lapses.”

“Stress? What h- oh.”

He didn’t like the sound of that ‘oh’. The Doctor clenched his jaw before facing her.

“We still haven’t talked about us,” Rose pointed out, approaching him slowly. Like he was a wild animal. Like he would hurt her. “And you … you don’t really remember yesterday still, do you?”

“Not really.”

His hands hurt. His body ached. One heart, and it was beating so quickly that he was sure it would give out.

Rose wrapped her arms around him and he automatically returned the embrace.

“Maybe I should just call in,” she suggested as she pulled away. “We can just take the day?”

“Or don’t and stay anyway,” the Doctor couldn’t help pointing out. “Some bits have come back, and didn’t they send you here?”

She burst into laughter. “Oh my god, they did!”

And it was beyond words, how great it was to hear her laughing again. To see her smiling.

But …

That was wrong.

Rose was upset with him.

Time didn’t feel right.

The air tasted off.

Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe.

The Doctor staggered backwards.

His respiratory bypass was malfunctioning. It was like it wasn’t even there. He couldn’t get air into his lungs.

Everything went black.

There was a shot of gold, and then a different kind of black.

“Doctor,” said a whisper in the dark. “The timer went off for the TARDIS. ‘M I supposed to take her out of that thing?”

A TARDIS timer?

TARDIS … timer …

The timer for the extended electro-percussive environment chamber!!!

The Doctor shot up from where he had apparently been lying on the couch and ran over to the EEPEC, swiftly shut it off, removed the tank housing their baby TARDIS, and then poured in the pre-prepared aqueous nutrient solution before inserting the tank into the quasi-dimensional artron chamber (currently set to it’s highest opacity setting).

“Hah!” he exclaimed, punching his fist in the air and itching to switch the chamber’s outside view settings to transparent. He turned to Rose, opened his mouth to ask her, and then paused.

It all came back to him, all of it, not just the jumbled recollections he had been getting earlier. Apparently he had fallen into a healing coma, and it seems to have been just what he needed … but it all truly hadn’t been fair to Rose. Though, to be fair, she was currently smiling like it was Christmas, so-

Christmas. Healing comas.

Huh.

“Shall we switch it to transparent?” the Doctor asked, unable to reign himself in any longer. “It was clear when Benny - quite the coincidence, right? - helped me set it up. This is a quasi-dimensional artron chamber. It’s funnelling in rift energy and centrifuging artron particles, and the end result in that chamber is the specific environment needed to properly grow a TARDIS. Well, along with the chrono-nutritio aqueous habitat. Benny describes looking into it as being similar to taking DMT, which, by the way, is completely inaccurate. It’s exactly like looking into an Eye of Harmony. If it’s malfunctioning, it’s like looking into the untempered schism, which I don’t recommend. But everything’s stable now, we could-”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to look into the vortex?” Rose interrupted, and …

“Right … erm, well ,” he hedged, scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, it isn’t actually the vortex, but you’re probably not completely wrong. Best not risk it.”

Excitement abating, the Doctor slumped against the chamber and at that moment realized that he had been changed into jim jams.

Jim jams. Healing comas.

Huh.

At least these were his own pajamas, and not some ‘friend’ of Jackie’s, though how strange was it that he owned his own pajamas in the first place?

“C’mere,” Rose said, beckoning him back toward the couch, which she was sitting next to, but not on. Not your typical decision, but he had likely taken up all of the space earlier. “I made you some tea.”

It really wasn’t worth it, cataloguing the similarities between this and when he had first regenerated into this body … even though the list did seem to be growing.

“Perfect! Just what I need!” the Doctor smiled as he walked over, taking a seat next to Rose on the floor.

Silence fell as he sipped his tea, and he found himself unsure of what to do or say next. There was too much to say, and he’d certainly done a piss poor job of organizing his thoughts earlier.

“Feeling better?” she asked, after another moment.

Small talk. He could definitely do small talk.

“Mmm yes, very much so.”

“Better enough to talk?”

The Doctor coughed, having swallowed his tea incorrectly (bloody hybrid body, still acting up), before nodding. Rose moved onto the couch and he scrambled to join her.

“So,” she began and paused, face scrunching up in concentration (it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who found this whole business incredibly awkward), “I guess … what is it that you actually want? Aside from a working TARDIS, that is.”

His brows furrowed.

Sure, there were plenty of ways he could answer that question and have all of them be true, but he had a feeling that she was looking for a specific type of ‘want’.

Problem was, the Doctor wasn’t quite sure what that was .

“What?” he asked, in lieu of any better things to say (as the runner up response was to ask for some jam, or maybe a banana, or some of the takeaway from the shop down the corner and blimey, he was hungry).

“This whole time, all of it, since you c- since you were- since you stopped just bein’ a hand- ” the Doctor had a list of complaints and corrections that he barely held in “- nobody’s asked what you wanted. The D- the other Doctor chose for both of us, really, and I hadn’t really looked at it that way before. An’ I wanna know. What do you want?”

Removed from the actual experience itself (and therefore not feeling incredibly, deathly ill), visions of the slight peek he’d gotten four days ago of his own timeline played in his head.

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

“I want this.”

She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Because as long as you’re happy, everything else is just- just semantics. I mean, obviously it’s going to be a bit dull until the TARDIS has grown enough for proper travel, but I think we can make do?” At least, he really hoped so. It hadn’t been going swimmingly so far, but the Doctor sincerely hoped that he could chalk all that up to the initial side effects of the meta crisis, compounded by all of the, er … technical difficulties he had run into while constructing the TARDIS’ growth tank. Also, his new hybrid body needed much more maintenance than he was used to, including sleep. Really was rubbish without regular sleep. Such a waste of time.

“So, if I were to suggest you moving into the flat?”

He opened his mouth, intending to immediately agree, but then frowned. The TARDIS was here, after all. And he absolutely could not move her. Not at this stage. Not until she could connect to other dimensions on her own. The Doctor looked over at the quasi-dimensional artron chamber, once again wishing that he could switch it to transparent and watch the process unfold.

“How moved in is moved in?” he asked once he forced himself to turn back toward Rose.

“You’d sleep there, shower there, eat some of your meals. Most of your clothes an’ stuff would be there. Y’know. It’d be where you live. With me. If you want.”

“And that’s what you want?” he double checked, trying not to telegraph his surprise - he must have missed a lot while in a coma, as last he knew they were teetering on the edge of a row.

Rose rolled her eyes, and that was much more in line with where he thought they were at, er, relationship-wise.

“Well, I don’t fancy living in a clocktower office. When I’m done working, I’d like to not still be at work, ta.”

She did make some excellent points … but still, it all implied that they would be staying together. And that was what he wanted, of course it was, but the Doctor still couldn’t help but feel he had missed something crucial despite the fact that he could now remember everything clearly.

“You blew up my job. ”

“I love you, too. But I’m still mad at you.”

“You’ve still got two beating.”

Maybe there wasn’t something to have missed. Human emotions were relatively complex, after all, and there was no rule requiring them to happen in isolation.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, realizing as he did that to Rose it was coming from seemingly out of nowhere.

This was confirmed as she blinked, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know. Maybe a little, but …”

“But?” the Doctor repeated, unable to stand the suspense.

“It’s hardly the first time we’ve had a fight, yeah?”

He nodded, unsure of where she was planning on going with this and hoping that he wouldn’t need to begin apologizing for every insensitive thing he’d said or done since they first met. It would take ages.

“Well, we always end up workin’ it out. And we did live together, travelin’ on the TARDIS, whether we had a row or not, so …” Rose shrugged, now examining her fingernails.

Speaking of the TARDIS, though …

“First things first,” the Doctor began, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up and began pacing, “I want it on record that I would absolutely love to live in a flat with you, with carpets and doors and things. Assuming we’d spend much of our time traveling about, that is.” He turned back toward her, having paced his way back over to the TARDIS’ QDA chamber. “The thing is, it’s … I don’t want you to think that- the TARDIS. She needs me here. This is a critical development period. For the next three to six months, the TARDIS will be growing in the chamber, learning how to connect to and create dimensions. Until she can manage it, I can’t move her and she requires near-constant monitoring. Every hour or two.”

“She’s like a newborn baby,” Rose commented, getting up and joining him at the chamber, where she stroked the side.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose this’ll have to do then,” she reluctantly … agreed? “As long as we’re living in the flat as soon as she’s moveable, mind. The bathroom here is two floors away.”

“It’s a clocktower, Rose! There’s only so much space.” The Doctor scrunched up his face as he said the word.

“Then why’d you pick this place? I know because of the Rift, but doesn’t it stretch further than just the tower?”

“Nope,” he shrugged.

It’s not as though he hadn’t checked.

“Really?”

“Small rift.”

“Yeah,” Rose laughed, “a small rift right under Big Ben.”

The Doctor laughed with her, amazed that he finally could.

Then he frowned.

It was all a little too good to be true.

Was this real?

“Hey.”

He refocused. Rose was right in front of him, their eyes locked.

“You were getting that look in your eyes,” she informed him.

“Look? What look?” the Doctor asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew. Some sort of dazed tell, some sort of glaringly obvious indicator that his grasp on reality was failing him.

“This look you get when you start thinkin’ you’re in the wrong universe.”

Wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe.

“Well, I am in the wrong universe,” he couldn’t help but point out.

“Yeah, I know. Me too. But y’know what?”

Rose wrapped her arms around him, and it was almost as if she were his tether, grounding him to this new reality they’d found themselves in.

“It’s better with two.”

#TenToo x Rose #doctor x rose #pairing: rose x doctor #timepetals #fic: improbable multiversal transcending spacetime event #fandom: doctor who #my fic

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Starhunter.”

Hope you guys have a great friday.

The camera Hadn’t been in a good position, it was far too low on the jet and the creature was too big. Multiple cameras from the four jets allowed them to see just enough to send up a murmuring through the bridge crew and the officers.

Commander VIr sat in the captain’s chair calm and collected where earlier he had been in a near state of panic.

“I think it’s related to the starborn.”

The entire room turned to look at him, where he sat rubbing his chin and staring at the limited video feed.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because the sucker is telepathic.”

More muttering gone up around the room, “It talked to you?”

He nodded his head.

“What did it say.”

“Deus.”

The room went still, they recognized that word. The infected starborn had talked like that once upon a time when they were being used and tortured by the mad Gibb scientist.’

“Deus….. Isn’t that latin?”

“Like Deus ex machina?”

“Remind me what that means again?”

“God of the machine, right?”

Behind him the group continued to debate about the meaning for the word while he saw in his chair tapping his fingers against the seat.

“Well why would it look at the Commander and call him a god. I can understand the big lizard looking in a mirror and calling itself that, but this has happened to him like five or six times, and.’ the man turned to look at him, “No offence sir, but you aren't any kind of god.”

“Clearly he sees something in me that you don’t.”

That raised a bit of a laugh from the rest of the room as he stood, “Someone get Conn in here.”

Just as he said that, the door at the far end of the room opened, and the starborn came floating in his ribbons undulating and churning in the sudden pressure change from out in the hallway.

The group went silent.

“Kill it.”

Commander Vir frowned.

“I said kill it.”

“Do you know what this thing is?” He asked pointing towards the video feed.

“Yes.”

“So you knew about space dragons the entire time, and you failed to mention this to us?”

Conn’s ribbons flicked as he glowered icily towerds the commander, “It was not relevant at the time. It eats starborn, specifically starborn queens , but it is not a starborn. That thing hanging around its neck would have been it’s mate, who does eat regular starborn.”

Another murmuring around the room.

“And you’re sure you have no idea what deus means?”

He shook his head, “it is a human word, not a word of the starborn, so I have no idea why the creature would use it. Probably saw it in your head is all and wanted to freak you out before eating you.”

“It didn’t try to eat us.”

The starborn shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, kill it.”

“Conn, You know I’m not authorized to go around the galaxy slaying dragons.” He turned to everyone else on dec. I’m setting a course back to where I saw it, who knows, maybe it is still there, either way we are going to be safe and keep our distance. Everyone back to your stations.”

The crew turned and did as ordered, as the commander went back to the ship controls. Conn floated behind him looking a little more than Td off, but commander Vir ignored him. Conn was safe on the ship,so the creature would not be feasting on starborn today.

Slowly, he engaged the engines and turned them in a slow arc to drift back towards the overly thick dust cloud.

Looking at it, the cloud was still billowing a bit, sort of spreading outward, but he assumed that was leftover residual movement from the stardragon earlier.

Stardragon? Voidhunter? Lord of the cosmos.

He would have to think up something cool to call it later.

He had seen it first after all and that gave him the right to name it something awesome .

He locked their drift and then stood from his seat eyeing the viewing window. There appeared to be nothing there, and no evidence of the glowing white light that had cut through the mist before.

“Any radar readout?”

There was a pause followed by a shake of the head, “Sorry, Commander, nothing, but that cloud is thick and it looks like there's some sort of debris inside as well, which is probably not helping. It might be there and it might not.

He leaned back against his seat with a sigh.

Get me a feed through to the UNSC and the GA.

He didn’t have to wait long before the two feeds were up.

One of them was of the Rundi chairwoman and a small council of other alien species, while the second was the UNSC control room. An admiral he didn’t recognize was heading the operation, but he kept it professional.

“Commander, how are opperatons going on at the black hole. We received some of your images. Truly remarkable; the scientific community is thrilled.”

“Yes commander, you are the first to dare venture this close to a singularity. I worry but it is remarkable.” The Chairwoman agreed.

He held up a hand, “I…. well yes, of course, but I am afraid our focus has been momentarily diverted for the moment.”

“What could be so interesting as to temporarily divert you from a black hole.”

He turned his head towards the admiral, “Space dragons, sir.”

There was a pause

“What is a dragon?” The chairwoman ased.

The Admiral opened and closed his mouth like a suffocating fish.

The commander rested his hands in his lap, “Approximately two hours ago, while piloting one of our jets, I noticed an inconsistency with the way the dust was being settled in this particular system. There was movement where there should have been none. I called in for backup, and we went to investigate. When we got there the dust parted momentarily enough for us to see a creature. This thing could easily have wrapped itself around a GA imperial Cruiser. It has a very long, thin body, no legs or arms. It’s head is the head of a predator, a snout, lots of teeth and some horns.

On its back there are two ridges that, when opened look like flowing white tarps. Somehow the creature can harden these tarps to create solar sales which it uses to move, sort of like a starborn.

“Is this some kind of joke, Commander.”

“No sir, I wouldn’t be so dumb as to joke about something so unbelievable. I am sending you the video feed now so you can see for yourself. The quality is not good but we have moved further into the system with the main ship to see if we can get a better look as I assume sentient life trump's phenomena we have known about for more than two thousand years.

The admiral sighed, “yes, I suppose it does.”

The GA chairwoman only nodded her head, “Do what you must commander, and be careful. Try not to make the creature angry.”

“Yes, Chairwoman.” He cut the feed and leaned back in his seat.

“No duch.” He stood from his seat, “Like I was planning on pissing off the massive ass space dragon.” His sarcasm went mostly unheard and he finally turned to look towards his second lieutenant, “Lt. Take command, and call me down if you see anything.”

The Lt Stood and commander Vir stepped aside for her to take his seat as he turned and walked for the room.

The halls were mostly empty as the ship was technically past working hours.

He rubbed his temples again dragging his hands down his face.

Today had been an eventful day, more than he had wanted it to be, and he hadn’t forgotten the reason he had been driven into space to see the creature in the first place. He was going to have to confront that at some point and decide what it meant.

He walked onto the observation deck leaning his back against one of the tables as he stared out at the vast dust cloud backlit by some unseen stars.

He had to think about what to do, though at this moment he was completely blanking on the subject. He had been running from situations like this for as long as he could remember.

The first time he had ever had any sort of feelings for someone, though granted they were the underdeveloped misunderstood feelings of a teenage boy. He had been burned. He knew it was stupid to hold onto those old issues, but that was a part of him that had just never grown up, it was still a cowering child hiding in the back corner afraid of rejection again.

He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

Just when he thought he was starting to grow as a person, as a man something came back to remind him just how much of a lost child he was.

This time was even different than the last time. That other person initiated the contact, and it was more than clear that she was interested in him, she had admitted that much, so what was wrong with him?

What was the problem?

Well, perhaps a part of him was afraid to prove everyone right. He had been teased for so long about having a weird thing for aliens, and he knew that wasn’t a view that a lot of people were likely to hold on to, but still proving right the people you didn’t like always hurt.

Maybe that was his problem? Maybe he cared too much about how other people saw him?

Another reason why he was still just a child playing at a man’s work.

Was this just him having problems, or did all of humanity feel this way. He felt like that wasn’t the case, every admiral he had ever met seemed like the kind of person who had been born old.

Footsteps behind him on the deck.

He turned his head slightly recognizing the pattern of footsteps as they walked quietly across the observation deck to stand next to him.

Distant white light filtered in through the opening bathing both of them in a soft halo glow.

Sunny’s blue carapace glittered delicately in the dark as she leaned back against the table to stare out at the darkness with him.

“You ok?” she finally asked

She shrugged, “Am I ever/”

“Most of the time, actually, yes.”

He went quiet, reaching down to rub nervously at his prosthetic leg, “Look, I…. Uh…. I’m sorry I bailed on you. That was stupid.”

She shrugged, “I expected as much.”

“Ouch…. Not sure if I should be offended or not.”

She huffed, “if I was trying to offend you I would probably say something about your face. I have a lot more ammunition to work with.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth,”very funny, especially coming from someone who looks like you”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what, you two toed four finger monstrocity.”

“Cute, are we picking pet names now. I can call you fleshy, or cyclops or peg leg.”

“That’s Captain Peg leg to you. Captain Peg leg the blond beard space pirate.”

“Captain Jackass the one eyed lunatic.” She said elbowing him in the ribs. He grunted and elbowed her back, an action which quickly devolved into a slap fight, that Sunny inevitably won because she had more hands.

The play fighting died down leaving him staring out into space and eyeing the dust cloud. She watched hi with some curiosity, “What is a dragon?”

“A legendary monster in human lore. It goes back thousands of years and has origins in hundreds of human cultures. A dragon sort of takes the shape of a lizard, but with wings, and a hundred to a thousand times larger. Sometimes they have massive wings, and generally they can breathe fire.”

“Like a flamethrower.”

He smiled, “Exactly, they are usually connected to power and wisdom.”

“Did these dragons ever exist?” she wondered.

“Not as far as anyone knew.” he motioned to the window, “but I guess we were kind of right.”

A pulse of light lit up the interior of the cloud.

Sunny and Adam stepped forward staring intently at the window.

The light happened again growing brighter and brighter. Dust puffed outward from the cloud.

Sunny pressed her hands against the viewing window in awe as the cosmic creature looped from within the clouds, its long body rotating in great spirals loops and acrs as it twisted through space.

Light rolled up and down it’s blue scaled body seeping through the cracks in it’s scales. The smaller silver dragon curled and uncurled about it’s neck as it rolled through space, like a ribbon at the end of a ribbon dancer’s wand.

It’s beauty, and the silence cast them into a dull glow.

As silhouettes in the darkness.

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