#my brain is telling me to respond like the other person did and explain that no. it actually DOES convey her personaility.

[monards]

sometimes teh hater agenda gets to me. and i need to reason myself away from it

[milo-is-rambling]

Me when I want to be wanted more than anything else

[resident-idiot-simp]

Fuck the idea of the X-Men being concerned about their Logan after hearing about the new Logan and Deadpool won't leave my head.

This Logan is so violent and feral him and Deadpool have done unspeakable things to one another and enjoy it. They HAVE to wonder if their Logan was stopping himself from doing similar stuff.

The professor had said before his thoughts were pretty dark and Jean had seen stuff that had spooked her which lead to lots of distance between them multiple times. She had admitted to others it unnerved her because of just how violent some of it was. She has worried about those he was close to because of it.

Logan had been upset after that because he couldn't help it. It was just how his brain worked.

This Logan however was so much worse. It was beyond disturbing for Jean who had told the others. After this discovery the questions started.

Did their Logan deep down think and feel this way? Was this normal or was this Logan just different? Jean could confirm that in retrospect some of this was definitely in their Logan, but it was hard to say how much.

Maybe theirs had suppressed it well enough you would have to dig to find these thoughts. This Logan was much more animal then theirs was or was it that this Logan just isn't hiding it.

Deadpool has commented on it when asked saying this Logan was less worried about being himself and he loved it. One quote that got passed around was of him saying. "He's a feral he should be acting like this it's natural, do you guys just not know that? A bit pathetic considering this is a school."

That had caused quite a bit of ruckus considering the implications. Sure ferals existed and everyone knew they were more animal then human, but with them being as rare as they were you didn't see them often. Lots of people had only heard stories about them. Hearing and experiencing were two different things and Logan had always seemed pretty tame... Or at least compared to this new one.

When questioned on how he knew how ferals were supposed to act he laughed, "I'm a merc where do you think they go when you goody two-shoes won't take them in because they're too disturbing for you?" This statement too caused a lot of upset.

Deadpool seemed to have a lot of answers If they were true or not it was hard to tell and impossible to determine considering he didn't like sharing. He was insane sure but he seemed to always be right on things he went out of his way to predict or point out.

Someone eventually asked if the old Logan was the same, which had (for the first time the X-Men head ever seen) silenced him. It took him a while as he thought over the question before answering.

"Yes and no, no because If you train yourself out of habits and thought processes they usually die down. However if he just didn't stop himself he would be the exact same. Which honestly would have been better."

When asked to explain why exactly it would be better to be like the new Logan, Deadpool had looked...sad.

"Are you telling me you would rather live a life that's not really you? To be inauthentic just to fit other people's ideals? To change yourself so much that you become practically unrecognizable to the person you were?"

Silence followed that as wide eyes took in wisdom from the unlikely source.

"That's a sad life to live knowing everyone likes that inauthentic version of you better. That you can never be yourself and are shamed when you try to be. That's a damn travesty."

No one knew how to respond and Deadpool had just shrugged, "That's not a life I'd want to live, that I'd want anyone to live." He threw in before walking off to find his Logan and daughter who....oh...was that why Laura always seemed to hate this place?

(x)

[merakiui]

ahhhhh thank you for answering my ask!!!! i have even more!!!! (this is both the anon from contractual fwb and the milking anon TT i was super tired when i sent that in lol. if you don’t have an eepy or sleepy anon feel free to dub me. also ignore the spelling mistakes my fingers are moving slower than my brain) btw this brainrot is not based on my last asks, but more on the canon of what you wrote. it’s been bouncing in my mind all day.

you thought that since azul didn’t want your relationship to be known when it was first starting that he’d not want it to be shown off either when it’s official. but you’re dead wrong! (500 mora on the fact that he just wanted to keep it on the dl so that way no one could try and break y’all’s contract up.) but no, bitch you work in the monstro lounge and you best believe that every single person who walks through those doors knows you ride his dick with how much he lets you get away with. you mess up an order? it’s met with a sigh instead of a lecture. a tables being rude to you? doenst matter how busy yall are, they’re going to someone else. you’d like to order food after last call for workers? he’ll make it himself.

ruggie’s poor ass even commented one time on how yall act like you’re married. he called you azuls work wife and all azul heard was “wife” (listen people, i don’t care what gender you are because work couple names are gender neutral. only reason you’re the so called wife in this scenario is purely because id love to call azul my husband. got it? good.) and so now azuls on this whole thing about how you’re his wife and you’re married and he refuses to respond to anything other than “my husband.” it’s a bit tiring to explain to random strangers that yes, you are too young to be married, and no, you’re not actually married to this crazy tako. but don’t worry, his silly little nicknames are still used.

you’ve practically moved into octavinel’s dormitory at this point. you sleep there nearly every night. of course you occasionally go back to ramshackle because of any slight disagreement you get into (and also ace and deuce are tired of having to babysit grim every night and that cat ain’t going near the fish dorm with a ten foot pole) which means you get woken up to a flushed azul with flowers and a roundabout half apology. you forgive him every time.

back to the marriage thing. yall really do act like you’re already married. you’ve even started helping him sort out his papers in his office instead of being in the floor. (this definitely started because you wanted more of him and he was busy so you were like fuck it i guess im in) you’re his proof reader for his contracts. he has yet to make a mistake. and if he’s in back of house you run the front, even if jade and floyd are there! he’ll never tell you this but it’s somehow a super long winded plan he created through a careful game of 5d chess to get you to own a business together that’s completely unnecessary because you would’ve said yes to co-owning a restaurant.

he’s so happy his pretty work wife wants to run the lounge with him. and it’s definitely not so he can tie you down more to him because we know he’d love you to live the sugar baby lifestyle—oh no not at all. his tells his mommy about it and she ends up requesting to meet you. he wouldn’t sent her a quick no if you didn’t put your hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow. he finds it just as sexy as you batting your pretty lashes up at him but he’ll never tell you. he has a thing for boss lady’s.

(bbg if you want more i’ll deadass ramble to you about how i think meeting his mom would go. i have sooooo many thoughts on this au it’s genuinely concerning)

AAAAA EEPY ANON!!!! You have blessed me with your brilliant thoughts once more (that milking ask was so delicious btw.... I need him clinging to me!!!!!).

Handing over that 500 mora to you because you're right LOL. Stingy tako did not want to share or publicize your relationship because he just knew in his soul that someone would try to get in the way of your contract...... he covers all of his bases in the most meticulous ways. >_< so silly...

AAAAAA THE WORK WIFE/WORK HUSBAND DYNAMIC WITH HIM!!!!! This is so true!!!!! He spoils you so much. Ruggie is very right to make that observation. <3 Azul is so lenient with you and it's so obvious he's down bad for you. Insisting on making food for you even though you were just planning to take leftovers. So quick to forgive you if you make a mistake, and Floyd whines about how Azul's not like that whenever he messes up. >:( you really are his work wife and one day hopefully his real wife and it will say so on the legal documents and you'll get his surname and and and !!!!!!

Omg Azul and his 5D chess plans........ oh, he is so over the moon when you show interest in the lounge and wanting to help out... he melts if you give him a shoulder massage while he writes up contracts. >:D can he just marry you right now already!!! OTL I love the idea of him folding whenever you do something he finds attractive. Batting your lashes, hands on your hips, every playful glance, etc etc....... somehow he ends up folding so hard for you that it gets you a trip to the Coral Sea to meet his parents, and his mother and the restaurant staff fawn over you and Azul's partnership. Such a cute couple. They adore you. Azul thinks this is the most blue he's ever looked because he's so embarrassed, yet you soak in their attention like a thirsty flower. Even more embarrassing when you're sleeping in his childhood room and you tease him for it. He is definitely fucking you in that cramped sleeping nook and you're going to fall asleep wrapped up in his tentacles, the both of you clinging to each other.

(please ramble as much as you want!!!! I love these thoughts so much,,, contractual fwb with Azul will always be one of my favorites hehe. I need to know how the meeting with his mother goes...... AAAAAAA)

[comical-wheelchairs]

How I Work with Pre-K Kids as a Wheelchair User

I've given these tips to enough other wheelchair users that I figured I could make a post about it, and this blog is aligned enough with it that I figured I could post it here.

I've spent time as an administrator for a pre-K and school age programs, and I am also in my final year to be dual certified as a special education/general education elementary school teacher in America. I am also an ambulatory wheelchair user, but cannot safely move without a mobility aid, even when I am standing/walking. SO. Here's a guide/rundown of how I personally talk about disability with the kids I work with!

When First Meeting a Class

You do not need to explain/justify your wheelchair, and any adult who believes you do is probably doing it for their own curiosity and not an interest in the kids.

My personal recommendation is to say you are always happy to answer questions about yourself, and leave it open ended.

If the class had to be rearranged for your wheelchair and you feel comfortable saying so, I will sometimes say "I'm really grateful that you moved the furniture so I could get around. I can't wait to meet everyone!" It makes it clear why the need is there, and if a kid accidentally blocks you you can always ask them to move so you can get through and remind them.

When They Ask Questions

"Why do you use that?"

I respond by asking them what is 'that' - being careful to speak with a curious tone. For young kids, they might not know the word, and will probably point. From there you can say "oh! this is my wheelchair! have you heard that word before? i use it to get around since walking is [very hard/impossible/not something my body does]."

"Why don't you walk?"

I respond by telling them walking is something I can do for a little while, but it really hurts. Link it to a concrete example. "Have you ever gone into a super hot car, and you could do it for a little, but you wouldn't want to be in there all day?" "Have you ever tried to hold snow (or an ice cube) without gloves, and you could do it for a little but then it started to hurt your hands because it was so cold?" Make it personal, specific, and simple - developmentally they may still need support understanding that other people have different experiences (or might be totally unable to yet).

"How'd you get into that?"

I typically respond silly - "Well, I sat down!" If you want to, and you do not need to, you can make this into a (short, keep it short, their brains are so interested in everything and switch very quickly) lesson on transfers/how people get in/around with their wheelchairs.

"What happened?"

I respond by asking them what they mean. This typically leads to another question which I mentioned above. Alternatively I sometimes say "I realize a wheelchair helps me get around safely!"

"How do you use the bathroom?"

My strategy that's worked best is being calm and friendly while saying "I don't like talking about how I use the bathroom." If you can redirect after that (point out something for them to do, change the subject to something they'll find more interesting) it'll make it easier. If they ask why, you can say that everyone has stuff they don't like talking about and for you it's the bathroom.

Physical Interactions With Your Chair

They touch your chair

We had a big thing about this in my pre-K rooms - what we would do is if a kid tried to touch my chair (or did) I would tell them "It's so cool that you want to explore my wheelchair, but I want to make sure you're safe, because there's a lot of moving parts that can pinch you! Can I give you words for when you want to touch my wheelchair?" If no, then let them know you can't let people who can't be safe touch your wheelchair. If yes, give them a script to ask for permission - you will have to repeat it. A lot. Gentle repetition is your friend and within two months my kiddos were asking everyone permission to touch them at school. My script went "Teacher Pecan, can I touch your wheelchair?" "No, now it's a safe time, because [I am moving a lot/I am tired/I need a break/you have a task to do]. We can check in again [when it is a break time/when I feel better/when you finish your task." "Yes, it is safe to touch my wheelchair right now. Can you point to where you want to touch?"

They kick your chair

Every time a kid kicks/hurts your chair, say "ouch! that hurt! my wheelchair is part of my body, it helps me get around!" Repetition and speaking clearly are your friends. If a kid keeps kicking your chair, finding another thing for them to kick (for example, a ball) can help divert the kicking need into something safer for everyone :)

They (try to) sit in your lap

Gently use your hands to get them off or keep them off. Calmly say "Oops! My wheelchair isn't big enough for the two of us!" If they complain/protest, validate and then explain. My script is "I know it looks like a cool place to sit, but my wheelchair is just for me."

They (try to) push your wheelchair.

My last two chairs had no push handles, but my second one did! It can make sense to panic when I kiddo pushes you - I've had them try to push me into walls (by accident). Here's what I did that worked great: Immediately lock my breaks/grab my pushrims, and calmly say "oops! We don't push wheelchairs without permission!" If they stuck around/didn't immediately run away, I would ask them if they remember a time an adult picked them up and took them somewhere they didn't want to go (typically a car). If they say yes, and even if they say no, I explained that pushing my wheelchair feels just like that, and makes me scared. Most children never pushed it again, and everyone stopped after the second try.

Miscellaneous Tips

"Isn't that cool?" is your friend. Any time a kid is first learning about your wheelchair, end the sentence with it. Any time a kid is nervous about your wheelchair and you explain something, end the explanation with it. "It helps me get around, isn't that cool?" "These are called spokes. Aren't they cool?"

Wheelchairs can be grounding tools when you have a good handle on the class and boundaries! Only if you would like to. My spokes on my last chair were rainbow, and I would use my chair to physically get between them and the emotional trigger, and ask them questions about my spokes. "What colors are next to green?" "Can you point to which one is your favorite?" "Hmmm which color do I get if I mix red with blue?"

"Why doesn't [limb(s)] work?" My left foot is (mostly) paralyzed due to nerve damage, and my script is "My brain can't talk to my foot and tell it to move." You can say whatever you'd like, just try and keep it to basic body parts unless the kiddo is super into anatomy.

If they imply/say wheelchairs are bad, or you might be sad for being in one, you can correct them by telling them how cool your wheelchair is! Get them to compliment it too, if their attention span allows. "I don't feel sad about my wheelchair, I love it! I love the color! Do you? What color do you think I should get next?"

In conclusion - talking calmly, positively, and using repetition of the same words/scripts is a great way to not just exist in a classroom hassle free, but to get kids comfortable with disability/mobility aids at a young age. I have had kids get pinched by my chair (he grabbed my axle from behind), and luckily I had my higher ups on my side and they agreed that I made every effort to keep the kids safe (plus he learned his lesson lol, he always asked permission after that). Your mileage may vary based on admin and their attitudes, so play it by ear, and change any of my tips as needed. Feel free to send questions to this blog too. :)

[d0youc0py]

Hi! I just wanted to see if I could put in a request maybe? I love your writing and it would make my day if you wrote something about the 141 + Konig having an arguement with the reader and they yell or make a sudden move causing her to like flinch away.

If not that's totally okay too, have a lovely day!

“I’m so tired of arguing with you John.” Your words came out whimper-like and you hated how weak it made you sound. Yet fighting with John was exhausting. Sometimes when the two of you argued it felt like it was just another form of training for him.

He instantly softened. Not that you had the wits to notice. A fat tear rolled down your cheek and John’s hand instinctively raced forward to wipe it away. But from your point of view it looked like he was coming in for a slap. Your head flew back, colliding with the kitchen cabinet. You hissed, your hands coming up to apply pressure to the sting.

“Shite, Sweetheart.” He growled. His hands found your hips, pulling you towards him. “I would never.” He reminded. His hand found its way to yours and held you gently.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, cheeks flushed. You knew John would never lay a hand on you and you hoped he didn’t take your reaction too personal.

“Don’t apologize, Honey.” He muttered back, his lips pressed against the crown of your head.

His body stilled. In the midst of an argument- one that he can’t even remember why it started- he reached up to rub his face, the action causing you to flinch. He doesn’t even think it counts as a flinch, because you were basically bracing for impact.

“That what you think of me?” He started. Your heart dropped in your stomach at his words, thinking he was angry, but the look on his face was the opposite. His eyes were nervous. It seemed like he was waiting for you to tell him what you truly thought of him. You quickly shook your head.

“No, Si.” You assured quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting it and you moved so fast.” You tried to explain.

“I know I can be an arse sometimes but I would never hit you. Please tell me you know that.” His eyes bore into yours and you nodded your head.

“I do, Si.” You agreed. His hand reached forward slowly and you took the invitation wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Sorry for being an arse by the way.”

*maybe toxic behavior?*

Most of the time Johnny was an extrovert by choice. He could be the life of the party, charming and personable when he wanted to be, but he also needed his time to recharge. He’d just gotten back from a mission and wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and watch some TV show that took no brain power to understand. Instead he came home to you dressed up to the nines, heading out the door.

“Where are you off to?” He questioned, plopping his duffle bag by the door. You raced forward pressing quick kisses against his face.

“Just a little get together. Want to come?” You hummed against him.

“Didn’t I tell you I was coming back today?” He asked. You hummed in agreement, stopping your attack of affection when none of it was reciprocated.

“Yeah, you did. Why?” You questioned.

“I’ve been gone for three weeks and you’re just heading out the door.” He responded, his words nearly coming out like a snarl. This began the argument and before you knew it the two of you were screaming at each other in the entryway.

Johnny talked with his hands and that became dangerous when he was upset. His hand flung up, his fingers barely missing your cheek. All was silent. Your eyes fled with tears wondering how the man you loved could be so careless. His bright eyes were wide and were taking in every move or emotion you felt.

“I wasn’t going to”- He began.

“Sure seemed like you were going to.” You said back. He shook his head almost violently.

“Never.” He growled. “I would never hurt you.”

“Physically.” You emphasized. He shut his eyes tightly- all the hurtful things he said during the argument coming back to him.

He had a lot of making up to do.

*it’s so hard writing angst for Kyle b/c I feel like he is just the sweetest partner everrrrr*

He came home in a mood. The weight of the world on his shoulders. He brushed past you, giving you a quick peck on the forehead before retreating to the patio for a quick smoke. He rarely smoked and the sight had you worried, but you gave him peace.

You were finishing up your laundry, not noticing as he came home behind you. When his hands touched you, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, your head colliding with the dryer.

“Fucking hell, baby.” He huffed from behind you. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized, holding your head right where you hit it.

“I didn’t even hear you.” You gasped.

“Well I’ve had training.” He smirked. “Let’s get you an ice pack, yeah? Don’t want you walking around town with a bump on your head.”

He was venting to you, to engrossed in his own feelings that he didn’t notice the drastic change in his demeanor. You weren’t use to the side of him- and he had made sure to keep it hidden from you. The last thing he ever wanted was to frighten you. It wasn’t until his arm flung out (not towards you) and you jumped that he’d noticed what was happening.

“Scheisse.” He muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quickly. “I don’t know why I did that.” You rambled. His worried eyes watched you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized. His hands reached out to grab yours and you pushed yourself closer to him.

“You didn’t really scare me, Konnie.” You opened and closed your mouth before continuing. “I’ve just never seen you so worked up before. You just surprised me is all.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bending down so his head could rest on yours.

“Still. There are ways for me to vent without getting all worked up, ja?”

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Can we make out?-Colby Brock

A/N: Just thought Colby would react really cute if the reader asked him. Please enjoy!

-Samantha

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

I was right outside Colby's apartment about to knock when I heard a door open. I turned to find the person I was looking for. He looked over at me with a confused face.

" Hey" I smiled

He looked over at me one more time before smiling. " Hey, what are you doing here?"

I leaned against his door since he wasn't walking to open it up so we could sit. " I just wanted to see my best friend." He gave me a smirk. He then walked up to me and placed his hand on my waist to keep me steady while he led us inside. When he shut the door he let go of my waist to move to the kitchen.

" So, you want something to drink."

I wasn't paying attention cause all I could think about was the feeling of his hand on my skin.

Colby's POV

I didn't hear her respond so I turned around and saw her in deep thought. I let out a quick chuckle before walking up to her. I gently touched her shoulders to get her attention, but that plan went out the window cause she jumped.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I asked you a question, but it seemed like you zoned out."

She  looked down to mess with her fingers. I took one of my hands off her shoulder to move her head back up to my eyes.

" Hey, what's up." I said softly

She shook her head. " Nothing Colby."

I didn't believe her, but I dropped it for now. I moved back so she could have some space. " So, did you want a drink?"

She glanced up. " Um, just water please." I nodded and turned to get her water.

Your POV

I was growing nervous so I just decided to hop on the counter to keep me somewhat steady. I saw Colby turn around, and gave me a look. I thought, 'maybe I'm not allowed on the counter' so I did the only thing I could think of and got down. Once my feet hit the ground I immediately felt his hands on my waist. He then picked me up with ease and placed me back on the counter.

" You don't have to get down." He said

I glanced down to find his hands placed on my upper thighs which made me feel butterflies. He cleared his throat before stepping back.

" Colby! Don't leave."

He let out a laugh. " I'm not, just moving to lean against the counter."

I let out a sigh before explaining. " I meant the position. I liked you there." He gave me a smirk.     " Really!?"

I started getting shy. " Yes" I said softly

I heard his footsteps moving closer to me to where I could see his lower body. He then picked my head back up. He was giving me a small smile. " Don't be going all shy on me now, Y/n/n."

I let out a laugh. I pulled him into a hug which he was happy to accept. The hug didn't last very long because Colby's phone went off. He moved away to grab it and sighed. I gave him a confused look. " What?" I questioned

He just shook his head and put his phone down. He then leaned his head back, and let out a deep breath. I just watched to make sure he was all right.

" Hey, I have a weird request?" I said softly

He picked his head up and looked at me. I started picking at the skin on my fingers feeling nervous. " You know you can tell me anything." He said

I nodded and let out a sigh. " Okay, um wanna make out?"

I could tell I left him shocked. I felt embarrassed and messed with my fingers while trying not to look in his direction.

Colby's POV

My brain couldn't process the information she just said. I thought it was a joke because we've messed with each other before. " Are you being for real?" I questioned

She nodded. " Yeah, so do you want to."

I moved so I could stand in between her legs. I then gently placed a hand on either side of her cheeks. I leaned in but I was about an inch to her lips to where I could feel her breathing. I then asked before making a move...

" Are you positive you want to do this?"

She let out a cute giggle. " Colby, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

" I was just making sure." I whispered

She leaned in so I could feel her lisp brush against mine. I held back a groan and heard her whisper. " Please, Colby." I finally grew the courage to connect our lips. All I could think about was how soft her lips were against mine.

Your POV

His lips were the puzzle that was missing. I couldn't help but smile into the kiss. I had to pull away because of running out of air. " Colby?" I questioned

He looked up while keeping one of his hands on the side of my neck. " What does this mean for us?"

He looked like he was thinking really hard. He then messed with my hair. " We could always see where it brings us." he said

I smiled, while pulling him back to my lips with his shirt. I then brushed my lips against his, " I'd like that very much." I whispered right against his lips.

He then closed the gap while saying...

" Good, I'd like that too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I haven't written for him in a while, I'm glad I did cause I kind of miss writing for him. Anywho, Thank you so much for reading! Again please enjoy!!

-Samantha

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Nimona headcanons because these dorks have taken over my brain

I feel like Nimona tried really hard to hate Ambrosius

The first month they knew each other Nimona tried so hard to antagonize him and poke fun at him and remind him of the shit he’s done wrong 

But it’s kind of hard to hate someone who’s slow to anger and quick to forgive 

Reminding someone of their past mistakes with the intent to hurt them kind of stops being fun when the person is constantly aware of their mistakes 

And owns up to them without making excuses and is constantly trying to undo the damage their mistakes caused  

After a while, he grows on her and she starts to trust him and in return he trusts her

This one is based heavily on me and my best friends 

Nimona and Ambrosius will talk shit loudly in public 

They won’t use code names and if they don’t know the person they’ll start describing them like “Did you see that dude in the yellow shirt? He just pushed that kid out of line what a dick!”

They won't check to see if the person is out of earshot either they simply don't give a fuck

And this gives Bal so much fucking anxiety enough that he starts pleading with them to stop

You hear them going off about something and Bal saying “Ambrosius love hun sunshine I’m begging you to keep your voice down” 

“Nim Nimona starlight hi I would like to remind you that they’re still behind us and I don’t want to explain to Ambrosius why you’ve gotten into another fight this week so please stop” 

To which Nimona responds with “Tell him he’ll probably laugh”

Whenever Nimona and Ambrosius want to rant they rant to each other 

Because Bal is the type of person to give advice in the middle of a rant 

Talking some “If you explain this to them in a calm and compassionate manner I’m sure they’ll stop”

And while that's excellent advice sometimes you just want to scream your most unhinged thoughts at someone 

And they never judge each other either 

Nimona can look Ambrosius dead in the eyes and go “Have you ever gotten so angry during an argument that you’ve considered lighting their car on fire?” 

And Ambrosius won't even think about it he’ll respond immediately with a “Who hasn't?” while Bal slowly backs out of the room and silently vows to hide his car the next time they fight 

Whenever Ambrosius comes home from a stressful day at work he just walks into the house and lets out the most dramatic drawn out sigh 

And whenever Nimona hears that noise they’ll run to the living room and sit on the couch patiently waiting for their daily rant session 

Whenever Nimona gets home and wants to rant he’ll walk around until he finds Ambrosius

And if he can't find him he’ll sit by Bal and stew in his anger while he waits for him to come home 

He can't even take one step through the door without Nimona saying something like “How dare you make me wait” 

And Ambrosius will always respond with something like “Oh I’m so sorry firecracker it’ll never happen again”

And encourage them to tell him the information they’ve been patiently waiting to spill

Bal doesn’t rant unless he’s literally at the end of his rope

Like you have to royally screw him over for him to go home and rant to his family 

When he finally rants to them they don’t make a big deal out of it 

But they do however try their best to take care of him without raising his suspicions 

Nimona will conveniently make Bal’s favorite dinner 

Ambrosius will just so happen to pick up his favorite dessert on his way home (cause they both know the signs of a Bal rant and they plan accordingly) 

They listen to his rant and let him eat his favorite food in peace while they play his favorite movies 

You know real wholesome shit 

All the while they’re coming up with plans in their head to destroy this person's life

[scarasbaefy]

when they lie

he lies, not knowing you already know the truth.

chars; kazuha, wanderer/scaramouche

; mentions of cheating, f.reader but can be read as g.neutral, not proof-read

note; DOING SOMETHING NEW!!!!! REQUESTS R OPEN BTW!!!!

;join taglist

Ⰶ

.kaedehara kazuha

“i’m so sorry, y/n. i wish i wasn’t the one telling you this, but i wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if i didn’t say anything. i’m extremely disappointed in his actions.” beidou said with a sorrowful look on her face.

she had explained to you moments prior about what she had seen on the deck of the ship while everyone was unloading cargo. kazuha had been kissing another passengers cheek as they held each other lovingly.

“i need to talk to him. thank you, beidou. i know you would never lie to me about something like this, but i have to hear from him myself.” you told the captain before heading to the location kazuha had told you he’d be at.

you arrived at the top of the hill. kazuhas back was facing you, but he turned to face you once he heard you approaching.

“i knew it was you,” he said with a smile, “my love, i’ve missed resting on land with you. come sit with me. the air feels lovely.”

“kazuha…” you ignored his request, “i feel as if something is wrong. is there someone else thats taking your attention? perhaps someone you’ve grown to like better than me?”

kazuha softly gasped, taking a step back before collecting his composure. he didn’t think there was any way you’d find out about him cheating. he loves you— but he loves this other woman as well. he had taken great precautions to make sure no one knew anything.

“of course not, darling,” your heart sank at his words. you didn’t know he was capable of lying. especially to your face. although you looked like you were going to be sick, he continued, “why would you even ask a silly question like that? you know i’d never do something like that to you. i love you and only you.”

“beidou told me everything.”

this time, his heart sank.

scaramouche

scaramouche is big on betrayals. he’s the last person who would commit such an act on you. or so you thought.

you and nahida were secretly looking out for scaramouche as he had left sumeru city to join a research team on their exploration. it’s something nahida had persuaded him to do so he wouldn’t be cooped up doing nothing.

the two of you giggled as you watched your boyfriend walk along the river, unknowing of yours and the archons presence. the laughter immediately came to a halt when nahidas eyes widened, a look of horror replacing what was once happiness. you followed the direction of her eyes, your smile dropping as you saw scaramouche greet another wanderer with a passionate kiss.

nahida was quick to release the spell on your out of body experience. tears flooded both yours and her eyes as the realisation started kicking in. who was that other person? why did neither you or nahida know a thing about this? did he really keep this under the radar to the point neither one of you grew a single speck of suspicion? a million questions flooded your brain, but nahida was there to comfort you.

the day scaramouche returned, you were ready to confront him. though, nahida had convinced you to put him to a test. would he lie to you or would he confess everything and be honest?

“hey, i’m back.” scaramouche hugged and kissed your forehead, “did you miss me? you better have. i missed you while i was away from you, so it’s only fair that you missed me as well.”

when you didn’t respond or reciprocate affection, he knew something was wrong. you bit your lip, contemplating on how to ask him about everything. your trust on his honesty wearing thin the more you would think about it.

“i doubt you missed me!” you faked a playful smile. “i bet you were out kissing other people or getting another girlfriend or something.” you rolled your eyes at him, pushing him away from you.

he laughed at your words as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “as if. you’re the only person i need. everyone else… i can’t trust.”

it was your turn to laugh. “don’t amuse me. you? can’t trust anyone else? i should be the one who can’t trust anyone. including you.”

scaramouche looked confused, so nahida cleared up his confusion by replaying his memory of the stranger over and over.

“you’re such a hypocrite.”

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[natti-ice]

Rafe Cameron Blurb.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, you break up with Rafe

Based on the line “This isn't the person I fell in love with.”

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Things had been off for weeks between you and Rafe. You don't know what happened but something shifted in your relationship. Your relationship wasn't perfect by any means but it was good, you were happy.

You had distanced yourself from Rafe and you couldn't explain why. You just didn't feel the spark that was once there. You had so hundreds of missed calls and texts, you didn't know how to tell him that you didn't love him anymore. You still care for him but you couldn't keep pretending you were in love.

You were sitting in your room trying to come up with a text, your mind was blanking. Everything you typed seemed wrong, there weren't words that would describe how you feel. You settled for a call, maybe he could come over and you could talk about this in person.

You took a deep breath when you clicked his contact, right as you were about press call a faint banging pulled you from your thoughts.

Someone was at the door, no one else was home so you had to get it yourself. You got out of your bed and made your way to the door. You turn the knob, revealing a drained-looking Rafe.

"Rafe," You said "What are you doing here?"

"You've been avoiding me so this is the only way I knew you would talk to me" He was a little irritated, this whole situation has stressed him out so much that he hadn't slept much. "Can I come in?" he asked

You didn't respond, you opened the door more as a yes. Rafe came in and you closed the door behind him, he made his way into the living room like he did every time he came over, you followed close behind. Rafe was slightly pacing in front of the couch, neither of you were speaking.

"What happened to you, Y/N?" he asked, pain evident in his voice

"What do you mean 'what happened to me', nothing happened to me" you said

"Clearly something did" he scoffed "You don't answer my texts, we don't hang out anymore, the last time we spoke you were mean. I don't know what happened but this is not the person I fell in love with."

You didn't know what to say, you knew whatever you had to say would break his heart. You walked to the center of the room, taking a seat on the couch.

"Sit, please?" You asked him

He took a seat next to you, a respectable distance between each other. You knew this conversation was coming sooner or later.

"Rafe, I think we should break up."

"What?" he asked with a puzzled look

"I really wish I could explain it but, I just don't think we're good for each other. I'm sorry." You told him, avoiding eye contact you kept your focus on the floor

"No" he said causing you to look up, it was your turn to be confused

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"No. You can't just forget me for weeks and not have a reason, you're not telling the truth. Please, stop lying to me" He pleaded

"I'm not lying, there's nothing to say-"

"That's bullshit" he cut you off raising his tone

"I don't love you anymore, is that what you want me to say?" you yelled back at him, you were so frustrated by this whole situation

Silence...

"You don't love me anymore?" his voice was scratchy and quiet

"Rafe, I am so sorry." You sympathized

"Did I do something wrong?" Rafe was racking his brain on all the things that he could've done to make you feel this way. He knew he wasn't the best person but he did everything in his power to be better for you.

"No no! You didn't do anything wrong I promise." You grabbed his hand locking both of yours around his "I just don't feel the way I once did, I don't want you to think it's your fault. It's not" You told him watching the many emotions dance across his face, his eyes focused on your hands

"What does this mean for us?" he asked not looking up

You hadn't thought about it, you couldn't lie and say and say you'd stay friends because it probably wasn't true. "Well, we probably won't see each other for a while and when we do it'll be awkward so we will end up avoiding each other like the plague"

Rafe let out a breathy laugh, it had been the first time you saw him smile in a long time. "I'd never avoid you, Y/N."

You knew you'd miss the sweet things he says to you.

"We'll see about that, Rafe" You laughed back

Silence washed over you when the laughing stopped. The awkwardness had already begun.

"I should probably get going then" he sighed getting up from the couch, letting go of your hands.

You followed closely behind him, walking him to the door. When you made it to the door, you both stood there looking at each other waiting for the other to speak first.

Rafe took a big step up to you, wrapping you into a tight hug. He held onto you for a while knowing would probably be the last time he could.

"I love you, Y/N" he whispered

You stayed silent. When he finally let go, he turned around and walked out the door.

[blankwashed]

shattered.

tw: (one swear word)

you didn't believe it to be true. it wasn't possible. the both of you had two children together, megumi and tsumiki. they were both bright students, always polite and wonderful children. never you had thought that their father would hide such truths from you.

toji fushiguro, the man you had given everything to. your body, your time and your heart. he became the center of your universe and yet...he chose to betray you. the pain in your gut made you want to throw up.

maybe it wasn't who you thought it was?

maybe it was his sister?

the sound of the door opening shut brought you back to where you were standing. toji, exuding his usual confidence walked in. his eyes met yours, biting his lower lip, confusion was plastered on his face.

"what happened, doll?" he asked.

you didn't respond immediately, you couldn't. you were afraid to spew out allegations that might not be true. your mind was tangled in a web of uncertainty and betrayal. instead all you did was to grab the phone and showed him the messages, all from a single person, a person who he named as "❤️".

his eyes bulged, his jaw tightened and the gears in his brain were processing the situation. "it's not what it looks like doll," he began, but as his words flew out of his mouth, you could feel that he wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

"then what is it, toji?" you demanded, your voice breaking. "tell me what it is, because from what i've read, it looks like you've lied to me. cheated on me, all this fucking time..." you said as you scrolled through his messages with her.

his silence was deafening. the anger and betrayal simmered inside you, boiling over the words you had never imagine saying. "how could you do this to us?! to me?! the children we have! after all we've been through, have you ever thought, just one second that you'd be throwing all of this away?!"

toji took a step closer to you, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear, "doll..".

"don't doll me. don't come any closer. i don't even know who you are anymore."

"please, just let me explain." he pleaded. "it was a one time thing, i don't know why she kept texting me. and trust me doll, i was thinking about you the entire time. i just had to get it out my system.."

shaking your head, with ugly horrendous tears running down your cheeks, "i trusted you, toji. i gave you a chance, a chance to prove to me that you're different. and you threw it all away for what?! just one night with someone else?!"

he looked down, unable to meet your gaze, and the sight broke something inside you. this was the man you had thought you'd spend your life with, drinking tea at the porch when both of your kids would be working. laughing with each other while staring at the sky.

"i never meant to hurt you doll, i told you, its just a one time thing. satoru. satoru was the one who talked me into it!" he tried to defend himself once more and even trying to push the blame onto his co-worker.

"actually," you started "if you'd truly love me, you'd tell your useless friend to bug off. now, you hurt me more than i ever thought was possible."

the silence stretched between you, a hole dug too deep to be repaired. you wiped at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but the pain was too raw like a knife cutting through your heart.

"i think you should leave," you finally said, your voice trembling. "let me think over what should be done now, where the kids should stay."

as the door closed behind him, another flow of tears came down your cheek. you sank to the floor, your body wracked with grief.

hours passed, you were still sprawled on the floor, lips chapped, stomach empty and heart shattered.

finding his jacket draped over the back of a chair, you went against your mind, clinging on to the fabric. memories came flooding back to you - nights where you spend wrapped in his arms, the cute little smooches you'd give his scar and promises of forever. all of that now thrown in the trash.

why? the question screamed in your mind. were you not enough? were you getting ugly? after giving him 2 kids, were you considered ugly?

you fell on your bed, the sanctuary for both of you where many memories were made. many firsts but now it all look like lasts to you. curling into a ball, clutching his jacket as if it were a soft toy, you wished it could somehow bring the old him back.

sleep took over your body after you were out of tears. the betrayal cut deeper with each passing minute, a wound that seemed impossible to heal

weeks later, you've found yourself healing. from the help of trust worthy friends, lots of binge-eating of ice cream and time for your hobbies. you were beginning to find a sense of peace, a fragile hope that perhaps one day, you'd be whole again.

megumi and tsumiki were still staying with you as you couldn't be so heartless to let them live with their father. after what he'd done to you, he looked as if he was the largest criminal wanted on earth to you.

"it's okay mama, you have us. we would never look for another mama," tsumiki said, while having her breakfast cereal.

a tear dropped from your eye. innocence. oh how you wished toji were as innocent as the both of your children.

suddenly, the doorbell rang, pulling you away from your thoughts. slowly, you made your way to the door, the weight of your heart on your shoulders. when you opened it, toji stood there, looking more broken than you'd ever seen him.

"please," he said through the grills of your door. "can we talk? just you and me."

you swallowed hard, the sight of both your children and their dirtbag dad. "i don't know if i can do this," you whispered, your voice trembling.

a hand came through the grill of the door, wiping your tears away. "i understand but i need you to know that i love you. i always have, and i always will.."

the words hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what he used to always remind you. you took a deep breath, the ache in your chest nearly unbearable. "i loved you too, toji. but after what you've done..not anymore."

he cupped your face gently with his hand, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to remember the warmth of his touch, the safety of his embrace. the cloud 9 that you always are on whenever he's with you. but then you stepped back, the distance between the both of you a reminder to yourself to treat yourself with more dignity.

"goodbye toji," you said softly. "i'll tell the kids you said hi and......take care of yourself. and her." you said as you closed the door on him.

you could only imagine what was happening behind the door. was he sobbing? was he feeling guilt? was he happy that he can finally leave you? your broken heart was heavy, mind too full of negative thoughts at that moment.

all, when the door closed.

[sepdet]

Killing Time Excerpts #6

McCoy and Spock discuss Kirk, and Kirk narrowly avoids becoming a redshirt.

Note: I had forgotten just how good this book is. I'm skipping over plot and fun scenes with other characters, including McCoy, Scotty, Chapel, and some OCs. Try to find and read the whole novel, whether a pdf of the rare first edition or the easier-to-find second edition with the Kirk/Spock vibes toned down.

But my mission here is to bring you the Kirk/Spock stuff, since I have the uncensored 1st ed.

Context: McCoy and Captain Spock have figured out they're living in an alternate universe, where people are suffering hallucinations or mental breakdowns as bits of their other selves "slip through." McCoy has seen glimpses of the other reality via voluntary mind scans of several crew members, and he's noticed a recurring figure...

––––

McCoy shrugged. "Maybe nothing," he said before the Vulcan could respond. "But once you take a look at those vid-scans, I think you'll understand why I'm a little . . . concerned about Kirk."

"Please explain," the Vulcan entreated, leaning forward curiously.

"I can't be sure, of course," the doctor replied hesitantly, "but Kirk does bear a remarkable resemblance to some of the images on that tape." He leaned back, biting his lip thoughtfully. "And I also found out that you ordered Kirk to report to Sickbay last night."

"He did not choose to do so," the Vulcan stated, not particularly surprised.

"Apparently not," McCoy confirmed. "But if you questioned him about it, he'd probably give you a lot of static about his ignoring an order being grounds for immediate discharge, and you wouldn't get much insight into the real problem." He paused. "But Kirk did come staggering into my office early this morning. And let me tell you, Captain, he looked like early death and plomik soup warmed over. At first, he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, wouldn't let anyone touch him— but then he started demanding lidacin."

"Lidacin?" Spock repeated quietly. "Why should he . . .?" But then the answer came. Once under the influence of the powerful tranquilizer, the human would not dream; certain electrical impulses to the brain would be deadened; the slippage would not be as severe to the conscious mind. Far from a cure, but nonetheless an effective placebo. He looked at McCoy.

"In answer to your question," the doctor replied, "I didn't give it to him. But when I asked him to get on the table, he started backing up as if I'd just told him I was an ax murderer. It took me and four orderlies to get him down, and a double dose of coenthal to calm him down long enough to run a full exam." He paused. "When I got through with the tests, I found out that this kid's got some serious problems no one discovered before." He shook his head, slipping into a moment of thought. "I'd love to see a vid-scan on him, though I suspect he'd rather walk on hot coals than submit to anything."

Spock felt himself tense. Again, McCoy's suspicions about Kirk confirmed his own. The ensign was somehow important. "Precisely what type of . . . problems did you discover, Doctor?" he asked at last, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

McCoy's expression slowly transformed to a worried frown. "First of all, he's been addicted to lidacin for quite a while—and not the stuff we use on the ship, either. Don't ask me where he's been getting it, but he's been injecting himself with a ninety percent solution for at least six months. Hell, Spock, it's no wonder he's been acting like a zombie half the time."

Spock remained quiet for a moment. "I presume you will begin treatment of the addiction."

McCoy nodded. "Sure, but it'll take time," he reminded the Vulcan. "The main cure is abstinence—and that's not going to be easy on him, either. And while I don't personally approve of anybody's drug addiction, I approve of those Orion stitches-and-needles rehab colonies even less—which is where he'd end up if anyone other than you or me found out about this. But now . . . "

"I see," the Vulcan said softly, feeling a deep personal regret that the young ensign's life was such an apparent turmoil. The human was different, compelling . . . and somehow connected in a critical way to both universes. The Vulcan lifted an eyebrow in silent consideration. Perhaps Kirk was even the key to whatever answer existed. . . .

"The only course of action I can suggest," McCoy continued, calling the Vulcan back to reality, "is that we try to keep this under wraps—especially from men like Donner. If Kirk wants out of the Fleet as much as he claims, then he might go out of his way to make it known that he is a drug addict—just to get that discharge."

The Vulcan glanced up. "Apparently not," he countered, "or he certainly could have availed himself of that opportunity while still at the Academy waiting for active posting." He shook his head. "No . . . Ensign Kirk has chosen to be here; and I do not believe it is entirely by accident."

McCoy considered that. "In other words, you think he may be calling your bluff—trying to see how much he can get away with?"

"I am not certain," Spock replied, "for I have never understood the human capacity to say one thing when another thing entirely is desired."

McCoy grinned. "Like Brer Rabbit and the briar patch."

A look of confusion took shape on angular Vulcan features. "Brer Rabbit?"

But McCoy only laughed. "Never mind, Spock," he muttered. He sobered then, forcing himself back to more immediate problems. "The main thing right now is to get started on a treatment program."

"Begin immediately, Doctor," Spock instructed. In the back of his own mind, he realized he was taking a severe chance with his own career—and possibly the safety of the ShiKahr—based on a feeling alone. But transferring Kirk now would serve no useful purpose. I'd make one hell of a lousy ensign, Spock. The phantom words returned, spoken as clearly as if the man had been standing directly in front of him.

McCoy nodded almost to himself, noticing the distant stare in his captain's eyes. "I dunno," the doctor murmured. "Maybe I'm just looking for an answer under any rock—but there's something about him . . . something worth salvaging."

"Precisely what injuries did you find?" the captain asked presently.

McCoy scoffed. "He's been through a lot, Spock—most of it during the time he spent in prison on Earth. Several broken bones; all healed now. Scar tissue on the left lung from bronchial pneumonia—not terribly surprising, considering his weakened condition and prison living conditions. Lots of bruises," he added, "and a few lacerations." His tone darkened. "All fresh, I might add. But the physical injuries are just the tip of that proverbial iceberg."

"The Talos Device," Spock remarked, tone bordering on contempt.

"The Talos Device," McCoy confirmed. "That damned thing was used pretty extensively on him—so it's no mystery why he won't submit to a vid-scan." He shook his head once again. "And it's no wonder he was trying to pry lidacin out of me. He probably has nightmares left over from the Talos Device that would make a Klingon concentration camp look like a sixth-grade prayer retreat by comparison." He paused. "I've prescribed benzaprine orally for him—and that should curb the effects of the withdrawal within a few days." But his eyes darkened with concern. "The only problem is that he's going to have to come down to Sickbay every night to get the pills. I don't dare trust him with a bottle of the stuff; it'd be like candy next to the stuff he's been pumping into himself. He'd overdose in a day's time."

"Leave the medication with me," Spock suggested. At the very least, it would be an excuse to question the ensign further—and under a more gentle pretense. "Also, it would be too conspicuous if he were seen going to Sickbay every evening; even a man with Donner's limited intelligence would not have difficulty deducing the reason."

McCoy seemed dubious, but nodded. "I'll drop it off in a couple hours," he replied, rising from the chair. "Anything else, Spock?"

The Vulcan thought for a moment. "Negative, Doctor," he replied at last.

"Well," McCoy concluded, moving to the door. "Since I've still got a few hours of correlation to do on this data, I'd better get back to my beads and rattles. . . ." For a moment, the doctor jolted internally. It seemed so natural . . . like a memory of a dream . . . Spock calling him a witch doctor . . . while someone else stood in the background suppressing a smile. He shivered, and wondered if he, too, was beginning to slip. Someone else. The third side of the triangle. Golden-haired, golden-eyed human. But before he could ponder it further, Spock rose to see him out.

The Vulcan studied the doctor. "I had always suspected that your medical practices were something less than scientific," he murmured, though he also felt an odd sense of deja vu connected with McCoy's peculiar statement. He wondered briefly if it was McCoy who had always been at his side—and though that image brought a certain truth, he recognized that it was not entirely accurate. The images whisper-walked through his mind. Blue and gold. Warmth and companionship. Stolen moments when the firm Vulcan mask did not have to fit so tightly.

Somewhere, he told himself, he would find that reality again . . . or create it.

[…]

It was late in the evening when the door buzzer sounded again, and though the Vulcan had long since abandoned the prospect of sleep, the grating tone was nonetheless annoying. He rose from the bed, only then realizing that he'd slipped into a state of light meditation while planning the details for the scheduled meeting with the Canusian ambassador. Reaching for the discarded uniform shirt, He glanced at the chronometer. Two A.M. But before he could even begin to pull the uniform into place, the buzzer sounded again, more insistent . . . and more annoying.

"Come!" he said sharply, surprised at the harsh tone of his voice.

The door opened to reveal Ensign Kirk standing in the hall, bright hazel eyes flitting nervously back and forth from the corridor to the interior of the dimly lit room. He did not speak as he stepped inside, doors closing with a whoosh behind him.

The Vulcan studied him for a moment, quickly detecting the embarrassment hiding behind an outward expression of defiance. For the briefest of moments, the Vulcan wondered what in all possible worlds had brought the human to his doorstep at this hour of the night; but slowly memory returned, and he remembered the pills McCoy had left with him a few hours earlier. Without preamble, he reached into the second drawer of the desk, retrieved the bottle of benzaprine, and dumped two capsules into the palm of his hand, feeling unaccountably nervous in the human's presence. He proffered the pills in Kirk's direction, but still the ensign did not look up.

"Guess McCoy told you about my little . . . problem," the human muttered as if to himself. "But since when are the captain's quarters considered a dispensary?" He was angry at having the knowledge discovered by anyone—and especially embarrassed that the Vulcan commander had obviously been informed. But he felt his hard resolve start to weaken. He glanced up, meeting the Vulcan's eyes. Somehow, shirtless, and with hair slightly dishelved, the Shi'Kahr's legendary captain appeared almost vulnerable in the dim lighting. . . almost reachable.

"The doctor informed me of your addiction to lidacin," the Vulcan confirmed presently. Kirk was such an enigma. He could never predict when the human would react with anger, when he would be embarrassed, when he would board himself up inside that stubborn wall and be completely unreadable. And the fact that he'd only met the ensign recently didn't aid the uncanny sensation of helplessness. "And in response to your second question," he continued, "I thought it would be better for all concerned if you came here rather than Sickbay." He paused, then took another risk. "You . . . obviously do not wish it publicly known that you are . . . experiencing difficulties, and I do not believe you sincerely wish to be transferred off this vessel." So, he thought to himself, this was poker. He felt his heart quicken just a little.

Kirk looked up, started to deny it, then abandoned the pose with a deep sigh as he flopped, uninvited, into a convenient chair. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked after the fact.

A Vulcan eyebrow climbed high as the captain sank into his own chair. Bluff called. He waited mutely.

"Why do you care?" Kirk asked at last, meeting the Vulcan's eyes.

And Spock felt himself weaken under the human's scrutiny. Spock glanced away from the intense hazel globes. But the stakes were too high to permit intimidation to interfere with logic. "I have . . . discussed your case with Doctor McCoy," he began, wondering where the statement would eventually lead, "and have come to the conclusion that you are somehow . . . a critical factor in the survival of this . . . universe." His throat was suddenly dry; gambling was a game best left to humans.

But Kirk laughed, startling him back to reality. "Now that's a heavy guilt trip, Captain," he said boldly. "I know the ShiKahr's received some strange orders, but telling me that I'm a critical factor is taking psychiatry a bit far, isn't it?"

The Vulcan shivered, glancing forlornly across the room to the discarded shirt. Yet he knew that no amount of clothing could cover his psychic nakedness; Kirk could strip him to the marrow with a single question."I can offer no logical explanation," he replied truthfully. "I can only state what I . . . feel . . . to be true." He forced himself to look up once more, demanded his eyes to remain locked with the human's. Somehow, he hadn't expected this. If he had been the intimidator before, it now seemed as if their positions were reversed; Kirk was questioning him. And yet . . . it felt right, normal, secure. He relented to intuition. "As I have informed you previously, there is a strong possibility that we shall not survive beyond this week. For the moment, it appears that we have, as you humans might call it, bought some time. Yet I shall not hesitate to point out to you—confidentially—that we are still not fully knowledgeable as to what we are facing nor how to . . . correct whatever damage has been done." He paused, wondering if he was making the correct decision. But holding back would accomplish nothing—and perhaps worse. He swallowed, wondered what the human was thinking, what thoughts were traveling through the quick mind. "At any rate," he continued presently, "we have been diverted to the Canusian system." He held the intense eyes. "And I have tentatively scheduled you into the landing party."

Kirk's eyes widened. "Why?" he asked simply.

The Vulcan hesitated, steepling his fingers in front of him, wishing the action would accomplish the serenity for which it was designed. "Your early Academy records indicated that you were quite adept at diplomacy, Ensign," he replied, choosing a formal approach. "And since several members of the crew are temporarily . . . disabled . . . I find it necessary to utilize your services."

Kirk stared at the Vulcan, a smile slowly coming to the handsome face. "Suppose I refuse?" he asked pointedly.

The eyebrow rose once more. "In that event," the Vulcan replied, "I would have no alternative other than to expedite your immediate discharge from the Fleet." He paused. Poker indeed. "You would be transported to the space-port on Canus Four and eventually to an Orion colony," he bluffed. He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on the desk. "The decision is yours, Jim."

Kirk rose from the chair, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He turned away from the Vulcan, and felt a flare of the old anger. But it quickly faded as respect for the commander chased it away. "And what makes you think I wouldn't jump at the chance?" he wondered.

"You are not a fool, Ensign," the Vulcan responded. "I believe you are . . ." He hesitated, warring with feelings which suddenly welled in on him. "I believe you are . . . as displaced in your present role as I perceive you to be," he stated finally. "And that you . . ." But it wasn't easy to say; a lifetime of discipline and logic fought for survival. ". . . that you will . . . find the strength within yourself to . . . aid in this matter."

Kirk shook his head once again, then turned to face the Vulcan, wondering if it was even possible to trust again. He started to speak, then closed his mouth with the words still suspended in his throat. Something stirred inside him. . . something ancient, yet something familiar. He took a deep breath. "All right," he conceded at last. And somehow, it didn't injure the fierce pride nor the stubborn ego as he'd half-expected it would. "For all the good it'll do, I'll go on the landing party."

The Vulcan nodded almost to himself. "Thank you," he murmured, recognizing the illogic in his words. Yet he also recognized the need for that simple reassurance. "At our present speed, we shall be entering Canusian orbit early in the morning. Please report to the transporter room at 0800 hours."

Kirk nodded, feeling suddenly awkward as he noticed the two capsules of benzaprine on the Vulcan's desk. He turned toward the door.

"Ensign?"

He stopped, but did not face the Vulcan.

"Do you . . .?" But his voice trailed into silence.

Kirk shook his head in silent negation of the unspoken question. "Tell Doc I flushed 'em down the john," he said quietly, and slipped into the corridor before the Vulcan could reply.

Once outside the captain's quarters, he leaned heavily against the bulkhead, eyes drifting shut. Someone else had made him say the things he'd said. Someone else had walked through his mind. Absently, he twisted the plain gold Academy ring on his left hand as he sank to the floor and began to tremble. Someone else . . . I believe you are as displaced in your current role as I perceive you to be.

He took a deep breath, running one hand down the smooth metal body of the ship. She . . . silver woman-goddess. It was time to change . . .

After a moment, he rose from the cool bulkhead, listening to the pleasant drone of the engines. Reality breathed . . . more easily now.

[…]

He reached into the closet, withdrawing a red, silk uniform tunic.

But Richardson quickly came over, snatched the red shirt away and tossed it across the room. "Here," he said, digging deeper into the closet until he found a blue shirt. "Live a little—and a little longer, Jim," he urged.

Kirk's brows questioned.

And Richardson shrugged. "Let's just say that on this ship—or probably any other—you don't want to wear a red shirt on landing-party duty."

Kirk shook his head with a laugh . . . and quickly pulled the blue shirt over his head.

* * * * *

The landing party, consisting of five members, beamed down to the computer-specified coordinates only to discover themselves in a swampy area. Large trees resembling Earth cypress grew in abundance, and steam-demons rose off warm puddles like ghostly fingers reaching for the silver-gray sky. On the distant horizon, thunder spoke ominously, and an occasional flash of black-fingered lightning ripped its way through clouds.

Captain Spock observed their surroundings with an expression bordering on exasperation, then turned to survey the landing party. McCoy and Kirk stood to one side; and Donner—an unfortunate last-minute replacement for Alvarez—and Ambassador Selon of Vulcan waited on the other side. And were it not for the logical portion of his mind, Spock might have thought himself in a nightmare. A damp, musky smell drifted to his nostrils, and already he could feel the seepage of stagnant water leaking into his boots. In an almost human gesture, the Vulcan sighed.

The nightmare became considerably more vivid, however, when he began to sense that the landing party was being quite closely watched; even Ambassador Selon, who had been attached to the ShiKahr for three years, seemed nervous.

Spock took a step forward. "Tricorder readings, Ensign Kirk?"

Kirk glanced at the hand-held device, following closely at the captain's side. "Some sort of interference, Captain," he reported. "When we first beamed down, I was detecting humanoid lifeforms within a quarter of a mile; but the readings just suddenly shot off the scale. Possible effect of the storm."

The Vulcan nodded, but before he could even begin to draw his phaser as a precautionary measure, he discovered himself in the midst of a rain of spears and arrows which appeared from everywhere and nowhere. He vaguely remembered giving the order to disperse, and was peripherally aware of Donner's voice barking orders into the communicator for emergency beam- up.

The last thing he saw before he felt something sharp slide into his back with remarkable force was the familiar twinkling effect of the transporter yanking McCoy and Ambassador Selon back to the safety of the ShiKahr. Apparently, transporter circuits were being affected by the storm as well, he thought disjointedly. He could only hope that Donner, Kirk and himself would be next, for he doubted either of the humans would survive should they be captured by the tribal, warlike Canusian primitives. The one thing which didn't make sense, however, the Vulcan realized, was that the savages couldn't have known when and where the landing party was to beam down . . . unless . . .

Instinctively, Spock reached for the phaser as he felt himself falling. If he could hold off the attack until the transporter technician could recalibrate the controls . . .

Through vision blurred with increasing pain, he could see the primitives closing in—only six of them, he realized—three with spears trained on Donner, three with crude weapons leveled on Kirk.

Without knowing precisely why, the Vulcan slid the phaser into the lethal mode, rolled to his side in a wave of agony, and took careful aim, sending three of the savages to join their ancestors in oblivion.

"Jim!" he yelled as he saw the determined expression on Kirk's face. He didn't see that the human had already drawn his own phaser with surprising speed. "Jim!" Another flash of lightning—phaser blast.

The spears started falling again, like lethal rain from the sky.

It was his last conscious memory.

McCoy shrugged. "Maybe nothing," he said before the Vulcan could respond. "But once you take a look at those vid-scans, I think you'll understand why I'm a little . . . concerned about Kirk."

"Please explain," the Vulcan entreated, leaning forward curiously.

"I can't be sure, of course," the doctor replied hesitantly, "but Kirk does bear a remarkable resemblance to some of the images on that tape." He leaned back, biting his lip thoughtfully. "And I also found out that you ordered Kirk to report to Sickbay last night."

"He did not choose to do so," the Vulcan stated, not particularly surprised.

"Apparently not," McCoy confirmed. "But if you questioned him about it, he'd probably give you a lot of static about his ignoring an order being grounds for immediate discharge, and you wouldn't get much insight into the real problem." He paused. "But Kirk did come staggering into my office early this morning. And let me tell you, Captain, he looked like early death and plomik soup warmed over. At first, he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, wouldn't let anyone touch him— but then he started demanding lidacin."

"Lidacin?" Spock repeated quietly. "Why should he . . .?" But then the answer came. Once under the influence of the powerful tranquilizer, the human would not dream; certain electrical impulses to the brain would be deadened; the slippage would not be as severe to the conscious mind. Far from a cure, but nonetheless an effective placebo. He looked at McCoy.

"In answer to your question," the doctor replied, "I didn't give it to him. But when I asked him to get on the table, he started backing up as if I'd just told him I was an ax murderer. It took me and four orderlies to get him down, and a double dose of coenthal to calm him down long enough to run a full exam." He paused. "When I got through with the tests, I found out that this kid's got some serious problems no one discovered before." He shook his head, slipping into a moment of thought. "I'd love to see a vid-scan on him, though I suspect he'd rather walk on hot coals than submit to anything."

Spock felt himself tense. Again, McCoy's suspicions about Kirk confirmed his own. The ensign was somehow important. "Precisely what type of . . . problems did you discover, Doctor?" he asked at last, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

McCoy's expression slowly transformed to a worried frown. "First of all, he's been addicted to lidacin for quite a while—and not the stuff we use on the ship, either. Don't ask me where he's been getting it, but he's been injecting himself with a ninety percent solution for at least six months. Hell, Spock, it's no wonder he's been acting like a zombie half the time."

Spock remained quiet for a moment. "I presume you will begin treatment of the addiction."

McCoy nodded. "Sure, but it'll take time," he reminded the Vulcan. "The main cure is abstinence—and that's not going to be easy on him, either. And while I don't personally approve of anybody's drug addiction, I approve of those Orion stitches-and-needles rehab colonies even less—which is where he'd end up if anyone other than you or me found out about this. But now . . . "

"I see," the Vulcan said softly, feeling a deep personal regret that the young ensign's life was such an apparent turmoil. The human was different, compelling . . . and somehow connected in a critical way to both universes. The Vulcan lifted an eyebrow in silent consideration. Perhaps Kirk was even the key to whatever answer existed. . . .

"The only course of action I can suggest," McCoy continued, calling the Vulcan back to reality, "is that we try to keep this under wraps—especially from men like Donner. If Kirk wants out of the Fleet as much as he claims, then he might go out of his way to make it known that he is a drug addict—just to get that discharge."

The Vulcan glanced up. "Apparently not," he countered, "or he certainly could have availed himself of that opportunity while still at the Academy waiting for active posting." He shook his head. "No . . . Ensign Kirk has chosen to be here; and I do not believe it is entirely by accident."

McCoy considered that. "In other words, you think he may be calling your bluff—trying to see how much he can get away with?"

"I am not certain," Spock replied, "for I have never understood the human capacity to say one thing when another thing entirely is desired."

McCoy grinned. "Like Brer Rabbit and the briar patch."

A look of confusion took shape on angular Vulcan features. "Brer Rabbit?"

But McCoy only laughed. "Never mind, Spock," he muttered. He sobered then, forcing himself back to more immediate problems. "The main thing right now is to get started on a treatment program."

"Begin immediately, Doctor," Spock instructed. In the back of his own mind, he realized he was taking a severe chance with his own career—and possibly the safety of the ShiKahr—based on a feeling alone. But transferring Kirk now would serve no useful purpose. I'd make one hell of a lousy ensign, Spock. The phantom words returned, spoken as clearly as if the man had been standing directly in front of him.

McCoy nodded almost to himself, noticing the distant stare in his captain's eyes. "I dunno," the doctor murmured. "Maybe I'm just looking for an answer under any rock—but there's something about him . . . something worth salvaging."

"Precisely what injuries did you find?" the captain asked presently.

McCoy scoffed. "He's been through a lot, Spock—most of it during the time he spent in prison on Earth. Several broken bones; all healed now. Scar tissue on the left lung from bronchial pneumonia—not terribly surprising, considering his weakened condition and prison living conditions. Lots of bruises," he added, "and a few lacerations." His tone darkened. "All fresh, I might add. But the physical injuries are just the tip of that proverbial iceberg."

"The Talos Device," Spock remarked, tone bordering on contempt.

"The Talos Device," McCoy confirmed. "That damned thing was used pretty extensively on him—so it's no mystery why he won't submit to a vid-scan." He shook his head once again. "And it's no wonder he was trying to pry lidacin out of me. He probably has nightmares left over from the Talos Device that would make a Klingon concentration camp look like a sixth-grade prayer retreat by comparison." He paused. "I've prescribed benzaprine orally for him—and that should curb the effects of the withdrawal within a few days." But his eyes darkened with concern. "The only problem is that he's going to have to come down to Sickbay every night to get the pills. I don't dare trust him with a bottle of the stuff; it'd be like candy next to the stuff he's been pumping into himself. He'd overdose in a day's time."

"Leave the medication with me," Spock suggested. At the very least, it would be an excuse to question the ensign further—and under a more gentle pretense. "Also, it would be too conspicuous if he were seen going to Sickbay every evening; even a man with Donner's limited intelligence would not have difficulty deducing the reason."

McCoy seemed dubious, but nodded. "I'll drop it off in a couple hours," he replied, rising from the chair. "Anything else, Spock?"

The Vulcan thought for a moment. "Negative, Doctor," he replied at last.

"Well," McCoy concluded, moving to the door. "Since I've still got a few hours of correlation to do on this data, I'd better get back to my beads and rattles. . . ." For a moment, the doctor jolted internally. It seemed so natural . . . like a memory of a dream . . . Spock calling him a witch doctor . . . while someone else stood in the background suppressing a smile. He shivered, and wondered if he, too, was beginning to slip. Someone else. The third side of the triangle. Golden-haired, golden-eyed human. But before he could ponder it further, Spock rose to see him out.

The Vulcan studied the doctor. "I had always suspected that your medical practices were something less than scientific," he murmured, though he also felt an odd sense of deja vu connected with McCoy's peculiar statement. He wondered briefly if it was McCoy who had always been at his side—and though that image brought a certain truth, he recognized that it was not entirely accurate. The images whisper-walked through his mind. Blue and gold. Warmth and companionship. Stolen moments when the firm Vulcan mask did not have to fit so tightly.

Somewhere, he told himself, he would find that reality again . . . or create it.

[…]

It was late in the evening when the door buzzer sounded again, and though the Vulcan had long since abandoned the prospect of sleep, the grating tone was nonetheless annoying. He rose from the bed, only then realizing that he'd slipped into a state of light meditation while planning the details for the scheduled meeting with the Canusian ambassador. Reaching for the discarded uniform shirt, He glanced at the chronometer. Two A.M. But before he could even begin to pull the uniform into place, the buzzer sounded again, more insistent . . . and more annoying.

"Come!" he said sharply, surprised at the harsh tone of his voice.

The door opened to reveal Ensign Kirk standing in the hall, bright hazel eyes flitting nervously back and forth from the corridor to the interior of the dimly lit room. He did not speak as he stepped inside, doors closing with a whoosh behind him.

The Vulcan studied him for a moment, quickly detecting the embarrassment hiding behind an outward expression of defiance. For the briefest of moments, the Vulcan wondered what in all possible worlds had brought the human to his doorstep at this hour of the night; but slowly memory returned, and he remembered the pills McCoy had left with him a few hours earlier. Without preamble, he reached into the second drawer of the desk, retrieved the bottle of benzaprine, and dumped two capsules into the palm of his hand, feeling unaccountably nervous in the human's presence. He proffered the pills in Kirk's direction, but still the ensign did not look up.

"Guess McCoy told you about my little . . . problem," the human muttered as if to himself. "But since when are the captain's quarters considered a dispensary?" He was angry at having the knowledge discovered by anyone—and especially embarrassed that the Vulcan commander had obviously been informed. But he felt his hard resolve start to weaken. He glanced up, meeting the Vulcan's eyes. Somehow, shirtless, and with hair slightly dishelved, the Shi'Kahr's legendary captain appeared almost vulnerable in the dim lighting. . . almost reachable.

"The doctor informed me of your addiction to lidacin," the Vulcan confirmed presently. Kirk was such an enigma. He could never predict when the human would react with anger, when he would be embarrassed, when he would board himself up inside that stubborn wall and be completely unreadable. And the fact that he'd only met the ensign recently didn't aid the uncanny sensation of helplessness. "And in response to your second question," he continued, "I thought it would be better for all concerned if you came here rather than Sickbay." He paused, then took another risk. "You . . . obviously do not wish it publicly known that you are . . . experiencing difficulties, and I do not believe you sincerely wish to be transferred off this vessel." So, he thought to himself, this was poker. He felt his heart quicken just a little.

Kirk looked up, started to deny it, then abandoned the pose with a deep sigh as he flopped, uninvited, into a convenient chair. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked after the fact.

A Vulcan eyebrow climbed high as the captain sank into his own chair. Bluff called. He waited mutely.

"Why do you care?" Kirk asked at last, meeting the Vulcan's eyes.

And Spock felt himself weaken under the human's scrutiny. Spock glanced away from the intense hazel globes. But the stakes were too high to permit intimidation to interfere with logic. "I have . . . discussed your case with Doctor McCoy," he began, wondering where the statement would eventually lead, "and have come to the conclusion that you are somehow . . . a critical factor in the survival of this . . . universe." His throat was suddenly dry; gambling was a game best left to humans.

But Kirk laughed, startling him back to reality. "Now that's a heavy guilt trip, Captain," he said boldly. "I know the ShiKahr's received some strange orders, but telling me that I'm a critical factor is taking psychiatry a bit far, isn't it?"

The Vulcan shivered, glancing forlornly across the room to the discarded shirt. Yet he knew that no amount of clothing could cover his psychic nakedness; Kirk could strip him to the marrow with a single question."I can offer no logical explanation," he replied truthfully. "I can only state what I . . . feel . . . to be true." He forced himself to look up once more, demanded his eyes to remain locked with the human's. Somehow, he hadn't expected this. If he had been the intimidator before, it now seemed as if their positions were reversed; Kirk was questioning him. And yet . . . it felt right, normal, secure. He relented to intuition. "As I have informed you previously, there is a strong possibility that we shall not survive beyond this week. For the moment, it appears that we have, as you humans might call it, bought some time. Yet I shall not hesitate to point out to you—confidentially—that we are still not fully knowledgeable as to what we are facing nor how to . . . correct whatever damage has been done." He paused, wondering if he was making the correct decision. But holding back would accomplish nothing—and perhaps worse. He swallowed, wondered what the human was thinking, what thoughts were traveling through the quick mind. "At any rate," he continued presently, "we have been diverted to the Canusian system." He held the intense eyes. "And I have tentatively scheduled you into the landing party."

Kirk's eyes widened. "Why?" he asked simply.

The Vulcan hesitated, steepling his fingers in front of him, wishing the action would accomplish the serenity for which it was designed. "Your early Academy records indicated that you were quite adept at diplomacy, Ensign," he replied, choosing a formal approach. "And since several members of the crew are temporarily . . . disabled . . . I find it necessary to utilize your services."

Kirk stared at the Vulcan, a smile slowly coming to the handsome face. "Suppose I refuse?" he asked pointedly.

The eyebrow rose once more. "In that event," the Vulcan replied, "I would have no alternative other than to expedite your immediate discharge from the Fleet." He paused. Poker indeed. "You would be transported to the space-port on Canus Four and eventually to an Orion colony," he bluffed. He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on the desk. "The decision is yours, Jim."

Kirk rose from the chair, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He turned away from the Vulcan, and felt a flare of the old anger. But it quickly faded as respect for the commander chased it away. "And what makes you think I wouldn't jump at the chance?" he wondered.

"You are not a fool, Ensign," the Vulcan responded. "I believe you are . . ." He hesitated, warring with feelings which suddenly welled in on him. "I believe you are . . . as displaced in your present role as I perceive you to be," he stated finally. "And that you . . ." But it wasn't easy to say; a lifetime of discipline and logic fought for survival. ". . . that you will . . . find the strength within yourself to . . . aid in this matter."

Kirk shook his head once again, then turned to face the Vulcan, wondering if it was even possible to trust again. He started to speak, then closed his mouth with the words still suspended in his throat. Something stirred inside him. . . something ancient, yet something familiar. He took a deep breath. "All right," he conceded at last. And somehow, it didn't injure the fierce pride nor the stubborn ego as he'd half-expected it would. "For all the good it'll do, I'll go on the landing party."

The Vulcan nodded almost to himself. "Thank you," he murmured, recognizing the illogic in his words. Yet he also recognized the need for that simple reassurance. "At our present speed, we shall be entering Canusian orbit early in the morning. Please report to the transporter room at 0800 hours."

Kirk nodded, feeling suddenly awkward as he noticed the two capsules of benzaprine on the Vulcan's desk. He turned toward the door.

"Ensign?"

He stopped, but did not face the Vulcan.

"Do you . . .?" But his voice trailed into silence.

Kirk shook his head in silent negation of the unspoken question. "Tell Doc I flushed 'em down the john," he said quietly, and slipped into the corridor before the Vulcan could reply.

Once outside the captain's quarters, he leaned heavily against the bulkhead, eyes drifting shut. Someone else had made him say the things he'd said. Someone else had walked through his mind. Absently, he twisted the plain gold Academy ring on his left hand as he sank to the floor and began to tremble. Someone else . . . I believe you are as displaced in your current role as I perceive you to be.

He took a deep breath, running one hand down the smooth metal body of the ship. She . . . silver woman-goddess. It was time to change . . .

After a moment, he rose from the cool bulkhead, listening to the pleasant drone of the engines. Reality breathed . . . more easily now.

[…]

He reached into the closet, withdrawing a red, silk uniform tunic.

But Richardson quickly came over, snatched the red shirt away and tossed it across the room. "Here," he said, digging deeper into the closet until he found a blue shirt. "Live a little—and a little longer, Jim," he urged.

Kirk's brows questioned.

And Richardson shrugged. "Let's just say that on this ship—or probably any other—you don't want to wear a red shirt on landing-party duty."

Kirk shook his head with a laugh . . . and quickly pulled the blue shirt over his head.

* * * * *

The landing party, consisting of five members, beamed down to the computer-specified coordinates only to discover themselves in a swampy area. Large trees resembling Earth cypress grew in abundance, and steam-demons rose off warm puddles like ghostly fingers reaching for the silver-gray sky. On the distant horizon, thunder spoke ominously, and an occasional flash of black-fingered lightning ripped its way through clouds.

Captain Spock observed their surroundings with an expression bordering on exasperation, then turned to survey the landing party. McCoy and Kirk stood to one side; and Donner—an unfortunate last-minute replacement for Alvarez—and Ambassador Selon of Vulcan waited on the other side. And were it not for the logical portion of his mind, Spock might have thought himself in a nightmare. A damp, musky smell drifted to his nostrils, and already he could feel the seepage of stagnant water leaking into his boots. In an almost human gesture, the Vulcan sighed.

The nightmare became considerably more vivid, however, when he began to sense that the landing party was being quite closely watched; even Ambassador Selon, who had been attached to the ShiKahr for three years, seemed nervous.

Spock took a step forward. "Tricorder readings, Ensign Kirk?"

Kirk glanced at the hand-held device, following closely at the captain's side. "Some sort of interference, Captain," he reported. "When we first beamed down, I was detecting humanoid lifeforms within a quarter of a mile; but the readings just suddenly shot off the scale. Possible effect of the storm."

The Vulcan nodded, but before he could even begin to draw his phaser as a precautionary measure, he discovered himself in the midst of a rain of spears and arrows which appeared from everywhere and nowhere. He vaguely remembered giving the order to disperse, and was peripherally aware of Donner's voice barking orders into the communicator for emergency beam- up.

The last thing he saw before he felt something sharp slide into his back with remarkable force was the familiar twinkling effect of the transporter yanking McCoy and Ambassador Selon back to the safety of the ShiKahr. Apparently, transporter circuits were being affected by the storm as well, he thought disjointedly. He could only hope that Donner, Kirk and himself would be next, for he doubted either of the humans would survive should they be captured by the tribal, warlike Canusian primitives. The one thing which didn't make sense, however, the Vulcan realized, was that the savages couldn't have known when and where the landing party was to beam down . . . unless . . .

Instinctively, Spock reached for the phaser as he felt himself falling. If he could hold off the attack until the transporter technician could recalibrate the controls . . .

Through vision blurred with increasing pain, he could see the primitives closing in—only six of them, he realized—three with spears trained on Donner, three with crude weapons leveled on Kirk.

Without knowing precisely why, the Vulcan slid the phaser into the lethal mode, rolled to his side in a wave of agony, and took careful aim, sending three of the savages to join their ancestors in oblivion.

"Jim!" he yelled as he saw the determined expression on Kirk's face. He didn't see that the human had already drawn his own phaser with surprising speed. "Jim!" Another flash of lightning—phaser blast.

The spears started falling again, like lethal rain from the sky.

It was his last conscious memory.

-------

Next time: Well, I reckon we were about due for Kirk and Spock rolling around on the sand fighting. Spock, you naughty Vulcan, you're supposed to establish a SAFEWORD first...

[markerofthemidnight]

Hello there! I remember you asking for prompts for p:eg characters tierlists, and I think I have an idea, which I hope is interesting enough. How about ranking them in regards of having (if so, to what extent) or not having (maybe to the point of having critical misconceptions about it lol?) any kind of medical knowledge? Such as basic first-aid, perhaps CPR even, etc. Even though none of their talents are related to medicine, I assume at least some of them are able to be a bit helpful in case of an emergency. (Also, we all know for sure that Ulysses, for example, has a generally good knowledge of medication; I feel bad for him though because of the circumstances in which he acquired it :()

Anyway, I would love to know your thoughts on the matter, headcanons, etc. Have a nice day and thank you in advance for answering ❤ (If you decide not to respond, that's okay, I wish you a nice day regardless :D)

Oh, trust me, it’s rare that I take down an ask sent directly to my inbox, unless I just don’t really feel like doing it for whatever reason.

But it’s rarer still that someone wishes me a nice day regardless of whether I respond! Who knows, I might need that luck (there’s a pretty dangerous storm coming tomorrow where I live, but I should be fine), so I have decided to grant your request! Explanations below the cut:

Damon: There’s no way this man has any medical knowledge beyond being able to badly fashion a tourniquet or some shit.

Eva: We already know she has a lot of science knowledge in that brain of hers. It’s not too much of a stretch to say that might include human biology… but that alone isn’t enough to be a good medic.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang’s pretty terrible at stuff outside his job… emphasis on “outside of his job”. He is a lawyer, after all, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t have at least a bit of medical knowledge in that brain of his.

Grace: Her VA has actually already said (in her interview with the Pixel Partners) that one of her hidden talents would probably be that she’s good at basic first aid-adjacent stuff due to how many fights she gets into! Only for mild injuries, though. Not so much at actually saving lives.

Toshiko: I don’t have to explain this. That is a child.

Eloise: I reasoned that all the people with combat-adjacent talents would have at least some medical knowledge. Eloise is the first of many examples of this.

Desmond: Connecting to the above point, but since Desmond is the only one out of the combat-adjacent talents who actually fights (fencing is more of a performative thing), he gets it even better! Besides he just kinda gives off those vibes.

Jean: Again, I do not think I need to explain this. I’d be surprised if he didn’t save someone’s life at some point.

Ingrid: If she knows what keraunoparalysis means, she probably has lots of other medical knowledge too.

Wenona: I’d kinda be surprised if she didn’t have at least some medical knowledge, but I can’t see her having that much.

Cassidy: Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me she knows first aid. I dare you.

Jett: I was gonna put him in the lowest tier, but then I was reminded of his burns- he probably knows some things related to that.

Mark: Yeah, there’s no way.

Diana: Because of the kind of person Diana is, and also the tricks she turned out to have up her sleeve in Chapter 1 (both successfully hiding a slash wound with only makeup and picking a door with a hairpin), I think she might turn out to be kinda good at it? Can’t say for sure though

Kai: I think he’d be good at pretty specific things? Like, I dunno, treating overdoses. He did have that whole panic about the drugs in the pharmacy, after all.

Ulysses: Both because you pointed out his rather… complex history with medications, and because I think being a historian would come with a lot of vague knowledge of biology. For example, trench foot. I sure as hell wouldn’t know what trench foot is if not for my history classes.

Tozu: Because he’s so obsessed with ✨murder✨, I think he would know a lot about human biology and thus be somewhat good at first aid. But it depends on whether he wants to help or not.

Mara: Adding onto the “people with combat-related talents are good at first aid” rule! I headcanon that she applied those bandages on her leg herself. Not to mention, it’s actually part of my headcanon lore that she saved someone’s life once! (though less out of the goodness of her heart and more because she thought it was worthwhile to tell her superiors about the fucking dying man in this random building they were searching (guess who the dying man was))

[unreliablesnake]

Cheaters (David "Deacon" Kay x reader)

Note: Deacon's a cheater, reader's a cheater, his marriage is failing... Yeah, you've been warned. It's short, just a snippet, really. MDNI.

Warnings: afab!reader, fingering

You hated yourself for doing this to your fiancé, to his wife, and even to the team. If your affair ever came to light, there would be a scandal that neither of you wanted. So you took precautions and tried to stay under the radar, meeting every other week in a hotel room you paid for in cash. In the meantime you communicated through a password protected emailing app he suggested.

Because Deacon kept everything under control for the both of you, doing something you would have never assumed he would. A previously loyal and faithful Catholic man was cheating on his wife, and to make things worse, he clearly enjoyed every second of it, sometimes acting like some stupid hormone-driven teenager. It's not like you didn't love the thrill of this. Hell, you sometimes felt like breaking up your engagement for him.

Because every time he looked at you as if you were the only person in his universe, your heart melted, and every time his hands or lips began to roam your body, your brain stopped working. He had you under his spell, making you do things you normally wouldn’t do. After all, you would never look at anyone other than your fiancé, especially not when the other man was married. 

Yet here you were, struggling to bite back a moan in the backseat of his car as his fingers curled to touch that sweet spot inside you. Sometimes he played with fire, like right now in the almost empty parking lot of the station after your shift. Anyone could have walked up to the car to talk to him, but he didn’t seem to mind and you were way too lost in him to care.

He kissed you fiercely to silence you when your body told him you were close to another orgasm, and you could tell he was trying hard not to grin and laugh at the way you struggled to stay quiet. “I love the pretty noises you make,” he had once told you with a smirk before placing a soft kiss on your temple. But times like this he needed you to keep it down, so you did your best to be a good girl for him.

“Let’s get out of LA this weekend. Just you and me,” he suddenly said with his face buried in the crook of your neck, his fingers not stopping as you came for the second time that night. It took your brain a minute or two to clear up, and since you never responded, he repeated the suggestion, this time while looking you in the eye. “What do you say?”

“I wish I could go,” you began with a sigh, “but my future brother-in-law will stay with us for the weekend. And I have no idea how I would explain being away for this long anyway. How could you explain it to Annie?”

Deacon let out a groan, then leaned back against the seat. “We spend most of our time fighting lately anyway, one more thing to yell about wouldn’t really matter.” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him, having absolutely no idea how this man could be this nonchalant about something this important. “She wants me to retire. When I told her I don’t want to do that, she got mad at me. But let’s not talk about that now. How about just one night at the usual place? I need you, baby, I really do,” he tried to convince you with a sweet tone, even flashing a tired smile at you.

It was hard to decide what to think about all this. His marriage was going through a rough phase, yet instead of trying to fix it, he seemed more interested in spending more time with you to get away from his problems. You wanted to say no. You knew you were supposed to say no. But then you looked into his big brown eyes and logic seemed to flee your brain. “Fine, I’ll say I’m staying at Chris’ place,” you gave in. 

[tree1138]

Astarion Contradictions and Breakups

Major spoilers for Astarion’s personal quest, The Dark Urge questline, and game endings. 

When I was trying out different paths for how Astarion reacts to the Dark Urge questline something that stood out to me was the wide difference in responses Astarion has, as well as the way he contradicts himself. This essay started as a way of trying to explain “why does Ascendant Astarion tell you to take over the world when he immediately becomes a thrall” from a Watsonian (in-universe explanation) vs a Doylist (out-of-universe explanation) and wound up being a focused on; why does Ascendant!Astarion react so differently to when you break up? 

There are 4 opportunities to break up with Ascendant!Astarion; 1) refuse to become his thrall immediately after the ritual you breakup and have a follow up conversation the next morning, 2) become his thrall and break up with him whenever before killing the Eldar brain, 3) break up with him on the dockside convo at the beginning of the ending, 4) in the last scene with him say you want to break up at which point he doesn’t let you: “You're mine remember? The tadpole is gone, which means your future is mine to decide. How lucky you are that I chose you as my consort. Chose you to help me take Baldur’s gate, then sit by my side as I rule it. There’s no backing out now - we’ll be together forever. I can promise you that…”.  

Comparing breakup conversations with Spawn!Astarion after killing Cazador, Ascendant!Astarion responds with so much more spitefulness and defensive anger across the board, even at Spawn!Astarions most angry (breaking up with him in the literal last conversation) it doesn't match the anger and cruelty in senario 1. To me it reads as him wanting to make the player character just as hurt and upset as he is after a very emotional day and the lines get really nasty:

He then won’t say anything but “why the hells are you bothering me now” until you do 3 long rests which stands out considering if you break up in any other non ending scenario he’ll talk to you pleasantly afterwards. 

That conversation days afterwards is really interesting where his “goal” is to get you to agree to be partners in crime together, and in doing so is the most honest he gets about how a romantic relationship would have been unhealthy:

In regards to love It's really interesting what Astarion will say about love during the conversation where he asks you to become his spawn:

If the pc expresses insecurity about being a spawn he’ll reassure them and say he loves them, in a way that deliberately parallels his Act 1 seduction conversation down to the way that he starts with a degrading pet-name “what can I do for my dearest pet” vs “here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed”.

Just like the seduction scene he wants the pc on his side and attached to him, but if you push back on him during this conversation its clear he no longer believes in love just power exchanges:

If the player stays together with Ascendant!Astarion a dialogue option is that he’s seem distant since the ritual, and he’ll imply it's due to his new powers but he does that looking to the up and right that others have mentioned he does when he lies. What makes more sense and is better character writings is the Watsonian answer of: killing all your siblings and 7,000 others (including people Astarion regretted victimizing and then had to look in the eye and condemn to death) will fuck a person up. He knows his hands are bloody so he has to believe he got everything he wanted, and he did really want this because if you leave it up to him he will chose to do the ritual vs just killing Cazador.  

I think Astarion has to believe he is better (which in his view means more powerful) than his past self as part of believing the sacrifice was worth it. In scenario 2 he’ll say this if you bring up his past self:

What’s a lot more interesting is if you bring up his past self in the morning after conversation of scenario 1 he’s genuinely shocked and caught off guard:

What I found interesting was Astarion talks in the same way about how the ritual was worth it and the cool new powers he’ll totally get as he does advocating for endings that are bad for him. If you become the Absolute leader Astarion becomes a thrall just like all the other companions whether you do it on your own or in Bhaal’s name. For all his talk about Bhaal’s army being “an unsurpassable dowry” and how he’ll command it, he can’t do jack shit if the player defies Bhaal and then either kills themselves or becomes fully possessed by Bhaal.The Doylist answer is Larian games just have a very limited amount of endings and the characters are forever stuck at lvl 12 , the more interesting Watsonian answer is Astarian is lying/exaggerating out of ignorance or because he really doesn’t have a clue of what to do next and is trying to cover for that.

The whole ritual plotline is very obviously Astarion continuing the cycle of abuse vs helping others, the abuse Cazador inflicted was akin to the abuse he suffered from Vellioth, down to Astarion commenting that Cazador’s rules came from Vellioth. It's also clear that Ascendant!Astarion has processed none of his trauma re: Cazador, after the ritual he says “I will not think about him. I don’t want to even say his name” and he shouts at you to be silent if you mention Cazador when you break up in scenario 2. I personally think Astarion sees you staying with him as a spawn degrading because he was degraded and abused when he was a spawn based on a line he has if the pc is cursed to go mad with The Dark Urge, where he relates too much to the character.

I think the DnD rules of absolute morality that vampires are extremely evil is a boring answer to why Ascendant!Astarion becomes possessive and controlling, especially since Larian has pushed against that theme throughout the game. Yes Astarion has an Act 1 line about how vampires don't turn spawn into full vampires because they don't share power, in my opinion that line falls flat when considering will have kind and supportive dialogue to the player in a number of other Act 3 quests. Whether the its the Watsonian answer that Larian wasn’t going to rewrite large chunks of dialogue when there are Act 3 quests with no companion reactions or the Doylist answer that he is just extremely possessive and has attachment issues about the threat of you leaving him is an interesting dilemma.

In regards to scenario 4 it's a fucking huge contrast to Astarion's whole character arc about learning to trust and being around someone who respects his boundaries and consent, where here doesn't respect the player's boundaries or consent. It's such a contrast to scenario 3 that happens right before it where Astarion says "We have served our respective purposes, we're free to go wherever we wish" and doesn't mind you breaking up with him as if your relationship was a strategic alliance. It's also the clearest contrast from his pre-ritual dialogue of "we're a team. If I become all powerful, then we become all powerful" because he's taken away all power from the player. The Ascendant romance is not subtle with most of the romance specific dialogue being themed around an extremely toxic D/s relationship where the Narrator explicitly says he’ll see you as degrading himself by being with him as a spawn which feels like it was added to remove any ambiguity about what Astarion feels.  From the way he says “on your knees” before he turns the player character, the way he calls you “bad boy/girl” if you fail the check to see his thoughts, and that infamous line about sitting naked on his lap.

Between the heavy message of power corrupts and how the rest of his ending dialogue is about how his evil future plans will be so fun, it's a clear callback to an act 1 conversation:

tldr: I don't think that corruption is as fun or as freeing as you thought Astarion, but he doesn't have to confront that fact if you're "lovers forever, until the world falls down"

[therealvinelle]

Why do you think Jasper also slept with Peter and Charlotte?

Because @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin and I differentiate between fic and canon.

We write our thoughts on canon on tumblr, but in fanfiction we are free to make our own rules and have fun.

Lines become blurred, however (bullet pointing for legibility):

What we extrapolate from canon impacts the canon of our fics Fun fact, therealvinelle only exists because people kept asking me questions about my choices in Nebuchadnezzar's Dream, and I thought replying to the same questions in the comment section was silly. So I made a blog, which became a beast unto its own. In other words, fic is impacted by how I view canon, and when people ask me my opinion on canon I tell them my view on canon. Example: Carlisle and Aro are not intended by Meyer to have been anything more than friends, but we think it's there and write metas with that starting point, and have it explicitly canon in our fics.

We keep our fics consistent with one another, sometimes using a minor tidbit from canon to justifty it and sometimes making it up Muffin and I are very stringent about this sort of thing. Our view on the characters is fixed: if something changed from one AU to another, the question is "Why?". If it just changed for no reason and the people remain the same, they're no longer real people and nothing really matters. Example: the Volturi guards all having consistent personalities, life stories staying the same, nevermind that we made up Demetri's personality or Aro's ridiculous collection of Carlisle art.

We write metas explaining our fics on our tumblrs See my fic meta tag. Anon asks "Why did character do thing?" and we go "well, character is a person who does things like that thing, remember in canon when they did that thing? So we had them do this thing in our fic." Nevermind that character didn't actually do thing in canon, because this was all in a fic. Example: see the fic meta tag on my blog or Muffin's masterpost.

Now to answer your question: to my recollection Jasper/Peter and Charlotte is first mentioned in For the Love of a Woman, where Bella learns that not a single one of the Cullen men are straight and she despairs (as does Emmett, who wonders what this means for him).

It was justified as a "Jasper was in a state of ennui, they were all beautiful, they went for it" type of thing, and perhaps more to the point it tells you, the reader (and the scandalized Cullens, per fics like Bleach on the Brain) something about vampire sexual norms being different than 21st century western humans and those humans already have plenty of casual, recreational sex.

So, canon doesn't indicate it, but we had Jasper/Peter and Charlotte be a thing that happened in our fics and the argument for it can be made (I do believe sexual norms among vampires, being excempt from diseases, pregnancies, children, and the type of obligation and routine human lives have, would be... recreational).

(As it is I recall this coming up on the blog before, but I think whichever of us got the question responded with essentially the above - "We don't know, but possible".)