#one of them was an early release but it took so long to ship that its arriving on release day fjdjjdkd

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 6 ~ CALM BEFORE THE STORM

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: apologies for the sparse updates i swear i'm still alive, icl i have beef with this chapter in terms of characterisations but the next chapter is my lil baby so yall can look forward to that

chapter warnings: large amounts of crying, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of mind control, for some reason i really like The Hello Kitty Blanket, not much else but i probably forgot at least 1 thing

chapter word count: 3.6k

When you wake, you are lucid. Too lucid, it seems, because you recall your dreams with such clarity that you throw up, emptying the meagre contents of your churning stomach into a bucket someone had handily placed by your side. You do not want to believe what you’ve seen, so you chalk it down to the fever.

It’s early in the morning, and Jisung lies propped up against the wall beside the makeshift bed the boys must have made you, heavily asleep, a half full bottle of water held loosely in his hands. You manage to heave yourself upright, and it’s only then that you notice the rope tied loosely around your wrists and ankles, tied to the foot of the centrifuge and tethering you down.

Your stomach twists. Felix. You hurt Felix.

And yet, Jisung snores peacefully beside you. There is a calm in his slumbering face, a tranquility. He feels safe to sleep beside you, and no one has deigned to disturb him from his position - then, they don’t blame you, nor do they fear you.

Hesitantly, almost expecting your body to disobey your orders, you reach out and pluck the bottle from his grasp, taking careful sips until it’s finished. With a glance behind you, you notice Jeongin has sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that Chan is making his way towards you. He looks a little paler than before, and the semicircles beneath his eyes are darker.

You cannot imagine for the life of you why they have stayed and looked after you.

Unbidden, a smile finds its way onto your face as he approaches, and it widens when he returns it, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. Relief is clear on him, in the slight sag of his shoulders and release of tension in his brow, as if a heavy load has been lifted from him.

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching beside you, eyes bright and hope filled as he unties you. “I knew you would make it.”

“Chan,” you say, and suddenly your voice and smile are wobbly.

You reach out your hand, simply intending to grab ahold of his hoodie and remind yourself that you’re fine now, that they didn’t leave you even though they should have, but he goes one step further and engulfs you in his arms. Breath shaky, you close your eyes, holding onto him as tightly as you can.

Chan is warm and solid, and he smells ridiculously like clean laundry despite the fact that none of you have gone near a washing machine in weeks. It feels as if he is keeping you whole, as if you might crumble apart if he lets go. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe him in.

You’re able to find your voice once your face is hidden in the safety of his shoulder. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “You were pretty weak when that stage set in.”

You nod, trying to find words. “How - how long was I out?”

“Just under a week.”

Your jaw drops. “A week?”

“Yeah,” he says. “The next ship hasn’t landed yet. We met three guys looking for the rest of their group. The leader - his name was Hongjoong - has dubbed it the Reprieve. I just think it’s the calm before the storm.”

You blink. “You talked to someone? Were any of them sick?”

Getting to his feet, Chan shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone has been since the first horseman’s ship took off.”

Grabbing his hand, you stop him. “Thank you, Chan. You - you didn’t have to put yourself or the boys in danger for me, but you did, anyway.”

“I did what I’d do if it happened to any of us,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to him.

You’re about to reply, but you’re cut off by a drawn out gurgle from your stomach. Chan chuckles, his dimples appearing again. He is so bright, so clear, that it is hard to believe the shadows could even survive while he was there.

“I’ll get you some food in a second,” he grins. “Minho, Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin and I are going out on a supply run. We don’t know how long the Reprieve will last so we’re going to try and stock up as much as possible in case we need to hole up when the second horseman comes.”

Briefly, you consider volunteering yourself too, but although you feel healed, you’ve been out for the last week and you need to rest. No doubt Chan would refuse to let you come along, anyway - he hands you a can of pasta shapes drowning in synthetic tasting tomato sauce, and you scarf it down while the lab begins to fill with life as the others wake up.

Felix bounds over and hugs you, followed closely by Hyunjin. You scan the former’s face for any signs of fear or hurt, but he beams at you, and your soul feels a warmth it hasn’t in a long time. There’s a beauty in his smile that is so hard to come by, now.

All of the boys greet you once they’ve woken up, even Minho, who kind of just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re alive. You don’t blame him. Hope is rising in your chest, the same way it shines in Jisung’s eyes when he jerks awake to see you conscious and radiates from Jeongin’s smile, because despite it all, you survived Pestilence, and if you survived the first horseman, maybe there’s a chance you’ll all be able to live through the next ones.

The hope rises so high that you dismiss your fever dreams. It lingers, wonderfully so, and rests on you, Hyunjin and Jisung after the others go out on the supply run, filling the three of you with bubbling laughter as the hours pass.

And then, abruptly, it falls short.

The sun is setting, painting the already red sky redder, and the others do not return. They do not come bustling through the door, laden with plastic bags full of supplies. Their voices do not echo down the street as they make their way back to the lab.

There are plenty of reasons they could have been delayed. They could be lost, or maybe they met that guy called Hongjoong again, yet you can’t help but feel the sinking feeling of despair re-enter your chest, when before you’d been so light and happy and hopeful. Hyunjin stares down at his lap and picks nervously at his cuticles. You glare worriedly out the window, tapping your foot on the floor.

Jisung begins to hyperventilate.

Immediately, you scoot over until you sit on the floor beside him. He’s rocking back and forth, his hands clenched into fists so hard that you know his nails must be digging painfully into his skin. His worry is contagious, settling in your bones and creeping into the back of your mind, armed with doubt.

Hyunjin is frozen where he is sat, and for a terrible, mind numbing moment, you feel painfully out of your depth - you know you could fight to protect him, but this is not something you know how to deal with. Minho or Chan would know what to do, not you.

Still, you prise his hands open so you can hold them. Positioning yourself so he can feel the press of your front against his back, you grip him tight enough for him to stop rocking. You tell yourself that the others will come back, repeating those words like a mantra, and even though you cannot fully deceive yourself, it steadies you nonetheless.

“Breathe with me,” you command, in a voice that leaves no room for arguing - a voice that sounds just like Chan’s.

Jisung’s breathing stutters, his chest heaving with the effort of it, but he fights to obey you, and you hold him close to you, grounding him even when his grasp on your fingers begins to sting with how hard he squeezes them. His trembling begins to ease up, and you loosen your arms on him, but he grips onto your wrist, keeping you wrapped around him. Carefully, you stroke his hair, keeping your breathing slow and deliberate.

“I’m here,” you soothe. “Jinnie’s here as well, okay?”

He twists in your arms so he can face you. Tears have tracked down his cheeks, and you wipe them away with your thumbs, a tight ache developing in your chest when his face crumples and he hides himself in your embrace again. Hyunjin shuffles over, resting his head on your shoulder and stroking a hand down Jisung’s back. You realise he’s shaking too.

“What if the next wave starts and they’re out there?” Jisung asks quietly.

“We’d have seen the ship coming down,” you tell them firmly, pushing back flashes of your dreams that crowd your head. “It’s not over yet.”

Hyunjin nods against your shoulder, a little sniffle escaping him. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and bring him a little closer, resting your chin on his head. The three of you stay like that for a while, tangled together as you listen to the sound of your heartbeats; there is a tension filling the lab not unlike the tightness in the air before rainfall, and you attempt to tamp down your worries, keeping them to yourself when the sky becomes the darker than the deepest of red wines and stars begin to wink to life.

This is the calm before the storm. You’re just afraid that your own, more personal storm might have arrived before the big one.

“I hate them,” Jisung announces after a while, and his arms tighten around you.

“The aliens?” You ask.

He nods. “I don’t care if they hear. I hope they hear - I hope they know I hate them for what they’ve taken from us.”

He has raised his head from where it was resting on your shoulder, and there is a fire in his eyes that you have not seen before, paired with pain woven through with a bitter sort of determination - the type derived from spite, the dogged tenacity to survive. A lump grows in your throat. You pull him close again, burying your face in his hair so he and Hyunjin don’t see the tears welling at your lash line.

You hate the aliens too. You hate them for their fucking games and stupid horsemen, you hate the way they’ve invaded your sky, you hate that they have broken millions of hearts and torn families apart. And now, if the others don’t come back, another family will have been lost.

The waiting makes you feel helpless. Restless, you pace circles in your mind, wondering whether you should go out and search for them, but that would leave Jisung and Hyunjin alone, and the next horseman could arrive at any time. You want something to do, something to put your mind off the worry, but there is nothing. All you can do is pull the two of them closer to you and soothe them with hollow words.

You’re about to suggest trying to eat something when the sound of footsteps approaches. You’re all on your feet in seconds, hurtling to the door, and before you can think to caution him, Hyunjin has shoved it open and looks out with wild hope bright in his eyes.

It’s dark outside. You can see silhouettes making their way towards you, their heads bowed tiredly, and though you can’t see their faces, you know for sure now - it’s not over yet. It won’t ever be over, as long as you’re all together and breathing.

Jisung sprints out into the street and hurls himself right into Minho’s arms.

You slump against the doorframe, relief swamping any anger you felt at them for coming back so late. Minho has dropped his bags and is gripping Jisung tight, his nose buried in the younger man’s hair, eyes squeezed closed - the sight is poignant enough to make your vision blur with unshed tears, vanquishing the tension that had been pervading your body for the last few hours. You step into Felix’s arms, your knees feeling as if they may give out any second.

“What happened?” You breathe out, sheltering in his embrace.

“There were dogs,” he replies, patting your back soothingly. “We were stuck balancing on top of a food shelving unit until they got bored and left. I’m sorry, we came back as fast as we could.”

You almost find it in you to laugh. All that worry, while the boys were camped out on the top shelf, waiting for animals that used to be beloved pets to lose interest in them. It feels as if you should take it as a warning, a reminder that you should take nothing for granted, but it fills you with a vicious triumph instead - they came back, and that’s what matters.

You squeeze him hard enough that he squeaks. “Don’t be sorry. Just, I was - we were scared. Shitless. Don’t ever do that again, you fucker.”

He laughs, and suddenly, with that bright sound ringing sweetly through the air, everything is alright again.

Everything continues to be alright until, a few hours later, you all decide to sleep, and though you are not alone as you once were, the dreams still come.

Snatches of laughter echo in your ears. Grasping, shadowy fingers tear at your hair and clothes. A blonde woman and a bronze skinned man, reduced to nothing but puppets, command swathes and swathes of survivors.

Reaping more than should ever be taken, great slaughter and boundless hunger ravages the land. There is only endless falling, like you are trapped in the vast pull of a black hole.

Eventually, you wrest yourself from the visions' claws.

Panting, sweat breaking out all over your skin in sharp prickles, you sit up, kicking the blanket off you. You pause for a moment, listening. Tonight is a rare night where Chan is actually asleep - his breathing is deeper and far slower than it is when he lies with his eyes closed, pretending. He is still next to you, frighteningly so, and you wish you could not so easily imagine him lifeless beside you.

Moonlight bleeds from the crack in the blinds, alighting on Hyunjin’s shoulders and spilling from them like a crimson cloak. His head is bent towards someone else, a slighter figure, with light hair, blonde hair -

She’s here.

And then you realise that the blonde is slightly grown out, that it’s far too glossy and a little too short to be hers. You deflate in relief. It’s just Felix. When he turns his face towards you, you see his sweet eyes and his freckles, and wonder how you could have ever seen his hair and mistaken him for her, even in the near darkness and from across the room.

Felix smiles and beckons you over, and you get up, keeping your footsteps quiet. The two of them have tucked the Hello Kitty blanket around them - a glance over your shoulder reveals that Changbin is now sharing Seungmin’s blanket, tucking himself tight against the younger man’s back, even in sleep. Hyunjin opens the blanket on his side, and you gratefully wedge yourself in.

The lab air is cold and a little biting, as if there aren’t solid walls separating you from outside, but you feel warmed by their actions, by the openness blooming so plainly on both their faces that it makes your heart ache.

“Nightmares?” Felix asks.

Mutely, you nod.

“Do you want to talk about yours?” Hyunjin asks. “Sometimes it helps.”

You blanch. Telling them of your fever dreams feels like speaking truth into them, like giving them the power to become real. There’s a chance that they’re just the substance of your terrified mind, but they have a strange quality to them, like the humming, disastrous tone of a prophecy. Not telling them could be withholding information that might be valuable.

“I had these visions when I was ill,” you blurt, then quieten your voice. “I don’t know if they were visions or dreams. Either way, they showed the next three horsemen.”

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath, stiffening beside you. Although he doesn’t say anything, Felix reaches out and squeezes your hand, and you cling to him like he’s your anchor, willing yourself to continue. It is harder than expected to describe what you saw - the images flash before your eyes, the scents and the sounds right in your head, and yet your tongue is stiff in your mouth with fear and dread.

“The one coming now is War. He…” You struggle with your words, wondering how many details are needed. “I think he possessed these two people. They’re supposed to be generals of some sort, maybe. Once he looked at them, they were his.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath. A rustle sounds nearby, like the sound of someone rolling over, and you glance up, aware that your voice had risen and taken on a panicked edge near the end of your sentence. Jeongin is stirring, but soon he relaxes, and you twist the blanket in your fingers, worrying at a loose thread.

“Keep going,” Felix urges.

“The third one is Famine. She was terrible, but beautiful too,” you murmur, unable to meet their eyes. “This one was hazier. I just remember the hunger, so strong that I would have done anything to destroy it. It felt like my body was changing, too, but I think that part was symbolic of something. Like the weighing scales she had.”

“Symbolic, like of the monsters humanity is becoming?” Hyunjin says, the horror clear in his voice.

Swallowing harshly, you press on. “The last was Death. There are blurry parts, parts I can't focus on, like what he said to me, but I remember other bits. Falling. What he looked like. I was - ” Your voice cracks. “ - terrified. That’s the clearest bit. The fear. I was helpless.”

Felix squeezes your hand. “We’ll - we’ll make it through. We’ll survive them.”

You can’t fathom how strong he must be to say that.

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whisper. “In case it’s not true, and it was all just some crazy fever dream. I - I don’t want to scare them. Chan will worry.”

“I agree,” Felix replies. “We don’t know if it’s real.” He squeezes your hand again. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Thank you for listening,” you mumble.

What you really mean is: thank you for staying, thank you for looking after me while I was under Pestilence’s hold, while I went crazy and could have killed or hurt you all. They are insane, for risking their own lives for you, merciful where the end of the world should have hardened their hearts.

Hyunjin is silent. You are too afraid to glance over and look him in the eyes, for fear that you will be condemned by what you will see in them. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just huddles under the blanket with the rest of you, and you wonder if he hates you for being the bearer of news that could be the death of every person in this room.

You wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case, yet when he finally turns to you, he hugs you tight - tight enough to squeeze all the air out of your lungs, yet it doesn’t suffocate you. It feels like he’s holding you together, just like it did with Chan.

You allow a few of your tears to soak into his shirt before you pull yourself together.

When you raise your head, you realise Hyunjin is crying too, and yet the tears streaking down his cheeks look like war paint. He looks strong, like a warrior prince, and fearsome. Though he weeps, it is the farthest thing from a weakness.

And then he yawns, rubs at his face, and he is just sleepy, Hello-Kitty-blanket-around-his-shoulders Hyunjin again. Still, you see the remnants of that magnificence, and you know that although it has receded, it is as much a part of him as the tired but brave smile he sends you when he catches you looking.

“Shall we go back to sleep?” Felix asks.

You nod, and Hyunjin stands, wiping his eyes and holding the blanket around his neck like a cape. A smile tugs at your lips, and he grins down at you, doing a little twirl - the soft fabric flares out at the bottom, and you duck to avoid getting smacked in the face by it, opening your mouth to tell him that he looks like some sort of Sanrio monarch.

A keen whine splits the air like a guillotine.

The colour drains from Felix’s face, and his eyes dart immediately to the window. Hyunjin freezes. Suddenly, Jeongin is up, and he rolls right out from under the blankets and onto his feet, crossing the room to the window so he can yank the blind open. Baffled, you follow his gaze, and your heart sinks.

It’s a ship. The next horseman is coming.

You haven’t heard the sound of one of their ships before - you’d been delirious - but there’s no doubt left in your mind as one of the dark specks in the sky detaches from the others and arcs towards the ground like a falling star.

The Reprieve is over.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 @rxlvvrz @iris-iiridescent @brbwritingfanfic @missseoulite @juliettejwnewinesa (let me know if you want to be added)

[quicktimeeventfull]

stupendous news everyone i have to do yet another medical thing today that i have been sort of dreading BUT i just got an alert that my books are out for delivery so there’s now a special event to counteract it

[stickandthorn]

I was thinking about that post about redemption I just reblogged, and I think it’s worth pointing out just how difficult and time consuming it would to de-radicalize or “redeem” Lilliana. And I think Essek’s redemption in campaign 2 is actually a really good example of what I’m talking about.

First of all, what the Nein did to redeem Essek was not slowly and politely talk him through why what he did was wrong. They didn’t even know he did anything wrong. What they did was continually reach out to him and give him a support system of friends he did not have before. Notably, friends who he could be comfortable sharing his worldview around: he was an atheist* in a theocratic society who had to hide his worldview in order to have any social, academic, or governmental standing. The mighty nein were probably the first people he could be himself around, and creating a change in his personal life is what led to a change in his ideology. Notably, he did most of the actual deconstructing of his ideology on his own, some before the big betrayal reveal and a lot after. The Nein helped with that directly a little, but the main thing they did was offer him a personal connection he had stakes in, and a people in his life with different world views he hadn’t seen up close before.

This is pretty true to life, in the real world, most people who leave radical or bigoted groups leave at least partially because of a change in their personal life. Even if they do leave because of someone directly challenging their worldview, it’s usually someone they care about who challenges them in a non-aggressive way. It’s still personal.

Secondly, this took a lot of time. I can’t remember exactly how long they spent in the Dynasty, but they befriended Essek over a really long period of in game and out of game time. The cast spent actual real world hours talking pretty much one on one with Essek, and the party spent weeks, maybe even months slowly getting to know him and bringing this support structure into his life. Essek spent even longer actually thinking through and deconstructing on his own. The change in his worldview between the ship and the outpost really shows this, he did a lot of the thinking that led him to change by himself over a lot of time we weren’t there for. They could not have gotten him to actually change his mindset, fully realize what he did was wrong of his own free will, in anything approaching a short amount of time. This was a time consuming process.

All this to say: this is the kind of effort it would take to legitimately de-radicalize Lilliana. She has been in the Vanguard for ~25 years, she most likely joined when she was in her early to mid 20s, and she gave up all personal connections, even her daughter and her husband to join. Not only has her entire ideology been built around this being the right thing to do, her entire personal life is contained within the Vanguard. It’s most likely where she gets any housing or money or really anything from. It is her whole life, and she believes wholeheartedly in it. The level of time and effort it took to get Essek to organically change his mind is most likely the level it would take to get Lilliana to change hers, if not more.

And they don’t have that time. Lilliana is actively doing harm now, she is helping the Vanguard release Predathos right now, they simply do not have the time to redeem her. It sucks, but pragmatically speaking, it is simply not worth the time and effort. Essek gave away the beacons in the past, but also, the Nein did not know he did that for their early friendship. If the Nein had known, they probably would not have put in all the work it took to get him to change. They probably couldn’t have. Lilliana might be able to be redeemed in theory, but so can a lot of people who do very bad things. Focusing on that redemption process is prioritizing Imogen’s complicated feelings over the harsh reality that this is a war, and Lilliana is a key figure in that war doing a great deal of harm. It sucks, but I do think it’s time to move on, and I think Imogen is now leaning that way.

*atheist is a loose term here, it’s hard to be an atheist in a world where gods are proven to exist, but it gets the point across

[vanillablankcanvas]

Part 10 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

This may be my last headcanons list, my friends. Will still do art and stuff but I am fresh outta ideas.

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9

Enjoy 💕

Sub Tribes - KPop/Reggaeton/Yodelers/Chaz etc. there's not many of them around because they came from overseas.

King Peppy - Didn't tell Poppy about Viva because he was in the early stages of dementia. (Canon?) For a while he thought Poppy WAS Viva. By the time he realised his 'mistake', Poppy was already grown.

Vacay Island - the brothers sometimes help Bruce at his restaurant. They have name tags with funny 'work names'. Flood, Big Fish, Classy, and Big Brunch. Viva and Poppy have done the odd shift as well, as Pinky and Vista. 😝

Brozone - they became world famous, argued and left BEFORE the cage went around the Pop Troll Tree. (Canon?)

Brozone - there was a rumoured 'unfinished' Brozone song that was supposed to be released after that tour. John finally finishes it and the brothers offer to sing it for Poppy's bridal entrance song. Poppy immediately faints. In my head the song is 'Helpless When She Smiles' by The Backstreet Boys

Brozone - whatever the Trolls equivalent of the Superbowl is, I feel like Bruce and JD would be very into it. Jerseys and face paint and everything.

Bruce - cameras make him self-conscious. If he is in a group he can tolerate it but hates being the only one in the photo.

Bruce - has caught his kids trying to do the Brozone dance routines. He tries to stay out of it best he can and let them have their fun but then they ask him to teach them and doesn't he just melt.

Bruce - has a wedding ring but it is Vacationer sized. He keeps it in his hair mostly but will braid it into his hair like an accessory for special occasions.

Bruce - 100% certain Poppy and Branch's first born would be a boy. "We're a family of five brothers! It took Brandy and I thirteen tries to have a daughter. Trust me, I have no doubt your first egg will absolutely be a boy." *They have a girl* Bruce 😑

Floyd - can only sleep comfortably near an open window. Sometimes can only sleep sitting up.

Floyd - will randomly stare off into space or mutter to himself.

Floyd - *clears throat* I ship Floom! 💕🏳️‍🌈

Floyd - can't stick to new hobbies for very long, he hyperfixates for a week or two then gets bored. Macrame, candle making, soap making, jewelry making, photography are some examples.

Clay - his brothers collectively tried to convince him that he was the adopted brother.

Clay - is quite squeamish. The sight of vomit, open wounds and bodily fluids; Clay will absolutely pass out. Snotty babies make him very uncomfortable.

Clay - gets Viva to braid his hair out of his face only when something really serious is happening *cracks neck* "Viva?" "Yah?" "Braid me" "Yes, Sir." Shwoooop

Clay - Found out the Classical Trolls have a library larger the Pop Village. "Viva, they have a whole wing dedicated to tragedies! Tragedies, Viva!"

Clay - okay, so he and Viva have never been a couple, even if he ever considered it, their work came first and he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. Buuuuuuuttt the thought that another Troll could one day be Viva's person, that she would go to them instead of him for comfort or ideas or laughs or safety or hugs... it makes Clay feel... weird.

Clay - at some point is named some kinda Troll magazines most eligible bachelor. Bro was in a boyband, co-runs a society of survivors, runs a business, is close friends with royalty, has been knighted, has a license to practice accounting and was part of the only known Perfect Family Harmony. He's apparently a hot commodity now.

John Dory - takes night classes to finally get his highschool diploma. Is too embarrassed to tell anyone until he graduates.

John Dory - doesn't get sick often. But when he does, he keeps going to the point of exhaustion.

John Dory - has indeed crossed paths with Delta Dawn before. Both of them have very different versions of the story. "I serenaded her." "The fool was whining something from the inside of a jail cell."

John Dory - has been known to sleep with his eyes open. Freaks people out.

John Dory - will drink milk straight from the carton and put it back in the fridge.

John Dory - teaches Bruce's kids all the swear words and does in fact tell them his rendition of where eggs come from.

Viva - tries to hide sadder feelings from Poppy. Worried that Poppy won't want to hang out with her if she isn't fun.

Poppy - sometimes feels guilty, if things had been different, Viva would have been Queen. Viva tries to reassure Poppy that she is "The right Troll for the role." 👍🏻 Also Viva tries to argue that they both technically get be Queens now anyway.

Guy Diamond - Trolls have eggs when they have powerful feelings of love. Guy Diamond was able to have Tiny because he loves himself so much.

[stra-tek]

The Animated Series' weird takes on Trek history deep dive!

Check out S.S. Bonaventure 10281NCC from "The Time Trap", according to Scotty "the first ship to have warp drive installed"

Among the council we see a woman in a white Starfleet TOS-ish uniform with blue collar and a science insignia, presumably a surviving crewmember.

TAS is weird because it was out of continuity during the 90's, due to Filmation's bankruptcy and subsequent rights issues and Gene Roddenberry's supposed dislike of it. As a result, episodes and novels were forbidden from referencing it even if a few were snuck in regardless and subsequent Treks took things in different directions.

Now in 1993 the Star Trek Chronology was released, largely ignoring TAS. It featured this same named ship, which subsequently made it into a Deep Space Nine episode via this graphic:

And this Bonaventure design would be inspiration for the Phoenix in the movie First Contact

So how does TAS' Bonaventure fit now? Ummmm not so well. Fans speculated she was the first ship to have a Dilithium powered warp drive... until Star Trek: Enterprise nuked that. And then TAS nuked itself on those details a little later...

April's Enterprise

"The Counter-Clock Incident" is the first time we meet Robert April and his wife Sarah. Robert April was an early name, eventually changed to Christopher Pike for the 1st pilot episode of live action Star Trek and eventually James Kirk for the original series proper. Then retroactively made into different characters who commanded the Enterprise prior to Kirk.

Sarah comes out with "As the first medical officer aboard a ship with warp drive..." which is problematic to say the least.

TAS seems to imagine a universe where Bonaventure 10281NCC was launched shortly before the Enterprise, and warp drive and everything are all very new. The Star Trek Chronology and then the Enterprise series would move things back considerably, giving us the warp-powered Enterprise NX-01 with Dr. Phlox a century before Kirk's time.

Spock and the Enterprise's age

In "Counter-Clock Incident", weird stuff happens and the crew are in a bizarre reverse universe where they age backwards. April begins as a 75 year old man heading to mandatory retirement, but as everyone de-ages he ends up a young man looking much like Jim Kirk. At that time, everyone else is a toddler. Spock lasts longer though, and is still functional on the bridge as a teenager until the last few moments. This implies Spock is the oldest by far of the TOS crew, which makes sense due to the long lifespans of Vulcans. However, beginning with that 1993 Chronology book and made official in Star Trek Beyond, Spock is only 3 years older than Jim, born 2230 and 2233 respectively.

And how old does this make the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701? This goes all the way back to The Making of Star Trek, which supposed the vessel is 40 years old at the time of TOS - something modern Trek would cut roughly in half. Strange New Worlds makes official her launch year as 2245, when Jim Kirk was 12 and Spock 15 (and in the Kelvin Universe, the Enterprise is launched much later in 2258 under Pike, but that's explicitly an AU where everything post 2233 is different)

The Man-Kzin Wars

I wrote a whole thing about the Kzinti in Trek here:

In Larry Niven's Known Space novel universe, the Kzinti were defeated when humans invented faster-than-light travel. In the 1970's, long before Star Trek First Contact, Star Trek Enterprise or the official Chronology book, I'd guess the 4 Man-Kzin Wars took place much as in Known Space, warp drive made the difference. But what does Sulu say?

"The Kzinti fought four wars with humankind and lost all of them. The last one was two hundred years ago..."

So despite "The Counter-Clock Incident" implying 40 years ago for warp drive and "The Time Trap" giving us a first ship with warp drive looking much like the TAS Enterprise implying it's not that old, now it's 200 years ago. Which in modern Trek would be around the time of Star Trek First Contact. I have a headache.

So in summery, TAS is amazing and it's continuity is utterly flawless and it's everything else made since that's wrong even when TAS clearly wasn't paying attention to what it itself had established.

[st4rgzer]

NOW PLAYING…

↳ WELCOME TO NEW YORK (1980 TV) MATT STURNIOLO

genre: fluff, with a touch of angst

cw!: cursing, fem pronouns

summary: in which the reader is, half ready, to move to new york after booking her first major gig

a/n: this is the first track and i hope ill release one every weekend, maybe more, thank you for reading!

after 7 years, no, all my life working my ass off, going to every audition I can get my hands on, reading too many scripts a day, I finally got an audition.

And the best thing, it wasn’t because of the triplets! me being friends with them, and dating one, had made it incredibly difficult to make my own image, be my own person, even though I love them, I want people to know me for me, not know me as “matt’s girlfriend” or, “that girl that hangs out with the triplets”.

The only problem about getting a major gig, it’s in New York, and it’s going to be a pretty long time rolling, so I’d have to move there, at least for a year. That means leaving thee triplets at home. Leaving Matt home, and its not like NY is next to LA or Boston, 5 hours on plane. And it´s already difficult when they have leave for LA.

“babe, c’mon, just, come, spend the night here and in the morning we can drive you to the airport” Matt wined, pulling me towards him on the sofa, he had been trying to convince me not to leave early all day, and that they were closer to the airport so they could be the ones to take me there.

“well…maybe…” I sighed, the airport anxiety making me doubt wether or not to stay tonight, well, they are closer to the airport than me…fine, I sleep better with him anyways.

“yes! see i always win” he says lifting his arms up in victory, earning a laugh from me, he may be very persistent but it was sweet to see how he celebrated when he finally won.

He tugged me towards him and I laid my head on his chest, closing my eyes in a moment of peace before I had to worry about the move.

I nearly fell asleep when his hands started caressing my hair and detangling all the knots, slowly putting me in a trance, then I came to the realization that my bags were still in my house, and sighed, taking his hand away from my hair gently and sitting up.

“I just remembered my suitcase is still in my house, we have to go get it before anything” I kneaded my forehead and breathed deep, then I felt Matt’s hand on my back.

“relax ok, I can take us there in a minute, don’t worry about anything, the important things are already being shipped to your flat and the flight leaves at 10 am, enough time to sleep in a bit or have breakfast.” he said stroking my shoulder reassuringly, I grabbed his hand and placed it on mine, sighing as I backed myself against his chest once again, grateful I had an organized boyfriend opposed to the mess I was with this kind of stuff.

We pulled up to my driveway, I fiddled with the keys before finally opening the door. I went up to my room to get my big suitcase, them I realized a staircase and a big suitcase wasn’t a good match for me, I yelled Matt’s name but I saw him already going up the stairs, probably cause he knows me too well.

“thank you” I said with a sly smile. Grabbing the other end of the suitcase to at least help a bit, though he took all the weight.

We got into the car, the sun was setting and the weather was perfect for reminiscing and being nostalgic.

I laid my head against the damp car window , I started to think if this gig was going to be my big break. Even though I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was a young child, I never liked change, I despised it even.

This was going to be a big change, I had the last month to think about it and get used to the idea, but still, the thought of me and Matt breaking up because of long distance…

I felt a hand be placed on my knee, snapping me out of my thoughts, my mouth curved up into a slight smile, I placed his hand in mine, he rubbed small circles on my knuckles, and pulled it closer to him, placing a soft kiss to them.

“I’m so happy for you, do you know that?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me with genuine joy. I tilted me head slightly and pursed my lips together.

“Do you think we’ll- survive the long distance…?” I looked down, guilt lingering in my voice, It was my fault I was moving to NY, I took the job, if the relationship went down the drain…I wouldn’t help to think it was my doing.

“What? That’s stupid, of course we will, Its not like you’re moving to a whole other country, phones exist, planes do as well” He insisted, tilting my head up to meet my line of view.

“trust me, okay? I’m a professional at the whole moving stuff…” He saw I was still unsure.

“baby I wouldn’t care if you moved to a whole other continent, I’d still book the flight every weekend to come see you” He said, gently moving a strand of hair out of my face, he wanted me to look at him, and I did. I half-smiled at him, feeling a bit more sure about the move thanks to his pep talk.

I realized I didn’t recognize where we were heading to, turning confused to Matt as he kept his eyes on the rode.

“Matt, where are we going? As far as I know, your house isn’t in a forest” I shook my head when he didn’t respond, scoffing as I laid back into the carseat.

As we parked in a rocky spot, he got out and went ‘round the car to open my door, what a gentlemen.

“What? are you gonna murder me out here or…?” I laughed as I got out of the vehicle, closing the door behind me. I was shut up as he placed a hand on my cheek, pulling me closer, and planting a sweet kiss onto my lips.

“oh?” I grinned, resting my hands over his shoulders, he grabbed one gently and led me in front of the car.

“ok, so, you know how I decorated my room all foresty?” He finally spoke, turning so he could make eye contact with me, I nodded.

“well, that’s cause the woods, mountains, they help calm me down, ease my anxiety and worries about things. After our first argument I came here, to clear my head. I come here a lot, and…I thought maybe it would help you a little? at least give you some peace of mind for while…”

He said, sweet words spewing from his mouth, I could’ve melted then and there. God, he was thoughtful. I smiled at him so widely, pecking his lips gently, I then peppered his cheeks and forehead with some more, he was right, this WAS giving me peace of mind. There was a slight fog surrounding the trees, and a soft breeze.

“thank you, Matt, this means a lot, like, really” I sighed as he opened his arms and held me, I closed my eyes at the smell of his cologne and the soft fabric of his plaid flannel.

“anything for you, lovely. I just wanted to give you a good afternoon to end with before the exhausting week that awaits you” He said kissing the top of my head and resting his chin there.

Hours passed. We were crossed legged, sat on the ground, watching the sky get darker and darker, contemplating as the stars slowly appeared.

My head was rested on his shoulder, his arm intertwined with mine, and his head laid back on the front of the car. It was simple and sweet, but better than anything I could’ve asked for.

It was silent, the comfort of our company being enough substitute for meaningless conversation. He sighed, contempt, we both knew the night was coming to an end, as I still wanted to get in at least 9 hours of sleep.

“do you think we should go now? its getting a bit late” he said stroking the palm of my hand.

“mhm, it is” I hummed, I gave him one more kiss before getting up and grabbing the makeshift blanket beneath us.

We drove to the car humming songs on the radio, his hands always resting either on my knee, my thigh, or my hand.

As the car pulled into the garage, Nick and Chris’s voices were heard, I think they were screaming something along the lines of “fucking finally”

We both looked at each other and sighed, holding in a laugh as he turned the doorknob, we were greeted with an angry blonde haired boy and a hyperactive Chris.

“where the fuck were you guys?! we wanted to do a going away movie party for tonight!” Nick yelled, he breathed and tried to calm himself, me and Matt were delighted watching the scene unfold.

“I took y/n somewhere.” he smirked slyly at him. Nick scoffed, he wasn’t too mad, after all, they were going to see me just next week.

After some more banter and such, Matt and I headed up to his room. He had his hand intertwined with mine and wasn’t dropping it anytime soon.

“m’lady” he said with a country accent, that always earned a chuckle out of me, opening the door for me, following behind. I sighed, letting myself fall onto the soft sheets of his bed.

He laid down next to me, as routine, I placed my head on his chest, he wrapped his arm languidly around my waist, pulling me close.

“im tired” I yawned and felt the vibrations from his chest as he laughed.

“of course you are, we’ve had a busy day, huh? He said kissing my hair softly, rubbing small shapes on the exposed skin of my waist.

I nodded, closing my eyes, sighing, I grew more tired every heartbeat of his I felt from his chest, the lullaby of his heart clearing my mind.

He felt I drifted off, he kissed the top of my head once again and whispered goodnight.

“I love you.”

“i love you too” I mumbled.

I recounted the previous moments in our day, everything from the starbucks he bought me when picking me up, to watching the sun set in his favorite place, with his favorite person.

Im scared of new beginnings, but New York can’t be so bad, right?

…

‘welcome to New York’ The big sign I was met with read, people were hustling and seemed like they had somewhere to go, I could here sirens blaring and people yelling “taxi!” I smiled. Everyone here wants something more. I guess I maybe could get used to this.

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @gabbylovesreading @hedgehogperalta @iloveneilperry @stvrni0lo @sturniolol @stvrniolo @sturniololoverr @oneirophobic (nicole idk if you wanna be added or not, tell me if you want me to take you off😭) @gaytoadwithapopsicle (same for you)

reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Relax

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Soft!Joel, Acts Of Service Joel, pregnancy, implied sex, mention of panic attacks, JOEL IS A SOFTIE, SAPPY AND SOFT.

Summary: Joel just can't seem to ever relax, not even when he's settled with you.

Words: 971

A/N: Look, I can't be the only one who after this week's episode (S01E06) just wants to give Joel a simple and safe life </3

The front door opens, letting in Joel and a cold, snow-filled gush of wind. A shudder runs through you and you appreciate even more that you don’t have to be outside on a night like this but instead right here: in a sturdy, warm house, on a comfortable albeit rundown couch, a knitted blanket thrown over your lower body, a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace.

Joel stomps the snow off his boots and walks heavily up to the fireplace, crouching with a groan to release the load of firewood that he fetched. He immediately puts on particularly large log on the fire, then has to take a minute before he braces his hands on his knees and pushes himself up. You hear the crack from a joint, and put down your knitwork.

”Joel, please come and sit down, you’re working yourself too hard.”

”I’m fine,” he reassures you as he walks back to the door and kicks off the boots, hangs the coat up. A lot quieter on his feet in the thick wool socks you’ve made for him, he sneaks up behind the couch and bends over, kissing the crown of your head.

”You need anything, darlin’? Drink? Snack?”

”I need you to come and sit your ass down,” you tell him, reaching your arm back to grab the front of his sweater, giving it a little tug. He finally surrenders to you and comes around the couch, lifting your legs out of the way and placing them across his lap once he’s seaten.

”There,” he rolls his eyes at you, ”I’m seated. Now what?”

”Now you relax,” you tell him slowly, picking up your knitting needles again. ”You do know how to do that, don’t you?”

”No, I don’t,” he shakes his head seriously, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

”Well, you need to start learning,” you rule, counting stitches before starting another row on the baby coveralls you’re working on. Joel runs his hand up your calf, knee, thigh, stopping at the swell of your belly.

”With this one arriving so soon? You won’t know what relaxing is once they’re born.”

You smile as you deftly work off the knits, glancing up at your husband for yet another quip, finding instead that he’s looking like you in That Way.

He’s always done it, even before he confessed to having feelings for you. After you became pregnant, he did it even more often. That look of infinite sadness, his eyes so despondent that it brings tears to your own, that way he looks at you like he’s already lost you.

”Joel…” You put down your project again and cover his hand with both of yours. ”Sweetheart. I’m good. We’re good.”

”For now.” He still can’t believe it, you’ve been safe in Jackson for years now, Tommy and Maria and their two kids next door, electricity and hot water and a friendly community, and he’s still expecting it all to go away.

”My brave man,” you sigh, scooting up, taking his hand and pulling him to you. ”Come here.” You rearrange yourselves, the blanket changes places, and Joel’s resting comfortably with his head on your shoulder, his arm coiled around your belly.

”My protector,” you mumble, stroking his gray hair. ”You’re going to put yourself in an early grave with all your worrying.”

It took him a long time to figure out that he didn’t actually have heart problems: he had panic attacks. They were easier to treat but harder for him to accept than an actual heart problem. Go figure that it would turn out that his heart is strong and fucking bleeding. All the things he’s done, failed to do, lost… he has told you everything, in the dark, entangled, only able to communicate to you in quiet whispers about his life leading up to the day he met you. All of that has made his heart so very strong, his self image so very weak.

”Too late for me to have an early grave,” he mutters, slowly caressing your bump. ”I’m an old man, darlin’.”

”Back in the day you wouldn’t call a man under sixty old,” you scoff. ”You have lived two lives, baby, that’s all.”

He grunts, but you feel him unwind in your arms. Him listening to your heartbeat always calms him down. You kiss his forehad, breathe in the smell of pine and snow on his hair.

”I need you,” you tell him in a whisper. ”You need to be here for me. For us.”

”I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, lifting his head to look at you. ”I need you, too. Both of you. You’re my everything.”

”And don’t you forget it.”

He shifts, mindful of your belly, and realigns himself so that he can kiss you.

”I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, the words a soft and balmy contrast to the sharp prickles of his facial hair. ”I love you so much.”

”And I love you, Joel,” you smile as his hand gently cups one of your breasts. Joel starts to scatter tender kisses down your neck, finding the first button of your flannel and popping it open, revealing a bit of cleavage. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh when he presses his bristly face in the cleft between your boobs.

”You’re not relaxing,” you remind him, failing spectacularly in trying to sound stern.

”I can stop,” he quips, undoing another button. You exhale in a little whine as his lips brush over your nipple.

”Besides,” Joel muses without looking up, his breath hot on your budding nipple, ”you’re the one who never puts down your work. You’re always handling wool or yarn, or knitting… Maybe it’s you who needs to relax?”

He has a point, you have to give that to him.

[pacificwaternymph]

Empires SMP S1 Actors AU

I’m an absolutely sucker for actor AUs and this is an idea I’ve had for a while so here we go. Exactly what it says on the box.

Lizzie and Xornoth both have to spend a truly ridiculous amount of time in the makeup department. They’re like 60% practical effects and 40% CGI. They have become besties from spending so long together every morning before filming.

Scott keeps forgetting he has antlers. They keep banging into doorways, hallways, light fixtures, curtains, set pieces, and anything else you can think of. There are videos on YouTube called “Scott Smajor forgetting he has antlers for 10 minutes”

One time the rig used to lift one of the actors with wings in the air broke. During Xornoth and Pearl’s fight, a cable suddenly just snapped and it took nearly half an hour to get them down safely. They just kind of hung there in the meantime while Pearl was dying of laughter.

It’s a running gag that Jimmy can never keep track of where he put the codfather head. The props department ended up creating like ten identical cod heads because Jimmy kept LOSING his.

On a similar note, a popular game among the actors is seeing who can steal and hold onto Gem’s hat the longest.

Jimmy and Scott’s actors are married irl and are obnoxiously affectionate with one another. In a lot of the early scenes Scott kept breaking character because he “didn’t want to be mean to his husband”

Shelby and Katherine ship their characters and actively add fuel to the Nature Wives fire whenever possible.

Jimmy and Lizzie are not siblings in real life but Lizzie basically adopts Jimmy as her brother. Jimmy goes along with it because he always wanted an older sibling.

In almost every BTS picture and blooper released, Pixlriffs is just standing somewhere in the background ominously, staring at the camera. The fans have turned it into a game of where’s Waldo

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Hiii!! I just came across your blog and I seen you are doing requests and that you hit over 100 followers. That’s amazing! Congratulations I was thinking about requesting one of your prompts!

#5 Person A kissing person B in the rain. With Jake

He knows the reader has always wanted to be kissed in the rain but the opportunity never comes til he tries to propose to her! And obviously she has yes! Mayjor fluffy!!

Again congratulations!!

Hi Elizabeth! Thanks so much for this request! It's kissing in the rain, and I know you'd mentioned Reader always wanting to be kissed in the rain, but I took it a bit differently! I hope you like it anyways! Here's Fluff Prompt 5 with Jake, Person A kissing person B in the rain.

Welcome Home

Nowadays, when you get asked what your favorite place to go in the world is, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to name a place. In truth, your favorite place isn’t a place but rather any place you go with one specific person. Even trips to the grocery store or hardware store are fun when it’s with Jake by your side. Any trips you take, and domesticity you share with Jake are always on a timer controlled by the US Navy. But you still wouldn’t trade your relationship for anything in the world.

You’ll even willingly wake up early in the morning to fight San Diego traffic on the way to the waterfront in the middle of the worst rainstorm San Diego has ever seen to meet Jake’s aircraft carrier as it docks to bring your heart home. You’re not alone, either. So many people are waiting at the docks littering the pavement in small groups huddled under umbrellas. You know it’s to welcome family and friends home. 

Out of the fog shrouding the water, you finally see the hulking gray bulk of the ship as it approaches its’ berth. There are uniforms milling all around the upper deck. You’re immediately at attention, craning your eyes to look for a glimpse of aviator green among all the khaki-clad souls onboard. No matter how you search, you can’t see even a glimpse of him. From prior experience, you know the aviators are always the last off of the ship. But no matter how cold you are or how the rain is finding its way into your boots, you won’t move. It feels like your legs are frozen to the ground, stuck in a limbo zone of worries and tension until you can see his face again.

Finally, you can see the crowd of Navy personnel being dismissed. They leave the ship in waves. All around you, you can see the happy reunions around you. There are so many families in the crowd. Small children run to meet their fathers and mothers who have been serving for months away from home. There are very few dry eyes in sight. It makes you crave the opportunity to give him that, too. To see little legs toddle a small body right into Jake's arms. To see the smile on his face when he knows that he's home safe and sound with the people he loves most in the world.

Finally, the aviators disembark. They're a milling crowd of olive green flight suits. It's like divine intervention when a break in the crowd shows you Payback and Rooster. That's when you begin to jostle your way through the crowd. Your heart and mind are both fixated on one person. Your pace slows as you approach them, neck craning as you search for Jake. But he's not there. Your heart falls at the thought of a flag being all you have left of him. Phoenix sees you first. She must also see how your face falls because you’re soon being hugged tight.

"Hey, Natasha. How are you?" Your voice is barely loud enough to be heard over the rain pouring down.

"Hey! I’m doing alright. It was a long deployment. I still feel like I’m on board even when I’m standing on solid ground." She's smiling. She wouldn't be smiling at you if he was gone, right? "You're looking for Jake, huh?" She releases you from the hug and then turns you around. "Well, there he is."

It takes you a while to figure out what Natasha’s pointing at. You can’t comprehend what you’re seeing. It’s Jake alright, hale and hearty and whole. It’s that he’s on one knee in the pouring rain that you’re glazing at in shock. Your umbrella falls out of your hand as you step forward. You don’t care that you’re getting drenched. All you can see is Jake. 

“Hi, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you take his outstretched hand. “What’s all this?”

“This, sweetheart, is me telling you that I love you. I love coming home to you. I love seeing you every day, whether you’re in your pajamas or dressed up to go out. And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for accepting my life-long affair with the US Navy. Marry me? Make me the happiest man in the world?” You can’t hold back your sobs as you drop to your knees on the wet pavement and kiss him as fiercely as you can. 

“Is that a yes, darlin’?” You’re smiling at the huge grin on his face.

“Yes, it’s a yes, Jake! I will marry you!” You’re crying as he sets the ring on your finger before kissing you again. You can’t resist kissing him over and over again. Your knees are aching and stiff when you finally stand. You don’t care, though, not when you’ve got Jake wrapped around you and your friends all around you.

Your ebullient mood extends through the rest of the night. Though the squadron offers to buy drinks for you and Jake at the Hard Deck, you just want to get your fiance home. There’s also the little fact that both of you are drenched, and your teeth are already chattering from the cold. The rest of your night is easy as you pop dinner into the oven and enjoy spending time with your fiance. There will be time enough to call your families and share the happy news. The two of you are just happy to be in the same place at the same time again. The domestic bliss sinking through your veins is a feeling you want to keep for a long time. And thankfully for you, you can have it too, once you marry the love of your life. For now, you’ll stick to cuddling into Jake’s arms and sleeping for once easily.

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline (Astarion x F! Pirate Captain OC) Chapter 2

Synopsis: The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate experience their first battle at sea in their adventure to bring Karlach back from the Hells.

CW: mentions of violence, NSFW cause these are two horny mofos (not a lot though- the next chapter is gonna be spicy as hell though)

Author note: I’m sorry this took so long! I am finally not horribly depressed and not sleeping at all due to work stress! I’ll be posting more for this story, starting a Master Vampire reader x astarion fic, and I have a lot of chapters written for my Trans Female Tav, Keeley, and Astarion that I am so excited to post! My goal is to get everything onto my new AO3 sometime this week! Oh and part 4 of I Wondered If I Could Come Home is almost complete 😈

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for your patience!

Part 1:

Chapter 2: Valkur’s Aasimar

Calypso is forever grateful to Lucifer for taking over the night time duties so Calypso can actually rest. It doesn’t make the early morning wake up any easier, but it helps. She loves her cabin and she loves the peace it provides.

The bed frame is built into the wall so that she doesn’t slide around everywhere as the ship continues to sail and there’s a washtub nailed down in one corner. Her desk and map table are equally as glued to the floor.

Calypso watched (and was an unfortunate victim of) her mother’s lack of ‘safety’ precautions when she was a captive on her ship. She was often run over by her mother’s bed or her desk- left for hours underneath them- when her mother had no use for her.

It’s been 60 years since Duke Ravenguard helped Calypso secure her freedom, but there had still been 90 years of torture and misuse. If her mother wasn’t absorbing every last drop of power from her bones- she was starving her, beating her into submission, waterboarding her, etc, etc. It’s not a reality that Calypso misses.

The soft glow of the morning sun outlining the shadows of Astarion’s face is a much better world to wake up in.

If Lucifer helps make waking up easier, then Astarion does not help- in fact the man makes it damn near impossible to leave her bed at all. She doesn’t want to have to untangle her limbs from his or wait for another 8 or 9 odd hours before she can be like this with him again.

Astarion had managed to keep her in bed later than usual over the last five days. The minute she so much as moves a muscle- Astarion has her underneath him writhing and begging for release or he’s fucking into her slowly, stealing all the air out of her lungs. It’s invigorating to say the least and her body sings under his attentive touch.

The more she learns about him, the more Calypso adores him. Astarion had opened up about his life pretty quickly after a bad trance. Supposedly one of his victims’ faces had been replaced with hers and he handed her over to Cazador. He was struggling to accept that the reality was different- that Calypso is well and truly alive in his arms. The man had been borderline inconsolable in the aftermath of the twisted memory, but Calypso had managed to coax him out of the fog and back to her.

Astarion even experienced Calypso at her worst- jealous. He learned very quickly that she wasn’t going to deal with that. When he had knocked on her door with his tail between his legs, Calypso made sure to answer and let him in wearing her skimpiest outfit- a nude, see through corset bralette and a pair of lacy nude panties. His apology ended with him eating her out on top of her map table- one of her maps needs to be replaced entirely after the affair.

She always made sure he actually wanted to engage in these activities with her- especially after learning about his history. Astarion assured her that he would let her know if he didn’t or if he needed to stop and he did. Astarion had only wanted to pleasure her that night and the rest of the night was spent just enjoying each other’s company.

Astarion will spend time with her throughout the day as well and his company is very welcome. Lucifer is usually taking his turn to sleep throughout the morning and into the evening so Calypso doesn’t have to worry about the two of them bickering.

Astarion has begun to ask her questions about the ship, how to be a Helmsman, commands, language, so on and so forth. He’s a very good student- picking it all up impressively fast. Calypso has let him man the ship (under supervision of course) as they made their way to the first stop.

Caer Callidyrr isn’t Calypso’s favorite doc to stay at, but they need to dock The Chimera and take a smaller ship into the Hells. The Chimera isn’t large, but it won’t be able to navigate safely through Stygia. Only Calypso and Lucifer will be traveling with the group of adventurers. With Callidyrr being only hours ahead of them, Calypso is confident they will make it before sunrise- provided there aren't any unexpected obstacles.

Which always seems to happen no matter how many times Calypso plans her routes out or how careful she is to avoid crossing paths with the Cult of Umberle or the Cult of Water. Now there are at least 8 Cult of Water ships heading in their direction.

Calypso isn’t paying attention to the frantic looks on the faces of Astarion and his companions as they realize they are about to be engaged in their first open water battle. She wants to reassure them (more so Astarion) that it’s going to be just fun, but there isn’t any time for that right now.

“I need Chain shots loaded- NOW!” Calypso shouts and her night crew sprints up from below the deck to join for the coming battle.

“They are chasing us at full sail, Calypso,” Lucifer’s voice holds an edge of aggression, “I’d prefer to not have a full blown battle on the Sh-“

“Yes Lucy,” she says with a wave of her hands, “I’m aware of what you would prefer and I’m working on it.”

Calypso climbs up the stairs and leans over the railing of the helm.

“Alright- we need the ship to come about! Wizards, warlocks- basically anyone who can cast gusts of wind- take position on the quarterdeck ,” she shouts, the crew shouts in understanding.

“Anyone else,” Lucifer yells, “split yourselves into two groups- I want some of you below deck readying the canons and the Chase gun! The other half- ready your bows and arrows and be prepared to fire when we are 3 fathoms away from the other ship!”

Lucifer looks up at Calypso and gestures to their guests- she raises an eyebrow.

“They all know what their capabilities are,” she states, “if they wish to travel on this ship then they need to protect it too.”

The looks of absolute dread on all of their faces is almost comical. They really have no faith in her! How hurtful.

“Well- then you heard the Captain,” Lucifer says with far too much gratification, “get to your assignments.”

“Careful, Lucy,” Calypso warned, “you sound so happy I may make you go below deck to help and let the Dragonborn be my first mate.”

Tav beamed, “I’m so glad I’m your first pick.

Astarion pouts up at Calypso and she flashes him a teasing grin before blowing him a kiss. Calypso stands on the rail and addresses the crew one final time.

“Oh,” Calypso clears her throat, “and may I remind you sorry lot that dead men tell no tales- so let’s try to make it out of this one alive- savvy?”

Everyone races to their positions. The laughter and the energy is infectious. Calypso isn’t worried a single bit and she watches the tension ease from Lucifer’s shoulders. He rarely thinks she takes anything seriously, but Calypso does. She is equally as protective of her crew and her guests- it’s not about her or the ship’s safety for her. Calypso has a special group of individuals aboard her group- her main crew consists of runaway slaves from Calimport, ex-Lolth sworn Drows who remain below deck until the night time and operate the canons, Half-Orcs who have been ostracized, Dhampirs who were abandoned at birth (Calypso would come across them and the crew worked together to raise them), etc. They aren’t a ragtag group of scummy pirates- they are all survivors who are standing together.

Well, except for the contract workers. Fuck those entitled pricks.

She jots back to the Helm- waiting for the exact moment to turn the ship.

The minute red and green flares go up in the air- the ship goes flying forward with the assistance of the many magic users casting gusts of wind on the sails. Calypso turns into the sudden rush of air allowing the ship to circle into position where it can slam the side of the other boats.

Calypso closes her eyes and takes a deep breath- letting the smell of the ocean water fill her senses. She imagines a storm surrounding the ship hurtling towards them- the waves thrashing them around and consuming them whole.

The thunder cracks the peaceful sound of the air before the dark clouds even begin to sweep across the sky- the water underneath her rumbles it’s war cry and Calypso allows Valkur’s power to consume her- like him, she can commandeer any ship, walk through water, control the weather, navigate through every storm unscathed, call upon Orca’s, etc. The best part though? No ship she sails on is able to sink- ever.

Then she hears Wyll scream, “HOLY SHIT!”

She looks over with a smile- her good friend, Hesjing, must have missed her enough to make an appearance. Or he’s just really hungry. Most likely he is really hungry and her targets make for easy prey considering they end up floundering in the ocean.

The massive Sea Wyvern goes flying over their heads and laying chaos to the ships- their flags going up in flames and the chaos keeps them from changing direction in time.

“NOW!!!!!”

The ship lurches forward in the water with the support of the extra wind and Calypso’s magic as Calypso prepares to ram into the 4 ships in the back of the line.

The bow crashes with an ear shattering noise through the first, second, and third ship. Hesjing takes one of the ships down in the front of the line. The world is full of smoke and flames- Calypso barely sees the four remaining ships beginning to form a circle to trap them in.

“GRAB ON TO SOMETHING!”

The command roars through the air as it’s repeated by the whole crew upon the deck. She takes one glance at Astarion- trying to remind herself not to get caught up in whatever emotions he is feeling.

Calypso is surprised to see the pure adrenaline in his posture and in the shadows of his face. There isn’t a single ounce of fear to be seen. She can’t help the smile that crosses her face. Poor Tav looks absolutely green and is holding onto Astarion’s arm for support. She’ll have to make sure to pick up something for sea sickness otherwise the Dragonborn may detest her forever.

The screams shattering through the air is the only thing that keeps Calypso from being lost in thought. One of the other ships had managed to turn towards them and was going to hit them very very hard. The ship will be fine- much like her powersake, Valkur, any ship she sails is indestructible. However, that means the ship will pass through the boat and they are going to have a battle on deck.

Calypso jumps over the Helm- yelling to Celeste nearby to take control of the Helm momentarily. She doesn’t check if Celeste goes there, she just keeps racing until she hits the deck.

The ship is barreling at them much faster than Calypso thought and she messily says a spell in Thaumaglossia (Celestial spell casting language). Both ships are being pulled up and to the side ever so slightly by a massive title wave- the captain of the other ship makes eye contact with her and she can see the fear as plainly as the whites of their eyes.

Magic flows through her fingertips and the tidal wave passes over them and engulfs them in the water- an air tight bubble surrounding The Chimera while they watch the enemy ship be demolished by not only a tidal wave, but the pack of Orcas that followed it.

It’s a gruesome scene- the pirate ship popping back up underneath another enemy ship and adding to the carnage. The Orcas leap and flip through the air with screaming cultists in their mouth.

The last two ships had been graciously taken down by Hesjing, who then proceeded to inhale one of the Orcas on his dive back down to the depths of the sea. The Chimera totters along the capillary waves as the Crew cheers loudly.

Calypso releases a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding and nearly stumbles to the ground when a large hand slaps her on the back.

“Excellent work as always Captain!” Toothless Tosh shouts out- everyone cheers in agreement.

“Oh yes, it was a very impressive display as always,” Lucifer says goadingly- his eyes flitting around her form, “so much so that drinks will be on the Captain tonight- hm?”

“You rat bastard,” Calypso mumbles under her breath, causing the man to laugh, “fine! But only because you actually hurried your asses up this time!”

The crew disbands with laughter- returning to their previous spots and helping to make sure everyone is injury free. Some of the less magically inclined individuals begin to pass out the rations for the day. Honestly she feels like she could fall over and fall asleep. It takes a lot of thought, magic, and concentration to be able to perform that many high power spells at once. For example- the Orcas did not show up on their own accord, they showed up because Calypso’s magic called out to them when she asked it to. She does feel poorly about Hesjing running off with one.

The sound of approaching footsteps and grumbling from a certain seasick Dragonborn fills Calypso with glee. Wherever Tav is, Astarion usually is.

The poor man is still tinted green on the tip of his scales, but luckily, he doesn’t have to utter a word.

Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll are smothering Calypso in questions- some she barely has any answers too. For example- how does she summon Orcas and a Sea Wyverm. Her answer? She has no fucking clue. However, she does appreciate how impressed they are.

Eventually everyone disbands to get their rations for the day. Calypso is thankful that Farview is maybe only 6 hours away and they’ll be there before the sun falls. They are running low on food and Calypso prefers to not go hungry if she can help it- especially with a crew of hangry individuals. They are all the worst people she has ever met when they are hungry- it’s great for raids.

“That was quite the show of strength, my Dear,” her lover’s melodic voice flows through her ears, “I can’t decide if I’m afraid or turned on.”

She smiles cheekily at him with an eyebrow raised, “why not both?”

“Hmm, how erotic,” Astarion teases, “should I expect to be tied up while we’re at it?”

“Perhaps, I am full of surprises, you know.”

“Oh- I am very well aware.”

Calypso can’t help it- her face always hurts when she is around Astarion (in the best way possible). Everything about him makes her smile and her heart sing. It’s proper gross if she’s being honest with herself. She never pegged herself for a smitten school girl- at least not in her adult years.

“How much longer do I have to wait to keep your attention for longer than 5 minutes at a time, East?”

Despite his teasing tone, she can sense the impatience in his tone. She tuts at him.

“I’m afraid another six hours, North,” Calypso says with an exaggerated pout, “you will have to wait several five more minute increments longer.”

The man groans and grabs Calypso’s hand- dragging her off to her cabin. The moment the door is closed- Astarion’s lips are on hers hungrily and his expert hands are already rubbing her clit, a finger and then two sliding in as soon as she’s ready- which she finds very quickly when it comes to Astarion. A hum of pleasure rolls through her body as he coaxes moans and her orgasm out of her. Her own hands have fumbled their way into his pants and she uses his precum as lube- rubbing her hands up and down his hard cock. The moans and curse words that tumble out of Astarion’s mouth are absolutely divine.

Calypso knows this is all they have time for- they would never leave if they actually had sex- and Astarion thankfully respects that, but Valkur preserve her- it’s going to be a very long six hours.

[freesia-writes]

Hey!!! If you're still up for doing the first kiss prompts, I'd love to see 'are you sure about this' with my sweet boy Tup!

❤️❤️❤️

Hiiii! I’m so happy I was finally able to write something for you! Your reblogs and comments and whatnot have been so appreciated for so long! I still feel awkward in my writing but this felt warm and fuzzy, haha, so I hope you enjoy!

Tup x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

SFW, rated teen and up

Divider helmet artwork by @lornaka 💕

Rain pattered against the window as it always did, providing a gentle backdrop to the more sterile sounds of the medical equipment all around you. It had been a long day, working alongside the Kaminoans to evaluate squad after squad of troopers to deem them fit for active duty. You had greatly enjoyed your time on Kamino so far, at least once you got over the initial distaste from the “longnecks” (as the clones called them) at having a GAR medic scientist assigned to their facility. The troopers had blown you away with their unique personalities and incredibly diverse perspectives. While they all looked the same, more or less, you greatly enjoyed watching them develop in leaps and bounds in the short time you knew them — from the day they turned 18 to the day they shipped out, which usually wasn’t too long. That time would be spent in rigorous exercises and specialized training, where troopers would grow into a sense of self and a readiness for the battlefield.

You listened to their stories during their medical exams and fitness tests, growing in your affection for them and resenting more and more this intergalactic war that took so many of them in a seemingly endless demand. And the account from the last trooper you had examined was still playing on repeat in your mind when the door whooshed open and the next patient walked in. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized that face, distinguished from an early age by a single teardrop tattoo beneath one eye, and the textured brown hair pulled into a tight top knot.

“Tup!” you exclaimed happily, almost too happily… But you couldn’t hide it anyway — the connection the two of you shared had been apparent for some time. He had a quiet way about him, an unusual meekness that also seemed to disappear when he stepped into “soldier mode“, and gentleness and depth that drew you in like a moth to the flame. You had known this day was coming for a long time, even though you didn’t want to believe it.

“Hey, Doc,” he said lightly, though there was a weight to his words. “Time for that final exam.”

“Don’t say it that way!” you said with a forced chuckle, patting the exam table. “I had better see you in here again.”

“I’m sure you will,” Tup answered as he sat sideways on the bed. “People seem to come back with injuries frequently from Umbara. At least that’s what I’ve heard. Although they may just be trying to scare me.”

“Umbara…” you echoed, running an instrument down his spine while you considered his words. “Is that where you’re going?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, closing his eyes for a second as you took his head in your hands to gently tilt it side to side for range of motion tests. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyelashes were so long, his sharp features relaxing gently beneath your touch… The peaks of his upper lip were so perfectly-shaped…

You released his head and stepped back for a moment, shaking your own head as if to clear the thoughts away. His rich golden brown eyes found yours again, a small smile on his face. Did he know? Were you that obvious? Working quickly in an effort to distract yourself, you began placing electrodes on his body in various places.

It didn’t help that you had to reach under his blacks a few times, to place one on his stomach and a few across his chest and back. Your glance flitted from his to the monitors, currently populating with information from the initial scan. Grateful for the distraction, you turned to face them instead.

A creak of the exam table and motion in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and the next thing you knew, Tup was on his feet behind you, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another yet holding your gaze with a surprisingly determined one of his own. He was closer than before, and his formfitting blacks left little to the imagination. He was unassuming and kind, but he was a grown man and a skilled soldier, all of which felt heavily apparent with his close proximity. You even could’ve sworn you caught a whiff of something clean.

“You’re not done yet,” you spluttered, voice betraying you with a hoarse squeak on the last syllable.

“I know,” he said softly. “I was just wondering if I could test your range of motion.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, any further words freezing on your lips as he cupped your face gently with his warm hands. They were soft yet firm, and as he took another small step closer, you could feel the tremble in his arms.

“You know, range of… oh, nevermind…” he grumbled, dropping his hands and running one awkwardly over his head. “I was trying to be witty.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest at the realization, and you grinned helplessly at his flustered admission. Taking a step forward, you reached for his face with a single hand, dancing light fingers along one side of his jaw.

“You are adorably witty,” you murmured, waiting with bated breath to see where this was going. His face broke into a small, hesitant smile, as though he were loath to allow himself to believe it. “But let’s leave the physical therapy to the medics, and maybe you could communicate your feelings another way…”

His chin jerked up as he regarded you with surprise, and for a moment he wondered if you had assumed too much. Was he just being silly? No… The depths of conversation that you two had enjoyed as well as the meaningful looks and playful banter all seemed to point to more than just platonic flirtation. Goaded onward by the urgency of his imminent departure, you took a final step forward to where your bodies were almost touching.

His heart rate had been steadily climbing, the monitor proclaiming this at top volume as the beeping increased with each movement the two of you had made. Your cheeks curved into a smile, watching a slight flush creep across his as he noticed the sound as well. Sending a meaningful look at his lips before returning to his eyes, you waited, not wanting to make the first move.

“You sure about this?” Tup whispered, barely audible above the traitorous medical equipment.

“Yes please,” you answered, as naturally as if you were at a restaurant being asked if you’d like a refill on your water.

He swallowed hard, an irresistible smile on his own face as he lifted a hand to your face again, this time brushing his thumb along your cheek as he hooked his fingers behind your ear. Tilting his head slightly, he brought his lips to yours, pressing them together with such tentative care you thought your heart would burst. Tingles cascaded over you from head to toe, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling his warm body against your own.

He lingered for a split second, then pulled away, speechless in the afterglow of a simple, chaste kiss that communicated so much. Ducking his head, he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, looking off to the side.

“That was… um…” he faltered, embarrassed.

“Really nice,” you finished, pulling him into a tight hug. The faintest chuckle rumbled in his chest, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder, relishing the feeling of his arms around you.

“Really nice,” he echoed, and you knew that would not be the last time.

Tag List: @littlefeatherr @arctrooper69 @foreverdaydreaming1 @stunkbiggu @mxkyrie @littlemissbshine @dreamie411 @skellymom @followthepurrgil @the-hexfiles @1vlouds @ughhhhfoff @coraex @gt13tbbart @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @ghostperson69 @secondaryrealm @hellhound5925 @thew0nderer2342 @cloneloverrrrr @kashasenpai @clonethirstingisreal @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mooncommlink @stardusthuntress @starstofillmydream @eyecandyeoz @dhawerdaverd @ladylucksrogue @thiswitchloves9904 @isthereanechoinhere96 @tech-aficionado @foodmoneyandcats @eternal-transcience @cw80831 @adh-d2 @techmexicanvieja @ezras-left-thumb @trixie2023 @sleepycreativewriter @nonsenseandm3mes

Click here to join or leave the tag list.

[rebelsandtherest]

Frater Familias

Words: 5,719

Summary: Churchill lies, Singapore falls, an empire abandons his children in a sea of wolves. When their brother finds out, there will be hell to pay.In early 1942, Alfred Jones travels across the globe to save his baby brother and sister from the betrayal of their father. When Arthur Kirkland returns at long last, his eldest is waiting for him, ready to spill blood.

Warnings: Language, mentions of death and bodily injury.

Author’s Note: I kept things very vague to make it easier for myself, but this takes place not too long after the Battle of Coral Sea in May 1942.

You can also read on Ao3 if you prefer

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

Alfred Jones hadn't wanted to kill his father this badly since 1781. Come to think of it, Alfred wasn't sure he'd ever wanted to kill his father as much as he did now.

Sure, he hadn't been pleased that President Roosevelt acquiesced to Britain's insistence on a Germany-first strategy. The scar of Pearl Harbor was still fresh and livid, and he was spoiling for a chance to hunt Kiko down personally. Even so, he'd kept his mouth diplomatically shut and had taken heart when Churchill assured him that British forces in the pacific would hold, that the ANZACs would have plenty of reinforcements to hold allied territories there.

That, as it turned out, had been a massive lie. Gargantuan. Colossal. Titanic, in fact. His father might as well have designed the ship himself, stuck his two youngest on board without lifeboats bound straight for an ice field, and stayed cozy in Belfast while Alfred broke his back feeding coal to the Carpathia in a blind, unplanned panic. Churchill fiddled while Singapore fell, and Father fiddled along with him.

"Where is he?" Alfred demanded, ignoring the guard at the entrance who was trying to slow him down."

"I'm sorry?" Asked the startled British soldier stationed at the war room door.

"Arthur Kirkland. Where is he?"

The soldier took a few tries to say, "General Kirkland hasn't yet arrived, sir."

"Fine. Which room will be his?"

"Sir, I'm so sorry, can I get your name, I'll need to ask–"

"Where?" Alfred demanded, and there was something in his too-perfect voice, his too-blue eyes, that made the soldier startle and point immediately down the hall.

"End of the hall, on the left."

Alfred stormed in that direction without a word. The soldier blinked a few times. A deer released from headlights, it took him a moment to get his bearings.

"Wait," he called after Alfred, quickly jogging after him. "Wait sir, you're not allowed to-" but Alfred was already inside, going around to sit in the officer's chair behind the empty letter desk. "Sir, the General won't be here for another five, six hours."

"Fine," Alfred said, and had this young Australian known him better, he would have known to be frightened by his stoic, collected anger. Facial expression unchanging, the American wheeled back in the chair and propped his feet on the desk. "I'll wait."

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

There was quite a bit of hubbub around the base when the British entourage finally arrived. None of the humans here knew what Arthur was, but they did know he was a high-ranking General, so the arrival had caused quite a bit of fuss and bustle. Alfred remained in the office, unaffected. When he heard English accents appear down the hall, he closed his eyes and mentally braced himself. When he opened them again, the click-clack of English bootheels was just around the corner, and in seconds he was staring up at his father, England himself.

Arthur stopped short just inside the threshold of his office, flanked by two aides, one young and fresh-faced, the other brunet with a trim mustache.

"Alfred," he said plainly, as if he hadn't expected to see his eldest here, after everything, the 's glare was fixed solidly on Arthur, but he spared a dismissive glance at the humans. He returned his ire towards his father before he told the aides,

"You two, get out."

Arthur didn't even blink. The younger aide looked to his mustachioed companion for help.

"Sir," the elder man said, glancing diplomatically between Arthur and Alfred, whose crossed arms and lack of cover disguised whatever rank he might've been. "This office has been assigned to General Kirkland, I must insist that—"

"Yes, it has," Alfred said in a patronizing tone. "Now get out."

Bewildered, the aide looked to Arthur, but though the General's eyebrows had fallen in a dark look of annoyance, his eyes hadn't moved from the seething American before him.

"It's been a long journey, Hesten," Arthur said stiffly, "go find your lodgings." The younger aide immediately began to splutter some confusion, but his elder quickly shushed him and shepherded him out the door. "Close the door on your way out," Arthur instructed. The brunet man did, glancing fleetingly at Arthur and then at Alfred before the door clicked shut.

The walls were battle-thick concrete, and as the door shut, the sound of the outside hall faded into a dull ambiance.

"Of all the asinine American theatrics I've witnessed, Alfred, this must be among the worst."

"How dare you," Alfred spat.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said," Alfred yanked his feet off of his father's desk, not caring that he left scuff marks. He stood to his full height and god it had never felt so right to be taller than this cowardly, self-righteous excuse for a father, "how fucking dare you. Show up now? Of all times? Where were you?"

"Alfred," Arthur didn't have to physically roll his eyes for Alfred to hear the intent in his voice, "I did not ask for you to—"

"Where were you?" Alfred demanded, raising his voice louder than he'd intended. "Because I can tell you right now where you weren't."

"I'm not going to to stand here and allow you to lecture me in my own office—"

"By the time I got here, Jack had already died twice!" Alfred shouted. Arthur had been ready with a retort, but he stopped short as the 'twice' rang off the walls. "Zee was only alive by pure luck, stuck as a nurse on a doomed destroyer, blown up by so much shrapnel that by the time I got her to shore I thoughtshe was dead. And where were you?"

For a moment, silence was his only answer, father and son locked in a staring contest while Alfred took in loud, furious lungfuls of air.

"I realize you've only recently opened your eyes to the fact," Arthur said flatly, "but we are at war, Alfred. We all must make sacrifices."

"Sacrifices," Alfred scoffed, surprised they'd reached this point so quickly. "And who is it that decides what's worth sacrificing?"

"We are Nations," Arthur insisted. "Difficult decisions such as these are an unfortunate necessity of what we are, how we must conduct ourselves in times of—"

"They are your children, Arthur!" Alfred hadn't meant to call his father by his first name, and he hadn't meant his voice to crack like it had. "Damn the nations, damn Churchill, damn you, damn it all, they are your children!"

"They are my children," Arthur matched Alfred's volume, but kept a stern expression, "and they, along with the rest of my family, are at war."

"Fuck you!" Alfred shouted back, "Fuck you and this entire fucking family, Jack is barely over a century old, Zee even less so, they're babies, dad, infants! And you just fucking left them out here!"

"We've all seen war within our childhoods," Arthur snapped back, with a surprising amount of bite behind his words.

"With muskets, bows, and daggers, not this!" Alfred swept his hand as if to indicate the entire world. "Go to the artillery, go to the infirmary, go to the foxholes and tell me this war is like anything you or Ifaced as children. Jack's only recently got over the shellshock from the last time you left him to the wolves, and now this!" Alfred took sick satisfaction in seeing his father's face flinch.

"I've tried to shield them from it," Arthur bit back, "Just like I tried to shield you and Matthew when you were young, but it's never worked, not once. It's not worth lying to them."

"Lying to them about what? Your reinforcements? Their chance at survival once Churchill wrote them off?" Alfred demanded. He watched his father flinch again and hoped to god he was listening. He was aware that he was shouting loudly enough to be heard outside the office, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Let the humans know exactly what their general was—a callus empire, and an absent father. "Curtin was preparing a speech to brace his people for invasion, and how to break it to their children—their children!" the American spat. "Your son was deluded enough to believe he could fight them off alone, because what other choice did he have?" Arthur was emotionless. "Tell me! What other choice did either of them have? If I hadn't heard the rumors coming out of the pacific, what do you think would have happened?!"

"But you did hear them," Arthur said, voice straining to keep its composure. "And so your very complaint here is rendered moot-"

"Don't you go making this out to be my fucking responsibility," Alfred spat, coming around the desk to face his father directly, where no tip of Arthur's chin could hide how much his eldest towered over him, "don't you sit there and act all sanctimonious because I managed to get here at the eleventh hour. It wasn't your doing, it wasn't your plan. I'm here in spite of you, not because of you."

"And yet," Arthur wasn't actually looking at Alfred when he said it, straightening his shoulders to some invisible mirror, saving face as he always has when he said, "You are here, as am I, now."

"I was here before you had the decency to do your own duty as father," Alfred yelled, "I was here before the order reached the SecNav's desk. You were off in fuck knows where doing fuck knows what drinking tea farmed thousands of miles from your stupid cozy island, while I commandeered a ship to offer your children hope." Alfred glared, a thousand things he wanted to say simmering under the bonfire of anger. "I have a court martial waiting for me in Los Angeles," he confessed angrily. "They'll drop the case before I get home, once I've told the President about the hell you've left us here, but don't you dare act like my being here was part of any grand plan. They are your children, and you chose to abandon them. If I didn't know that it would fuck them over even more than you already have, I would've stuck a bowie in your liver the second you stepped through that door."

A long stretch of silence passed in between them, but it offered no resolution.

"Are you not my child, as well?" Arthur asked, venturing a glance at his eldest.

"I am," Alfred replied, glaring, "but none of us asked to be." When the words landed, Arthur's furious expression cracked and morphed through shockwaves of hurt. Alfred knew he'd hit his target, so he took a step closer. Quiter, but not quietly, he said,

"For the last century, I've looked on in envy at the father they had. A doting father, a loving father, a father who was there," Alfred pressed into his father's personal space, and Arthur was glaring up at him with a mix of hurt, anger, and trepidation writhing underneath his drawn brows. "Nothing at all like the man who paid humans to raise me. I thought you had changed. I've seen you change, become someone you never were for me, and I praised God and all his fucking angels that my brother and sister would be so lucky. It took him four kids, but Arthur Kirkland finally figured it out. Now it's all gone right out the window because his empire's gotten too big for his goddamn war," Alfred's fists were trembling with anger. He'd never said such things to his father in all his life, and he hadn't planned on saying them today. It was the memory of Jack's dead eyes, the tears of relief on Zee's bloodied cheeks, how thin and worn they'd both felt under the weight of his hugs, that dug up a protective sort of anger for them that he'd never felt for himself.

Arthur looked like he wanted to slap Alfred across the face. If he wasn't so completely dumbstruck, he probably would have.

"You are not going to do to them what you did to me," Alfred growled, getting right up in his father's face, "because if you do, I'll fucking kill you." With that, he stormed out of the office and slammed the door louder than a gunshot.

Arthur stood motionless for several long minutes afterwards, before slowly moving around his desk and gingerly lowering himself into his chair. At great length, he bent over his lap, ran a world-weary hand through his hair, and let out a shaking sigh.

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

It felt as though the entire building was staring when Alfred left his father's office. He tried to ignore it, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers and trying to level his rapid breathing. God, he needed fresh air. He'd taken not even ten steps toward the exit before he came to a halt, faced with the last person he expected to see.

"Jack," he blurted, heart leaping into his throat. "How long have you—" Alfred stopped short, because it was clear enough from the boy's expression he'd been there more than long enough.

"I-I was just here to give him-" Jack looked down at his hands, and it was then that Alfred realized the teen was holding a dossier. "I heard dad got in this afternoon—since he's not been briefed on the–" his voice was steady, but he wasn't, swaying on his feet, hands making the folder wobble just slightly. Underfed, underslept, and overwrought, he looked like a stiff breeze might knock him offshore. "I mean, I thought I should be the one to tell him about everything, and you know how he likes having things written down- I didn't write all of it, but I wrote one of the reports, edited some of them, you know, included the things I thought he would find important, everything we were able to…" Jack trailed off, staring down at the folder in his hands, wondering if there'd been any point in putting it together. It wasn't as though the British Empire had any need for retrospectives on what was essentially a United States Navy rescue operation.

"I guess I just wanted to let him know I was alright," Jack muttered, almost to himself. He heard a sigh and looked up. Unfamiliar wrinkles cast shadows across Alfred's forehead, a mix of grief and pity and fading anger. The American reached under his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"C'mon, kid," he said behind his hand, voice hoarse from yelling and fatigue. "Let's get you outta here, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"I haven't been able to sleep much," Jack replied. They both had dark circles under their eyes.

"Fair enough. Any good place to hide around here? I nicked some of the old man's gin." Alfred shook what sounded like a partially empty bottle, and Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"He's going to notice that," he said, eyes flickering to his father's office. "Soon," he added.

"No he won't," Alfred used the bottle to wave Jack into step with him as he left their father to sulk alone. "He drinks rum when he knows he's fucked up. And the fact that he hasn't already come out here to search my pockets means he knows he fucked up."

Jack led Alfred out past the perimeter of the small base and up onto a small hill a few hundred meters from the beach. Though grassy and dusted in the shade of several short, scraggly trees, the area was still dusted with sand. It made a comfortable place for the pair to sit and stare out at the ocean, passing their father's gin back and forth until they were both tipsy enough to deal with what the day had wrought. The sun was hot on their backs as it tilted past afternoon an into a long autumn dusk.

"Did he really mean it?" Jack blurted, breaking the silence. Alfred looked over at him.

"Mean what?"

"I mean, when you said that Churchill planned to give up the… surely dad have to have known, right? Did he… I guess I just… did he really plan to do that? To take Churchill's side of things, if things got really bad?"

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but quickly thought better of it. Things got 'really bad' a long time ago, kid, he'd almost said. Alfred wasn't willing to guess whether or not Arthur had really planned to abandon his youngest son and darling daughter to the fury of the Japanese military, if it had come to that. Deep down, past all his anger and resentment, even Alfred did not want to think of his father as a cruel man. Callous, yes, stupid, absolutely, but not the sort of man who would watch his children sink beneath the waves of invasion and remain unaffected.

Yet if Alfred's ships had not sailed swiftly enough, what would Arthur be doing at that moment? Alfred realized Jack was staring at him, eyes lost. He sighed.

"Dad is… a complicated man," Alfred told him lamely. "As far as fathers go—and never tell him I said this—he's not… the worst out there. But wars turn him into a moron, make him forget his human side. I think we all saw that well enough in '15." Jack looked away quickly, jaw clenching. Alfred was grateful that at least that he hadn't had to say Gallipoli to get his point across. "He's always been like this. It's nothing you did. It's just him being the dumbass he hides under all that 'keep calm and carry on' bullshit." He watched Jack's back for a moment. The teen fiddled with the sandy grass and found a pebble, flicked it down the hill and watched it trace a line in the sand.

"Always been like this?" Jack asked, and glanced back to Alfred, unable to hide his curiosity. Alfred actually laughed.

"God, kid, he used to be even worse. I mean, hell, he was still a fucken' pirate when I was a baby, he ever tell you that?"

"He what?" Jack's face grew into a wicked grin.

"Sure as shit! I still remember—I mean, not well, but I know he had this ludicrous red coat and earrings and a cutlass and everything. God knows what a pirate was doing with a baby."

"So what, did he take you out on the ship with him?" Jack was transported, trying to imagine Alfred as a baby, much less their stick-up-the-arse father as a pirate.

"That, I don't know. It was a long time ago, and I was really small. I do remember his ship, though, at least the one he had when I was a bit older." Alfred's smile faltered. "He'd be gone for years at a time, even decades. He'd come back unannounced, stay for a week, and then leave without saying goodbye. He did that because of a war. We'd always have a year or so of peace in between, and he'd stick around and be a decent dad, and then, boom, another war, and off he goes. Actually," Alfred chuckled, "I'm not sure he was ever not at war, when I was growing up, I think the letters just took a while to cross the Atlantic." he shrugged and looked over at Jack, who was frowning at him. It made him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

"Listen, all I'm trying to say, is that he's always been like this. And he's gotten better—god, so much better, but this war…" Alfred began to say something, but came up short. He let out a breath with a shake of his head.

"It's different," Jack said quietly. All the nations knew it—even Jack, who was scarcely 150, could feel it.

"What he did to you and Zee is indefensible, in any century, in any war." Alfred said, eyes landing on the edge of a bandage peeking out from under Jack's sleeve. "I just want to make sure you understand, it's nothing you did, nothing Zee or anyone else did. It's just… dad." It was an unsatisfactory, unjust answer to the horrors that had unfolded in the last six months. Alfred knew it wouldn't wipe away the uncertainty in Jack's guileless face, but maybe, over time, it would temper his resilience to exist as the son of a deeply flawed man.

"Right," Jack said softly, sounding more thoughtful than was his wont. He picked at his fingernails, lost to his own musings for a while. In the quiet that followed, Alfred realized how exhausted he was, and let his eyes drift shut, enjoying the feel of the sun warming his face in flickering patterns as it twinkled through the leaves.

"So wait," Jack broke the silence once again, "if dad was a pirate, does that mean that the King sent out men to hunt him down? His own nation?"

"Oh, man," Alfred sat up, reaching for the gin, which was closer to Jack. "Gimme that. I can't tell this story as good as uncle Rhys, but I'll try."

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

Though she was probably a fiercer fighter than virtually anyone in their family, barring perhaps Alfred or Arthur himself, in wartime, Zee's sex relegated her to hospitals and infirmaries rather than battle stations. It'd been this way in the last war, and she found she preferred it. War was death, and if she had to watch her people die, it was far better, she thought, to see them die after doing her damnedest to save them.

She and Jack had their separate forces, but the two had clung close together as the situation in the Pacific soured. She'd been aboard the destroyer for a little over a week by the time the Americans arrived, but she hadn't had a chance to see the Yankee himself before a Japanese bomb blew her floating hospital to bits. It had in fact been Alfred who spotted her bobbing in the surf and dragged her to shore, later admonishing her with a wobbling voice that it was the worst kind of way to say hello to one's estranged brother. Left with open wounds and a dislocated shoulder, she'd been brought down the coast to the base where Jack was holed up, becoming the first female resident of its sparsely-appointed infirmary.

In the short, hellish time that Alfred had fought alongside her, he'd seen his sister absorb all kinds of pain with the iron-willed composure of their father, but after a thousand small cuts, the shoulder is what did her in. She'd vomited and promptly passed out when the medics had set it. They'd given her morphine when she woke up, but it had left her deliriously nauseous. Unfortunately, when they'd taken her off it, the pain kept her awake so long she'd cried, which had startled Jack so badly he begged her to take the morphine until the swelling went down. She'd capitulated, but the nausea had kept her abed.

Alfred rapped his knuckles on the open doorframe before ducking in. Tired brown eyes squinted open to see him, and she grunted to acknowledge him.

"Hey Kiwi," Alfred said softly, unconsciously slouching to make himself smaller, quieter. He unfolded a canvas chair that had been stashed in a corner and sat near the head of her rickety hospital bed. "How're you holding up in here?"

"This place fuckin smells," she complained, voice gravelly and hoarse. "Or maybe that's just you." Alfred snorted.

"Feeling better, I see," he smirked. Zee sighed, using her right hand to manually adjust her left arm, which was strapped to her torso in a sling.

"If one more person talks about how I'm feeling, I'll vomit again."

"Alright," Alfred lifted his hands, "I won't ask. Jack said you'd convinced them to let you go tomorrow?" Hearing this, Zee's eyes opened a little wider, and she turned her head towards Alfred, one eye obscured by her curly hair that was pressed against the pillow.

"You've talked to Jackie today?" she seemed surprised.

"Yeah," Alfred frowned at her, "have you not?"

"This morning I did, but dad said no one could find him," she said. It was Alfred's turn to be surprised.

"You've talked to dad?"

"Yeah, 'bout an hour ago, give or take." She watched Alfred's face with catlike attention. "Dad mentioned he'd spoken with you. What did you say?" Alfred couldn't help it when he let out a snort.

"Spoke with me, huh."

"What did you say?" Zee asked again. "I haven't been coddled like that in thirty years. And what with how he's been…lately," Zee's eyes were distant for a few seconds before she shook herself and looked up expectantly at her brother. Alfred drew in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair before letting out a long sigh.

"He's been acting like a shit father, you and I both know that," he began, picking at a stray thread in his sleeve so he wouldn't have to make eye contact, "I just told him so."

"What, just… Just told him that?" Zee was incredulous, "and he listened?"

"Apparently," Alfred demurred.

"Christ," Zee let her head fall back into her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "That must be nice." Alfred would've had to have been deaf not to hear the bitterness in her tone. It made him angry at their father all over again. Zee had always been the apple of Arthur's eye; that he had ignored even sweet Eleanor so profoundly was a testament to how low he'd stooped.

"He doesn't listen to me because he sees me as his equal, if that's what you're thinking," Alfred cut in. "He listens to me because I was his biggest fuck up, and he doesn't want to fuck up more than he already has with you two." Zee had no immediate response to that, and continued to stare up at the ceiling, swollen arm rising and falling with every breath. The wall lamp shone through her half-full IV bottle, casting abstract patterns of light that morphed gently against her hair.

"Well," Zee said at length, still staring at the ceiling, "I guess the coddling is nice." Quieter, hoarser, she muttered, "Could've used a few more fucking troops."

"He'll pull his head out of his ass and remember how to be a good father, eventually," Alfred told her, not really knowing if he had that kind of faith in their dad, "in the meantime, I got you. Both of you. You need something, anything, even if it's just yelling at Admiral Lord Father again, you tell me." Zee smiled at the sardonic title.

"Thanks, Yankee," she said, voice thicker than before. He'd never heard her use the moniker so affectionately. "I… might take you up on that."

"'Course. Us victims of the Arthur Kirkland School of Parenting gotta stick together." Zee let out a laugh that quickly turned into a hiss when it jostled her arm.

"I don't suppose you could get rid of this goddamn morphine and convince my arm to heal, could you?" She asked him, blinking away tears of pain.

"I will happily yell at the Empire till the cows come home, but even I can't work miracles, Kiwi-girl."

"Damn," Zee grit out. Alfred glanced at her shoulder, and then out the window; it was getting late.

"We'll have you outta here in no time. But I think it's about time you got some sleep."

"I've been trying," Zee huffed, clearly frustrated with the entire situation. She glanced at the empty glass on the stool by her bed. "Would more water be too much of a miracle?" Alfred smiled.

"Course not." He plucked up the glass and left the room, returning with not one but two full glasses of water, which he deposited on her bedside stool. While Zee gratefully took a few large gulps, he dug around in his pockets and produced a few squares of Red Cross-issue chocolate. He waved them at Zee. "Motivation for you to rest up and get off that morphine," he said, setting them beside the water glasses. She looked at them hungrily but warily, obviously still nauseous.

"Do you know how to motivate with anything besides food?" She teased.

"Food is an excellent motivator. Now get some sleep," he bent to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "And don't tell Jack I gave you chocolate, I'm not made of the stuff."

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

Alfred didn't see much of his father in the following days. When he did, it was always from a distance, and generally one of them would make themselves scarce before they crossed paths. He heard by way of mouth that the General was making something of an apology tour with his two youngest, or at least as close to apologies as the British Empire was capable of crafting. Zee left the hospital but kept the sling, and was, apparently, coddled quite fiercely by her prodigal guardian and given free run of the base, much to the discomfort of the men. She milked Arthur's guilt for all it was worth, and Alfred could tell it would be some time before she'd give him the forgiveness he hoped for.

Jack received similar coddling once Arthur tracked him down. Unlike his sister, Jack seemed eager to receive the affection and make amends, putting the harms of days past as far away from his mind as possible. Jack had always been trusting and kind, though Alfred didn't think Arthur deserved it. Jack was young, baby fat not yet making way for the angled jaw that promised to fill in as he grew more and more to look like his father. Even so, Alfred could still see the shadows that clung to the boy's features when Arthur wasn't looking. They made him look far older than he was.

Throughout it all, Arthur avoided speaking with his eldest son with obvious intentionality. Alfred didn't plan on stopping him. His anger towards his father was still not completely slaked, and it wouldn't do anyone any good to butt heads now that the Empire and his children were negotiating apologies.

Still, Jack had begun sneaking looks over his shoulder at Alfred whenever Arthur suggested a new plan of attack or promised reinforcements. It took a few times for Alfred to realize that Jack was looking to him not just for reassurance, but for a second opinion—for approval.

He had a feeling he and his father would argue about that, some day.

"But they're both okay? I mean, as okay as can be?" Matt's voice was tinny, worried words garbled somewhat by the thousands and thousands of miles of cables that brought his voice to Alfred's ear from the other side of the globe.

"Yeah, they'll be alright. I think it's going to take them a little longer to heal than normal, but they'll be alright."

"Good. And what about you?" Alfred wanted to tease his brother for how mother-hennish he sounded, but separated by so much distance, Matt's concern was a welcome comfort.

"Oh, I'm fine," Alfred shrugged, resisting the urge to rub at the spot by his collarbone where the lingering ache of Pearl Harbor had taken root. "I'm just glad I got here in time."

"Me too," Matt said darkly. A moment of silence passed before the Canadian added, "I'm not… happy you were dragged into this war, Al, but I'm not unhappy either." Alfred clenched his teeth and sighed out through his nose, fighting off a flare of anger towards their father.

"Well," He joked, because what else could he say? "Someone's gotta keep this family kicking, right?"

Arthur had been on base for a little over a week when Alfred went to the Officer's mess to meet his siblings for breakfast, as had become their habit, only to find both missing. Alfred had already finished his eggs and half of his pancakes when Jack and Zee arrived, Jack looking crestfallen, Zee furious. They slid into the bench opposite Alfred.

"Dad's gone," Zee said bluntly.

"Wait, what?" Alfred frowned, stopping mid-bite.

"He left—early this morning, apparently," Jack griped. "Didn't even tell anyone. Didn't even say goodbye to Zee, much less me!"

"He left this for you," Zee said, reaching across the table to give him a small envelope.

"Oh, god," Alfred groaned, taking it. The Anzacs watched with interest while he opened it and scanned its contents. It was a small notecard, but with the sun shining on it over Alfred's shoulder, Zee could see that it was packed with text, their father's neat handwriting compressed into a wall of ink.

"What's it say?" Jack asked eagerly. Alfred's expression remained unmoving as he read. At length, he took a stiff inhale and slid the note into his breast pocket.

"Says I owe him a bottle of gin," he said. Zee looked at him quizzically, but when Alfred volunteered no further information, she shook her head and stood.

"Jackie, d'you want tea?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jack waved her off, still sulking. He began to pick at the wooden edge of the table, prying off a small splinter of wood and flicking it away. Alfred watched the sad, annoyed tilt of Jack's eyebrows and wondered if this was how he had looked, a lonely child left on the shores of Virginia.

"Hey, don't be so glum," he told Jack, "like I said, war makes him act stupid. He won't be like this forever." And hopefully, it would not be years or decades. "In the meantime," Alfred flipped his plate around and handed Jack the fork. "I'll be here as long as you need me, for whatever you need"

"Really?" Jack took the fork gratefully, and surveyed the two pancakes left on his brother's plate.

"Really really." After a little hesitation, Jack managed a smile. He used the fork to give a playful, grateful salute and dug in, immediately transported from his sadness by the contraband maple syrup. Zee soon returned with her tea and lounged against Jack while Alfred sipped at his coffee. While the troops ran drills and the officers ferried new intelligence to and fro, the three siblings, long separated by the world's largest ocean, shared the first of many morning reprieves together, the faults of their father temporarily forgotten.

[terra-sketches]

9.8 fortitude meets 98% released combat power

(Long ship post with manga spoilers!! Be warned!!)

The thing about Narukaf is that they don't click until after they've fought beside each other. Outside of battle, they seem entirely disinterested in each other, mostly on Gen's side, but once they got on the field? BOOM! Freak chemical reaction. They're in sync.

It's the kind of chemistry that took them both by surprise too. During the fight with No. 9 and the ant kaiju i noticed that narukaf exchange looks that convey astonishment at the new alliance. They fight alongside each other as if they've rehearsed.

Neither party slows the other down or steps on any toes. Gen "The strongest division will do just fine with me around" Narumi is notorious for taking enemies on solo. So him not only allowing Kafka to assist but relying on the support? And doing it willingly after being reluctant to accept Kafka before hand? It's like a switch flipped.

In all fairness, a big chunk of that can be attributed to the abnormal circumstances they were in. It was dire. Their chemistry was sparked by similarities that can only be revealed in disaster. A tragedy can show who a person is at their core. As turns out, Gen and Narumi's cores aren't so different. They want to save Isao, and the others, as quickly as possible by neutralizing No. 9. Like how diamonds can only be forged under pressure, narukaf needed to be acted upon by a brutal external force to discover how they can relate to each other.

Gen, later, acknowledges their synergy in battle. It's why he's so insistent on Kafka lending his power even knowing how bad it'll be for Kafka to keep going. It's impossible to deny how strong they are when fighting together. They almost neutralized No. 9 the very first time they'd ever teamed up. That's pretty signifigant.

This leads into the next point: they're bonded by what happened... forever (Or, you know, until No. 9 is gone lol).

When Kikoru was too distraught to continue fighting, it was just Gen and Kafka. It was all up to them. Only them. No one else who was strong enough to help would've gotten there in time. Their battle with No. 9 was an isolated experience. Gen lost the mentor he'd sought the recognition of since his late-teens/early adulthood and Kafka watched a kaiju, who has endangered his friends since the entrance exams, absorb his friend's father. Both feel responsible; guilty.

To them, it's a shared sin that they need to atone for.

The Shinagawa operation was the push these two needed to kickstart what is inherently an unconventional and interesting connection.

I'd like to see more interactions between these two but whoooooo knoooows with what's been going on in these recent chapters lol.

It's not high up on my list of hopes for the manga, but it would be a nice addition to see how their strange friendship (??? Or whatever they have???) has progressed post Gen agreeing to secretly train with Kafka. (i.e Do they have more banter now?, Has Gen finally gained interest in Kafka as a person?, etc.)

[ivalice-tifalucis]

Blue World

Guys, since TT3 is coming back and we're packing up our hype for the next album, I think let's make another post about Barlliams/Creamcakes aka my favorite ship in Take That crumbs.

I don't know why any of you haven't talked about this yet. Maybe you have but I didn't see it or know but haven't talked about this yet or maybe I've seen you talked about it but I forget for some reason.

In 2018, in one of his now deleted youtube live streaming which I actually watched when it was live (which is rare because I can count on one hand how many times I watch any live stream that he did), he showed this unreleased Take That song likely from Progress era based on the tune that sounds like Eight Letters, the beat that is Progress-like, and even "in requiem" words which become a whole song by Gary in his solo album. If you listen closely, this is clearly a duet between Rob and Gaz.

Edit: Can I just say I was internally screaming in 2018 when I first hear Blue World. We are so parched of CC crumbs that this got me gasping like OMG THAT'S GARY'S VOICE!!!!! (starts from 1:56)

Another time where he played this song again in Coronaoke series on instagram live back in 2020 during early pandemic. In this year, he said the title to this song is "Blue World" and played the song from start to finish. Trying to make this blog entry make me realize he actually played a different version of the song in 2018 and in 2020. I think they are reworking this song, hmmm interesting isn't it?

I tried to write the lyrics based on what I heard and try to tell which part is Robbie and which is Gary. It is hard and I might be wrong because Robbie's higher register and Gary's higher/middle register actually sounds similar which is something that I realized when Gary fill in Robbie's part in Everything Changes (Odyssey Version) in the last part of the song "thinking thinking about you". It took me like couple of listening to finally realize wait a minute, that's Gary's voice not young Robbie's. The only difference is that Gary has that soft edges on his voice while Robbie doesn't have that.

Plus, Robbie was karaoke-ing over this song and being Robbie he doesn't even know the right words of his own songs and sing the wrong words and sometimes just mumbles so I have to pay close attention to the song in the background. There are small parts that I still can't catch what the lyric is. I hope they released this song at some point. Have been waiting since 2018 and still wait patiently.

Edit 2: thanks @beautyofred for the notice. It is “You know how young we were” 😭, "You might be living but we're holding hands", "Can't stand the frequency here". After this, it makes even more sense this song is about them. So in the 2018 version, Blue World is basically like this:

(Gary) Blue world, your fate is calling Blue world, at last control A new world of final curtain calls Look how we've come together Just when we've reached the end In requiem

(Robbie) You know how young we were And feel how much it hurts We might be loving but we're holding hands We might be leaving but we're making plans Below our bleeding sky watching our mother's die It seems forever wasn't long enough Why must we always lose the ones we love?

(Gary) Will moment share it musters? But this fragile blue world With the cruel sunlight burning in our eyes ... And in 2020 it is like this:

(Robbie) Blue world, your fate is calling Blue world, at last control A new world of final curtain calls (Gary) Look how we've come together Just when we've reached the end In requiem

(Both) You know how young you were And feel how much it hurts You might be leaving but we're holding hands We might be dying but we're making plans Below our bleeding sky watching our mother's cry It seems forever wasn't long enough Why must we always lose the ones we love? (Robbie) Will moment share it musters? But this fragile blue world With the cruel sunlight burning in our eyes (Gary) You said, I don't know if I could love you for the rest of your life But I’ll love you for the rest of mine That we're led around your silent heart (Robbie) A blue balloon on a barbwire The weather on the ground is catching fire now And when you hear that sound (Both) You know how young we were And feel how much it hurts You might be leaving but we're holding hands We might be dying but we're making plans Below our bleeding sky watching our mother's die It seems forever wasn't long enough Why must we always lose the ones we love? (I'm sure this part changes at this 3rd reff but I can't catch what it is)

(Both) Because can't stand the frequency here Call my name and I'll appear I'm traveling at the speed of light When nothing matters but the life that seep your eyes (Gary) Hold us together Hold us together Hold us together Hold us together I know a secret about you

(Both) You know how young we were And feel how much it hurts You might be leaving but we're holding hands We might be dying but we're making plans Below our bleeding sky watching our mother's cry You know forever wasn't long enough Why must we always lose the ones we love?

You know how young we were (Hold us together) And feel how much it hurts (Hold us together) You might be leaving but we're holding hands (Hold us together) ....

[atonalginger]

Follow Me Deeper Into The Unknown, final update

The final 2 chapters are now up on ao3! Mainly because I just couldn't sit on them any longer, partly because I like releasing a smut chapter with non-smut to even it out if I can.

Chapter 4: Feel The Beating In Your Chest* (explicit smut)

Lyssa gets frustrated over Delgado's insistence to help and care for her, causing her to lash out. The intrepid explorer pieces together what's she needs and Lyssa is left speechless.

Chapter 5: There's Fear In Letting Go

The duo (and Vasco) reach New Atlantis and are greeted by an unwelcome face. As if the day could not get worse, the artifacts have one last trick up their sleeve.

To start from the beginning with chapter 1 you can click here.

and as always, a sneak peek from early in chapter 4 under the read more.

“They have to be worth it and they weren’t this time…” Lyssa shook her head, trying to get those words to stop playing back in her head. Just words. They’re hollow. No one would actually mean that.  

“How’s your arm?” he asked from behind her.  

Once again he’d crept up on her, causing her to jump and elbow him hard in the chest. Unfortunately for Lyssa the arm that swung back was her right, the impact sending a shockwave up her bicep that caused her to yelp in pain.  

“Mierda, I thought you heard me that time,” he took her arm and gently wrapped his other arm around her back as she turned around, “I was scuffing my boots just for you.”  

She rolled her eyes and with words dripping in sarcasm said, “oh, gee thanks mister.”  

“I mean it,” he sounded concerned.  

“Sure you did,” she gave him a look, “just like all the other times you snuck up on me today?”  

“That was different.”  

“Was it?” she asked sharply, “decided after the rooftop to stop tempting Fortune’s fate?”  

He ignored her attitude and carefully rolled up her sleeve to look at the bandages, “looks alright but how does it feel, aside from being sore from that hit.”  

“Just sore,” she pulled away and walked over to the navigation table to look at the map, to distract herself from all the feelings swirling around in her head, “It’s fine. I will deal.”  

“I’ll grab something to help,” Delgado said, his boots scuffing the floor of the hab as he walked over to the kitchenette.  

“I’m fine,” Lyssa insisted, “drop it.”  

She hear him rummaging, clearly ignoring her again.  

“I said drop it,” she turned around and saw him holding a water pack and a bottle of pills, “keep them for someone who deserves them.”  

He raised his scarred eyebrow and approached her, holding out the water pack, “take it.”  

She batted the water away, the little plastic bag bouncing off the ladder and landing on the floor.  

“This whole ‘tough it out’ shit is just going to make healing take longer,” he sat the pill bottle down on the navigation table and turned to retrieve the water, “You don’t have to prove anything here. No one will see you as weak for taking a fucking naproxen.”  

“And what do you care?” Lyssa slapped the pill bottle off the table, managing to hit the ladder again, the bottle landing in front of Delgado, “and don’t say ‘because we’re a team’, that’s mossgnath shit and we both know it.”  

He sighed through his nose and picked up the bottle as well before standing back up, “No it’s not,” he walked back to her with an intensity he hadn’t shown before, “as long as you’re on this ship I will not tolerate you trying to self destruct so shut up and take the meds.”  

She looked him up and down, “and what are you going to do if I don’t?”  

Delgado smacked the water and pill bottle down onto the navigation table and marched away to the cockpit without a word.  

“Nothing,” she taunted, “you’ll do nothing.”  

The table chirped, Lyssa pushing off and turning around to look at the display. The map was locked down, as was the grav drive, engines, and landing gears.   

“I’m a patient man,” he leaned in the doorway, “we can leave as soon as you’ve taken one step at taking care of yourself.”

[nightswithkookmin]

All members are using IG to promote their solo projects, album, brand ambassador…etc. I admire JK who prefers genuine interaction with fans, he did not forget how BTS stood out from other idols and established connection with fans. I love him for that. But still, he has ‘jobs’, deleting his IG account and saying he is not going to use it anyways seem to suggest that no solo projects will be released in the near future… He has strong brand power and influence, if he has no ‘brand ambassador’ contract yet, it means he turned down all the offers. What do you think he is planning? Is he happy?

Is that shade I detect?

What do you mean he prefers genuine interaction with fans? And I'm sorry, who don't?? Gworl😩

I think you trynnna gaslight yourself romanticing this as some sort of heroic deed born out of the goodness of his heart 💀

Realistically speaking, IG is just an alternative platform for reaching a much more narrow, targeted fanbase. It's a much better platform for engaging with fans compared to weverse which is still in its early development stages and only recently rolled out lives.

Jungkook himself said he wished it had options to add fans during lives and chat with them- a feature that IG already has.

While it's easier to see his actual brand power on IG, the same cannot be said for weverse cos you know he his posting to not just his fans but other members' fans as well. It's OT7 up in weverse. Not JKK.

And let's not forget both he and Tae were the first members who hoped on to IG and enthusiastically posted on there acting all giddy as if they just got out of hybe jail and were finally free.

If you want a member who dragged his feet out there it was this one right here. He's your hero.

He is the king OT7 kumbaya gang leader. He said it himself he didn't even know what he was to post on there and for the longest time he was posting nufin.

So just because Jungkook deletes IG on a whim does not make him no damn OT7 simp. Stop. I love you but I will fight you to the death on this one- and maybe chase you with a pitch fork in the afterlife too🥴

Because, didn't I make posts about how he seemed eager to embark on his solo path way before they announced their solo careers? He literally let it slip in an interview how he couldn't wait to try a solo stage and then backtracked talking about how he didn't mean to say he wanted to go solo.

Was he a genuine fan interaction boss then when he was posting Tae and all those stories and IG live??

Bombastic side eye.

you have to recommend me a good Jimin Y/N fanfic with a lot of smut for getting me worked up over this. Actually make that two. You nice, keep going 🤭💜

With the second part of your ask, I really don't know. All I've heard him say is he has a lot of free time and that he wishes it could stay that way for a while.

I think he and V already have their albums done. They might have been the first few members to work on theirs. I mean some of their songs were incorporated into OT7 songs if I remember right. Tae had a whole ass English song ready to go.

Jk is an artist. His band mates are busy with solo projects they won't be available for no OT7 music projects until later in the future when they conclude their military service.

And I don't think he is quitting music or retiring from music so soon so.....

If he has all that free time and doesn't want to do solo projects then he better get his ass shipped off to military and get it over with. Gotta yank the bandaid off real fast and it won't hurt.

I don't know why people are buying this whole "I deleted it cos I don't use it story." You genuinely believe that's why he deleted IG?💀

B--bcos he doesn't use it????? Okay now

I know we joke about how bts deletes Twitter if they haven't used it in a long while but he took that quite literally didn't he?

If you're not using it, delete the app from your phone and forget about it. You don't delete your account. Jimin wasn't using the app either- I didn't see him delete his account🥴

Personally, I was worried having separate accounts would lead to unnecessary rivalry and competition with fans pitting them against eachother and making fun of who has the least followers.

Then there's this whole thing with the algorithms and analytics that would have you obsessing over likes comments views and impressions. It can mess with your head.

But then I assumed, that was something they all might have thought through before setting up those accounts.

They knew the risks and they took it. Says a lot about all of them. This is a journey they had collectively agreed to embark on. So if Jungkook is taking himself out, let's not take this lightly. Let's assume there's a sound tangible reason behind it other than redundancy and inactivity.

Then someone said he deleted it because he was angry with fans- listen yea, if Jungkook is mad at fans YOU'LL KNOW. Lmho.

he wouldn't be out here on weverse showing yall his snores while lowkey calling yall out for being crazay.

He and his man finna pack off these streets and disappear on yall for months when yall push a button with your ghettory.

That's not his MO. It just isn't but to each their own.

It's crazy town. There's room for all of us.

And if he's clinging on to yall it's usually a sign he's isolating in his real life. (Not saying he is clinging to the fans, there isn't much interaction at odd hours to back this up- yet.)

But I do wonder where all his alleged girlfriends at💀

Yall come get your man.

I know his boyfriend is busy preparing for an album release and his crime partner- na see where Tae at too cos I see him on IG but dude staying silent on JK's public fuckups Activities. Come get him Tae

Is Jungkook happy?

I don't know hun.

It could be he turned down all offers or now is not the right time to announce those deals. Probably because they haven't been finalized or he hasn't found a brand he wants to work with.

As part if BTS, he has worked with brands in the past and so I'm sure he has a fair idea of which brands suit him best.

He did dreamers for Fifa inspite of protests about Qatar. Sets the tone doesn't it?

I won't lie though, that's a lot of money he just pissed away deleting that account. And guess who gets a cut of that money by deciding which brands he works with? 😶😶😶😶

HYBE. HE JUST SCREWED OVER HYBE💀

I really hope he knows what he is doing.

But your ask makes me curious about something- I'm not sure I want to address that here. Especially the part you said he has no contract yet- I doubt it but if it's true then I would wonder if he's perceived "social risk" is a factor. That would break my heart you know?

I know some brands tend to Stay away from certain Celebrities for fear they might be too controversial due to their lifestyle or even sexuality. I didn't say this but because I think of Jikook as queer men I tend to stress myself over these things a lot.

For Jungkook I imagine people writing to companies threatening to boycott their products if they take him on. I overthink- I do that. Leave me alone.

It's why I was so excited for Jimin and Dior.

I'm anxiously waiting for Jungkook to announce his ambassadorship so I can finally breathe- like imagine these men are not actually gay and for years I stress myself out worrying their sexuality impacts their lives

That's just wild🥴

I also wonder if they see a major difference between using joint accounts and Solo accounts. They have the freedom to post whatever they want subject to company rules and third person contract terms but I wonder if they are seeing the same commercial success as before.

Commercializing their brand can be a bit overwhelming for them I think. But Jimin is the cautious type and I know he ponders over decisions and choices a lot before he makes them.

It's Jungkook I worry about sometimes. I just hope he's not overwhelmed by the whole thing.

I don't know what Jungkook is planning and I hope to god he is happy and healthy cos I just- I can't. If he's not I can't 😭

This is not my month. I am in a fragile state of mind because this is Jikooks most vulnerable month to me. Jimin's album is coming, Jungkook is jungkooking- lord keep the ship afloat. We ain't want no trouble.

I try to think happy thoughts

Jimin's album is a success

Jungkook is fine- even if he's not sire hang on tight I can only worry about one ship captain at a time😩

I suspend all concerns about Jungkook to after Jimin's successful album launch😌

Now who's coming with me to convince Jungkook we need his account to promote Jimin's album?😩