#pls like a dozen of us ship this

[trashmancer]

A sketch I did a while back. Maybe Gale wouldn't mind Minthara stepping on him...

[marc-spectorr]

come alive

pairing: poe dameron x reader

kiss prompt: #22 …in a rush of adrenaline

warnings: 2.0k wc. mentions of violence, shooting, weapons. curse words.

notes: thank you to the lovely anon for submitting this prompt! i decided to make this its own post bc i wrote quite a lot. also i haven't watched star wars/written for poe in a hot minute so pls be nice to me lol. hope you like it!

—

“What’s the escape plan?”

At the question, Poe shoots you an odd look that is quite concerning. “Escape plan?”

“Yeah, the escape pla—oh my god,” you say in a hushed whisper, blinking at him. “You don’t have one.”

“I don’t have one yet. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something quick and then—”

“—and then we get captured, locked up behind bars to rot or until they decide to—”

Your ramblings are cut short when Poe puts a hand over your mouth, gently shushing you. Three stormtroopers approach the stack of oversized crates, shrouded in darkness due to the absence of sun at this late hour.

You freeze and hold your breath, waiting for them to pass. Fortunately, they march right by without problem, oblivious to the fact that you two are hiding behind them.

As happy and relieved as you were when Poe first showed up to free you, you’re now back to thinking that you will die at the hands of the First Order. It’ll only be a matter of time until someone realizes their imprisoned Resistance spy has escaped. You’ll never get out of here, especially without a plan. You’re doomed.

You swallow thickly and try to distract yourself from the dread and panic clawing inside of you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating. Glancing around wildly, you need to focus on something else. Anything.

Eventually, you have no choice but to settle on having your attention on the pilot’s stupidly handsome face. You keep your eyes on him, inhaling and exhaling deeply to gather your composure. All the while, you wonder— has he always been this good-looking up close? You have never realized how pretty of a shade his dark eyes are or how much they sparkle in the low light. You’ve never seen such thick and curly hair like his, and you have the biggest urge to card your fingers through it.

“Sweetheart, hey—relax,” Poe murmurs when you grow quiet on him, his watchful gaze flickering every now and then to check your surroundings. “Breathe. We got this.”

Poe has long dropped his hand from your mouth, but it remains on your face, cupping your cheek as he assesses you for any injuries. You feel your pulse pick up a beat. You’re sure it’s mainly from the threat of danger you’ve found yourself in. Certainly not because of Poe, your good friend, and crush ever since the day you joined the Resistance.

No, it definitely cannot be that.

“Okay,” you sigh out, nodding. You take a quick glance at the perimeter yourself this time, mostly to hide away from his gaze. “Now what? We can’t stay and hide here forever.”

“You’re right,” Poe agrees. He steps closer to you, his chest brushing against your back as he scans the area with you. “My ship’s past the tree line. Best course of action is to sneak out without alerting anyone. But if things don’t go our way, we use these.”

Slipped into your hand is a blaster. You take a deep breath and tighten your fingers around the grip. You hope it doesn’t come down to a shootout between you, Poe, and the dozens of armed guards patrolling the place. Violence isn’t really your strong suit. That’s why you preferred missions that involved laying low and gathering intel. Too bad your cover got blown on this assignment.

(And yes, you are still sore about that).

“I’m a shit shot, just a heads up,” you warn Poe. You turn around and bump into him, forgetting that there’s barely any space between you. He doesn’t make an effort to step away, and surprisingly, you don’t either.

Poe’s lips curl into a smug grin. He holds up his own weapon in his hand. “And I’m very much not. See, we’re a perfect match. On a scale of 1 to 10, how’d you rate my spur-of-the-moment escape plan?”

You bite back a chuckle and shake your head. Leave it to Poe to distract you from your worries, even if it only lasts a minute. In all seriousness, you have faith in him. He can be overly cocky sometimes, but he’s smart and skillful. You’ve seen and heard what he’s capable of. There’s a reason why you and plenty of others admire the hell out of him.

“I’d give it a 7.5, mainly ’cause I trust in your confidence too much. Plus, it’s not like we have other options.”

“That’s the spirit,” Poe beams. “Sorry if I worried you about not really thinking this through earlier. Once I found out you were being held out here, I kinda just... went for it, y’know? I didn’t have time to waste. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You smile at him, ignoring how your cheeks are warming up against the crisp nighttime air. You’re touched by Poe’s statement. Grateful that you’ve crossed paths with someone like him. Who else would be this reckless and determined to dive into an impromptu rescue—or insane enough to risk their life to save yours?

The thought has your heart feeling tender, but you can’t get caught up in it at this moment. You and Poe need to make it out alive first. Fuck, now the nerves are starting to creep back in.

“Thank you. If we come back to the base both in one piece, dinner’s on me.”

“You mean when we get back,” he corrects. He holds his hand out for yours. “Deal. It’s a date. Alright, you ready?”

Poe’s question almost doesn’t register in your head after he refers to your dinner offer as a date. He doesn’t seem to be joking around. He sounds serious, and you don’t question it. You find yourself more than okay with calling it that.

Clearing your throat, you give Poe a slight nod, ready as you’ll ever be. Both of you have to get out of here alive. Your date depends on it.

Staying undetected as you move through the shadows was easy in the beginning. Few are out on patrol this evening, and when you do encounter someone, Poe manages to evade them. Surely this isn’t his first go-around at something like this.

You do your best not to allow your anxiety of getting caught to cause you to lose focus. The warmth of Poe’s hand in yours helps soothe you, an assurance that if anything goes wrong, you’re not alone.

When you spot your way out, relief floods over you. You tell yourself you’ll be home soon. That you’ll be back in your bed in no time, tucked under the covers, safe and sound. No longer would you be fearing for your life in the way you are right now.

You’re nearly there— the clearing is just within sight. Less than a hundred yards away more and…

Sirens suddenly blare. So loud that they ring in your ears and leave you disoriented for several seconds. The quiet of the night quickly descends into chaos as guards pour out from every which way. The radioed orders your ears pick up are clear and bone-chilling: they are searching for you, and if found, they want you gone permanently. 

“There you are, scum,” a trooper snarls from behind, weapon pointed at you. They’re about to pull down on the trigger, but Poe reacts much quicker. The blaster in his hand fires, and the man instantly drops to the ground.

You barely have time to process what happened when Poe grasps your hand tightly, holding onto it uncomfortably tight, but his touch is grounding. The two of you share a knowing look as the sound of distant voices and heavy footsteps grow closer.

“We gotta keep moving. Shoot anyone who’s chasing after us, got it?” He says, his voice a blur over the erratic pounding of your heart.

Poe doesn’t wait for your acknowledgment. He makes a mad dash towards the gate leading out of the compound. He wasn’t lying when he said he was not a shit shot, taking down a few men with such ease— they were no match for him.

Luck seems to be on your side tonight. The moment Poe tugs you past the gate, you run across the field and into the woodlands as fast as possible, the fastest you’ve ever moved. Your muscles are sore, and your head is dizzy. It feels like you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

Still, you run. You run and run, even if you’re starting to think that your legs will give out at any moment. You have to get as far away as you can from the place that has kept you captive. It’s your best bet if you want to survive.

Finally, Poe’s ship comes into view. He glances behind you, and you mirror his action, seeing that the guards have lost track of you in the dark. The relieved smile on your face remains for only a split-second, however. As soon as you turn your head back, you see the stormtrooper emerge from the thick bushes, aiming to shoot at an unsuspecting Poe.

It’s like everything is in slow motion. From you realizing that Poe is in imminent danger to the way you forcefully push him out of the line of fire and draw your blaster.

Adrenaline buzzes through your veins. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You steady your hand even as it fights to tremble. Without thinking twice, you fire your weapon. The first shot narrowly misses the enemy, but the following two blasts hit them fatally, and they slump to the ground, unmoving.

Luck truly is on your side tonight.

You gasp a breath in surprise when a pair of solid arms suddenly wrap around you, your nerve endings still on high alert after all that has transpired. 

Poe’s gentle voice saying your name cuts through your foggy mind, and you meet his gaze. Your heartbeat continues to drum sharply against your ribcage as you stare at him for several moments, tracing the deep, worried lines etched on his face.

You don’t know what comes over you after. You’re unaware of what you’re doing until you’re right in the middle of it.

One second, you’re holding onto Poe—feeling some of the tension in your body seep out upon seeing that he’s okay, he’s unharmed— and the next, your lips are on his, soft and warm. Exactly the way you had imagined they would feel.

Poe doesn’t kiss you back right away; it is the only thing that snaps you out of this haze. Have you misread him all this time? He’s a major flirt, but you thought he was genuine with you. A knot of confusion and embarrassment forms in your stomach. How could you be so wrong? How could you have fucked things up?

You immediately pull away, taking a few stumbling steps back. Poe looks at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, but he doesn’t say a word. You glance down at your feet, not wanting to see his expression as you fumble out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Poe. I don’t know… I was just—”

You are interrupted when Poe lets out a breathless chuckle. He closes the short distance you had put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face, fingers stroking your cheeks ever so gently.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. It did feel very nice, though.”

Poe’s breath fanning warm over your skin causes yours to hitch. Before you can respond, he slowly leans in and recaptures your lips in a sweet kiss. Your heart stutters and skips for a whole new reason now. Something more electrifying replaces the fight or flight sensation surging within you, making you light-headed in the best possible way.

The kiss abruptly ends at the sound of dried leaves rustling and branches snapping from different directions. You notice faraway lights becoming brighter, no doubt more stormtroopers closing in on you and Poe.

“I’d like to keep kissing you, but we gotta go,” he laughs, nodding towards the ship. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can go on our date.”

You grin in agreement and place your hand into Poe’s hand. Being with him makes you feel alive, like you can handle almost anything the universe throws at you. You could get used to this.

“Take me home, flyboy.”

[ilguna]

Expired Medicine Pls! Bucky & #5?

☼ left behind but never forgotten (Bucky Barnes) ☼

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, gun use, grenade use, fighting, injuries.

wc; 3.5k

prompt; 5. "I'll come back for you, I promise."

notes; spoilers for captain america the winter soldier.

--

 The halls of the hospital are busy, swarming with doctors and nurses. They flip through pages of documents, some of them dodging in and out of rooms. If there’s any bad time to be on a mission, it’s now. In a place that’s supposed to be secure and safe from danger. 

You told Steve that you’d come inside by yourself to retrieve the flash drive, but he didn’t trust you, wanting to make sure that he got it, himself. So, you follow behind him, letting him lead the way. He has his navy blue hood pulled up to block the view of his blonde hair and to shadow some of his more notable features. You know that he wants to avoid drawing attention, but you think it makes him look more suspicious than not. 

His pace comes to a slow pace as he stops in front of the vending machine. On the way, he told you that he put the flash drive behind three sticks of bubblegum while the employee was stocking it. He wanted it here for safe keeping because he’d gone back with some of the SHIELD members. And with Fury’s warning, he didn’t want to take any chances. 

You come up beside him, looking over his shoulder. Your eyes search the entire machine, looking for the aforementioned bubblegum. You even take a step back to get a bigger picture, but you come up with nothing. 

You glance at Steve. “This is a problem.”

“I know.”

The sound of popping behind you makes you turn to see where it’s coming from. It’s Natasha, loudly chewing the pink gum, eyes switching between you and Steve. He lets out an annoyed sigh before he steps at her, placing a firm hand in the middle of her chest to push her into the empty room across the hall.

The door opens with a slam as the blinds rattle against the glass.

“So much for not drawing attention.” You mutter, reaching to close the door behind you.

Steve pushes Natasha against the nearest wall, trapping her with one hand as he pulls off his hood with the other. “Where is it?”

“Safe.” She says.

“Do better.” 

“Where did you get it?” She counters.

“Why would I tell you?”

You glance out the window, watching another medical staff member pass by, completely oblivious of the three of you.

“Fury gave it to you. Why?” Her eyebrows are drawn in.

“What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head.

“Stop lying.” Steve tells her.

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers.” She says, as if it’s obvious.

Steve looks over his shoulder at you, maybe for assurance. Or to make sure that you’re standing nearby. When he looks back at Natasha, you step in closer. “I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?”

Natasha’s mouth opens, no words coming out for a second while she thinks of a response. “Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

Steve grabs her shirt. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“I know who killed Fury.” She finally says, Steve’s grip loosens. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“So he’s a ghost story.” You say, shaking your head. 

“Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out. But the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so he shot him straight through me.” She pulls up the bottom of her shirt, revealing a scar on her left side, a few inches away from her bellybutton. “Soviet slug. No rifling. Bye-bye, bikinis.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.” Steve remarks.

She gives him a halfway smile before it drops. “Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried.” She pulls out the flash drive from her pocket, holding it up between them. “Like she said, he’s a ghost story.”

“Well, let’s find out what the ghost wants.” Steve backs off of her, moving so that you can see them both. “Are you still in?”

“‘Course I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. “This sounds like fun.”

—

If you’d known you’d end up in a car, squished between Natasha and a HYDRA agent, you think you might’ve told Steve that he could figure this out on his own. It probably wouldn’t have gone over well. He might’ve even begged you a little bit to change your mind, but with Sam here, there’s really no need for you to be.

“Natasha, why don’t we switch spots?” You ask, eyeing Sitwell for another moment before looking at her. “I don’t feel comfortable sitting next to him. I think this is more your specialty.”

She gives you an amused look. “I told you not to get in the car first.”

Sitwell blinks, drawing his attention from the cars passing you by on the freeway, to you. “Afraid all that training is going to fail you?”

Your eyes narrow, “No.”

He sighs. “HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.”

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam retorts, looking at him in the mirror.

Natasha leans over you to speak to Steve, who’s sitting in the passenger seat. This pushes you closer to Sitwell. “Insight’s launching in sixteen hours. We’re cutting it a little bit close here.”

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Sitwell asks, eyes wide. “That is a terrible, terrible idea.”

A loud thud on the roof of the car makes it cave in a little. You only have enough time to glance up, before the window shatters next to Sitwell, sending glass flying all over the interior of the car. You shield your face, feeling the glass pelt your jacket and jeans, before landing on the now-empty leather seat.

Sitwell is gone, he screams briefly as he’s thrown into oncoming traffic on the other side of the concrete barrier, where he’s hit by a honking truck. You watch as a gun appears in front of the open window, the safety being turned off, before being pulled away.

Natasha leaps from the back seat to the front, landing in Steve’s lap as she pulls his head down. A bullet pierces the leather where she had just been, you slide there as another bullet slams in your seat. With two hands on the back of your head, you duck, listening as two more shots are fired.

When you raise your head, you catch Steve reaching forward to the emergency brake, yanking it back. The brakes screech against the asphalt, slamming the car to a hard stop. The man that had been on top of the car flies from the roof, somersaulting in the air so that he lands on a knee pad and a singular arm. A metal arm.

“What the fuck.” You breathe, watching as he dislodges his hands from the asphalt to rise to his feet. 

For a few seconds, it’s a stand-off, as the cars around you weave in and out of the lanes to avoid hitting the car you’re in. Natasha tries to whip out her gun to shoot at him, but an armored truck hits you from behind, making you jerk forward, forcing the car in his direction.

He jumps, landing back on the roof. Sam slams on the brakes, trying to stop, but the truck is too strong. A metal arm comes flying through the windshield, fingers wrapping around the steering wheel, breaking it off.

“Shit!” Sam screams.

Natasha tries shooting at the roof, but the Winter Soldier jumps off, onto the truck behind you. You turn, wanting to keep your eyes on the threat, and find him on the hood of the armored vehicle. 

“He’s accelerating!” You shout.

The trunk crumples further as you’re rammed again, this time throwing the car off course. It turns, wheel running up the side of the barrier, before forcing you back on the freeway. The car begins to wobble from side to side, growing more violent by the second.

Steve pulls up his shield, placing it on the passenger door. “Hang on!” He shouts, grabbing Natasha. 

The car begins to twist, you reach for the window that Sitwell had been forced out of, grabbing the edges and pulling up as you go airborne. Steve, Natasha and Sam must escape together out of the door, because when you look down to launch yourself out, they’re gone.

And so are you.

You cross your arms over your chest with fists, holding on tightly to the body of your jacket while you’re thrown into the air. You gain several more feet, and in that time, you duck your head, ankles locked together, until you come crashing down to Earth.

With the world being one giant dizzying blur, you have to guess how far away you are from the freeway. You hesitate, waiting for the best possible moment to land without hurting yourself. Unfortunately, it’s a second too long, because when you throw out your left foot to throw you into a roll, you land on it sideways.

The pain is immediate, but it takes up the back of your mind as you hit the concrete, rolling for several feet. When the momentum is gone, you sit upright, clutching at your ankle, eyes searching for your friends.

You find the overturned car, and then Natasha and Steve, who are still sitting on his Captain America shield. Beside you is Sam, who’s eyeing your ankle, worried. You’re more focused on the Hydra vehicle, and the fact that the Winter Soldier now holds a grenade launcher.

In one solid move, you grab the front of Sam’s shirt, throwing him down as a grenade is sent in your direction. Steve holds up his shield, intending to deflect the explosion, but he ends up triggering it instead. The blast sends him ricocheting off of a car behind him, and over the side of the overpass.

You jump to your feet while you can, ignoring the piercing pain in your ankle as you try to run to hide behind the van. Sam is right beside you, you can feel his hand on your lower back, but then it’s gone, as he goes to hide behind the silver car a few feet back. 

Natasha glances at you, gun in her hand. “Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

“Not really.” You tell her.

She pops up, shooting back at the HYDRA agents that are slowly advancing in your direction. You look back at Sam, and watch as he makes a run for it down the freeway. You suck in a breath, springing up to hurl yourself over the side of the barrier. A car whizzes by, and Natasha lands next to you.

You swear the whole bridge shakes when another grenade explodes. 

She grabs your hand, passing one of her guns over. “I’ll distract him, you shoot when you get the chance.”

“Just to be clear, this is the Winter Soldier, right?” You ask.

Natasha makes a grave face, nodding. When there’s a break in the gunfire, she crosses three lanes of traffic, rolls over a car, only to be thrown off the side of the bridge when he launches a bomb.

A car comes to a screeching halt a foot or so away from you, inadvertently shielding you from the enemy. You turn to the left, climbing on your hands and knees while you try to get a better spot to shoot. It’s eerily quiet for several seconds, you slowly creep up to look over the wall, finding him aiming below the bridge.

When you’re sure that the HYDRA agents aren’t watching, you stand up, popping the safety off. You hold up the gun, aiming for the back of the Winter Soldier’s head. And right as you go to pull the trigger, a shot is fired, his head whipping to the side. When he turns to drop down, you can see that Natasha got him in the goggles.

He pulls them off, fist tightening around the black material. Then, he gets back up, spraying bullets at Natasha in response, pissed. They get into a brief gunfight, where you wait for the better opportunity to shoot.

As soon as the other HYDRA agents get to their feet, you fire. They’re solid shots on all three of them. So solid and precise, that they’re dead as soon as the bullets hit their bodies. You let out a breathy laugh, surprised that you still have that in you, but the celebration is gone when the Winter Soldier begins to turn.

You hit the cement, but you must be the least of his worries, because he doesn’t come after you. When you’re sure of this, you get back to your feet and over the barrier to retrieve one of the HYDRA guns from the bodies. You find a hook embedded into the hood of a car, attached to a thick black wire that hangs over the side of the overpass.

First, you check to make sure that there’s not an agent attached at the bottom. Then, you attach the gun to your body with the strap to keep it on you. After you’ve pulled your jacket sleeves over your hands, you slide down the wire, joining Steve, Natasha and the Winter Soldier below.

Except, there is no one.

You stand in the middle of the street, eyes sweeping the area, but all you’re coming up with are civilians running away. You head toward the anger to start, keeping a sharp eye out for any of the HYDRA agents that might be lurking around nearby. 

There’s a distant sound of gunfire, followed by an explosion. You pick up the pace, jogging down three blocks before you’re met with a busy intersection. You hoist the gun up, one eye peering through the scope before you pull the trigger.

The Winter Soldier moves, making you miss by barely an inch. Steve runs at him to keep him from shooting back at you, swinging the shield up in time to block his punch, causing the metal to sound like a gong. Steve gets kicked off of the car, landing on the road, where he covers himself with the shield. 

The enemy rolls off the car, pulling out a machine gun to shoot at Steve. When the bullets run out, Steve swings himself over the top of the car, foot knocking the gun out of his hand. You reload the rifle, waiting for the right moment to shoot, while they engage in hand-to-hand combat. 

He shoots, they go back and forth with the punches, and block. The gun is put away, Steve is twisted out of the shield, now in the Winter Soldier’s grasp. It’s placed between them to keep a distance, but eventually yanked from Steve’s rip as the HYDRA assassin uses it to his advantage.

When there’s a pause, you go to pull the trigger, until the shield comes flying in your direction.

You jerk to the side, watching as the shield lodges into the back door of a white van behind you. With wide eyes, you look back at Steve, only to find him fighting once more. You reach, yanking the shield free, and also retrieving your gun as you move closer.

Steve seems to have a knife now. He tries to take multiple stabs, but ultimately it’s taken from him, and he ends up dodging once more. The Winter Soldier makes the mistake of swinging over Steve twice, allowing him to counter with a hook and a kick. The soldier slams back into a car, Steve runs at him, slamming him into it further, causing the door to dent and the glass to break.

He goes in for a punch once again, but the Winter Soldier blocks it, backing Steve away as he tries to fight back. Steve flips him over, standing over him for just a second, before the Winter Soldier grabs Steve’s neck, squeezing.

You let the gun hang against your chest, fixing the shield in your hand. You swing back, and then launch it forward. Steve’s eyes dart to it, ticking off the Winter Soldier, so he throws Steve over the hood of a car, turning just in time to grab the shield before it hits him. By then, you’re firing bullets, watching as they bounce off of the metal.

The gun jams.

“Shit.” You pull it off of you, hurling it in his direction. He catches it in his metal hand, clenching his fist around the material, breaking it.

He turns his attention back to Steve, who’s on the other side of the car. They go back to fighting, you continue to advance, a little annoyed that he doesn’t see you as a threat enough. He pulls out a knife, going to stab Steve, but the metal pieces a grey van, slicing the paint vertically.

Steve grabs the Winter Soldier, throwing him back to get him off, and swiping the shield in the process. The enemy swings, hits metal. He swings again with the knife, hitting metal. The Winter Soldier punches Steve successfully, trying to kick but he’s met with the shield, so he swings again.

Steve slams the shield into the metal arm of the Winter Soldier, and then forces it up, hitting him in the face. Steve wraps his hand around the mask, flipping him over backward, but it's too much momentum, because the Winter Soldier somersaults.

You walk around the truck, going to join Steve, finding the black mask lying on the asphalt. The Winter Soldier rises, back to you at first, until he slowly turns his head, allowing you to see what he looks like.

The blood runs from your face, lips parting as your eyes lock on. 

Bucky.

He looks… different, but not in the bad sense. His dark hair is messily long, just barely reaching his shoulders. When in the past he’s kept it shorter, cleaner. There’s a shadow of a beard forming on the lower half of his face. And there’s this emotionless void in his eyes, as if he’s looking right through you.

This can’t be him, though. The last time you saw him… 

Steve stands up, panting through his teeth. “Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He asks, turning toward the two of you fully. 

He pulls up his gun to shoot at either of you, but Sam kicks him over, sending him tumbling over the asphalt. That small move does basically nothing, as Bucky gets back to his feet, you take a step toward him, even when he goes to shoot again, but you’re interrupted by a grenade flying over Steve’s shoulder.

A red truck explodes. You look behind you to see Natasha, barely holding herself up against a car with the grenade launcher. Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

There’s sirens approaching, presumably the police, a firetruck, a couple of ambulances, but all you see are black SUV’s approaching. Your eyes catch a figure disappearing into an alleyway.

“I’m going after him.” You dig into your pants pocket, pulling out the singular smoke bomb that you’d brought with you.

Before Steve can stop you, you pull out the pin, tossing the bomb in the middle of the intersection. In the matter of seconds, the grey haze is taking over the street, concealing your escape. Either Steve is too shocked or knows better than to go after you, because he stays there with your other two friends, letting you run off.

Your ankle is slowing you down, but that doesn’t make you stop. You chase Bucky down several streets until he jumps out from behind a car, fist swinging at your face. You catch it, fingers wrapping around his hand, eyes boring into his.

The two of you stand like this for a very long second. If he knows who you are, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it, because you’re none the wiser. If you had to guess what happened to him, you’d say Zola experimented on him. And you think that Steve would even agree with you.

He tries to punch you with his metal arm, but you block it with your forearm, holding him there for a second longer. You can’t do this, not here. He’s not stable enough to have a conversation, especially since he was trying to kill you. He is trying to kill you.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” You tell him, despite knowing that this means nothing to him. “I’m not letting you go so easily, Bucky.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[stawpny]

I’m bored and ao3 is kinda dry (atleast for the wttt ny tag)

so here are some NY ships I NEED to see more of 🙏

—

MassYork: ok, I used to be almost totally opposed to this, seeing them having more of a brotherly relationship but with history n stuff it’s kinda not possible. But anyway, probably my main ship for now, bc OHMYGOD “nobody can kill you but me”? GET OUT, GET MARRIED, PLEASE.

like if it’s Mass/Cali/York or Mass/Jersey/York I will eat it up.

no questions, it is already in my mouth. I am eating the fuck outta this.

GeoYork: in my mind they have a cute dynamic. I feel they would be best friends as younger colonies and then have a very complicated relationship until they finally get together. Slowburn kinda, also kinda they have been in relationships dozens of times but something always happens. and isn’t Georgia called the “Empire State of the South”? or am I just hearing things

peach + apple? cobbler + pie? idek but I love them

TexYork: guys pls. southern gentleman and city boy? literally perfect for each other. they would make fun of each other endlessly. accents, vocabulary, actions, plus so much more because they’re very different.

TX taking York to his ranch to meet bro’s cows??? yes please. I’d like to meet Betsy too .

^TexaCaliYork: also a fire ship (see what I did there?) like the ship above, but with the hipster in it aswell. Texas and Cal constantly bicker like children and York sorts it out like a teacher would.

NY: you hurt his feelin’s, go apologize.

TX, scoffing: fine, but don’t expect me to get along with him after.

(spoiler alert!! York forces them into a cuddle pile afterwards to get over there lifelong beef)

IlliYork: they’re enemies, they’re lovers, the whole kit-and-caboodle. they’d switch hats sometimes and hold each others hand when they’re in their cities. they’re idiots and the Midwest and the Northeast hate them for it. It’s kinda gross but in a good way.

they’d be the couple who like hold hands in public but not make a single move other than that to show that they love the other. absolutely no kissing in public, they would just sit there in silence with a death grip on the other’s hand. they would totally insult each other to the face and then say, “Love you, tho.”

FloYork: fun fact: they are absolutely insane together. They influence each other and constantly say stupid shit. Florida would force York outta his comfort zone from time to time but the inner extrovert masked by New York’s fake introvert personality will do it almost willingly. he puts up a “fight” but he would deadass do it bc he thinks this shit is hilarious.

NY would be a little like Florida even if they weren’t dating. like NYC is absolutely batshit so that would mean York would have to be a little too.

NY/CA/TX/FL/LA: little crazy, ik, but I remember reading fics abt these five (including gov, but I’m still questioning if he would be in here or not) and absolutely devouring them. spectacular ship. it’s like a little bit of everything, except the Midwest and the other western states, but almost everything. I would love to see more of them.

they would def fight over each other. (who got to hold hands with who, who got to sleep/cuddle with who, etc.)

—

I’m not forcing you to give into my opinions, but if u like these, I like you 😼

some of these hc’s are not entirely mine, some were influenced, tho most are from the rotting part of my brain

I hope u use these ships in the future or I might spontaneously combust

(spoiler alert 2!! I will still explode [out of love] if u write about them)

ily guys

[necrotic-nephilim]

"How else am I supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" With Jason x Bruce ship pls 🙏

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up BruJay my beloved. this is. honestly more emotional whump than physical and the romance is implied, but i do like this piece a lot, even if i struggled with it a bit. have 2.2k of Bruce and Jason struggling to get along. enjoy <3

Sometimes, Jason did it on purpose.

He knew Bruce’s patrol route better than anyone. Which was by design. Jason wanted to know where Bruce was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with at all times. And really, Bruce didn’t seem to be stopping Jason from keeping tabs. None of Jason’s carefully placed trackers were removed, and Jason knew better than to assume Bruce had lost his touch. Bruce knew they were there, and he knew they were Jason’s.

So if Jason wanted to avoid Bruce, he knew how to do it. And when he really did want to get work done under Bruce’s nose, it was easy for Jason to dance around Bruce’s schedule and send him tail spinning just trying to keep up with Jason.

But some days, Jason didn’t want to avoid Bruce. He wanted the thrill of the chase.

So he got caught on purpose.

He picked a gang on the side of town Bruce always patrolled at this hour. He used the loudest guns he had with no silencers. He started the messiest brawl he could.

And he waited.

Jason didn’t have to wait long.

Like it always was with Bruce, the entrance was dramatic. Shattering glass as a large form with an unfurled cape descended from the skylight. Jason smiled under his helmet.

There were already at least half a dozen dead. The rest were running around like ants, either trying to get away from Jason or futilely trying to fight him.

“You’re late!” Jason shouted over his shoulder. He dodged a batarang thrown in his general direction. “I expected you to get here at least five minutes earlier.”

“Robbery a block away,” Bruce said brusquely. He turned to a few gang members with tire irons and shivs lifted, ready to charge Jason. “Run. Now.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Jason raised his gun to shoot one. He wasn’t particular about who he picked. He knew it didn’t matter. The bullet wouldn’t actually hit them.

Because just on time as Jason squeezed the trigger, a batarang buried into his hand. He swore and dropped the gun.

“Enough, Hood,” Bruce said coldly.

Jason smiled under his mask. “Someone’s gotta clean up this city.” He lunged for another thug.

Bruce’s body was like a battering ram, slamming into Jason. He was heavy enough to knock the wind out of Jason, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Jason groaned, trying to throw Bruce off of him. When that didn’t work, he went for his belt, grabbing his kris dagger and flipping it around.

“Do you hold any value for human life?” Bruce demanded. He grabbed Jason’s wrist and pinned it against the ground. “These aren’t supervillains, they’re normal people down on their luck-”

Before Bruce could finish talking, one of the gang members bashed him over the head with a wooden plank. Bruce’s cowl was reinforced, but the little bastard had managed to hit hard enough to snap the plank clean in half. A grunt was forced out of Bruce and his whole body buckled.

Now that was just rude. Bruce was Jason’s meat, not some stupid punk’s. Possessive jealousy flared through Jason, watching Bruce wince in pain to a wound Jason didn’t give him.

“Yeah, they seem real grateful to their savior,” Jason sneered. He threw Bruce off of him and grabbed the gang member. A wiry thing, probably still a teenager. Jason twisted them around to hold his dagger against their throat with his fingers buried into their hair, holding them still. A horrified noise came out of them. Not that Jason particularly cared. He wasn’t the one stupid enough to try beaning Batman with some plywood.

Bruce was on one knee, looking up at Jason. “Don’t.” His fingers twitched toward his utility belt.

“You can’t stop me,” Jason taunted, pressing the blade against tender flesh until the person was squirming in his grasp and blubbering out incoherent pleas for mercy. “Hands where I can see ‘em, B.”

If Jason was anyone else, Bruce would’ve stopped him by now. A quick flick of his wrist to hit Jason with a tranq dart, was how he guessed Bruce would do it.

But he wasn’t just some rogue. He was Jason. And that made Bruce go still, actually listening to Jason’s demands.

“You’re just doing this for attention,” Bruce said carefully, keeping his whole body tense, but not moving it. “Let them go.”

“It’s working.” Jason shrugged, adjusting his hold on the stranger. “So can you blame me?”

“There are other ways to do it without-” Bruce briefly looked around the room at the bodies littered everywhere- “casualties. And innocent hostages.”

“Innocent?” Jason laughed. He turned to address the person he was holding. “Do you think you’re innocent? Why don’t you tell the Batman where these drugs were getting funneled.”

“I don’t- please, I just help packaging- I didn’t-”

Jason huffed in annoyance. “I’ll tell him for you. The middle school down the street. And if there was extra supply, the youth center just around the corner from it too. You remember that youth center don’t you, B? I slept there sometimes as a kid. It was warmer than the streets.”

Bruce’s mouth faintly twitched. His jaw was set. Jason could see him grappling with the rage of knowing exactly who these low lives were dealing to, while still wanting to tell Jason off for all the ugly murder.

How contradictory that nasty little moral code of his could be.

“Let them go,” Bruce spoke slowly, “and we’ll work together to figure out how-”

“Oh don’t even pretend,” Jason laughed. “Don’t pretend you would work with me for a second.”

“Let them go,” Bruce repeated. He seemed to pointedly avoid admitting to Jason’s point.

Jason let out a long hum like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. What’s one more to my body count?” He started to press the blade.

Bruce moved inhumanely fast. He kicked up, knocking the knife out of Jason’s hand without hitting the gang member. His hands went for Jason’s throat and he managed to get Jason back on the ground. The gang member ran off, footsteps echoing until they were gone while Jason and Bruce grappled, trading punches and kicks until Bruce managed to pin Jason down. Blood was pouring from Jason’s nose and Bruce had human claw marks across his cheek.

Rough. Animalistic. Just the way Jason liked it.

“Why do you do this?” Bruce spoke through grit teeth. “Why do you make me do this?”

“Like you said,” Jason grunted, trying to twist out from Bruce. “I like the attention.” His struggles only got him pinned harder. Bruce forced Jason facedown against the concrete, with an arm twisted behind his back. Jason’s helmet was torn off and tossed to the side.

“I never want to hurt you,” Bruce actually sounded choked up about it. “Why do you have to take it too far every time?”

Jason would give anything to see his face, right now.

“Maybe I want you to hurt me,” Jason said. He looked at his hand resting against the concrete, blood still pouring out of the wound the batarang left. it was a bright, pulsing pain that danced across his reality, making his blood sing. He hoped it would scar. Another to add to the collection of ones he’d goaded Bruce into giving him.

“Why?” Bruce’s voice broke on the word. It was an ironic thing. How badly Bruce wanted to show Jason his mercy. His gentle side. And how badly Jason wanted Bruce’s violence. He wanted Bruce to fight Jason until Bruce’s knuckles were bloody and Jason was barely conscious. He wanted to feel Bruce’s violence down to the marrow.

Jason craned his head back to look at Bruce and smiled. “How else am I supposed to learn if you don’t punish me?”

Bruce stared. For a long moment, he was silent. Jason listened to his breathing like a lifeline. “You don’t actually believe that.” his voice was soft and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to concern.

Sentimental bastard.

“No,” Jason admitted. “We both know I’ll never learn.”

To prove his point, Jason grabbed a stray piece of glass from the ground and stabbed it into one of the weak spots on Bruce’s armor. It made Bruce’s grip loosen enough for Jason to roll free and try to kick Bruce in the face.

Bruce wasn’t fighting him. He only blocked Jason’s blows, and even then, let some of them hit. It was like fighting a brick wall. Hard and unrelenting.

It was starting to piss Jason off.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me now, Bruce,” Jason said through grit teeth, throwing another punch. It sailed uselessly over Bruce’s shoulder when Bruce easily dodged.

“No.” Bruce’s expression was unreadable under his mask. “I’m not playing your game, Jason.”

“Damnit!” Jason could feel his anger threatening to take control. He kicked Bruce hard in the shin, forcing the man to his knees. Jason ripped Bruce’s cowl off. He wasn’t stopped by Bruce. Hard blue eyes stared up at him. Practically emotionless. “I know you hate me. I know you’re itching to rip my head off for…” Jason spread his arms, gesturing to all the bodies. “For this! For everything I’ve done.”

Bruce shook his head, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “I don’t hate you, Jason. I could never-” He doubled over when Jason’s knee connected with his stomach.

“Well you definitely don’t love me,” Jason snapped, ice dripping from his tone. “If you did… if you loved me, you would let me have this.”

“Killing people?”

“Hurting me,” Jason corrected. He snatched his kris off the floor from where it’d fallen to. He stared at the blade. “I’m sick of your pacificism. I’m sick of you pretending you don’t crave hurting someone and pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’ve never pretended,” Bruce looked at Jason through careful, hooded eyes. “That want… that need has always been a part of me. I take too much pleasure in hurting people. Pleasure in believing they deserve it.” He studied Jason for a moment. “I never wanted it to consume you the way it consumes me. Because I know it’s something you can’t come back from, once it takes root.”

Jason hated it when Bruce waxed poetic. It was a whole lot of bullshit that meant nothing to Jason. It did nothing to fight the roar of rage building in Jason’s chest.

“Do you want to hurt me?” Jason asked.

He needed Bruce to say yes.

He knew Bruce wouldn’t.

Even if it was the truth. Which now, Jason wasn’t so sure.

Bruce was silent. He didn’t give Jason any answer, not even a change in expression. Bruce just pushed himself to his feet and looked at his cowl that Jason was still holding.

“I love you, Jason,” Bruce said. He grabbed the cowl, but Jason didn’t let go. “I want to help you. Please let me help you in any other way that’s not… this.” Bruce’s thumb brushed over the still bleeding gash on Jason’s hand.

Jason tightened his grip on the cowl. “I’m not giving you the free pass to sleep easy at night,” he hissed. “You can’t take back any of the scars you’ve given me. And we both know sooner or later, there will be new ones.”

Bruce tore the cowl out of Jason’s hand. Before putting it on, he started to reach out for Jason’s face, but seemed to think against it, hand abruptly dropping. He opened his mouth to say something. An apology, probably.

A muffled, crackly voice came from inside the cowl. A police scanner, by the sounds of it. Jason only caught the words bomb threat and hostages.

So much for Bruce’s attention.

“Come with me?” Bruce offered, pulling his cowl on.

Jason shook his head. “You know you don’t want me there.”

“I always want you-” Bruce cut himself off, seeming to realize how dangerously vulnerable his words were. “The offer to come to me will always be open, Jason. You know that.”

Jason’s fist curled and his blood dripped onto the concrete. “Go to hell.”

Like that, the intimacy was gone. Bruce put his emotional mask back on to go with his physical one and turned heel, walking away. Jason just watched him go, some part of him foolishly waiting for Bruce to turn back and say something. Anything. He could get any other hero to handle the bomb threat. He could spare Jason just a few more moments of arguing and fighting. Maybe even something more.

But of course, he didn’t.

[theimportantnone]

Prompt: Aliens discover goodie bags.

Story one

Xek had been invited to a human birthday party. He did not understand the hubbub around coming closer to death but to promote unity between the crew he accepted the invitation. Coming from a frugal race it had been hard to adjust to the abundance of quantity **and** quality prevelent in human culture as he would be described as a "lick the plate clean" kinda person. But he found solace in that meals where prepared for a number of people in mind and made accordingly large. What he did not expect was careless quantity as he saw them, so called goodie bags. A whole table was layed out of small plastic bags full of sweets and meal cubes, what a horrid waste. He knew that even if everyone invited took one there would still be dozens left to waste. This would not do, perhaps more people had been invited that he first though, friends and family on the next planet they where stopping on, as he was just helping with party prep. Once they landed he found he was wrong. Xek panicked, a primal urge to consume even to his own detriment so nothing would be wasted. He counted out every bag and every guest, and took what remained. Once the party started he heard complaints about a lack of goodie bags that apperently were promised by the hosts. Xeks stomach nearly inverted (something that only happens when his kind went into labor, it's very painful.) Apparently, the bags where not for just eating right away, but where also for giving from host to guest to guests relatives. No wonder there where sweets instead of just meal cubes, they where gifts back to the community! A thanks for being with the one who aged. Xek admitted that he ate the rest of the bags (plastic and all, he knew this was "abnormal" but his stomach was built for heavy duty eating and no waste meant no waste,) but much to his relief he was forgiven, as even more gift bags were prepared, "just cause."

Story two

Iizikiel (pronounced Ezekiel) was tasked with observing human traditions for first contact prep. "These humans are such a young species," it thought, floating above its spy console, theyre small pod invisible to all but the most advanced eyes (which thankfully on this planet belonged to a specific crustacean living far away from iizikiel's ship.)

"I must give them merit for their rapid technological development but it is clear their socio-political development is far behind, if I could choose if bar these bipeds from the union until they could find us first."

"Negative, Iizi (pronounced easy) , the councle feels their spirit would bring a wondrous boost of productivity to the union," booped his bio-mechanical companion, 2hr+d. "Shut it," replied Iizi with a frustrated belch. Being a floating jellyfish like blob wasn't always great compared to a half mech half anthropomorphic beetleish creature, but at least Iizi had electrosis and could shut up (tw-hr-pl-d, or twerpd) for real if it wanted.

Today Iizi was witnessed two humans promise monogamy for each other under their home government, known as "marriage." a large ensemble of people gathered in rows in front of the couple, as a religious figured blessed their union. "So odd that they feel the need for a higher power to allow for a union, feels very-" "insecure?" clicked twerpd. "I was going to say, superfluous, " retorted Iizi.

But then something caught Iizi's eye, little bundles of edibles, being handed out to leaving attendees. Up until now he had only witnessed eating immediately after food was presented to its recipients, extras being taken only after an initial digging in. This was something entirely different, as some people where eating the contents right away while others stuffed them in their pockets or vehicles. He would have understood that behavior if their had been a feat prior but no, it seemed these seemingly needy eaters where intentionally waiting to eat.

"What do you make of this Twerpd?"

"Iizi, this is only our 4th local rotation in tandem with this continent, maybe they we've only ever seen them hunger, perhaps they don't always need to eat when presented with food."

"But if that's true, why do so many eat to unhealthy levels, and why is food such a large industry when it's clear that knowledge of self sufficient food production is commonly available? The likely conclusion is that humans are unable to not eat when presented with food and only stop when full, normally saving leftovers or making sure no one else gets said left overs by tossing them into trash recepticals. It also explains why roundness is common place, at least on this continent. "

"we still have more to learn, as evidence also suggests that there are a multitude of cultures present here and beyond, Iizi, save your rambling conclusions for our first revolution of their home star."

Authors note

To be so honest I was three paragraphs deep into a five part story but I forgot to save and lost all of it, so I thought up these two, more hastily written stories as a replacement. Who know gift bags would be a struggle to write about.

[amateurmasksmith]

The Frog and the Infant, Chapter 2

Full Speed Ahead

Author’s Notes: I don’t know why this one was so difficult to start, but it’s done now at least!

Warnings: Unreality/internal inconsistency/other shenanigans?

ping list: @radioactive-dazey @britt-ish123 @randomnerd737 (anyone else wanna be added?)

“Half-dozen men, half-dozen trials that I must lead, And the problems not the talking, It’s what lies in-between.”

Janus finally, slowly opened his eyes, and found himself on a his ship.

He knew he had to wake up get home. He had to get his family men home safely - All six… hundred of them.

But it was going to be difficult - There was so much left unsaid between them and home, and despite how far they’d come…

There was still so much work to do.

But he was glad to - Janus was nothing if not devoted nothing without his Purpose. He loved his kingdom, he loved his family, his center more than anything.

They were waiting for him, back home.

He knew, he would do anything for them.

“Captain!” a familiar voice called, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Yes, he would admit to no-one but himself, he rather liked leading the group his men - He might as well, since he was… How did he phrase it? (so long ago…) ‘Thomas�� last surviving brain cell?’

“Remus?”

“Six hundred men,” Remus stated matter-of-factly, “with big mouths to feed.” He gestured to the men above-deck, working on various vague shipboard tasks.

“And we’ve run out of supplies to eat.” That was a problem - the war must have depleted their food stores.

Remus leaned in closer with an odd lack of odor, “Six hundred reasons to take what we can,” he intoned, implying the harsh reality they both knew all too well.

“So, Captain, what’s the plan?” he asked, placing the ball squarely in Janus’ court.

While they certainly could follow Remus’ idea, he knew that there would be a good chance of casualties in taking that route.

Besides, Janus always preferred a more… subtle approach…

“Watch where the birds fly,” he said, “they will lead us to land.”

While it wasn’t as exciting as a direct confrontation he was used to working from the shadows, Janus knew that this was the safer least disruptive option.

“There we’ll hunt for food,” he continued, “my brother and dear friend second in command!”

Remus nodded, and strode off to relay his orders to the rest of the crew.

He would do anything for them.

Suddenly, Janus heard another voice call out to him: “Captain!”

He couldn’t help but feel warm inside as he noticed the rare genuine, bright smile of Thomas’ hero his old friend.

“Roman!”

“Look!” Roman gestured broadly, off towards the horizon.

“There, in the distance,” he said, passing Janus a looking glass, “I see an island, I see a light that faintly glows!”

Oh, yes - it was nighttime, wasn’t it? had it been?

“Maybe there’re people, lighting a fire,” Roman said, as Janus raised the glass to his good human eye, and focused on the distant glow.

“Maybe they’ll share some food, who knows!”

Janus took in what little detail of the island there was to be had - Something didn’t add up.

“Something feels off here,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the horizon, “I see fire, but there’s no smoke…”

Remus appeared behind him, startling Roman (and Janus, too - though he’d never admit it), and weighed in:

“I say we strike first,” Remus said. “We don’t have time to waste,” he reminded Janus - He always was good in urgent situations. a canary in the coal mind

“So let’s raid the place, and-”

“No.” Even with Remus’ warning, Janus didn’t want to risk losing any more family men.

There had to be a better way.

“Roman, let’s gear up,” Janus said. “You and I’ll go ahead.”

He wouldn’t take the chance any of them would end up dead.

Remus butted in, “You don’t know what’s ahead!”

Of course he knew… he still had to try.

“Give me ‘til sunrise,” Janus said, putting a hand on Remus’ shoulder, “and if we don’t return…”

Janus looked out towards the rest of the ship, to his crew… his family…

“…then six hundred men can make this whole place burn.”

Somewhat placated, Remus nodded and stepped away - Leaving Janus alone to get lost in his thoughts.

As he watched Remus and Roman work - gathering supplies and gear, chattering with the crew, and bickering with each other - he kept circling back to the thought…

He would do anything for them.

[bcntbouquet]

1. Who has been your favorite muse to play?

2. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what do you like to listen to?

10. Do you like stylized icons and formatted text or do you prefer to keep things simple?

14. What are five of your favorite ships? (In the rp community or otherwise)

15. What sort of muses do you tend to write?

16. Do you like to queue your replies or just post them when you finish?

17. Do you prefer winging it or plotting everything out?

20. If you could tell your muse something, what would it be?

1. Who has been your favorite muse to play?

I think my first-ever legit rp muse was Herbert West (Re-Animator) and once upon a time, I didn’t really have the urge to write other characters (can’t you even imagine ME writing ONE character now, lmao). The first OC I really got into was my dude Gideon Brady, so he was my favourite for years—Then I found my way to Supernatural and Dean Winchester was the most at-home I’d probably ever felt in ANY muse ever to that point. Probably stayed that way until some time in 2023. I’ve created dozens of ocs and even quite a number of canon muses since then, but late last year I started writing Brian (Brain Damage) and Aylmer (Brain Damage) and I became very attached very quickly; around the same time, I decided to explore my under-used oc Derward (created c. 2022) and I find he’s easiest to write at this particular time in my life. I also enjoy playing Wonka a whole lot—because he’s so positive and optimistic—but it’s been brought to my attention that Derward and I share a lot of similarities—Which, I suppose, explains why he's become my default muse these days.

2. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what do you like to listen to?

Yes, I listen to music about 50% of the time that I write. A lot of 80s pop, rock, and new wave ngl. But there's other kinds I listen to, of course. The rest of the time I watch movies while writing… I know, you’d think it would distract me from the text, but most of the time films get me in that creative zone with any combination of setting, music, story, cast, etc.

10. Do you like stylized icons and formatted text or do you prefer to keep things simple?

To quote Slugworth— “A good chocolate should be SIMPLE. Un-complicated.” I will admit I have a hard time reading/seeing (highly) formatted text. Bold, italics, colours, and certain fonts; those are all find by me. As for stylized icons… What’s even the point? Frankly, it’s lost on me. A visual should be just that. Any image or gif that takes interpretation in order to figure out what’s being presented doesn’t really belong… as it serves no purpose to enrich either the details of the narrative or the muse being portrayed. Granted, this is only my personal opinion. If stylized iconography somehow makes your creative juices flow, fellow writers... go for it. You do you. The rpc should always be an inclusive place.

14. What are five of your favorite ships? (In the rp community or otherwise)

Call me biased or indecisive af, but I hold all my ships dear. Romantic or platonic. I just love all my ships- as well as my shipping partners. Lil' shout out to @cvpidswings, @everyoneismytoy, @smolcuriouskitten, @rawbutprecious, and @frcsttitan. Everybody else I ship with, love you too.

'nother lil' shout to @cursedvessels and @miidnighters—Shimi and Callisto are one of my favourite duos in the rpc atp and I love reading about their joint antics. A canon ship I love is Zed and Addison from Zombies.

15. What sort of muses do you tend to write?

Difficult to say... I don't find myself defining any of my muses by type. If I had to take a guess, I'd say kindhearted people with emotional trauma? Again, IDK.

16. Do you like to queue your replies or just post them when you finish?

I'm a slow writer, so I usually post when I've finished a draft. I already keep people waiting a while for a reply due to my inherent speed, so a regular queue would just make things even slower.

17. Do you prefer winging it or plotting everything out?

It just depends on the situation in the rp; during a lot of threads, I do well with a mix of winging it and plotting. 90% of the time, though, it's winging it. My muses are all control freaks in that they're usually more cooperative when I don't involve myself XD

20. If you could tell your muse something, what would it be?

Derward hasn't felt much love in his life, or support. He isn't the type to give up in any situation, but he probably really needs to hear that he's both wanted and needed. I think little compliments would serve him well, too. Maybe tell him that he's cute or that his hair/clothes are nice. He wouldn't always believe me about his clothes, 'cause he tends to wear tattered stuff throughout his various verses, but... If I could give him a big hug, I would. I'd give him a nice smooch on the cheek, too. Maybe wrap a blanket around his shoulders. That said, he should allow himself to put his burdens down from time to time. He's strong, and he knows this. What he doesn't know, however, is that he CAN be weak. He CAN be vulnerable. I would, hopefully, convince himself to free himself of such pressure. Dude needs a good cry five minutes ago.

[c-rose2081]

Of Siren’s Deep [Chapter 1] - story concept

Just some writing thoughts. Pirate-Fantasy baby, can’t go wrong with that 🏴‍☠️🧜🏽‍♀️

To my mutuals who lurk, pls reblog and let me know what you think in the comments and tags, it really helps the process ❤️

— — —

The small island is truly a forbidden gem on the vast cerulean sea. It sits on a horizon break halfway between Velazquez Point and Spanish Bay; a lush, green paradise seemingly isolated from any known trade route. I’ve crossed this way many times before, though today was the first time a wayward squall took us off-course.

I was—naturally—thrilled to find uncharted land. It’s been months since a new discovery and my patience was beginning to fester. However, my find will have to go unpublished for now at the decision of my ship’s crew.

We, and any others who come here, must be wary of this place. It seems the island itself is determined to remain unexplored. The white sand beaches around its perimeter burn with the heat of an unrelenting sun, while the clear turquoise water reflects its golden rays like mirrors. Many of my scouting party returned with blistering sores on their necks and faces from the intensity of it all, after only quarter-of-a-tick believe it or not. Some on the deck passed out from exertion or threatened to throw themselves into the sea in madness.

A vote was cast; I lost, Captain be damned. And though it burdens my heart to leave such a wonderful treasure behind, the crew has decided not to return again, claiming the island cursed. — from Oceans & Islands: A Sailor’s Journal by Amadaex Cabrera

— — —

“Back at it again with that book, milady?”

I lifted my head from the yellowed pages of Oceans & Islands, squinting in the sunlight which now cascaded through the window above my desk. It hadn’t even been dawn when I started reading; I’d completely lost track of time.

“Amaris. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I did call for you. Twice.” Amaris lifted two fingers as I slumped, closing the book still open under my hand.

“I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Reading? Yes, I can see that, milady. But why not a different book? You’ve read that one at least a dozen times by now. Doesn’t it get old?”

“Not to me. I’d love to be the one to discover a seemingly cursed island. It was father’s dream, too.”

At the mention of father, I briefly turned my face away from my longtime maid and friend. It had been a few months now since he passed away, but it still felt as though he’d walk in the door any second, just like he used to. I was already used to him not being around, as his work took him all over the world. He’d be gone months at a time, then would waltz back in like he’d never left. Yet knowing for sure this time that he wasn’t coming back? I squeezed my eyes shut, urging them not to burn with tears.

“Your father passed doing what he loved most.” Amaris said from where she was making the bed. “He wouldn’t want you to be cooped up in here all day.”

“I’d rather be, seeing as what Aunt Frenrise insists of me.” I replied flatly. “I feel like a prize trout when I’m with her.”

“Lady Frenrise is merely doing what Lord Pennrose asked of her.”

“I know that. I just wish things didn’t feel so…so showy all the time. I’ve dealt with it my whole life, but now that Papa is gone, she’s insufferable.”

“Lady Frenrise is a peacock amongst quail, milady. But you?” Amaris paused her work to glance at me, smiling in her matronly, sweet way. “You have the gold of sunlight in your eyes, child. Such a beautiful young woman you’ve grown up to be.”

“Hm, that’s all anyone ever says these days.” I sighed, rising from behind my desk with a stretch and leaving the warm patch of sun behind.

“It’s lucky you’re so bronzy, milady.” Amaris commented as she fluffed a pillow. “Sitting in that sun would make anyone redden like a Phoenix Fruit.”

“You know I enjoy a hot day.” I smirked, plopping onto the freshly made bed which caused Amaris to squeak in protest.

“Milady, honestly. You’re almost eighteen….”

“Please don’t make me get ready today, Amaris.” I begged, jutting out my lower lip as the woman rolled her eyes. “I just want to stay here for the rest of my life.

“Lady Aria. If I don’t get you ready, Lady Frenrise will. And we both don’t want that.”

“Hm. Point taken.” I scoffed, running a finger over the thin chain around my neck. It was still weird, wearing my father's pendant. He’d carried it for as long as I could recall—I hadn’t ever seen him take it off. I had been handed the trinket in lieu of seeing his body the day news reached Macatania of father’s death at sea. It was all the proof I needed that he was gone for good this time. His first mate had looked me straight in the eye that day, pressing the amulet into my palm with the most apologetic look an old sailor could give.

Tugging the artifact from my collar, I held it above my head and turned it between a thumb and index finger. The amulet was worn around the edges, with a center made of bluish glass like some rum bottles I’d seen. The lumpy frame was cracked and tarnished from wear, like father himself had rehammered the silver back into place several times. It puzzled me as to why he wore such an unusual, haphazard piece of jewelry. His many rings had been made of fine silver and gemstones. His earring was made of gold. He could’ve had the glass reset into something fancier; something more suited to his rank. Yet he never did.

“….milady?”

“Hm?”

I pulled my eyes from the blue glass, glancing at Amaris, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said Lady Frenrise is expecting you to be well dressed for today’s ceremony. Something interesting in that amulet?”

“No.” I tucked the necklace back under my shirt, feeling it through the cloth as to assure myself it was there. “Just thinking about father, that’s all.”

“Your Aunt sent up a dress for you….”

“Of course she did.” I sat up, giving my friend a pointed look. “How bad is it?”

“Er…not bad, milady.” Amaris drawled, refusing to meet my gaze as I scowled. “It’s, well, a lovely shade of yellow.”

“Not yellow.” I groaned, tossing myself back amongst the sheets. “Just kill me, Amaris.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Lady Aria. It’s a lovely color for you.”

“I don’t understand why she insists on the color of Sunbam every time she gets me something. It’s gaudy and attracts flies.”

“You’ll wear it for your poor Aunt’s sake, won’t you?” Amaris made a face not dissimilar to my own. “You know she only tries her best. And if you don’t wear it, I won’t ever hear the end of it.”

“I wish she’d just listen to me for once.”

“Lady Frenrise is difficult, milady. Always has been. Now come, I’ll help you dress.”

Exhaling a deep breath again, I nodded and rolled into a standing position. As we did every morning, Amaris helped remove my nightdress. The noise of discontent she made from behind my shoulder was new to the routine.

“Something wrong?” I wondered, perturbed by my friend's silence.

“Have you been feeling unwell at all today, milady?” She asked finally, meeting my gaze over my shoulder. “Any chills?”

“No? I’m perfectly fine.” Furrowing my brows, I stiffened as Amaris ran the back of her fingers along my right shoulder blade. The itching was sudden as I twisted away from her hand in surprise, keeping a yelp behind my teeth. “Gentle, Amaris.”

“You have some rashing on your back. Does it hurt?”

“Only when you touch it.” I huffed in annoyance, walking to the bedroom mirror and craning my neck to see what Amaris was talking about. Indeed, there was a small patch of reddish skin blistering along my right shoulder. It wasn’t very big, not even the size of a fist. But now that I knew it was there, the urge to scratch at it was maddening.

“We’ll put some Sunbam oil on it.” Amaris said, “Just don’t itch it or it could get worse.”

“You know, Sunbam isn’t the remedy for everything.” I teased, receiving Amaris’s wagging finger as she headed to the washroom.

“Tell that to my Maman.” The woman chortled, returning with a small silver plate of balm. “Sunbam is nature's miracle.”

With the ointment applied, I did my best to ignore the rash’s presence as we continued the routine per usual.

Indeed, Auntie’s dress was made of a gaudy yellow silk with pale lace frills around the edges of the sleeves. It’s skirt barely touched the ground, while the waist hem sat comfortably at my hips. Normally, the dresses Frenrise picked for me were conservative in build. This one however had a surprisingly low neckline, one I felt the need to cover up with a lace shawl.

“I believe Lady Frenrise sees you as an eligible young woman now, milady.” Amaris commented as she worked with my long auburn hair, pinning half of it into place with Macatanian pearls while leaving the rest to hang down my back. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“Let’s see, my overbearing Aunt trying her damndest to find me a husband by lowering my neckline?” I recounted dryly, fiddling with Papa’s pendant as I sat before the mirror. “Yes, very exciting.”

“You could find someone that suits you,” Amaris shrugged, running her fingers through my hair just as she did when I was a girl. “Elias found someone, didn’t he?”

“It was an arranged marriage.” I corrected, rolling my eyes at the mere mention of my cousin. “Besides, he’d do anything his Mama told him.”

“He seems quite happy with his blushing bride, arranged or not.”

“Elias is a simple man. He likes guns and women—there’s not much else to him.”

“Don’t speak so harshly of your cousin, milady. Don’t forget he’s family and has just lost an Uncle.”

I grimaced, but relented to the fact with a silent head nod. As much as I disliked Elias’s coarse, boyish attitude, he and Papa had been close in the months before his death. “Now, you look beautiful. Lady Frenrise will be pleased.”

I stared at myself, hazel eyes flicking across the reflection in the mirror. The yellow of the dress made my skin seem even darker than it actually was as my throat constricted painfully tight. “Come now, child.” Amaris placed her hands on my shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. “Any longer and Lady Frenrise might send the Navy.”

— — —

“You look beautiful, Aria. Simply stunning.”

I smiled at Aunt Frenrise as best I could, bouncing a heel as the carriage clattered down the cobblestone road towards the harbor. My Aunt had been my primary guardian since I was born. What with how often Papa had to travel, it was a surprise we weren’t closer than we were. But Aunt Frenrise wasn’t someone I had much in common with, even after so many years of being under her care. She was a traditional sort of woman, preferring to keep the house and wear expensive fabrics and gems than pick up a book or take a late night swim.

“Thank you, Aunty.”

“I just knew this dress was for you,” she continued without missing a beat. “Yellow is such a wonderful color. Though I wish you’d show that neckline a bit more? It’s terribly hot for a shawl.”

“It’s to keep my shoulders from burning, Aunty.” I lied simply, glancing out the window again as the buildings and shops of Macatania grew scarcer and scarcer as we approached the East Harbor. “Is Elias excited about today?”

“Simply over the moon,” the woman chirped, clapping her gloved hands together as she tossed her white gauzy scarf over her shoulder. “Imagine it. Me, the mother of a Naval Officer.”

“I never thought Elias was interested in military service.” I mused honestly. “He seemed much more keen on traveling.”

“He’s a bit of a free spirit I suppose, but Catalina has been so good for him. She’s a wonderful influence. They’ll make beautiful children together.” Aunty sighed happily, melting into her corner of the carriage. “Now that he’s ready to settle down, I can focus more on finding you a suitable match.” She drawled, staring at me with her deep blue eyes. “You know the walls talk. It won’t be hard to find someone who will absolutely ravish you.”

“Aunty.” I breathed, feeling embarrassed heat crawl up my neck to my ears.

“What? I’m just saying that there are plenty of men in Macatania who would go to the ends of the world for your attention. You’re a beauty, child. I already know at least one who has begun drafting an impressive dowry, hm?”

“If you’re referring to Officer Ambrose, I’m not interested.”

Aunt Frenrise pouted as I removed a pale silk fan from my skirt, flicking it open as a cue to halt the current topic. Unfortunately, my Aunt wasn’t keen on being brushed off.

“Oh, tush, Aria. Ambrose is a perfectly respectable man. He has a wonderful position and could build you the perfect home.”

“He’s also primitive, Aunty.” I argued unhappily. “I’m not an object to be won, nor a gem to be admired.”

“I never said that; merely implied that he could make a wonderful husband.”

“What if I don’t want a husband?” I retorted, fluttering my fan a bit faster. “I want to sail, just like Papa.”

“My child, there’s no place for us on the high seas,” Aunt Frenrise said with furrowed brows. “It’s terrible luck, you know. You belong here in Macatania, safe, sound and settled down with someone who will protect you.”

“You didn’t stop Elias from going to sea.”

“No. Because it’s traditional for men to join the Navy at his age; it’s an honor he’s chosen to take. I will not hear of my niece out gallivanting with some…some degenerates on a boat.”

“But….”

“I will not hear another word of this, Aria,” Aunt Frenrise insisted, lifting a warning brow. “You will be in the company of Officer Ambrose today at the ceremony and that is that. His offer for your hand will no doubt dwarf any others; he may just be your perfect match.”

“Father would’ve let me sail.” I muttered, slowing my fan as my head drooped. Aunt Frenrise shook her head, snapping open her own fan.

“Yes. But look where that’s gotten him.” Her eyes narrowed unhappily as I slumped even more, feeling Papa’s pendant resting against my skin. “Aria, I promised Atticus I would look after you; it was the last promise I ever made to him. The sea is no place for a young woman, I don’t want to see you end up like he did.”

“Quite.” I rasped, turning my head away from my Aunt’s attention. Refusing to look at her again lest my emotions get the better of me, I stared out at the beautiful Macatanian sea glistening in the afternoon sun. A few boats were moored off the rocks, their brilliant ivory sails shining as though illuminated.

A few months ago, one of them could’ve been Papa finally returning home from a long journey. He would stomp into the house with his big heavy boots, reeking of salt and seaweed. The man would haul me into his arms till my feet dangled off the floor, spinning me around like a windmill until I begged him to stop. He would tell stories of what he saw and show me worn journals and maps used during the trip. We would talk for hours before falling asleep sitting at the table, content and happy.

Those times, all of them, were now just memories. Papa was dead, settled at the bottom of the ocean never to return while I was expected to take a husband. To settle down as some Officer’s wife in order to raise children, keep home and never leave Macatania’s pale shores.

It felt like I’d just swallowed a rock, pursing my lips to keep from choking on it. Tears burned my eyes as the sniffles caught in my nose, causing my whole body to hurt.

“Please don’t cry, Aria.” Aunt Frenrise sighed, though I still refused to look at her past my fan which still waved out of mere habit. “It won’t be as awful as you think,” she mused, no doubt smiling as a single tear ran down my cheek. “I just know it.”

—

—

To those who made it to the end, thank you! Always appreciated ❤️ I like this concept a lot so I hope to explore it more :)

[hazel-of-sodor]

Bakers Dozen: Liscensed Ships I want in Star Trek Online

Welcome back to Bakers Dozen! This time we return to Star Trek Online ships, but instead of canon, its liscensed. Simply put, 12 ships (and one honorable mention) I want in STO, that aren’t canon, but appeared in an offical Star Trek Product (Books, Comics, Games, Ect.)

1.Premonition Class 

Hailing from Star Trek Armada, The U.S.S. Premonition went back in time to warn the Enterprise E of an impeding borg invasion. I never had the full game, but I played the demo countless times. Just look at her. She aleady looks like an Sto ship. One of the most iconic Star Trek Video games ships, I think she would be a great ship to appear in the current arc time/multiverse themed arc.

2.Yorktown Class (ENT Era)

Long before Captain Seven of Nine commanded the enterprise, and even long before STO. There was a Yorktown Class Starship in Star Trek Legacy. Star Trek legacy was the first star trek game I owned, and the Yorktown was a favorite of mine. The battleship to the NX Cruiser, the Yorktown was a powerhouse in the 22nd century. She’d need a new name, as the current Enterprise in STO is a very different Yorktown Class, but we could always use more Enterprise era ships.

3.Belknap/Ascension Class

Quite possibly my favorite TMP Era design (yes including the refit) The Belknap from  Ships of the Star Fleet Vol. 1 is the Constitution Refit’s smaller agile cousin. Stripped of diplomatic suites and scientic labratories, the Belknap posseses the Constituion’s firepower in a more compact and agile frame.

A “Dreadnoght” version exists, the Ascension class, but it’s literally a Belnap with the third nacelle of a Federation classs refit, maybe to give her longer warp sustainability?

4.Andor Class

This TMP era missle cruiser was introduced with FASA, and I loved this odd ball. I could see her functioning as a TMP era defiant, a small ship darting in with heavy torpedo fire. Also more TMP is always a win

5.Archer Class

Apperaing in the Star Trek Vangaurd Novels, this was a tiny tos scout ship, with only a crew of 14, and still didn’t have enough room for personal bunks. Incredibly fast and agile, she was too small for turbolifts, instead only having ladders.  Pls let me 1v1 a cube with this smol ship. Also TOS Ships are always a win.

6. Aegis Class

The U.S.S. Aegis is the hero ship of Star Trek Bridge Crew, and my god what a gorgeous ship. STO needs more Kelvin ships, and what better one than a proper Hero ship that has her own games, and looks this good?

7.Romulan Warbird, Unknown Class

This Stormbird (Romulan D7) esk dreadnought appeared in the DC Star Trek Comics in the 80s. Decades later, younger me would find the comics as a kid, and fall in love with this oship. Romulan TMP Warbird? Sign me up! Pls?

Also this comic has this awesome shot

8.USS Dorothy Garrod

From the IDW Dicovery Comic, this Federation science vessel looks cool. Thats it. Thats all I know. Discovery rep is always a win.

9.D-18 Gull Class

A Klingon ship from Fasa, this is a troop transport. Its weird and I love it. I had a fried who 3d prints move the neck to the top of the secondary hull and flip the bridge module upside down for a more traditional look, but I dont have any good pics of her on hand.

10. Chandley Class

Speaking of troop transports, The Chandley is perhaps Fasa’s most popular ship, and its not hard to see why. Maybe Sto, could give her a boarding console. 

11.Saladin/Hermes

Orginally appearing in the Star Fleet Technical Manual by Franz Joseph, this ship has TOS and TMP varaints, as well as a Kelving timeline version from both the comics and Star Trek Fleet Command. Simple yet iconic, with so many flavors. Legendary Discovery Variant?

12.Insignia Class

This gorgeous ship originally was a fan design, then was included in the Ships of the Line calender. It later appeared in the TNG Waypoint comics as the ‘Chimer’ class...USS ENTERPRISE???

This version of the Enterprise served at the same time as the Enteprise E (ummmm?) and was commanded by Geordi La Forge.

The Chimer name sucks though. Insignia class is a way better name.

Honorable Mention:

Locknar class

Another Fasa Ship, this is an honorable mention bc it is kinda...maybe...canon?

In Lower Decks we she the USS Titan’s lineage wall...including what was confirmed to be a Locknar class USS Titan?

Yes I am a TOS/TMP nerd, how can you tell?

[swtorramblings]

The Soldier and the Storm-???: Life Day on Alderaan

Festive Vaylin by @fleeting-sanity​

The mission successful and the Sith Academy demolished once again, they fled Korriban, a number of the “students” going with them. Akharo and Jorgan were having to coral a number of children on board the command ship, since it was where they had the most space. The boy that had been thrown at her, Uzani, had been cleared by the ship’s medical droid and followed the General the entire trip.

Vaylin returned willingly to her meditation chamber, little more than another cage. Akharo thought that was odd, but also probably wise. The dozen or so youngling force sensitives they had on the command ship was not something she thought the former Empress should be around. Even though she was following orders, there was always that feeling like a timer was counting down when she was nearby. Eventually, they landed on Alderaan, where the Alliance had allies, though the Republic disavowed the attack, some members of the Senate outright condemning it. The young adults were taken to be processed separately, possibly to find new homes, possibly to enter training. It had been their choice to leave the Academy, it had to be their choice what they wanted to do next, too. The youngsters, though, had been left with the Alliance forces for now. Two score Force sensitive children all told, barely in control of their abilities, was not something that could be handled just now. They were happily playing outside the city where their ships had landed. It was nearly Life Day, and some small gifts and food were being brought up from a generous nearby village. They seemed to be enjoying the festivities. Akharo assumed this was new to them, but who could know? She had no idea if it was celebrated in the Empire. That’s when she noticed that a few had separated from the rest, sitting nearby in a desolate area, and went to see why. Oh. She was out. “Hello, younglings, are you bothering our friend, here?” The Storm looked up at her from the rocky ground she was sitting on. “They’re fine. They just decided they wanted to sit with me. Don’t ask me why.” Well, whatever Akharo thought of her, she had brought the Academy crashing down and freed them. Were they grateful? “Because you’re powerful and we want to be powerful, too.” Vaylin tried to interrupt. “You don’t want…” “Because you can break anything that tries to hurt us again.” “Well, yes, but…” Uzani, who had followed Akharo up here, said, “And because we know you will.” It didn’t take the Force to see the thoughts going through Vaylin’s mind, or the emotions. Eventually she turned away, saying, “If you’re too weak to break them yourselves, why do you think I’d do it for you?” “Because you wanted someone to do it for you.” Did the boy have a death wish? This was Vaylin he was talking back to. Or did he know something Akharo didn’t? That’s when the snowball streaked toward Vaylin’s head. Much faster than the boy could have thrown it. He must be using his talents. Vaylin just caught it with her own power, leaving it hovering there, half a meter from her face. She turned with that predatory grin and said, “What was this supposed to do?” Akharo had seen decorated soldiers blanch at that smile. Uzani, though, just said, “Distract you.” That’s when snowballs started flying at the Storm from all directions as the younglings demonstrated why they were here. Mostly, she caught them like she had the first or dodged them, but there were so many she was eventually pelted by several at once and knocked into a snowbank. For several moments, there was just the sound of children’s laughter. Akharo both wished she had her blaster cannon and knew it would do no good. There was steam coming from where Vaylin had fallen, and some sparks. And then, an unnatural sound, a sound that hadn’t been heard in over a decade. Vaylin’s laughter. Not the laughter of the broken thing that had emerged from Nathema, not the laughter of a spirit being broken, but almost the laughter of a child. Laughter from a place something like joy. She scrambled back to her feet, and the fight was on. One snowball sped toward Akharo, which she almost knocked from the air with her gauntleted hand, but she knew it was no threat and she let it hit her in the face. Let them have their fun, and it gave her an excuse to join in.

Later, with the children in bed and Vaylin still sitting on that same rocky outcropping, Akharo approached her again and asked, “Were you actually enjoying yourself?” Vaylin shrugged and said, “Maybe. Or maybe I just went along because I didn’t want the Alliance to kill me if I hurt the children. Or to make you trust me a bit. How could you be sure?” Akharo thought about that for a moment, then went and sat down next to her former enemy, looked out over the mountains to the stars as Vaylin did. “I don’t think you’re that good an actor.” She looked over and saw Vaylin’s grin. “I think you’d be surprised.” Maybe she would at that. But, for now, Vaylin had helped them make this day possible, and also to comfort children that had left the only life they’d ever known, horrible as it was. And that would be enough. “Happy Life Day.” Then they sat in silence and watched the snow and the stars.

[andallthatmishigas]

Numbers 1 through 25 for my darling Ruth Evershed? Pls? 😊

Oof this was a journey, thank you friend! Here we go...

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I adore Ruth because she is clever and kind and so strong. Her strength comes through her kindness and vulnerability. She's got this sweet humor that I just love, too.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Her mind. She's quick and she knows everything. She can translate a dozen languages and make jokes while she does it and she takes the initiative to create spook taxis.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Despite her strength and convictions in pushing through and doing what is right, she runs scared. She lets her fear overtake her in everything other than the job. She lets her guilt combine with that fear to paralyze her. She spends so much time being less happy than she could be, and it's tragic and frustrating as hell.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Oh I would love movies with Ruth. I wanted to say book but I've lowkey written like 3 books worth of content about her and what I really want is to see Nicola as Ruth do more things.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

I've got multiple playlists of HR inspiration but the number one for me is Sky Full of Song by Florence + the Machine

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Oof I don't know what I could feel comfortable admitting to. I want to say intelligence but that feels like hubris. I think her shy awkwardness is a part of me. I'll go with that.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

There is a great respect for the pain and grief and depression that is so inherent in her character.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I've read some absolute nonsense when it comes to this fandom and one of my least favorite things is turning her into some kind of cold badass. She has her moments of that but she never approaches any situation from that perspective and I don't appreciate any depiction of her that jumps right to that.

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

Absolutely. I think we'd get along famously. She seems to live very similarly to how I do.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

I would love to be. I think she'd like me and I would love to be close with her.

11. Would you date this character?

No, I don't think we'd blend well romantically. I am attracted to confidence and a somewhat dominant personality and Ruth certainly doesn't have that.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Oh man so many that I don't even fully know what's headcanon and what's actual canon. But I do like writing her as being very prone to clutter (which I am as well) and that it drives Harry nuts. I also like to think she tries to be an ambitious cook but things never really turn out. Like making Christmas dinner and having everything be edible but also slightly burned and slightly cold.

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

I'm on my laptop but I'll go with the dark blue heart. I don't know if she'd use emojis much but that's one that makes me think of her.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Lmao poor Ruth doesn't have much of an aesthetic. But I guess just like professional/demure? I like to think that in another world where she continue to work for the Home Secretary and develop her career further, she would dress like Hannah on The Split.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Harry and Ruth are literally the only reason I watch the show.

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

I don't know that I've really seen anything else? I guess I'd be very pissed off if she ever got paired with Tom or Adam or Lucas. Any of the women or any of the male junior agents I wouldn't really mind. But the 'leading men' are all trash and don't deserve her.

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

Has anyone put Ruth and Jo together? I wouldn't hate that.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

Ruth's relationship with Malcolm is very important to me.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

The entire history of Ruth and her shithead brother bums me out. But I appreciate that it's very important to her character.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

They never get to be onscreen together but I desperately wish we could have had Ruth and Connie be buddies.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Asdfghjkl I have written so much for Ruth and I love to write her being a little playful. She has a sense of humor and I think she has the capacity to be a bit naughty and I love getting to show that. Something I don't like is having to dig into that cowardice she has because I want her to be happy and she won't let me sometimes.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

I will be honest, I only read my own fic at this point. When I get into a new ship, I read a lot of fic but then once I start writing my own, I focus on that. I am my own target audience so I write things that I want to read. So in my own stories, I love reading domestic fluff with Ruth and Harry. I don't like reading them fighting (even though it leads to such good stuff and I appreciate the necessity of it).

23. Favorite picture of this character?

S8 is the most beautiful she looks and I adore her hair so much

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

Dr. Ruth Galloway from the Ruth Galloway Mysteries by Elly Griffiths (who also ends up with a gruff man named Harry) is similar to our Ruth, I think.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I found her adorable. Still do. But the depth of her that we see in the later seasons just expands my love of her so very much.

[raouwul]

Do proshippers interact with you often? And how do you deal with them?

Only once luckily! They only managed to send one message and I blocked them. I’ve still seen like a dozen pop up on my feed because the majority of those douche bags don’t put any goddamn tags or warnings- but uh more useful-ish stuff is whenever I see some blog I consider following cause hey? same fandom! Or cool art I go through these steps

Filter out said offending tags and words in my settings (doesn’t work like 60% of the time because again, they don’t usually tag their shit or it’s spotted the word on someone who said ‘hey I don’t like ‘pro shit pls leave me alone’ and you don’t know if it’s going to be a dni or that sorta content until you click see post)

Look through the prospective blog’s posts since some don’t have ‘pro ship’ or ‘antis dni’ in their bio

I see a post that IS that sorta content! I go through the notes and I block them all along with the original poster

I don’t see anything suspicious but y’know I’ve been burned before so maybe send in an anon ask about it?

Pray to the universe or whatever the hell you believe in.

This doesn’t work all the time and it is a hassle! I’ve yet to try step 3 yet since I just thought about it recently but I hope this helps! I’ve only been on this site for a few months so idk if there are any other ways but that’s what I’ve been doing 🙏🏽

[xocasper]

hey!! i was wondering if u could mayb do a ray toro smut w fem!reader? so like the readers in the band and she kisses someone on stage (like how gee and frank used to) and basically ray gets jealous because he has a thing for her and after the show they are sharing a hotel room bc they have to (one bed trope oml). ray blurts out smth abt how he cant believe she kissed however shes like why and he kisses her and one thing leads to another... can u pls make ray the dom? like rough but still loving?

i love ur work sm <333

Wrecked and Jealous

Pairing: Ray Toro x Fem!Reader Summary: You share a heat-of-the-moment kiss with Frank on stage, and it sets Ray off. After the show, you have to share a bed with Ray, and he has little choice but to tell you the truth. Warnings: NSFW content Tags: mild angst, jealous sex, nipple play, rough sex Word Count: 2858 A/N: I have written so much within the past four days. It's been insane. After having awful writer's block, I'm abusing my passion for writing while I have it. Also, the reader is basically Matt Cortez in this. I love Matt.

For as long as you’d known the band, you never thought you’d be playing on stage with them for thousands of adoring fans, listening from a few feet away as they screamed lyrics back to Gerard as he pranced around the stage. You’d seen dozens of their shows, but playing one was a different story. When Mikey got married and decided to take a break, their choice for a substitute was unanimous, picking their very own guitar tech–you.

Of course, you were flattered, and with a bit of convincing, you decided to join them on stage, feeling more grateful than ever that you had bothered to learn bass. Even though they were told to pick a touring musician, or at least someone with “a little more experience,” the band stood firm, insisting that it had to be you. They felt more comfortable having a friend on stage, especially after knowing you for several years already, though one of them pushed harder than the others.

Ray had convinced not only their manager, but you, that you were a perfect substitute, swearing up and down that the fans would love you–and they did. Admittedly, you moved a bit more than Mikey did, and while you didn’t have Frank’s level of energy, you still put on a show like the rest of them. You didn’t have to do much to get them screaming, and if you didn’t have them at the start, you’d have them hooked with Give ‘Em Hell, Kid.

Playing aside, any interaction with Frank sent them into a frenzy. Not that either of you minded; working with Frank for so long had made you pretty close friends, and he had a blast messing around with you. When he wasn’t rolling around on stage, he was brushing up against you like a cat and resting his head on your shoulder, practically hanging off of you while you played.

People loved it, and it didn’t take long for them to start shipping you guys, much to Ray’s dismay. From across the stage, he’d watch as you fooled around with Frank, how he made you laugh any time he’d try to pick you up, and the way you’d kick your legs with a wide smile on your face as he dragged you around. Occasionally, your skirt would ride up, exposing your bare thighs and a little more curve than what’s appropriate, riling up the teenage crowd as they saw a nearly half-naked girl for the first time. Ray had to side with the crowd, getting flustered at the sight, though he felt a pang of jealousy that Frank was the cause of it.

It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, trying to keep in mind that you and Frank were just friends. This worked for a little while, until one particular show when Frank got one hell of an adrenaline rush and made a rash decision. Between two songs, he ran up to you at full speed, hands planted firmly on your waist as he pulled you in, his lips crashing against yours in a heat-of-the-moment kiss. This wasn’t a light peck either; your arms wrapped around his neck, almost immediately–as if it were a common occurrence, Ray noted–passionately tugging him closer.

As anyone could’ve guessed, the fans lost their minds, hooting and hollering as you pulled away, giving him a smile and a playful shove. Gerard was shocked, giving the two of you a look while the next song started up, one of surprise rather than annoyance. Ray, on the other hand, had an obvious look of distaste, trying to ignore the very steamy kiss he had to witness between the girl he liked and his bandmate.

He played the rest of the show in a bitter mood; you and Frank got along swell though, making his jealousy increase tenfold. Thankfully, the show ended soon after, and Ray wanted nothing more than to hide away in his hotel room and hopefully not think of you. Tonight was not in his favor though, because all he could do was think about you, watching you closely on the way there while you chatted with Gerard–and still, not him.

You weren’t intentionally ignoring him, he just seemed upset and distant, and you didn’t want to ask about it with the guys around. The trip back to the hotel wasn’t long, so you’d be able to sit him down sooner or later.

When you entered the lobby, Ray went up right away to get the keys, mentally drained and seeking solace in the form of a warm bed. This seemed fine at first, the rest of you standing around chatting about the show, only to be interrupted with some unfortunate news.

“They overbooked,” Ray announced, a bit frustrated at the situation. “They can give us three rooms, which means someone will be alone, and the rest of us have to share.”

Bob immediately piped up, “Dibs on the single.”

No one bothered to argue, save for a sigh from Ray. Frank was next to speak, “I’ll share with Gerard.”

That was fair, the two of them shrugging casually, leaving you and Ray to share as well. He gave you a tight-lipped smile, trying to hide his annoyance as he handed you a key, the rest of the guys already piling into the elevator.

“There are two beds, right?” you asked, trying to be conscious of his comfortability, but he took it to heart, giving a hostile shrug. Okay, weird. He was usually optimistic, and he never cared about having to share a bed with anyone else–maybe it was because of you.

He fumbled nervously with the key as you reached the door, and you offered to try, only seeming to annoy him more. He ignored you and pushed the door open a bit too hard, guilt flashing in his eyes as you jumped from the bang it made as it hit the wall. A soft apology was on the tip of his tongue, but so was an envious outburst, so he kept his mouth shut and walked inside.

Your eyes widened as you stepped in, “Oh shit.”

One bed. No futon, no couch, and not even a large bed at that–a double, with four stiff pillows and a slim chance that you wouldn’t be touching. He let out an exasperated sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if there would be another place to sleep when they opened. To make matters worse, it was freezing, which meant you’d have little choice but to huddle together.

You let Ray dwell on his misfortune for a moment, leaving him to check the closet for extra blankets while you changed in the bathroom. You could hear him curse through the wall, and you hustled to see what was wrong this time.

“The thermostat doesn’t work,” he told you, and sure enough, it wouldn’t budge. Of course, you had only packed shorts and t-shirts to sleep in, so you miserably accepted an icy death. You sighed in disappointment, climbing under the covers as he undressed in front of you. Flushing, you stared up at him, a bit shocked at his shamelessness. He only raised his eyebrows at you, shucking off his jeans and reaching into his bag for a pair of sweatpants. Your eyes flickered down to his waist, and then a little further, unabashedly tracing the prominent outline in his boxers.

Ray pretended not to notice, not after the stunt that Frank pulled earlier. Maybe he would have made a sly comment about it on another day, but he was still overcome with hurt and jealousy, getting into bed and staying as far away from you as possible. He managed to make the already chilly room colder, his pessimism starting to get to you as you turned around, your back to his.

The room was dark, and though you couldn’t see him, you could feel each of his movements. Ray wouldn’t stop shifting around, tugging the blanket off of you as he tried to get comfortable. After about five minutes of tug of war, you finally snapped. “What is your problem?”

Your tone surprised him, but he continued to ignore you, not in the mood to have a heart-to-heart–especially not with you. Annoyed, you sat up and flicked the table lamp on, receiving a huff from him.

“Ray.”

“What?” he answered flatly.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to hide the impatience in your voice, although you were genuinely concerned about him.

He sighed, “Nothing.”

You tried again, voice more stern. “Ray.”

Finally, he sat up against the headboard, eyes darting down to where you had your arms crossed, incidentally pushing your chest up–you weren’t wearing a bra either, making him wonder if your shirt was that tight earlier or just now. This wasn’t the time to be checking you out though, and he gave another stubborn, “What?”

You didn’t give in, eyes narrowed as you waited for him to answer. One staring contest later, he heaved a sigh and ran a hand down his face.

“I can’t believe you kissed him.”

Your expression softened, “What do you mean?”

“Frank,” he said. “You kissed him.”

Shaking your head in confusion, you tried to figure out what the issue was. “Why do you care?”

“Because I–”

The words got caught in his throat from there, shutting his eyes and sighing softly before cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a heated kiss. It didn’t last long, his common sense kicking in quick, and he broke away. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you worriedly.

You didn’t answer–not verbally, anyway–bringing him back in by the nape of his neck. His lips were soft, clashing perfectly with the way they moved, fierce and biting, his grip on your jaw unwavering. You gave a soft gasp when he pulled away, gently tugging on your bottom lip before swiping his tongue across it. He sighed against your lips as you slid your hands down his bare chest, delicately running your nails over his skin. Languidly, your tongue slipped past the seam of his lips, your light movements soon corrupted by his more fervent ones.

Ray’s fingers danced across the hem of your shirt, caressing the sliver of skin below it before gliding his hands under the thin fabric. His hands were warm, and slightly calloused, contrasting against your skin, smooth and cold from the frigid room.

“You’re cold,” he mumbled, pulling away.

You nodded, grinning like a minx. “Warm me up then.”

Eagerly, he complied, tugging you down against the pillows. His lips latched onto your neck, leaving wet kisses galore, with a periodic nip at your clear skin, soon to house faint marks that would remind you of Ray for days to come. His hands cupped your breasts beneath your shirt while his mouth trailed down your collarbones, thumbs sweeping across your nipples eliciting a quiet gasp from you.

The minute he pulled away, you tugged your shirt off, craving his touch once more. His lips landed back on yours, kissing you hot and messy before ducking back down to your chest, staring breathlessly at your bare skin, on display for him alone. He wasted no time kissing across the newly exposed skin, hands planted on your waist while his lips ghosted across one of your nipples, his warm breath making you shiver.

He wet his lips, holding your gaze as he swirled his tongue around it, missing the mark every time in a way that was almost impressive. In a single broad stroke, he ran his tongue flat against it, making you arch, pushing yourself further against him. His hands pushed you back down as he continued to work his tongue against you, unforgiving and just shy of overwhelming, closing his lips around the bud and coming off almost as quick.

He didn’t stop there, swapping sides and lapping at your nipple once more, each moan and sigh going straight to his dick as he worked his tongue against you. His hands dug into your sides, holding you against the mattress in an authoritative way, arousal seeping through your panties. With the way he used his mouth, you could only imagine how it’d feel between your legs, but that was a task for another time.

Slowly, he pulled off, your grip on his shoulders tightening and he stared down at you, eyes wide and lips slick with saliva. His expression alone had you wanting more, needing to see the look in his eyes as he fucked you, his grip tight and thrusts harsh as he pounded you into the mattress.

Ray tugged down your sleep shorts, watching your expression for uneasiness, but only finding desperation. You had seen him play a million times, eyes transfixed on his hands during shows, and just the thought of him using them on you sent arousal flooding through you. He ran the pads of his fingertips across your panties, damp from where you had soaked through, nearly moaning knowing you were this wet for him, not for Frank or Gerard, or anyone else–just for him.

Hastily, he pulled those down too, and you let out a hiss as you were fully exposed to the cool air. Ray had no problem warming you up as instructed earlier, one hand on your jaw to keep you from looking away, the other sweeping through your wet folds. He savored every sound you made, fueling his desires as he pushed his fingers inside of you. They were thicker than yours, filling you nicely as he worked them, stretching you out before you tried to take him. If his fingers were anything to go by, you were in for a long night.

His impatience got to him, and even though he had a lovely view watching you writhe and moan from just his fingers, he would kill to see you fall apart on his cock. You were in no way opposed to it, bucking your hips into his hand as his thumb rubbed your swollen clit, needing more with each passing second.

“Please,” you mumbled out, moaning against his lips as he kissed you.

He understood, not needing more than a small plea to take his fingers back, the whine you let out playing on repeat as he wriggled out of his sweatpants and boxers, kicking them off as his cock stood proud before you. God, was he a sight for sore eyes, looking like he walked straight out of an erotica novel, dribbling precum as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking him while he lined himself up between your legs.

Before he pushed in, he paused, knowing this was an inopportune moment to bring it up, but he craved reassurance. “You’re not… there’s no one else, right?”

You shook your head, shooting him a small grin, “Nope, just you.”

A sweet smile graced his face, kissing you once before thrusting in. He gave you a moment as he pushed in completely, waiting for a sign to keep going. A gentle nod and he kicked into gear, his hips snapping roughly against yours. His hands migrated to your hips, his grip firm as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace. Despite the powerful force he used, his eyes were gentle, making sure that you still wanted this.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, gaze lingering on your half-lidded eyes and kiss-bitten lips, slick and swollen as he kissed you.

Struggling to find words through your lust drunk haze, you pulled him closer, arms slung around his neck as you moaned against him, muscles winding tight from his relentless rhythm. Reluctantly, he pulled away, watching in awe as you came undone below him, breath stalling as he gave a few strong thrusts and slid out, coating your stomach in pure sin.

Exhaustion hung heavy in the room, the low temperature getting to you once more as you reached over to Ray, who laid flat on his back as he caught his breath.

“You okay?” he asked faintly, handing you a tissue from the nightstand to clean up the mess. You mumbled a small ‘thanks,’ unsure of how to answer.

You’d always been fond of him, typically talking to him more than the other guys, and spending as much time around him as you could. Your feelings hit you like a brick, realizing all the little things you did for him, unaware that it was because you were interested in him. Sure, you knew you felt differently about him compared to everyone else, but you never dwelled on it too much. You liked him, and he liked you too, which sounded pretty damn good in your opinion, smiling softly as you looked over at him.

“Is this a dream?” you asked, curling into his chest.

“If it is, I hope I never wake up,” he told you, pressing a sleepy goodnight kiss to the top of your head, holding you close just in case he woke up in the morning and you were gone. You didn’t mind, arms wrapped tightly around him as you slipped away into a peaceful slumber, happy to be held in the dark of the night.

taglist: @lubbockshusband @yachiiko @newgirlinhell @blackberryblossom @whothefuckisfranklero @griffinfinity @heaveaux @aliceblxck @ce-ci @halloweenbitch2764 @saywhaaaa

[silverutahraptor]

Hmmm I think I know most of your Izuna ship opinions so: what about Izuna/Mito?

OHHH HELL YEAH THANK YOU FOR ASKING

Whether I ship it or not

YES PLS

Why I ship it or not

Listen. They're both characters with very few panels each despite both having SO MUCH impact on the plot. I think they should smooch and be very p(r)etty together

My opinion on their canon potential (chemistry, canon interactions, etc)

...........

My opinion on fanon interpretations/fandom around it (Favorite widespread hcs, pet-peeves, etc)

uhhhh there's not much i think??? I love them both as political AND fighting powerhouses. Also it's funny when Izuna is attracted to someone who's kicking his ass (though this can be overdone so like, in small doses). They're both good at emotional manipulation and should do it together after trying it out on each other first. Everyone should be afraid of them

Actually I'm using this opportunity to shamelessly yell about some of my Izuna/Mito plot bunnies while I have you all here sorry there's no stopping me now

undercover AU where Izuna, for mission reason, is disguised as a civilian smith on a ship that gets attacked by pirates. The ship is rescued by Uzumaki shinobi before Izuna reveals himself but because the Uzumaki are super secretive about where they live everyone on the ship is now gently kidnapped to Uzushio. Izuna goes along with it because he is NOT about to blow his cover in the middle of the damn ocean surrounded by a dozen Uzumaki. Shenanigans where the Uzumaki princess finds this talented smith who's WAY too comfortable around shinobi both very sus and charming while Izuna is like WELP I MIGHT JUST TRY TO FLIRT MY WAY OUT OF THIS. Months pass and then Uzushio is attacked by a biju. Izuna is halfway through escaping Uzushio in the chaos, but then he has a sudden case of Conscience (tm) because he started to care and while he has no doubt Mito-hime will probably save the day he's like... what if I... just help a little bit... feat. Mito going "I need you to hold the biju still for as long as you can" and Izuna all "for you I'll hold it forever" and then he Susanoo's the shit out of the biju before finding out he could also have just used genjutsu. RIP. Anyway Mito goes FUCK I'M INTO THIS

female!Izuna/Mito. In this one Izuna is pretending to be her father's son for Very Specific Reasons and one day she runs into Mito on the battlefield and has the ubiquitious bi experience of "Do I want to BE her or do I want her to step on me?!?!?!" (both, Izuna, it's both.)

[asexualone]

(pls take the time to read)

Signs I should have known I was aro: Disney edition

I think this topic has been stressed a lot already. But here is my take, anyway.

Of course, romantic love had been, is and will always be one of the main themes in kids' movies. Why, I can never fully understand. I'll explain below how I like other themes more.

Some time ago, I did a post on the kiss/hug scenes in Rapunzel which depicts how much more I value acts of showing love that don't include kissing.

Not only those two. I have a history of hating Disney on-screen smooches. As a kid, I thought, "Well, maybe, I don't like seeing these characters kiss because it's a grownup thing."

Could you blame me? When my parents were in the room and a kissing scene appeared on the screen, they changed the channel. So my toddler brain concluded that the reason I didn't like watching kisses was because I wasn't of age to like it. Or something.

At the time, I had no idea that I was hand-picking my favorite movies by the level of romance they had in. Or lack thereof. And I was a very judgemental kid. Let's go through my original thoughts on some Disney classics.

Snow White — No. Just no. She's a child, fourteen. Marrying an older guy she doesn't even know. After he kisses her corpse. NO.

Cinderella — The age difference is a little better, I guess. So is the age of consent. But they only talked one (1) night and he relied on that slipper to find her instead of asking to meet all women and see for himself. Fairytale logic I guess. I didn't like how she called it love immediately and kissed the prince at least once that same night. Or how they got married immediately.

The Sleeping Beauty — Must I even explain? Aurora didn't even know Philip that much, had only met him once (if you exclude the "dreams"). And yet, he's her true love, the only one who can revive her corpse. Ridiculous. And yes, kissing a comatose body, ew. Also, the arranged marriage trope pisses me off, royalty or not. Aurora was engaged as a newborn baby, come on.

Mulan — Cinematic gold. I didn't know it back then, but the fact that romantic love is such a pushed-aside aspect in this movie gives me life. The songs give me life. Especially when the trio dresses as concubines and "Be a Man" plays in the background. An absolute gem, lmao. The sequel however ruined the story somewhat for me, too much lovey-dovey stuff. I like Mulan more when she's fighting than when she's acting all sappy towards Shang, sorry not sorry.

Peter Pan — Loved it, still do. But I did dislike the mermaids, the image of fangirls who are petty towards other girls. And Pan's brief "relationship" with Tiger Lily was nauseating to me. I couldn't explain it but when Pan blushed at her nose-nuzzling thing, I always pulled a face.

The Princess and the Frog — In my opinion, (remember, always my opinion): Tiana, this hard-working girl who doesn't belong to anyone, was lost to love. Well, not lost. But falling for Naveen in the course of three days? Unrealistic and kinda unnecessary. Sweet, but still. I adored the "relationship" between Ray and Evangeline more. Either way, it's a movie that I enjoyed when love wasn't that prominent on screen.

Aladdin — I love this movie because of the Genie. The relationship between Jasmine and Aladdin is meh. She forgot his face and didn't recognize him until later. Their coming together is a lot like that trope "first guy who treats her right sets the expectations and wins her heart". Usually that's a thing, not only in Disney movies but media in general. The female lead settles for the first guy that treats her right because the bar is that low. A good movie, all in all. Love how Jasmine stands up for herself at least. Not a lot of princesses fight against the objectification of women.

Pocahontas — I used to hate this movie. I didn't sit right with me: the racism in it, the manipulation, the murders. And the romance, yes. Pocahontas fell for the strange man who tickled her curiosity in the span of two days. I also hated how her father just sold her to marry Kocoum like that. I know it's tradition. Heck, that's a tradition that still goes on in my country. Maybe that's why I didn't like seeing it on screen. And Pocahontas doesn't even end up with John Smith. The second movie definitely ruined the story. So yes, she's the first princess who fell for a man in three days, TWICE. Needless to say, only the songs kept me from blacklisting the movie entirely.

The Little Mermaid — I actually loved this movie for some reason. I can't explain why, maybe it was my obsession with mermaids. Yeah, that was probably it. But I was pissed when Ariel exchanged her tail for legs. Not to mention human periods and overall, all the bad in the world, for a man she'd only seen once. As I grew up I realized just how f*cked up that story was: Ariel giving her entire lifestyle, family and identity up for a guy she hadn't even spoken to. I don't know why I loved that movie, alright? Hell I still do a little. The sequel too. Say what you want.

Brave — (I know this is technically Pixar, shut up) Much like the paradox with Ariel, I didn't like this movie. I can't explain it. Maybe because Merida wasn't the typical Disney princess I had been used to seeing. Now though, I ADORE that story. No, it's not because Merida knows archery... Okay, yes maybe a little. I love the aro-arrow word play, alright? Anyway, the way Merida fights against being shipped to a husband like the "tradition" I aforementioned asks her to, has always had my heart, even when I didn't like the movie. The focus on the mother-daughter relationship is special, I love it. Stellar movie.

Tangled — One of my favorite Disney movies, my favorite princess. But her relationship with Eugene.... Well. Again, three days. That's all it takes to fall in love. Classic of Disney. Not only that, but Eugene is literally the first man person Raps has ever since, besides Gothel. The bar is nonexistent for her, she would have fallen for anyone. He lied to her and she still... Well, I won't stress that any longer. Their relationship in the end is sweet, one of the few cases where we are actually shown that they would risk their lives to save each other. Respect that. Mostly, I love her magical hair and Pascal. And the guys of Snuggly Duckling.

Moana — EPIC MOVIE. The story, the culture, the character growth, the plot twist, everything! Loved it at first sight, at second and forever. Even more when I became aware that there's no romance in it. I don't think I need to say more.

Frozen — My opinions on this movie have always been changing, accompanied by mixed feelings. So the relationship between sisters was cute, but Lilo and Stitch made that more realistic. Anna's relationship with Hans, ugh. I think that for a long time I used the fact that he was the antagonist to justify my absolute hate for the way Anna "fell" for him in one evening. Again, Anna sweetheart. This is the first man you've met. The bar is nonexistent for you too. God bless Elsa for forbidding her to marry Hans. And while it's cute to think Elsa as a lesbian, she has aromantic vibes. Sorry not sorry, but she's also a God by the end of Frozen 2. Gods are beyond attraction, I said what I said.

Raya and the Last Dragon — Loved it, still do. Say what you will about "dragon Elsa". Sisu is her own character, and I adore her. And yes, I love the lack of romance in the movie. Make no mistake, I shipped Raya and Namaari from the first moment they smiled at each other. I swear on my name that I paused the movie and screamed, GAYYYY, at the top of my lungs. Luckily, I was home alone. If only Disney directors would do the right fcking thing and give me a queer main couple!! I swear I wouldn't mind the lovey-dovey romance one bit.

Of course, I've left dozens of movies out. This post is already way longer than I wanted it to be. But I think that was enough to make a point.

While I'm not romance-repulsed, seeing animated kisses (and unnecessary relationships) on screen makes me uncomfortable. As a child and as a grownup. It just doesn't sit right with me. Not to mention all these princesses who identify with their princes and specifically their relationships with said princes when they're perfect on their. Wreck it Ralph 2 made them a favor, I think, by making them work together and showing their strengths. Another movie I love.

Friendship just makes an overall better theme to apply to kids shows, my opinion. Family, work, self-discovery, mental health, happiness. These are all better themes to portray in media dedicated for children. Which is, again, my opinion.

And yes, Disney has been getting better. They've fixed the age difference and the age of consent. The female characters no longer depend on the male ones, at least not as often. They understand the assignment, alright. There are still many questionable things about Disney's reputation though, things we all choose to overlook for the sake of the good movies. But who knows? They might change. Hopefully soon we'll also have an obviously queer couple in a movie. Hope dies last.