#someone call a doctor for me

[nabis-dreamscape-world]

gentle

masterlist

pairing: owner!seonghwa x bunny!reader x fox!wooyoung

w.c.: 2.6k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au

desperate and whiny, your heat pheromones triggered wooyoung's feral instincts, forcing seonghwa to step in and teach him how to treat you properly.

A/N: I've had this idea in my notes for quite a while now, and I've wanted to write for this pair for just as long, so I'm really happy I finally got it done :"" happy reading!

nsfw & warnings under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

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warnings: dom!seonghwa, switch!wooyoung, sub!reader, heat cycles (f), unprotected sex (👎🏼), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms (f&m), breeding kink, use of restraints (leash and collar), nipple play, hwa is referred to as daddy a few times, brat taming (kinda, wooyoung is too eager for his own good), cum eating/swallowing, cum everywhere, so much cum, wooyoung used to be a stray so he struggles with controlling his animalistic instincts, nicknames (baby, bunny, darling; youngie; hwa, daddy), aftercare

*₊°。 ❀°。 *₊。 ❀°。• *₊°。 ❀。 *₊°。 ❀°。

A silent home was an unusual occurrence. In most cases, Seonghwa came back to a brightly-lit apartment, it’s two other occupants racking up the electricity bill in his absence. This time, however, it was pitch black, the living room illuminated by the single lamp shining through his open bedroom door. He looked around as he walked through the room, taking in the mayhem that had broken out between the four walls: a broken vase by the coffee table, water pooling over the carpet where a bundle of roses laid lifelessly; the couch cushions thrown haphazardly around the room, only a few left in their place, Tom chasing Jerry on the TV across from it. Walking further into the house, he noted the untouched food bowls by the kitchen’s entryway and finally allowed worry to flood his system. Seonghwa was used to his two hybrids’ rapid footsteps as they barrelled their bodies towards him the second he walked through the door, climbing his body and nuzzling into his clothes. He was used to empty bowls and whiny pleads for dinner. And despite their playfulness, he was used to coming home to a fairly clean apartment, perhaps being met with wide, glassy eyes in case they had broken something while he was at work.

A soft whimper slipped through his open bedroom door and Seonghwa’s legs moved on their own, panickily rushing through the doorway and halfway into the room before stopping. His eyes widened and his leather work bag slipped through limp fingers as he scanned the scene unfolding before him – the fox hybrid covering you with his body and consequently folding yours in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he bucked his hips into your used cunt. Seonghwa’s eyes trailed down to study where you connected, the vulgar squelch of his cum being relentlessly fucked into you, streaming out of your hole and soaking your bunny tail, the ball of fur vibrating weakly at the overstimulation.

Seonghwa had taken Wooyoung in after spotting him dragging an injured leg along the side of a busy road, nursing him back to full health and realising he had gotten too attached to the cheeky fox to let him go. You had been shy and dismissive of the curious hybrid when he first entered your home, perhaps even a little jealous when Seonghwa spent a little too much time caring for him rather than doting on you. It took the fox a few days to open up to you, and only a little over a week for you to realise that Seonghwa was right: It was hard not to love Wooyoung. It surprised Seonghwa at first when you suddenly became accepting of the other hybrid’s presence, welcoming the insistent kisses he pressed to your twitching nose and cuddling up to him on the carpet where the afternoon rays warmed the luxury wool.

After a few months of the stray fox’s move-in, Seonghwa’s surprise faded into fondness whenever he found you and Wooyoung all over each other. But this? This was unusual – Wooyoung’s tail stiff and pointed horizontally, a deep growl muffled through his gritted teeth as he ploughed his cock into you, emptying load after load into your sopping heat. You met Seonghwa’s eyes, your face turned sideways on the tear-soaked pillow, the bottom half of your face wet with a mixture of Wooyoung’s drool and your own.

Your lips widened and closed, stuttering out a few broken moans before managing to form barely-coherent words. “I, Hwa- hnngh! I-I can’t-”

The tone of your voice – desperate and pleading – broke Seonghwa out of the trance he was in, quickly crossing over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Wooyoung to pull him away from you, earning himself a brute growl from the hybrid. Seonghwa watched as pearly ribbons painted your lower belly and mound, Wooyoung’s cock twitching as he came again, immediately standing back up and Seonghwa had to tighten his grip around him to keep him off you. Wooyoung’s gaze fixed on your fluttering hole, his tongue rolling out and drool dripping onto his lap while his eyes followed the trail of cum streaming out of your cunt and pooling over the sheets where you laid.

For a few seconds, Seonghwa did the same, but he quickly tuned out the throbbing in his work pants to tend to you. He was quick to take notice of the familiar flush coating your cheeks, your eyes glazed over and unfocused and your round tail twitching every few seconds – signs he was all too familiar with. You were in heat.

“Oh, darling,” he cooed, moving Wooyoung away from you and sitting down on the edge of the bed by your waist. He cradled your face with one palm and used the other to push your hair off your face. “Your pheromones must be affecting Youngie… Are you okay?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you blinked a few times before nodding, your whole body tingling under Seonghwa’s touch. “I feel so full, Hwa…”

Seonghwa’s eyes moved down your body until they reached your core: your index and middle fingers spreading you open to show him Wooyoung’s cum overflowing from your fluttering hole as it clenched desperately around nothing. He managed one breathy curse before Wooyoung’s head lowered onto you to lap up his own release, a sudden cry leaving your lips as you grabbed at your owner’s sleeve. Seonghwa tore away from your grip to move the hybrid off you again, grabbing him by the back of his neck and angling his head to face him.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa warned, steadying him with a cautionary look.

The stray turned docile at his owner’s tone, his ears falling flat against his head and his tail drooping. “B-but… ‘want bunny to have my kits. ‘Gotta make sure she’s full of Youngie’s cum…”

Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, Seonghwa ignored the fully-formed tent in his pants – twitching and throbbing when his eyes flitted down to your dripping core – and relaxed his hold on Wooyoung’s neck. “You have to be gentle with her, Youngie. You can’t be that rough or she might get hurt,” he smoothed his palm over the fox’s head, lightly scratching behind his ear.

Seonghwa was too distracted admiring the soft blush tinting Wooyoung’s cheeks to notice your hand moving up his leg, inhaling sharply when you cupped his clothed bulge. They both looked down at you – nuzzling your cheek into Seonghwa’s thigh while your hand worked over the hard outline of his cock.

“Can daddy show Youngie how I should be treated?”

--

Wooyoung leaned forward just enough for the leash to tug on the collar around his neck and restrict his airflow, pulling back and panting heavily before leaning forward again, lips parted and drool pooling on the sheets between his legs. He fluttered his eyes shut and welcomed the steady rhythm of skin-on-skin echoing between the four walls, knowing Seonghwa’s cock was drilling his cum into your tight cunt. He opened his eyes again to take in the sheen of sweat covering both your bodies, Seonghwa’s hips relentlessly slamming into yours. It was as though your pheromones were affecting him too despite him being human; you could tell he was barely holding on, trying to maintain a sliver of control over the situation to keep you grounded.

Having spent years with Seonghwa, nothing satiated your need to be bred like he did, grinding his cock into you in a way that sent hot waves of pleasure soaring through your body and fogging up your brain. All you could think about was Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa – his fingers gripping the soft skin of your thighs, pushing one down onto the mattress and holding the other around his waist; his mouth periodically pressing against yours, swallowing up the soft melody you sang for him before peppering kisses all over your flushed face. Your whole body shuddered under his when he drove you into another orgasm, praise rolling off his tongue, his voice sweeter than honey while he guided you through your nth high.

“Fuck, good girl,” Seonghwa praised, brushing his palm over the side of your head and dipping down to peck the tip of your twitching nose. “More, baby?”

You nodded desperately, using the leg around his waist to push him closer and further into you.

"So desperate to be bred," he chuckled. "Wanna be fucked full of my cum, hm?"

“Please, please-”

He silenced your whines with a harsh thrust, the corners of his lips tugging upwards when your features relaxed, ecstasy flooding through your body. He looked to the side, taking notice of Wooyoung’s dick – the tip an angry red, leaking an obscene amount of precum – and how his eyes fixed on where the two of you connected, transfixed by his owner’s cock pumping his own cum into your stretched hole, pushing some out to dampen the soiled sheets under you.

Seonghwa let go of your hip to unclip the leash from Wooyoung’s collar, instead grabbing the leather and tugging the stray down to your chest. He didn’t waste a second before latching his mouth onto your perked-up nipple and sucking harshly. Trailing his lips over the slope of your breast, Wooyoung whispered against the slick skin and smiled slyly at the shiver that shook your body, “Gonna be so pretty when they’re swollen with milk.”

His hands remained behind his back – following the firm instructions Seonghwa had given him while securing his leash to the bedhead – digging them into his lower back as he resisted the urge to touch you. Instead, he licked his way back to your nipple, taking it between his teeth and biting down a little too hard, the sharp pain pulling a broken cry from your lips. Long fingers tangled in the hair at the crown of his head and tugged harshly, making Wooyoung face upwards to meet Seonghwa’s burning irises.

“What did I say earlier? Are you gonna be a good boy and listen to me?” Seonghwa growled, his other hand smoothing a thumb over your breast while he stared down the fox hybrid.

Wooyoung stuttered, mewling under Seonghwa’s stern hold, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise! Please, please, I’ll be so good-”

Seonghwa pumped his length between your pulsing walls to push out a dribble of the cum the fox had pumped you full of, scooping it up with two fingers and carrying it to Wooyoung’s open mouth. The hand still holding him up tugged at his hair to sit him up before stuffing his fingers down his throat. Seonghwa began grinding his cock into your heat at the sight – Wooyoung’s eyes glassy with unshed tears, his throat constricting around the long fingers fucking his own cum into his mouth. The older man knew he enjoyed being used like this, taking notice of how his cock twitched violently between his legs at the rough handling.

Seonghwa’s eyes moved back to you – whimpering under him and rolling your hips, seeking out more friction – but he continued making Wooyoung gag on his fingers. Once, twice, and the stray was painting your chest and belly with hot ropes of cum, moaning pathetically as he came untouched, the rough prodding of his owner’s fingers against his uvula enough to drive him over the edge.

But then you were cumming, clamping down on Seonghwa’s cock and deriving a breathy curse from his plush lips before he began pounding into you. Slipping his fingers out of Wooyoung’s hot mouth, he dug them into your hips and chased his own release. Your orgasm prolonged with Seonghwa’s relentless thrusting, you arched your back and gripped on Wooyoung’s thigh as the man on top of you drove his cockhead into your swollen gland, airy moans rolling off your tongue with the mind-numbing pleasure Seonghwa so generously gave you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, “so perfect, the both of you, shit-”

Seonghwa was so close, a hair away from giving you what you desperately wanted. “Please, ‘want daddy’s cum,” you pleaded, the overstimulation violently shaking your legs. “wanna have hwa’s babies, please, fill me up- hnngh!”

He thought he’d cum from that, but then Wooyoung was bending at the waist, licking a stripe over your heaving belly to lap at his own release, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed it down. Seonghwa came with a throaty groan, speeding up his movements before slowing them down to grind his hips into your pulsing cunt, milking himself of every last drop and fucking it into you until it mixed with Wooyoung’s seed.

The next twenty minutes were a blur, Seonghwa guiding Wooyoung into the shower before coming back with a damp cloth, delicately running it over your body to clean you up. You asked him not to wash out the sticky mess inside you, and upon seeing your wide eyes and the trembling of your bottom lip, he couldn’t help but do as you asked. He placed feathery kisses over the clean skin, fighting the shivers shaking your figure. Whining when he got up to leave, Seonghwa raked his fingers through your hair to calm you down, waiting with you until a head of damp hair peeked through the doorway, the stray fox instantly jumping onto the bed to cuddle into your side. Secured within Wooyoung’s arms, Seonghwa detached himself from you to hop into the shower.

Wooyoung’s lips grazed over your neck, pressing into your pulse point while his fingers caressed and squeezed at your waist and hips. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he muttered shyly, pulling at your heart strings.

Your fingers carded through his dark locks, scratching behind his ear until pleased hums vibrated against your neck. “You didn’t hurt me, Youngie, it felt good, but... could you be more gentle next time?”

Wooyoung peeled himself away from you and nodded quickly, pressing frantic, open-mouth kisses all over your face while you giggled. You spotted your owner leaning against the doorframe, a towel wrapped around his hips and fondness painted across his features as he watched his two hybrids love on each other. You reached out in his direction and made grabby hands, a grin splitting your face in half when he moved towards you with a breathy chuckle.

Tucked in between the two men, you allowed their warmth to seep into your skin, the delicate kisses planted over your shoulders, neck, and face making your body shake with giddy giggles. You knew your heat would pick up again soon, and the desperate need to be bred would take over you once again, but for now, you allowed the comfort they gave you to lull you to sleep, their steady breathing guiding you into a pleasant dream.

Seonghwa rubbed soothing circles over your hip, gluing himself to your back and moving the blanket to cover you and Wooyoung’s shoulders. He noticed the other’s man’s gaze snap back up, previously fixed between your legs to follow the trail of cum seeping out of your used hole. As though he was a teenager who’d been caught watching porn, he tried playing it off by pretending to be asleep, but his exhaustion took over him and his breathing slowly evened out. Seonghwa simply watched him, endeared by the hybrid’s high libido, always ready to pounce on you if you gave him the chance. Wooyoung nuzzled into your neck, his arm thrown over your waist and his fingertips brushing over the other man’s skin. Seonghwa’s own drowsiness pulled his eyelids shut, the world around him fading away and Wooyoung’s meek mumbling echoing in his head as he drifted away:

“I wonder how it feels to be so full of daddy’s cum... I bet it feels nice.”

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[spacedace]

Had a thought about the Reluctant War and made myself a bit sad and I have no idea if it'll make it into the story proper so I'm going to inflict it upon all you guys:

Dick Grayson on the streets of Gotham trying to do everything he can to help as everyone join the ghosts in fighting the GIW, suddenly has a version of the GAV barreling down towards him and for some reason he can't get out of the way in time.

He thinks he's about to join the army of the dead in a whole new way, when the tank fo a vehicle is suddenly sent flying as something massive charged it from the side. He hears a familiar bellowing and then realizes that it's Zitka, a ghost after passing away peacefully a few years before.

She wasn't apart of the army of the ghosts, wasn't brought in to fight. She's just been following her tiny human child around all these years and now that there's enough ecto in the air to do so, she's going to protect him with all her might.

Dick is emotional, so thankful to have his old friend back, but the city is still in a state of chaos. He gets onto Zitka's back and they get to work, running - flying - around helping to grab the injured and whisk them away to safety or take out other GAVs and the like.

It's absurd and freeing and wonderful all at once to be literally flying through the skies of Gotham on the ghost of his elephant best friend, and if Dick wasn't already on the side of King Phantom he is *now* and -

He gets shot off Zitka's back.

A GIW agent was aiming for the Ghost elephant but somehow *missed* and hit Dick instead. Not enough to injure him too badly, but enough to send him flying off Zitka's back and plummeting to the ground. His grapple is broken, and Zitka is diving for him but she's being shot at and she's not going to make it in time and -

A hand, reaching out to him in midair, familiar with its callouses and strong grip as he reaches out and grasps it, body suddenly swinging in a different direction and muscles acting on memory as he falls into the old, achingly familiar routine of his childhood. His mother, ethereal and bright as she smiles down at him, hanging upside down from a bar suspended from nothing but open sky as they swing and he is let go, flipping on instinct and caught by the steady strong hands of his father.

The Flying Graysons reunited in the skies above Gotham, Dick's ghostly parents determined to ensure their little bird never falls the way they did.

[andrew-rannells-mustache]

Idk I just think it’s so interesting how Hickey uses names and titles as a tool to manipulate the people around him (especially the mutineers). Calling Tozer “sergeant” when he’s first convincing him to mutiny, to play into his desire to follow his rank and protect. Switching to “Solomon” when he’s trying to get Tozer to open up more about the Tuunbaq. Intentionally not calling Jopson “Lieutenant” after his promotion as a subtle dig. How often he says Billy’s name, especially during the ring scene and when Billy’s entertaining the idea of a mutiny before the walk out (“speak your mind, Billy”). Smugly directing his story about kidnapping Silna to “Captain Crozier” and only Captain Crozier, then after kidnapping him only referring to him as “Mr. Crozier” and making the mutineers do the same (but Hodgson, who’s not loyal but is at least complacent to Hickey, stays “Lieutenant Hodgson”). Calling Tommy, who’s always Tommy or Mr. Armitage, “Private Armitage” when he’s ordering him to brutalize Crozier, because Hickey knows he’s always wanted to be a marine, so in his camp he’s given him the rank of one. It adds an such an interesting layer to Hickey’s “reconfigure, reinvent, rearrange” speech.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Or is it?

[a-literate-chicken]

since we’re all sharing chicken pics to the goddess of chicken doodles, here’s my late baby girl who passed away this summer. she followed me everywhere and always got a mcdonald’s hash brown whenever she came do farm chores with me. here’s seze 🥹🥹🤲🤲

rip Seze you would’ve loved chapell roan 😔✌️

I am in love with her

[bumblingbabooshka]

I hate when Chakotay is watered down to be Janeway's yes man because their disagreements are actually very interesting. [A lot of rambling analysis of this debate in particular below]

Chakotay in Parallax is very interesting in that he has to navigate a lot of different dynamics. Balance a lot of plates while being watched keenly by everyone around him. Immediately preceding this scene we see him ask B'Elanna for her opinion on the bridge - both as a chance to show her knowledge in his bid to make her chief engineer (because she wouldn't get a chance to otherwise as Janeway has clearly indicated that at this point she views B'Elanna as a troublemaker who won't be considered for the position) and because he just thinks she's a better engineer than Carey and wants the best possible chance of them succeeding. Janeway sees this as unacceptable. Carey is the chief engineer and so he should be called and Chakotay NOT asking for his opinion is an insult to Carey, Janeway, and might make the crew doubt Chakotay (and by extension the Maquis') loyalty to the Starfleet crew.

At this point it seems that to Janeway integration ["They're not your people"] means the path of least resistance, specifically tailored towards the Starfleet crew. She wants Chakotay by her side to keep the Maquis crew calm but also seems unwilling to consider them for important positions aboard the ship. Though she says that the Maquis are not Chakotay's people, not his crew, she certainly doesn't seem to consider them hers [Compare this to later instances where she stresses 'our' crew, here she simply says they aren't Chakotay's: Whose crew are they? Are they crew at all?]. This less leaves the impression of "We need to be a cohesive team" and more "You're not in charge here." She essentially accuses Chakotay of playing favorites. In her mind Chakotay's actions are not conducive to integrating the crews which would (again, in her mind) mean the Maquis being docile and accepting, obedient and content - not making trouble for the Starfleet crew. Chakotay counters Janeway's accusation with one of his own: That he IS trying to integrate them into the crew but her not allowing the Maquis any opportunity to prove themselves or succeed, not showing any trust in any of them (except, implicitly at this point, him) is making things difficult. At this point the Maquis crew are ready to mutiny on his word at any time. He knows this for a fact. Aside from that looming threat (the threat being that tensions are high and if nothing changes and they remain high there might be a mutiny even without his word) - Chakotay knows these people and trusts them. Though Starfleet and Janeway think of the Maquis as a violent bunch of criminal terrorists, Chakotay and a good number of the Maquis joined because they believed in the cause they were fighting for. These are people Chakotay knows WILL fight fiercely for what they believe in and conversely, AGAINST what they perceive as injustice. Even if they're not in the majority - they're used to picking fights which seem impossible to win. At this point Janeway admits that she ISN'T making it easy for Chakotay to integrate the Maquis - specifically talking about practical concerns; how she doesn't feel she can let Maquis crew have roles of importance on the ship because they lack the ability to hold them. "They don't have the discipline, they don't have the training," - asserting that they just aren't prepared for any such roles and it doesn't have to do with them being Maquis specifically. Ostensibly, she's treating them as she might treat anyone unqualified for the job.

Chakotay maintains that some of them, like B'Elanna, have the ability to be trained - challenging her point by saying that IF they're trained there's no reason for any Maquis member NOT to be given a more prominent role on the ship. He isn't suggesting they just unqualified people important jobs. If the problem is that they aren't trained, let's train them. These people have the ability to succeed if you give them the tools they need and a fair chance, he insists. Janeway then switches gears and her argument becomes not "The Maquis are untrained so they can't be given those jobs" but "The Maquis crew are unworthy of those jobs when compared to Starfleet personnel" saying that it'll cause insult and upset among the Starfleet crew if any member of the Maquis were to be promoted above them. Again, her idea of integration is based more on Maquis subservience to the Starfleet crew than it is the two crews working together. (Not that I believe she looks at it that way, it's just where her 'path of least resistance' leads) - though she accuses Chakotay of being too focused on "his" crew, she is admitting here that she believes her real crew are the Starfleet officers aboard, not the Maquis. She also admits here that the system she wishes to maintain (and is asking Chakotay to enforce) is one where there will ostensibly never be any chance of a Maquis crew member being promoted because no Maquis crew member will ever be more qualified, more worthy, than a member of Starfleet. We can see how it'd be difficult for Chakotay to convince his crew to remain calm under these circumstances. There's also Tuvok's behavior toward him at the beginning of the episode where the Vulcan nearly goes over Chakotay's head and when he doesn't do so (as Chakotay reminds him that HE'S the superior officer, the First Officer in fact,) Tuvok acts as if him backing down (partially) and conceding (partially) to Chakotay's authority is a favor to Chakotay.

Tuvok in this conversation is downright insubordinate to Chakotay. Despite Chakotay being the first officer, he doesn't take what he says seriously, argues that his own opinion on what should be done should be followed rather than Chakotay's, lectures the first officer about his conduct, and then almost seems to threaten him with a report. In Starfleet's rigidly hierarchical rules, acting like this to a superior officer (ESPECIALLY the first officer) wouldn't be tolerated and Tuvok knows this perfectly well. He isn't a rebellious character and clearly in other episodes adheres to these Starfleet hierarchies and codes of conduct very strictly. He values them highly. But Chakotay, a Maquis, shouldn't be First Officer. Why should he be given respect for a title he didn't earn? [Affirming Janeway's argument about how Starfleet officers won't be eager to follow a Maquis senior officer] Even though Chakotay tells Tuvok off for it ["I don't have to explain myself to you"] he doesn't threaten to put Tuvok on report or explicitly mention his insubordination. It's unclear if this is Chakotay's personality or if he just doesn't feel he CAN do that. Tuvok is one of the three most senior officers aboard and very close to Janeway. Chakotay has to think of the optics of any situation at all times - we see seconds after this conversation that rumors have already started swirling around B'Elanna being relegated to quarters that've fanned the flames of mutiny. Though we know Tuvok has personal reasons for behaving the way he does toward Chakotay (which he later admits), I really don't think it'd be out of the ordinary for this to be how most Starfleet personnel would treat the Maquis if they weren't outright hostile: Like they're only pretend crewmen. To a lesser extent we even see this with Janeway: In the following staff meeting, she clearly doesn't consider B'Elanna a viable option when Chakotay brings her up and almost ignores the suggestion entirely.

It also, again, leaves Chakotay in an impossible position. If he doesn't protect and fight for the Maquis crew, they won't ever be considered a true part of the crew and dissatisfaction will likely spread among them. Dissatisfaction which the Starfleet crew will then use to further label the Maquis as insubordinate, uncontrollable, unfit. Not to mention that if he doesn't advocate for them, he might lose their trust. However, if he DOES try to help the Maquis crew advance the Starfleet crew will view this as 'favoritism' and will further distrust him, won't respect the people he puts forth as worthy. Janeway seems to be intent on not advocating for any of the Maquis crew and also seems unwilling to ask that the Starfleet crew grant leniency. She implies that the Maquis crew need to learn to get in line and keep quiet and it seems almost like [we must remember the optics] she has Chakotay as the only Maquis in a position of power to facilitate that. Chakotay recognizes and pushes against that, saying that he won't just be her token Maquis - there only so she can point to him and say "See? We don't discriminate against the Maquis here." effectively a tool used to shut down any arguments of unfair treatment and a tool to quell the Maquis if any talk of mutiny DOES arise. In this model, Janeway can just tell Chakotay to calm them down and they'll listen because they trust him. She also doesn't have to really listen to anything he says: A token First Officer has no authority; his words don't hold weight. [Chakotay isn't Maquis anymore, they aren't his crew anymore - ok. What is he then? What are they? Nothing, without respect.] This plan seems untenable, as much as Janeway frames it as sensible: "I can't make it easy, Commander. Surely you can understand that," and alternatives as impossible "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" - in the long run, how would this be sustainable? In any power structure, you cannot expect a group of people you're unwilling to grant trust or agency to obediently follow you forever. This proposed form of 'integration' in which the Maquis are kept on the bottom rung and told intermittently to stay there quietly by the only one of them granted permission to stand at the top would never be sustainable - especially with a group like the Maquis who again, were founded on the belief that its members should fight against inequity and are already on the verge of mutiny.

I specifically find the statement "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" to be interesting because personally I'd say that being forced together for the rest of almost everyone's natural life is a pretty good reason to ask people to adapt and Janeway does understand this but only applies it to the Maquis - the Maquis are the ones who have to adapt, not Starfleet. The only thing the Starfleet crew have to do is tolerate their presence on board.

At this point Janeway again claims that if Chakotay can show her a 'qualified' Maquis candidate she'll consider them. I believe this is true but we already know that Janeway's standards for qualification will likely not fit the vast majority of the Maquis and Chakotay ignores the claim in favor of putting forth B'Elanna again, firmly. Janeway predictably dismisses her as unqualified and Chakotay disagrees, arguing that he knows her. He's worked with her. He KNOWS that B'Elanna can excel at the job even if she doesn't meet Starfleet/Janeway's qualifications. He doesn't value those qualifications over what he's observed about her - just as he didn't value Carey's title over what he knew about the gap between his and B'Elanna's abilities. Then, Chakotay switches gears. He admits that Janeway's right - he does view the Maquis as his crew but that's because Janeway (almost self admittingly) doesn't and if he doesn't, who will they have? [What kind of captain, kind of man, would he be?] "You're going to have to give them more authority if you want their loyalty." "Theirs or yours, Commander?" Janeway frames Chakotay's words pointing out the flaws in this plan which I outlined earlier, as almost a threat (if she doesn't have Chakotay's loyalty it'll most definitely mean mutiny). Chakotay asserts that it wasn't a threat, he's only trying to help by telling her how the Maquis crew will react to what she's telling him. "I'm sorry you can't see that" - not an apology for what he said but that she isn't willing to budge, not willing to listen to him and acknowledge that she might be as biased towards her crew as he is towards his. Chakotay is trying his best to acclimate his crew but if Janeway isn't willing to do the same, to talk to her people as he's talking to his, then this will not end well and that isn't a threat. It's just the reality of the situation. He then asks permission to leave, showing he is willing to observe Starfleet protocol (just as when he asked permission to speak freely), and Janeway lets him go, exhaling at the intensity of their debate when alone in her ready room.

[nyx-knacks-writes]

The Parting of the Ways (Rose's POV)

For my first bit of Doctor Who writing... Nine's regeneration, from Rose's POV. Please be nice. I tried my very best. It took me upwards of two hours to get through the video because I was trying to be as detailed as possible with the Doctor's movements. And because I misheard the dialogue several times over and had to correct it.

All the dialogue, of course, belongs to the BBC.

“What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

A beat of silence passed by as Rose laid on the floor of the TARDIS, glancing about to confirm her location. The Doctor stood at the console, looking between the panel, the center column, and Rose herself. She lifted her head and found it swimming, hazy images passing by in front of her eyes, foggy and indistinct, just shy of tangible. It only took a moment for her to shake them off, though, and she carefully pulled herself up into something halfway to a sitting position, knees in the air in front of her.

“It’s like…” She paused for a moment as the Doctor looked away. A beautiful melody seemed to echo in her ears, something like she imagined the sunrise might make if it could sing. Or maybe it was more of a duet between the Sun as it rose and the Moon as it set. Threaded through the joy and love in the song was a terrible, haunting loneliness, as though the singer knew that this could not last. The sorrow of knowing such beauty must come to an end infiltrated and surrounded the gentle joy of the melody.

“There was a singing.” She lowered her knees to the floor and rested her palms on the cool metal, still shaking the cobwebs from her mind.

“That’s right. I sang a song and the daleks ran away,” the Doctor supplied, looking over and offering that big, wide charming smile. Baloney. The singer was female. It couldn’t have been him, though he was certainly telling the truth that the daleks were no longer around. He was too… easy, for lack of a better word. At ease, that was the phrasing she was looking for. They’d dealt with daleks (okay, one dalek the first time, but the number wasn’t important) before, and they put him rather on edge. They made him tenser, sharper, like a sword coming out of its sheath. The total opposite of how he was acting at the moment.

“I was at home. No I wasn’t, I, I was in the TARDIS and… ah… there was this light...”

In the corner of her eye, she caught the Doctor glancing downward, along the direction of his arm. Something glowed golden on the console, but she elected to ignore it. It couldn’t have been terribly important. Just some monitor going off, in all likelihood, reminding him to perform some regular maintenance task.

“I can’t remember anything else.”

It was painfully true. Like wisps of cloud in the wind, Rose couldn’t seem to get a solid grip on what had happened. Something had happened, clearly, but what? The ghosts of the ghosts of her memories were fading fast, turned transparent in mere seconds.

Another beat of silence.

The Doctor’s gaze fell back to her, though she didn’t see it for a moment as she performed another visual sweep of her surroundings. Rose made an irritated face and shook her head, at last deciding that it really wasn’t worth dwelling on. She glanced back up at the Doctor, lifting her eyebrows as she caught him watching her.

“Rose Tyler.” A little huff of a laugh escaped him, and his lips curled upward, back into that lovely smile of his before it pinched back inward as she prepared to lift herself up to stand.

“I was gonna take you to so many places. Barcelona? Not the city, Barcelona, the planet, Barcelona.” His face seemed to open as his eyebrows shot upward before closing again toward the end of the sentence. His shoulders bobbed up and down with his movements as he shifted around for emphasis. “You’d love it, fantastic place.” And there it was again, that smile that opened his face and sapped away every ounce of intimidation that he possessed. “They’ve got dogs with no noses.” He laughed at that, a wheezy little sort of laugh that turned into a ha-ha-ha, and Rose couldn’t help smiling with him as she finally pushed herself away from the floor.

“Imagine how many times a day you end up telling that joke and it’s still funny!” His eyes slipped back to the console.

“Then why can’t we go?”

Back to her.

“Maybe you will! And maybe I will. But not like this.” Back to the console again, the cryptic bugger.

“You’re not making sense.” It was Rose’s turn to have her face pinch together, though for her it was more in confused thought than clear thought.

“I might never make sense again! I might have two heads, or no head.” His current, normal, real-world head turned back and forth as he spoke, presumably checking in on whichever meters and dials told him the current state of the ship. “Imagine me with no head! And don’t say that’s an improvement,” he added as Rose smiled again, showing off her pearly teeth.

The Doctor dropped his head toward the console before picking it up again and swinging it to look at Rose once more.

“But it’s a bit dodgy, this process.”

The smile began to fade.

“You never know what you’re gonna end up with.” Without warning, he doubled over and sort of fell backward, his hands flying to his stomach as some sort of electronic wail ran through the air. His midsection glowed golden, and Rose lunged toward him. She didn’t have a clue what was going on, of course, how could she, but surely there was some way for her to help!

“Doctor!”

“Stay away!” he commanded, throwing an arm outward to ward her off. Admittedly, it stung. Hadn’t they been the best of friends? Hadn’t they had wonderful adventures together, even if they’d been rather less than safe? Hadn’t they… A single memory from whatever had happened between getting home and finding herself in the TARDIS once again nudged its way into her brain as she stared at him with concern. Hadn’t he kissed her? Hadn’t they been the best of friends who’d just so happened to fall in love along the way?

The Doctor brought his chin to his chest as his face contorted with pain, and Rose noticed that the golden light had vanished.

“Doctor, te… Tell me what’s going on.” Her voice wobbled slightly at the beginning of the sentence before firming up. He couldn’t just do this, just, be so openly struggling and in pain without letting her help.

He leaned his head back, gritting his teeth.

“I absorbed all the energy of the Time Vortex, and no one’s meant to do that!” He smiled again, the absolute nutter, and Rose paused, looking him up and down with her mouth open as though to say something.

“Every cell in my body’s dying.” Her eyes snapped back up to his face.

“Can’t you do something?” Rose edged closer near-imperceptibly.

“Yeah! I’m doing it now.” The Doctor came a little closer to the console and leaned on it for support. “Time Lords have this little trick, it’s, sort of a way of cheating death.” He paused, looking downward as his face wrinkled with pain.

“Except…” He lifted his head again to look at her.

“Except, it means I’m gonna change.” His head bobbed up and down in a halfway frantic sort of nod, the sort of nod one nods to communicate the sentiment that the present topic or situation is rather less than pleasant, but there’s really nothing to be done about it. “And I’m not gonna see you again. Not like this. Not with this daft old face.” Yet another smile. If he thought he was being reassuring, well… okay, it was kind of working, but it wasn’t like everything was alright again. Things might never be quite alright again, not if she was losing her Doctor. Not if she was losing the man who’d opened her eyes to what the world was really like, who’d shown her the marvels of space and time, and, admittedly, a good amount of the oddness going on in her own hometown in her own home-time.

“And before I go—”

“Don’t say that!”

“Rose.” He lifted his head from where it had dropped to his chest in order to meet her gaze, and oh, those eyes… He’d accepted his fate. It was obvious. His face had been screwed up tight, but now he’d opened it again just to pause, and Rose closed her mouth to let him speak.

“Before I go, I just want to tell you you were fantastic.” His head shook from side to side on the word, the catchphrase that he couldn’t go a day without saying, and the dam broke.

Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes, and an overwhelming ache stained her heart like a drop of dye in a glass of water. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, to hug him, to feel that leather jacket against her body and those lovely strong arms wrapped around her one more time. But of course, he’d never allow it. He had told her to stay back, and it must have been to protect her. Why else would he be so determined to keep her away when he must know how much of a stab through the heart it was to be… to be saying goodbye. To be saying a million things in her mind that seemed to choke in her throat and drift up to sting at her eyes, leaving them unsaid. And there he was, smiling through it all like he wasn’t leaving her behind, like he wasn’t disappearing away from her, never to be seen or heard or touched or felt again. If he wasn’t dying already, she’d kill him herself.

“Absolutely fantastic. And you know what?” he waited a moment, just a brief little moment. “So was I!” he concluded with a final, quick little nod. Rose smiled at him, one last time. That was the last thing she wanted him to see of her. A smile, something to let him know how much she loved him as he disappeared before her eyes.

His body went rigid, hands splaying out to the sides and head tilting back as though he were about to scream upward to whatever god or higher being might be listening. The force of the energy around him threw Rose backward, and she had to cling to one of the coral-like pillars in the TARDIS in order to avoid being thrown back even further.

Though she couldn’t see as the bones of his face shifted and changed, Rose did see a new plume of hair sprout from the Doctor’s skull, replacing the short brown hair she’d grown to love. The golden light faded away, and someone entirely new stood there in place of the Doctor, in place of her Doctor. He turned his head toward her.

“Hello. Oka— Mmm.”

He stopped speaking as quickly as he’d started, and the way his lips puckered and the skin of his cheeks hollowed and bulged in certain places seemed to indicate that he was probing around his mouth with his tongue.

“New teeth. That’s weird. So where was I?”

He looked toward the floor before looking back up at Rose, though he seemed to look through her rather than at her.

“Oh, that’s right. Barcelona.” He smiled and got something of a crazed look in his eyes as he finished, and all Rose could think was that he was so different.

Big, fluffy, chocolate brown hair. Brown eyes to match, replacing the icy blue eyes that had held so much, icy blue eyes that had watched her so carefully the first time he’d ever met her. This man was as skinny as a twig, a very slight bit taller than the Doctor, and a tad higher-pitched in the voice. 

What had he done with her Doctor?

[muirmarie]

thinking about if tos mccoy had died before romulus was destroyed, tos spock could've been carrying his not-quite-a-katra during the events of the aos movies

[momo-de-avis]

People who work in a more corporate setting: how ethical is it for Human Resources to send out a questionnaire to workers who are not contracted and are in fact freelance, that is a self-evaluation questionnarie but also an evaluation of all of your colleagues, INCLUDING your superiors, and the questionnaire in question is not anonymous, and in fact not only do you have to put your email in, you have to put your name? Like, please tell me I am not fucking insane and this is extremely unethical and prone to create a horrific work environment

[cabinseventheaterchick]

don’t eat glitter

*coughing* It’s a bad idea

help

OH MY GODS NOT YOU TOO

[Kat whips out a lemonade from seemingly nowhere] Drink this for coughing. Your body will take care of the rest. You doofus.

[elevenclara]

their storylines are holding hands... do you get it. their storylines are

[twoplayer-game]

little nurserard thing I did a bit ago 🫂

[chiropteracupola]

don't like this 'well you should be grateful that we are not worse to you' thing. how about you simply be better to me instead of trying to make me thankful for the fact you're not actively trying to make things worse.

[critterchitters-closedcaptions]

saw something in the fictive tag here that bugs me.

if you have exomemories thats fine. you arent "wrong" or "faking" if you remember things from your source.

also, you arent "wrong" or "faking" if you Dont remember things from your source.

can we all just live and get along please. you dont have to go at someone else's throat just because you experience plurality differently.

[lilacfiresoul]

needle, april 3 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 669 words

content warnings for talk and depictions of sickness (reg has hay fever), very very brief mention of regulus' parents (gross), and talk of vaccines, and needles! there is no actual description of either vaccines or needles, but it's talked about by james and reg.

this one is another cute one idk what's wrong with me, i can't stop writing fluff aaa

----

There’s something ironic about the fact that every time springtime rolls around, Regulus gets ill. It’s like clockwork, every year.

Once the usually drab English sky starts becoming less grey and a little bit more blue; once the flowers start to push up from the soil and unfurl their petals in the sunlight; once baby lambs start being born in the farmer’s fields; once the clouds get fluffy, the days longer, nights shorter—there’s an inevitability that Regulus will get sick.

James is no longer taken by surprise by it anymore. Living with Regulus for three summers already, he’s more than accustomed to help him deal with his hay fever. He’s used to seeing Regulus with red and puffy eyes, nose blocked and sneezing into tissues before he can finish his sentence.

Usually he can cope pretty well, but this year seems to be the worst. With the pollen levels being high, Regulus is staying indoors, lying in bed until around midday, when he finally drags himself out of his nest with a headache and itchy eyes.

“It’s a pity that there isn’t a vaccine to help you cope with this,” James comments off-handedly. It’s one in the afternoon, and the two of them are cuddling in their bed, binge-watching a new Netflix series.

Regulus shakes his head, the ends of his hair brushing lightly against James’ jaw. “I’m glad there’s not.”

“What? Why? Are you afraid of needles, or something?”

On the screen, the main character screams and starts fighting the approaching zombies. Regulus doesn’t reply, gaze fixed determinedly on the TV show.

James’ stomach drops, and he reaches over the pause the show. “Wait, are you?”

“Kind of,” Regulus admits. “My mother used to force me and Sirius to get the flu jabs back in school."

At the mention of Regulus' parents, James frowns. "I'm sorry, Reg."

Regulus shrugs. "It's fine. It was one of the good things she did for me, I guess, but it didn’t mean I didn’t cry. Sirius was never afraid of them.”

“Yeah, with the amount of tattoos he has, I wouldn’t think so,” James agrees, and Regulus chuckles.

“He wasn’t allowed to, but he used to—”

Suddenly, Regulus lunges for the box of tissues, able to catch his sneeze just in time. The tissue, quickly scrunched up into a ball, is tossed towards the other end of the bed, joining its equally as screwed up friends.

Sniffing, Regulus continues, “He used to sneak out of class to sit with me whilst I had it done. I could tell the nurse hated it, but she never said anything because it meant I took the jab. He would— Wait, James, this is silly, promise you won’t laugh.”

When James glances down at him, he notices Regulus is doing that thing he does when he’s embarrassed or stressed, clenching and unclenching his fists, digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

“Why would I laugh? I bet it’s not silly,” James tells him, meaning every word. “My dad’s afraid of needles, you know. Used to absolutely refuse whenever he had to get his flu jabs topped up. I think he still does, and he has to get them with my mum. My mum holds his hand—”

“Sirius used to do that with me!” Regulus cuts him off, seeming less embarrassed now because James’ parents, who are old and have grey hairs, and who seem very much still in love, do it too. There’s even a smile on his face which James can’t help returning.

Leaning closer, James takes Regulus’ hand, pressing his lips to his skin, murmuring, “Want me to hold yours if there ever is a hay fever jab?”

“No,” Regulus says, looking away to hide his blush.

There’s a beat.

And then, Regulus says sheepishly, “Actually, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

[variousqueerthings]

the thing is I do quite like individual stephen moffat episodes, I think they're good episodes. they get less good when you start to see patterns of writing and how he has a tendency of beating a dead horse + ongoing sexism which may be missed in one episode, but becomes very clear through repetition, but if one considers them as one-offs they're Neat bits of writing. it's when he tries to make it longform that it all falls to pieces for me and reverberates back. his lore is a mess and consequently so are his characters if one spends more than an episode or two with them.